Post by kafkaesque on Jul 11, 2010 16:39:02 GMT -5
Name of Character(s): ossa
Text:
Quote: this estranged organ in my chest still beats for you.
Species: horse
Age: 5
Gender: mare
Breed: mutt really. think warmblood or lanky baroque or something.
Colour: whatever you can make work really... i'd like her head and legs/mane and tail to be very dark/black but the rest can be blue roan, dark bluish grey...blackish blue..
Physical Appearance: emaciated? she's real gaunt and lanky. just shy of seventeen hands but she's all legs... being able to make out some ribs, and the hollows in her hindquarters would be nice...however you want to do it.
Personality: anxious, tense, always wound up. that same kind of energy that a soldier has who's been fighting for days. think finals week. 46 hour all nighter(s)... you just get kinda loony-tunes
Images or References: none but if you need more to go off of just give me a holler and i'll do my best!
Image Ideas: nothing "demonic" or dark in the evil sense of the word. but very shadowy and i'd like her eyes to be kind of spooky and sunk in a bit. blue/black themed? i don't know. just have fun with it i guess. i'm not going to freak out if it's not at all what i'm asking for...
Example post with requested character:
SORRY IT'S SO LONG! legs. ribs. and blackness. she wasn't black. but she was a color in between dark grey, blue, and black that just hinted at emptiness, shadow and that spooky feeling one gets when the light switch is at the bottom of the cellar stairs and after you've gathered something up from down there you switch the light off and run up and slam the door, breathless with fright. from one side of the crossing you could easily see her over the other mares...standing almost but just shy of 17 hands. she had a jagged, peculiar trot. slow but very contracted and anxious. the tips of her ears pointed mainly forward, as if she knew where she was headed. she didnt. her body was still wet from the journey to the crossing, making her appear, if possible, even more thin. her ribs seemed greedily to poke through the blue/black of her coat. there was a sunken blackness to her eyes and the hollows were deep in her hindquarters. it wasn't that she didn't eat. it was just that whatever she did eat didn't sustain her long enough. she was constantly moving. a ghost pacing back and forth in the attic.
legs. ribs. and blackness. she wasn't black. but she was a color in between dark grey, blue, and black that just hinted at emptiness, shadow and that spooky feeling one gets when the light switch is at the bottom of the cellar stairs and after you've gathered something up from down there you switch the light off and run up and slam the door, breathless with fright. from one side of the crossing you could easily see her over the other mares...standing almost but just shy of 17 hands. she had a jagged, peculiar trot. slow but very contracted and anxious. the tips of her ears pointed mainly forward, as if she knew where she was headed. she didnt. her body was still wet from the journey to the crossing, making her appear, if possible, even more thin. her ribs seemed greedily to poke through the blue/black of her coat. there was a sunken blackness to her eyes and the hollows were deep in her hindquarters. it wasn't that she didn't eat. it was just that whatever she did eat didn't sustain her long enough. she was constantly moving. a ghost pacing back and forth in the attic.
ossa was driven to the lost islands by some long honed instinct to socialize and group with others of her kind. it had taken her long enough. but alas she had arrived. the oddly paced gait at which she made her way into the crossing somehow befitted her appearance. jagged and choppy....she stopped abruptly after having worked herself into a sweat and dropped her head like an anvil to the ground and grazed as if she hadn't in years. there was a hunger that she never could quell. and she could never seem to stand still enough to give it a good try anyway...her mother had starved to death. ossa was probably a yearling and change when she was left to fend for herself. muoia, her mother, perished in the winter after having separated from the herd to foal again. it was already late fall when she took to the woods in search of a haven to bring new life into the world. ossa, never knowing separation from her mother followed her. the birth did not go well and the foal died, leaving muoia weak and unprepared for the harsh winter. ossa watched slowly has her mother wasted away. becoming no more than a tough hide stretched over a couple of bones. it was a disease she must have passed on. ossa was insatiable. and it made little difference whether she ate for hours or seconds. she was too alert, too anxious. it was a rare moment to see her not bathed in sweat, jerking about in an edgy abrasive manner, or gorging herself with thick lush grass for a few fleeting seconds before assuming her agitated vigil once more. .
it was nearing nightfall. against the blue falling of darkness, ossa began to fit in. disappear. her height was much less noticable, as was her very skeletal appearance. night rushed in like a chevalier to save her from fitfulness. she began to cease her nervous twitching and moving until she settled almost comfortable standing alone quite far away from the rest of the horses in the crossing. her need to be within proximity of other creatures of her type was filled. she was content now just to observe them with curious glances like that of a child at a grocery store being pushed in mothers cart. as the night grew dimmer she relaxed more so, cocking a hind leg slightly and dropping her gaunt head and neck to peck at the grass below her or just to rest. come morning she would turn back into legs, ribs, and blackness once more but for now she was as most everyone else present. eyes, breath, and quiet. until morning she would wait for her bones to swallow her and her body to metamorphose back into the tall cadaverous frame whose only suggestion of life came from the shallow breath, gentle as a moth stitching rapturously in the light.
Comments:
Signature?: no thanks
If yes, please include the size you would like.
Which site(s) will you be using the image to?thelostislands.webs.com
Specific Artist?: anyone is fine with me[
Text:
Quote: this estranged organ in my chest still beats for you.
Species: horse
Age: 5
Gender: mare
Breed: mutt really. think warmblood or lanky baroque or something.
Colour: whatever you can make work really... i'd like her head and legs/mane and tail to be very dark/black but the rest can be blue roan, dark bluish grey...blackish blue..
Physical Appearance: emaciated? she's real gaunt and lanky. just shy of seventeen hands but she's all legs... being able to make out some ribs, and the hollows in her hindquarters would be nice...however you want to do it.
Personality: anxious, tense, always wound up. that same kind of energy that a soldier has who's been fighting for days. think finals week. 46 hour all nighter(s)... you just get kinda loony-tunes
Images or References: none but if you need more to go off of just give me a holler and i'll do my best!
Image Ideas: nothing "demonic" or dark in the evil sense of the word. but very shadowy and i'd like her eyes to be kind of spooky and sunk in a bit. blue/black themed? i don't know. just have fun with it i guess. i'm not going to freak out if it's not at all what i'm asking for...
Example post with requested character:
SORRY IT'S SO LONG! legs. ribs. and blackness. she wasn't black. but she was a color in between dark grey, blue, and black that just hinted at emptiness, shadow and that spooky feeling one gets when the light switch is at the bottom of the cellar stairs and after you've gathered something up from down there you switch the light off and run up and slam the door, breathless with fright. from one side of the crossing you could easily see her over the other mares...standing almost but just shy of 17 hands. she had a jagged, peculiar trot. slow but very contracted and anxious. the tips of her ears pointed mainly forward, as if she knew where she was headed. she didnt. her body was still wet from the journey to the crossing, making her appear, if possible, even more thin. her ribs seemed greedily to poke through the blue/black of her coat. there was a sunken blackness to her eyes and the hollows were deep in her hindquarters. it wasn't that she didn't eat. it was just that whatever she did eat didn't sustain her long enough. she was constantly moving. a ghost pacing back and forth in the attic.
legs. ribs. and blackness. she wasn't black. but she was a color in between dark grey, blue, and black that just hinted at emptiness, shadow and that spooky feeling one gets when the light switch is at the bottom of the cellar stairs and after you've gathered something up from down there you switch the light off and run up and slam the door, breathless with fright. from one side of the crossing you could easily see her over the other mares...standing almost but just shy of 17 hands. she had a jagged, peculiar trot. slow but very contracted and anxious. the tips of her ears pointed mainly forward, as if she knew where she was headed. she didnt. her body was still wet from the journey to the crossing, making her appear, if possible, even more thin. her ribs seemed greedily to poke through the blue/black of her coat. there was a sunken blackness to her eyes and the hollows were deep in her hindquarters. it wasn't that she didn't eat. it was just that whatever she did eat didn't sustain her long enough. she was constantly moving. a ghost pacing back and forth in the attic.
ossa was driven to the lost islands by some long honed instinct to socialize and group with others of her kind. it had taken her long enough. but alas she had arrived. the oddly paced gait at which she made her way into the crossing somehow befitted her appearance. jagged and choppy....she stopped abruptly after having worked herself into a sweat and dropped her head like an anvil to the ground and grazed as if she hadn't in years. there was a hunger that she never could quell. and she could never seem to stand still enough to give it a good try anyway...her mother had starved to death. ossa was probably a yearling and change when she was left to fend for herself. muoia, her mother, perished in the winter after having separated from the herd to foal again. it was already late fall when she took to the woods in search of a haven to bring new life into the world. ossa, never knowing separation from her mother followed her. the birth did not go well and the foal died, leaving muoia weak and unprepared for the harsh winter. ossa watched slowly has her mother wasted away. becoming no more than a tough hide stretched over a couple of bones. it was a disease she must have passed on. ossa was insatiable. and it made little difference whether she ate for hours or seconds. she was too alert, too anxious. it was a rare moment to see her not bathed in sweat, jerking about in an edgy abrasive manner, or gorging herself with thick lush grass for a few fleeting seconds before assuming her agitated vigil once more. .
it was nearing nightfall. against the blue falling of darkness, ossa began to fit in. disappear. her height was much less noticable, as was her very skeletal appearance. night rushed in like a chevalier to save her from fitfulness. she began to cease her nervous twitching and moving until she settled almost comfortable standing alone quite far away from the rest of the horses in the crossing. her need to be within proximity of other creatures of her type was filled. she was content now just to observe them with curious glances like that of a child at a grocery store being pushed in mothers cart. as the night grew dimmer she relaxed more so, cocking a hind leg slightly and dropping her gaunt head and neck to peck at the grass below her or just to rest. come morning she would turn back into legs, ribs, and blackness once more but for now she was as most everyone else present. eyes, breath, and quiet. until morning she would wait for her bones to swallow her and her body to metamorphose back into the tall cadaverous frame whose only suggestion of life came from the shallow breath, gentle as a moth stitching rapturously in the light.
Comments:
Signature?: no thanks
If yes, please include the size you would like.Which site(s) will you be using the image to?thelostislands.webs.com
Specific Artist?: anyone is fine with me
[
