Post by Fingerprints on Oct 3, 2009 16:00:12 GMT -5
Name of Character(s): Casanova[/size]
Text: Casanova
Quote: Any lyrics from here: click.
Species: equine
Age: 7 yrs.
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Gypsy Vanner
Colour: Gray-white with strange and faint silver runes all over his body.
Physical Appearance: Although the stallion be 7 years old already, he still holds the demeanor that of a four year old. His muscles are still taut and well used, powerful beneath his glossy coat. The pelt across his well-muscled body keeps perfect color tones with beautiful transitions into darker and lighter colours. His eyes run a dashing, captivating blue--unusual for a silver brute, but he got the lucky chance at wielding the pools of beauty.
Personality: This stallion is nothing short of beautiful. Inside and out. He is a very calm, soothing boy who often keeps to himself. He may be depressed, but this is not the reason for his solitude. He simply enjoys his own company. He prefures to ponder the thoughts of what has become of him, and muse as to why he has become such a desolate soul. He will accept company if provided, and takes delight in seeing happy fillies or colts. He has a big enough to heart to help anyone, with a noble soul and a courageous heart. He would sacrifice himself for the littlest of foals or the cruelest of stallions. He does have a bit of a temper, though, finding those with incredible amounts of energy tiring and irritating. He is highly protective of his pride, his past, and those he loves, and can take on a possessive nature if he were to have a herd. He is incredibly aggressive if provoked enough and will do anything for what’s right. He gives hope to others, and yet keeps none for himself.
Images or References: Click! He's about the only one I could find, but if you could find better, that would be amazing!
Image Ideas: Perhaps standing on a cliff with a stormy background but no rain please.
Example Post:The once lush grasses were now being drowned and washed this was and that by a steady rainfall. The light rolling movement of the land caused the depression to puddle and become mucky messes. There was no longer any birdsong since any bird with even a quarter of a brain had sought cover. I guess I don't have much of a brain then. He scowled at the nearest tree, knowing birds were taking refuge there. He gave an exasperated snort as he felt his fore give way into a mud puddle. It quickly stained his light hooves and white legs a mud brown, topping off his rainy day look. He needed some refuge soon. The sky didn't look all that forgiving. The small rise ahead of him should be the last if his memory was at all accurate, and it was. He knew these turnouts well. That was a good memory for him. Well, all his memories were good ones! All of them except for his actual training at the facility, that is. That was never fun, and he always left his day's sessions feeling so confused, not sure what the hell was actually being asked of him most of the time. It was awful frustrating to not understand the two-leggeds. He supposed that was one reason most stayed away. There was so much confusion involved in staying with the two-leggeds. It seemed they were always asking something of you, too. His tasks had been very small and simple for the most part. The silver-designed stallion had seen what others were made ot do, and he didn't suppose that was easy to achieve.
He reached the top of the last slope and exhaled slightly heavier than normal expressing relief. There, laid out before him, was the facility. Home sweet home, I guess. He didn't wait a moment longer, quickly departing from the slope, gazing hungrily at the small patches of grass underneath trees scattered about the property. The closest tree was a mighty oak he decided, and in full bloom, sporting a vibrant emerald green, the trunk the shade of dark, rich brown. The gray gypsy vanner felt the rain begin to come down ever harder and at even quicker speeds. He upped his pace to a ground-covering trot, coming up right beside the sturdy tree and halting. He turned his head and looked directly behind him, noting how his hoof prints stuck out like a sore thumb. The ground was soft all over the grounds, and something as heavy as him was bound to do such damage. His stomach churned noisily. He couldn't hear it over the obnoxious sound of the rain pitter pattering as it hit the ground, but he could feel it alright. His head came back around to his front, dropping immediately to the moist blades just waiting for someone like him to come snatch them up.
He had pulled a good five mouthfuls, when his nose had finally gotten over the rain, finding something interesting. His skull rose, ears flicked forward at attention, mouth still full of grass and its roots. His eyes flew to the barn situated to his right about a couple hundred feet off. That was what he smelled -- home. Slowly, his jaws began to chew again, his eyes still remaining on the dry, cozy barn, however. What did he want more? Grass or Barn? If it were an ordinary day at the stable, grass would have been the obvious answer, but even in this current situation, he was inclined to stay outside. He swallowed his mouthful and went down for more, hunger getting the best of him. Sweet, sweet grass. His jaws parted to take another snatch of the treat, but was interrupted. A bright flash lit up the sky, illuminating the ground around him. His head flew up, ears laid flat against his head, sidestepping frantically as a booming sound crackled and shook the atmosphere. A sharp squeal escaped his sadly grassless maw, and he pivoted back around so that he was facing the barn. No grass, barn! His powerful hinds bunched and then pushed off against the earth, thrusting him forward ino a flighty gallop. He stretched his neck into it, willing to do anything to make him move quicker. He flew across the yard in moments and was closing in on the thankfully open and spacious aisle in the center of the barn. He slowed just enough to make the turn and avoid banging his right side on it. He straightened out and quickly pulled up before he could reach the other entrance. As soon as he was still, he blew a rough, unappreciative snort.
After giving himself a few moments to settle back down, he started to actually look around. More than half of the stalls lacked doors of any kind, but the ground looked clean as ever. It was a strange sight to see splintered wood on many of the doorway, but not see any evidence of what used to be attached. He assumed the humans were still here and they had probably tidied the place up after their mess. His eyes ran up and down the stalls, stopping at one in particular. Suddenly very curious, he turned around to go to it. Almost all the way back at the front entrance that he'd come hurdling through, he stopped, looking to his left at a wooden nameplate with a name carved in it. "Casanova." His eyes then shifted to the empty doorway, noting the heavily splintered wood where the hinges used to be. He stretched his muzzle out into the stall's warm interior, immediately noticing his own scent. This was home. He withdrew his head and glanced left then right, carefully checking his surroundings before proceeding any further. The last thing he needed was to end up cornered. He wouldn't want to have to force his way back out. He placed one hoof onto the stall's slightly dusty bedding. He stopped a moment, inhaled the air once more, and then quickly but carefully got his whole body through the doorway, watching for the pieces of wood that dared to scratch and embed themselves in his hide. Once in, he placed himself against the back wall. Silently, he remained there, dropping his head some and just relaxing into the setting, enjoying the rain for now. He quivered at the thought of another thunderous blast.
Comments: If it helps any, listen to the song “Never Let Go” by Bryan Adams. That’s his whole personality in a nutshell.
Signature?: A clickable for a larger image would be much appreciated!
Which site(s) will you be using the image to? Enchanted Calling
Specific Artist?: Nope. I'm not too picky.
