Post by lionheart on Jul 11, 2010 4:09:52 GMT -5
Name of Character(s): Balthazar
Text: name and parentage: Gloryhound x Dogwood
Quote: none
Species: horse
Age: mature
Gender: male
Breed: mixed, but to be specific... 1/4 Morgan, 1/4 Andalusian, 1/4 Arab, 1/8 Friesian, 1/8 Thoroughbred
Colour: silver black/silver dapple
Physical Appearance: He is blind in his left eye, so it is considerably lighter than the other eye. He also has only one ear, his right ear was ripped off in a fight. Also, if you are comfortable/confident/inspired, it’d be cool if you could give him some general scarring on his body/muzzle, or wherever =3
Personality: A tormented soul, basically. At a very young age, he watched as his beloved brother was attacked by a mare, and fled, believing his brother to be dead. After this tragedy, his mother pushed him away, leaving him to die. When Balthazar wasn’t mourning over his brother’s death, or despising his mother, he lived in fear that the mare who killed his brother would come after him. He is so lost and lonely and scared all the time. He finally gets a little bit of good luck when he becomes friends with a beautiful filly, and they become best friends, and they fall in love with each other. But then, he is completely broken and enraged when he is told by his father that the mare had not killed his brother, that his brother had survived, only for their father to kill him. He is just a mess of emotions, he is heartbroken and wants blood on his hands. He wants to make others quake in fear, but really he is scared, he’s just a scared, lost little boy who is afraid of being hurt, who wants others to hurt, he distances himself from those he loves, but he doesn’t want to lose them.
Images or References: none sorry =(
Image Ideas: I want it really to portray his desolation and confusion and pain and suffering. But maybe with a tiny bit of goodness in it, like a single flower blooming, a single ray of light, or something. Sort of bittersweet, maybe.
Example post with requested character: These are from his latest thread with the mare his has always loved. They’re pretty long, and there are three posts, so if you don’t want to read all of them, it’s all good. They just give you a very good look at him, and why he is the way he is.
ONE:
Time did not pass quickly for him. It dragged on excruciatingly slowly, hurting, causing him pain. It was like he was walking through a sea of razors, an ocean of shattered glass. But he wouldn’t stop, because if he’d stop, he’d drown.
He’d lost so much, and almost had nothing more to lose. Except he did. But it looked as if he’d lost the one thing he’d thought he’d never lose. And it was all his fault. Everything he touched, he ended up hurting, and this knowledge had speared his heart. He had drawn away from everything, from those of his family that were still alive, from the bachelors, and even from Corinth. He hid himself away during the day, and at night he prowled in misery, like the monster he was, alone for the most part, but sometimes, he walked with his little sun. His guiding light. He believed now that only two things kept him going; the presence of his beloved niece, Soliel, and the tiniest fragment of hope. Hope that somehow, someway, he would be lucky enough to see her one more time. Without her, with his heart so empty, Balthazar had fallen into a dark pit, and he had begun to think that life was no longer worth living.
He was weak, scarred, and there was no light in his eyes, seeing and blind alike. He was a mess, half-starved, dirty, still smelling of blood. His mane tangled, matted with old blood, his one good ear nothing but a pathetic stump, twitching feebly every now and again. His outer, physical condition was not a fraction as bad as the invisible wounds on the inside. He lived in turmoil, constantly sinking lower and lower. He was in a bad state. The darkness into which he’d fallen was one that was near impossible to escape. When you hated the world and nearly everything in it, when you were as hopeless as he, when you hated yourself as much as he did, you were pretty much a lost cause. There were some degrees of depression and suffering you could never escape.
He was so far gone that he couldn’t recognise anything anymore. He no longer cared about anything, there was nothing for him here if he couldn’t find her. He was without purpose, and his will to live was quickly slipping away. He no longer felt. He was just lost, an empty shell wandering, searching.
But then, as his good eye roamed over the world without seeing, and his nostrils caught scents and forgot them, a tiny flare of recognition made him struggle to focus. There was something about this place, a familiarity, the tiniest embers of warmth stirred. He floundered as painful, happy memories flooded his mind. He gasped, stumbling forwards, falling to the ground. Whimpering, wincing, he struggled to his hooves, and there was nothing proud or joyful in the way he held himself. Meekly, he dropped his head, intending to turn and leave this place. But then his caught the faintest scent and a strength coursed through him, a hope, a desire, that burned his veins like fire.
Slowly, unsteadily, he turned, trying to remember exactly how to get to the green room. Even if she wasn’t there in body, Balthazar believed he’d be able to feel her spirit, and even then, that would be so much more than he deserved.
Suddenly he was there, and he beheld her in all her glory. He turned his face away, undeserving. Never before had he wished himself completely blind, but now, standing here, seeing her so sad, knowing that he had hurt her, it was more than he could bear. He turned to leave, but he was not strong enough to walk away from her again. Instead he stood there, tears streaming down his face, turning back to her, his eyes so full of fear and suffering and regret and hope.
“I... There’s nothing I can say, except that I was wrong, that I’m stupid, that I’m worthless and that you deserve better, you deserve so much better than a monster like me...”
What the weak, broken boy feared most was not death, but rejection.
“I...I’ve hurt you, and I’ll...I’ll never forgive myself. I’ve been blind, because the one thing, the only thing that’s ever truly mattered is you, and if I can’t be with you, I’d rather be dead. I-I’ve done bad things, terrible things, and I d-don’t deserve you, I never did. I don’t have anything to give you, except my heart, but even that’s tortured and broken. Izzara... Izarra...”
He paused, tears drying on his face. In her presence, he seemed as if he would do whatever it took to keep fighting, even though he was still weak and dirty and malnourished. Holding her beautiful gaze with his own, he opened his mouth again.
“Izarra... I... I missed you.” He could not bring himself to say the three words that his head and his heart were screaming at him. If she didn’t want him, those three words would be the death of him.
TWO: He could not stand to watch her cry. As soon as the first tears glittered in her eyes, he’d felt his heart clench, and had leaned forwards, wanting to comfort her. But then he’d held back, unsure whether or not Izarra would welcome his comfort. He struggled with himself, and then became perfectly still as he heard her sweet voice. Hearing things had already been hard, but now that he had lost his good ear, at times it was like he was nearly completely deaf. But here, in the green room, her voice and her presence and her scent surrounded him, blanketed him, saturated him. She was even more perfect and beautiful than he remembered, and he was such a fool to have stayed away for so long. His heart quivered and trembled and cried all over again, at her voice, her sorrow, her words.
He moved forwards, wanting to comfort her, take away all the sorrow and pain, and it hurt more than anything, knowing that he had caused her sadness.
His heart shot into his throat as he shook his head, uncomprehending. Could it be true, had he heard correctly? Dare he hope? She had said she wanted him. For one moment, one, beautiful, blissful, pure moment, he forgot every other thing. He forgot that his brother had been killed by his father, that he had later killed his father himself, or caused his death at least. He forgot that he was weak, blind and deaf. For one insanely magic moment, Balthazar felt as if he stood on top of the world, that he was walking on air, no, clouds. But then, his heart skipped a beat, and the deluded, broken creature that he was fell back to earth.
Shaking, trembling, he stared at Izarra, his face, for once holding no trace of sorrow. It was wide open, hopeful, wonderfully etched with awe, heartbreakingly vulnerable. He so, so wanted to touch her, but still, like the coward he was, he held back. He watched as she opened her mouth, and hesitated. A cold fear spread through him, paralysing him. Maybe she was going to change her mind. Maybe she had come to her senses and decided she was better off without him. He dropped his gaze, and was preparing to step aside, so that she could leave, when he froze.
He glanced up at her, his eyes wide, his face so full of disbelief. After all he had done... He couldn’t breathe, and took a startled step back, gasping. Still, after everything...
She had always been the stronger one.
“I-I... I-I....” He stuttered, shaking his head slowly. He had envisioned a hundred futures, but never had he thought this would happen. This, this was the stuff his dreams were made of.
He threw himself at her, touching her tenderly with his muzzle on her neck, pressing his face into her mane, wrapping his neck over hers. He settled like that, trembling with emotion. He moved to touch his muzzle to her ear, his breathing still rapid. “I’ve always loved you. And I’m so, so sorry, for everything.”
THREE: Nothing could dampen this new fire that burned within him, except for one thing. All this emotion and finally knowing that Izarra felt the same way had made Balthazar happier than he had ever been since his brother had ‘died’, but, as always, there was a shadow lurking just behind the joy; a place where no light ever reached. Balthazar did his best to ignore this dark smudge, which was nearly lost in the blinding light. But there was no way he could pretend it wasn’t there, sometime soon he would have to acknowledge it.
He could not bring himself to tear his gaze away from Izarra’s perfect face, but as she spoke again (her voice echoing like the sweetest melody in his ears), his face fell, and his single ear disappeared in his grubby, silver mane. Slowly, the fear and the sorrow came slinking back, and his tortured heart welcomed them like old friends. He turned his head to the side, so that Izarra was looking at his blind side, and mumbled inaudibly under his breath. How was he supposed to explain himself? He couldn’t just say ‘oh, the other day I killed my dad’... The truth, the countless, ugly truths that Balthazar knew burdened him heavily.
“When I... When I left the Lagoon, after we... After...” He gulped, and started to tremble again. Why did this have to be so hard? “I visited my f-Gloryhound. He-he told me that my brother hadn’t been killed by Obscurite.” He turned back to Izarra, shame and tears glittering in his eyes, in the depths, there stirred hate. Hate towards everything cruel and unfair in the world. Hate towards himself. “He told me that Dogwood was dead, that I had a new little brother. He told me that Loupy was killed... He killed his own son. And he never even told me why!” Balthazar had raised his voice unintentionally. He struggled to calm himself down, and turned away from her again, not wanting her to see the shame written across his once gentle face. “I ran away, I mourned for my brother. In the darkness, I hated him, for what he had done.” He paused again, shuddering. “I went after him, later. I found him sick, coughing up blood. He was weak, he couldn’t breathe properly. I-I attacked him, I bit him on the neck. And then I ran, because I was weak, an old, sick stallion was beating me in a fight I had picked. I ran b-because I was, no, am a coward.” He could not bring himself to look at her, fearing what he would see in her face, the disgust he deserved. He was a monster, through and through. Nothing would ever change that.
“He’s dead, because of what I did. A father killed a son, only to be killed in turn by his other son...” His words, so full of despair and regret and shame, hung in the air, formidable and unfading. “I-I thought I hated him...” His voice broke, and he began to cry freely once more. He shook his head, not daring to lift it, or to look in her direction. “But I was wrong, Izarra. I only hate myself.”
Comments: Yeah, sorry again for the huuuuuge amount of words XD I’m so looking forwards to getting him a pic, coz he’s one of my favourite characters ever, and certainly the most deserving of a nice pic, after all I’ve put him through.
Signature?: yes please. 600x200-ish? <3333 Gonna use it hereeee <3
Which site(s) will you be using the image to?The Lost Islands
Specific Artist?: Opaque, Crazy or Infer?
Text: name and parentage: Gloryhound x Dogwood
Quote: none
Species: horse
Age: mature
Gender: male
Breed: mixed, but to be specific... 1/4 Morgan, 1/4 Andalusian, 1/4 Arab, 1/8 Friesian, 1/8 Thoroughbred
Colour: silver black/silver dapple
Physical Appearance: He is blind in his left eye, so it is considerably lighter than the other eye. He also has only one ear, his right ear was ripped off in a fight. Also, if you are comfortable/confident/inspired, it’d be cool if you could give him some general scarring on his body/muzzle, or wherever =3
Personality: A tormented soul, basically. At a very young age, he watched as his beloved brother was attacked by a mare, and fled, believing his brother to be dead. After this tragedy, his mother pushed him away, leaving him to die. When Balthazar wasn’t mourning over his brother’s death, or despising his mother, he lived in fear that the mare who killed his brother would come after him. He is so lost and lonely and scared all the time. He finally gets a little bit of good luck when he becomes friends with a beautiful filly, and they become best friends, and they fall in love with each other. But then, he is completely broken and enraged when he is told by his father that the mare had not killed his brother, that his brother had survived, only for their father to kill him. He is just a mess of emotions, he is heartbroken and wants blood on his hands. He wants to make others quake in fear, but really he is scared, he’s just a scared, lost little boy who is afraid of being hurt, who wants others to hurt, he distances himself from those he loves, but he doesn’t want to lose them.
Images or References: none sorry =(
Image Ideas: I want it really to portray his desolation and confusion and pain and suffering. But maybe with a tiny bit of goodness in it, like a single flower blooming, a single ray of light, or something. Sort of bittersweet, maybe.
Example post with requested character: These are from his latest thread with the mare his has always loved. They’re pretty long, and there are three posts, so if you don’t want to read all of them, it’s all good. They just give you a very good look at him, and why he is the way he is.
ONE:
Time did not pass quickly for him. It dragged on excruciatingly slowly, hurting, causing him pain. It was like he was walking through a sea of razors, an ocean of shattered glass. But he wouldn’t stop, because if he’d stop, he’d drown.
He’d lost so much, and almost had nothing more to lose. Except he did. But it looked as if he’d lost the one thing he’d thought he’d never lose. And it was all his fault. Everything he touched, he ended up hurting, and this knowledge had speared his heart. He had drawn away from everything, from those of his family that were still alive, from the bachelors, and even from Corinth. He hid himself away during the day, and at night he prowled in misery, like the monster he was, alone for the most part, but sometimes, he walked with his little sun. His guiding light. He believed now that only two things kept him going; the presence of his beloved niece, Soliel, and the tiniest fragment of hope. Hope that somehow, someway, he would be lucky enough to see her one more time. Without her, with his heart so empty, Balthazar had fallen into a dark pit, and he had begun to think that life was no longer worth living.
He was weak, scarred, and there was no light in his eyes, seeing and blind alike. He was a mess, half-starved, dirty, still smelling of blood. His mane tangled, matted with old blood, his one good ear nothing but a pathetic stump, twitching feebly every now and again. His outer, physical condition was not a fraction as bad as the invisible wounds on the inside. He lived in turmoil, constantly sinking lower and lower. He was in a bad state. The darkness into which he’d fallen was one that was near impossible to escape. When you hated the world and nearly everything in it, when you were as hopeless as he, when you hated yourself as much as he did, you were pretty much a lost cause. There were some degrees of depression and suffering you could never escape.
He was so far gone that he couldn’t recognise anything anymore. He no longer cared about anything, there was nothing for him here if he couldn’t find her. He was without purpose, and his will to live was quickly slipping away. He no longer felt. He was just lost, an empty shell wandering, searching.
But then, as his good eye roamed over the world without seeing, and his nostrils caught scents and forgot them, a tiny flare of recognition made him struggle to focus. There was something about this place, a familiarity, the tiniest embers of warmth stirred. He floundered as painful, happy memories flooded his mind. He gasped, stumbling forwards, falling to the ground. Whimpering, wincing, he struggled to his hooves, and there was nothing proud or joyful in the way he held himself. Meekly, he dropped his head, intending to turn and leave this place. But then his caught the faintest scent and a strength coursed through him, a hope, a desire, that burned his veins like fire.
Slowly, unsteadily, he turned, trying to remember exactly how to get to the green room. Even if she wasn’t there in body, Balthazar believed he’d be able to feel her spirit, and even then, that would be so much more than he deserved.
Suddenly he was there, and he beheld her in all her glory. He turned his face away, undeserving. Never before had he wished himself completely blind, but now, standing here, seeing her so sad, knowing that he had hurt her, it was more than he could bear. He turned to leave, but he was not strong enough to walk away from her again. Instead he stood there, tears streaming down his face, turning back to her, his eyes so full of fear and suffering and regret and hope.
“I... There’s nothing I can say, except that I was wrong, that I’m stupid, that I’m worthless and that you deserve better, you deserve so much better than a monster like me...”
What the weak, broken boy feared most was not death, but rejection.
“I...I’ve hurt you, and I’ll...I’ll never forgive myself. I’ve been blind, because the one thing, the only thing that’s ever truly mattered is you, and if I can’t be with you, I’d rather be dead. I-I’ve done bad things, terrible things, and I d-don’t deserve you, I never did. I don’t have anything to give you, except my heart, but even that’s tortured and broken. Izzara... Izarra...”
He paused, tears drying on his face. In her presence, he seemed as if he would do whatever it took to keep fighting, even though he was still weak and dirty and malnourished. Holding her beautiful gaze with his own, he opened his mouth again.
“Izarra... I... I missed you.” He could not bring himself to say the three words that his head and his heart were screaming at him. If she didn’t want him, those three words would be the death of him.
TWO: He could not stand to watch her cry. As soon as the first tears glittered in her eyes, he’d felt his heart clench, and had leaned forwards, wanting to comfort her. But then he’d held back, unsure whether or not Izarra would welcome his comfort. He struggled with himself, and then became perfectly still as he heard her sweet voice. Hearing things had already been hard, but now that he had lost his good ear, at times it was like he was nearly completely deaf. But here, in the green room, her voice and her presence and her scent surrounded him, blanketed him, saturated him. She was even more perfect and beautiful than he remembered, and he was such a fool to have stayed away for so long. His heart quivered and trembled and cried all over again, at her voice, her sorrow, her words.
He moved forwards, wanting to comfort her, take away all the sorrow and pain, and it hurt more than anything, knowing that he had caused her sadness.
His heart shot into his throat as he shook his head, uncomprehending. Could it be true, had he heard correctly? Dare he hope? She had said she wanted him. For one moment, one, beautiful, blissful, pure moment, he forgot every other thing. He forgot that his brother had been killed by his father, that he had later killed his father himself, or caused his death at least. He forgot that he was weak, blind and deaf. For one insanely magic moment, Balthazar felt as if he stood on top of the world, that he was walking on air, no, clouds. But then, his heart skipped a beat, and the deluded, broken creature that he was fell back to earth.
Shaking, trembling, he stared at Izarra, his face, for once holding no trace of sorrow. It was wide open, hopeful, wonderfully etched with awe, heartbreakingly vulnerable. He so, so wanted to touch her, but still, like the coward he was, he held back. He watched as she opened her mouth, and hesitated. A cold fear spread through him, paralysing him. Maybe she was going to change her mind. Maybe she had come to her senses and decided she was better off without him. He dropped his gaze, and was preparing to step aside, so that she could leave, when he froze.
He glanced up at her, his eyes wide, his face so full of disbelief. After all he had done... He couldn’t breathe, and took a startled step back, gasping. Still, after everything...
She had always been the stronger one.
“I-I... I-I....” He stuttered, shaking his head slowly. He had envisioned a hundred futures, but never had he thought this would happen. This, this was the stuff his dreams were made of.
He threw himself at her, touching her tenderly with his muzzle on her neck, pressing his face into her mane, wrapping his neck over hers. He settled like that, trembling with emotion. He moved to touch his muzzle to her ear, his breathing still rapid. “I’ve always loved you. And I’m so, so sorry, for everything.”
THREE: Nothing could dampen this new fire that burned within him, except for one thing. All this emotion and finally knowing that Izarra felt the same way had made Balthazar happier than he had ever been since his brother had ‘died’, but, as always, there was a shadow lurking just behind the joy; a place where no light ever reached. Balthazar did his best to ignore this dark smudge, which was nearly lost in the blinding light. But there was no way he could pretend it wasn’t there, sometime soon he would have to acknowledge it.
He could not bring himself to tear his gaze away from Izarra’s perfect face, but as she spoke again (her voice echoing like the sweetest melody in his ears), his face fell, and his single ear disappeared in his grubby, silver mane. Slowly, the fear and the sorrow came slinking back, and his tortured heart welcomed them like old friends. He turned his head to the side, so that Izarra was looking at his blind side, and mumbled inaudibly under his breath. How was he supposed to explain himself? He couldn’t just say ‘oh, the other day I killed my dad’... The truth, the countless, ugly truths that Balthazar knew burdened him heavily.
“When I... When I left the Lagoon, after we... After...” He gulped, and started to tremble again. Why did this have to be so hard? “I visited my f-Gloryhound. He-he told me that my brother hadn’t been killed by Obscurite.” He turned back to Izarra, shame and tears glittering in his eyes, in the depths, there stirred hate. Hate towards everything cruel and unfair in the world. Hate towards himself. “He told me that Dogwood was dead, that I had a new little brother. He told me that Loupy was killed... He killed his own son. And he never even told me why!” Balthazar had raised his voice unintentionally. He struggled to calm himself down, and turned away from her again, not wanting her to see the shame written across his once gentle face. “I ran away, I mourned for my brother. In the darkness, I hated him, for what he had done.” He paused again, shuddering. “I went after him, later. I found him sick, coughing up blood. He was weak, he couldn’t breathe properly. I-I attacked him, I bit him on the neck. And then I ran, because I was weak, an old, sick stallion was beating me in a fight I had picked. I ran b-because I was, no, am a coward.” He could not bring himself to look at her, fearing what he would see in her face, the disgust he deserved. He was a monster, through and through. Nothing would ever change that.
“He’s dead, because of what I did. A father killed a son, only to be killed in turn by his other son...” His words, so full of despair and regret and shame, hung in the air, formidable and unfading. “I-I thought I hated him...” His voice broke, and he began to cry freely once more. He shook his head, not daring to lift it, or to look in her direction. “But I was wrong, Izarra. I only hate myself.”
Comments: Yeah, sorry again for the huuuuuge amount of words XD I’m so looking forwards to getting him a pic, coz he’s one of my favourite characters ever, and certainly the most deserving of a nice pic, after all I’ve put him through.
Signature?: yes please. 600x200-ish? <3333 Gonna use it hereeee <3
Which site(s) will you be using the image to?The Lost Islands
Specific Artist?: Opaque, Crazy or Infer?
