Post by lionheart on Nov 20, 2009 3:19:04 GMT -5
Name of Character:Dogwood
Text:Dogwood
Quote: i’m your angel undercover
Species: horse
Age: 5
Gender: female
Breed: 1/2 Morgan 1/4 TB 1/4 Arab
Colour:chestnut overo
Physical Appearance: well, she’s well built, and quite a looker. Always has a cheeky, mysterious glint in her eye. Bald face, white stockings
Personality: basically, she is a spy. She lives to poke her nose into others business, and then give the information to those who are willing to pay for it. She is usually quiet and observant, a wall flower, but when the situation calls for it, she commands the spotlight, and uses her charm and looks to get what she wants.
Images or References: the sort of overo pattern I’d like... gloomwriter.deviantart.com/art/Cochise-Stock-15-104615791
I like the colour and pose in this image
adverbial-spectra.deviantart.com/art/Diseased-125854839
Image Ideas: well, I want a sassy sort of pose for Doggy, because deep down, that’s what she is. It’d be cool if it was all mysterious and secretive sort of. Otherwise, I’m fine with whatever <3
Oh, yeah, she’s gonna be living in a desert. So if you want, maybe it could be deserty, though I don’t really mind.
Example post with requested character: Dogwood lived her life wandering, sneaking through shadows, and thrusting her nose into places it didn’t belong. Of course, she did it without anyone realising, because what was the use of that. Words were her favourite choice of weapon, and she had learnt to use them to her advantage. She had what you might call a silvertongue. Where others used brute force to gain information, or innocence and beauty to wheedle out of tricky situations, Dogwood used her mind and her tongue, sometimes caressing, sometimes cracking painfully like a whip or double edged sword. She fought with wisdom rather than strength, brains rather than beauty, but that’s not to say she wasn’t pretty, or that she could deal out pain.
When she had first arrived here, she had snooped around a bit, the lay of the land was imprinted in her mind like a map. She had watched unfortunate (though somewhat dim-witted) mares interact with ill-meaning stallions. She had seen several mares prancing around, and this had disgusted her. While she had strutted in the past, and she would strut in the future, it was all fake, and she did it only to get stallions to talk. To her, mares were the equal opposites to stallions; they could not survive without one another. She was proud of what she was, and she would never let herself down by demeaning herself, she would never crawl, she would never beg. She was to be treated fairly, to be respected, and in turn, she would respect others.
She had walked the outskirts of some of the territories, her eyes sparkling with hunger. There was so much she could be doing, and yet she was sitting here, waiting for the right moment to come. Talking now with the shadow, the chestnut overo knew, not in her heart, but in her mind, that opportunity had come knocking, and was calling for her. She would follow him home, and then she would disappear. Like a shadow herself, she would come and go. She would come back to this place, put on a mask. Smile and act friendly to other mares. Play games with unsuspecting stallions. She would say what they wanted to hear, so that she would, in turn, hear what she wants to hear. Then, she would pass her message along. In return, all she would ask for was safety and freedom.
She considered what the stallion said, and was silent as she thought. “If you want to see how deep my claws really are, just point me in the direction of a target.” A sly grin spread across her lips and entered her eyes. All this talk was getting her fired up. She shook her head at the words that followed, a perfect expression of disappointment dissolving the spark from her eyes. She turned to gaze at him, her nostrils flaring. “It would have been so much fun if you had though, my mystery shadow. I could have gotten away with so much...” Her tricky grin returns, her eyes shine dangerously once more. Her ears flickered as he spoke again, and she remained silent. He spoke again, and Dogwood threw her sharp gaze into the shadowy corners where the light couldn’t reach. Then she returned her gaze to him, purring back at him. “I’m no incubator, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t be one, if you wanted it to be so. You are right though, my talents do lie elsewhere. Tell me what you know about the other stallions, shadow. Tell me what you have seen here. What have you heard from the mouths of those mares who do not live beneath you and yours?”
Comments:
Signature?: Nah, thanks
Which site(s) will you be using the image? www.thelostislands.webs.com/enchanted/frames.htm
Specific Artist?: Spectra? Coz you did such an awesome job for me last time <3
Text:Dogwood
Quote: i’m your angel undercover
Species: horse
Age: 5
Gender: female
Breed: 1/2 Morgan 1/4 TB 1/4 Arab
Colour:chestnut overo
Physical Appearance: well, she’s well built, and quite a looker. Always has a cheeky, mysterious glint in her eye. Bald face, white stockings
Personality: basically, she is a spy. She lives to poke her nose into others business, and then give the information to those who are willing to pay for it. She is usually quiet and observant, a wall flower, but when the situation calls for it, she commands the spotlight, and uses her charm and looks to get what she wants.
Images or References: the sort of overo pattern I’d like... gloomwriter.deviantart.com/art/Cochise-Stock-15-104615791
I like the colour and pose in this image
adverbial-spectra.deviantart.com/art/Diseased-125854839
Image Ideas: well, I want a sassy sort of pose for Doggy, because deep down, that’s what she is. It’d be cool if it was all mysterious and secretive sort of. Otherwise, I’m fine with whatever <3
Oh, yeah, she’s gonna be living in a desert. So if you want, maybe it could be deserty, though I don’t really mind.
Example post with requested character: Dogwood lived her life wandering, sneaking through shadows, and thrusting her nose into places it didn’t belong. Of course, she did it without anyone realising, because what was the use of that. Words were her favourite choice of weapon, and she had learnt to use them to her advantage. She had what you might call a silvertongue. Where others used brute force to gain information, or innocence and beauty to wheedle out of tricky situations, Dogwood used her mind and her tongue, sometimes caressing, sometimes cracking painfully like a whip or double edged sword. She fought with wisdom rather than strength, brains rather than beauty, but that’s not to say she wasn’t pretty, or that she could deal out pain.
When she had first arrived here, she had snooped around a bit, the lay of the land was imprinted in her mind like a map. She had watched unfortunate (though somewhat dim-witted) mares interact with ill-meaning stallions. She had seen several mares prancing around, and this had disgusted her. While she had strutted in the past, and she would strut in the future, it was all fake, and she did it only to get stallions to talk. To her, mares were the equal opposites to stallions; they could not survive without one another. She was proud of what she was, and she would never let herself down by demeaning herself, she would never crawl, she would never beg. She was to be treated fairly, to be respected, and in turn, she would respect others.
She had walked the outskirts of some of the territories, her eyes sparkling with hunger. There was so much she could be doing, and yet she was sitting here, waiting for the right moment to come. Talking now with the shadow, the chestnut overo knew, not in her heart, but in her mind, that opportunity had come knocking, and was calling for her. She would follow him home, and then she would disappear. Like a shadow herself, she would come and go. She would come back to this place, put on a mask. Smile and act friendly to other mares. Play games with unsuspecting stallions. She would say what they wanted to hear, so that she would, in turn, hear what she wants to hear. Then, she would pass her message along. In return, all she would ask for was safety and freedom.
She considered what the stallion said, and was silent as she thought. “If you want to see how deep my claws really are, just point me in the direction of a target.” A sly grin spread across her lips and entered her eyes. All this talk was getting her fired up. She shook her head at the words that followed, a perfect expression of disappointment dissolving the spark from her eyes. She turned to gaze at him, her nostrils flaring. “It would have been so much fun if you had though, my mystery shadow. I could have gotten away with so much...” Her tricky grin returns, her eyes shine dangerously once more. Her ears flickered as he spoke again, and she remained silent. He spoke again, and Dogwood threw her sharp gaze into the shadowy corners where the light couldn’t reach. Then she returned her gaze to him, purring back at him. “I’m no incubator, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t be one, if you wanted it to be so. You are right though, my talents do lie elsewhere. Tell me what you know about the other stallions, shadow. Tell me what you have seen here. What have you heard from the mouths of those mares who do not live beneath you and yours?”
Comments:
Signature?: Nah, thanks
Which site(s) will you be using the image? www.thelostislands.webs.com/enchanted/frames.htm
Specific Artist?: Spectra? Coz you did such an awesome job for me last time <3
