Post by YellowROOM on Jun 11, 2011 12:18:52 GMT -5
RENEGADE
READ THE FACADE;name: Renegade
S'ALL IN THE GENES;breed: Cavallo Dell'Isola
WE CALL IT MANHOOD;gender:Stallion
THE CLOCK WINDS;age: Seven years, kitten.
I FACE THE WIND;height: 16.00 hh
A PAINTED CHASSIS;coat Colour: Buckskin
THREADS;mane Colour: Black
A FLAG BEHIND ME;tail Colour: Black
HAHA, MY FLAW;eye Colour: Black, can only see shadows.
ANYTHING INTERESTING;markings: None, faint dapples.
WANT A LOOK;image: ukase.deviantart.com/art/Renegade-212691677
PICK A SIDE;alliance: Neutral.
THE BOOK OPENS;history: The lad was born, without the sense of sight. No bulbs of vision filled his sockets. Only darkness, blankness, like an ever long abyss. No need to blink, nothing. There was only black, and possibly, that could be the greatest sight of all. The blackness of nothing. Because in nothing, and not knowing, there is everything, and all-knowing. Maybe that was what made him live. And maybe not.
Calm fuels the sandy abyss that of which reigns on the sacred bodice. The back ends, the frays at the end of the twisted fabric of his nature are oddly broken. The brute had an interesting novel written in is his name. Breaking a bond by death, his tranquil mind had taken none of a toll, and ended that of his lover’s life. The porcelain girl fell, bloodied with scarlet, an embodied corpse, another for death row. His mask of peace never unfurled, letting him torment himself in the deepest remote cavities of his mind, slinking through thoughts, pictures, and memories, like lullabies in a child’s mind. He killed her, without a trace of knowing. Why? The slightest sliver of disgust and sorrow was brought upon him when she had told him that she truly hated him. Even without sight, he could see her soul, her sweet, savage, ruthless, cold soul. She loved him once upon an era, and now her love dwindled to nothing. And he could not take the pain of that notion. By the power vested in his obsidians, he exploded, reaping his mental instability into her, now her life instability. He meant not to kill, but that is what had become. His calm persona made him feel deep in pleasure in the years after. He was, actually. Sadly, his nature ruled upon him, so he could not feel the depth of sorrow to what he had done.
Wisdom melded like silver into his cavity of thought, he became strong, pulled taut without thought. His vision never became an issue. His courage was an ocean, though not to say he was fearless. That would be untrue. His fears stretch across plains, his mind seeking it evermore, fear. Fear could kill, fear did kill. And he was fear. And he could kill. He had. He was trusted, despite his raw past; he was trusted, as any other in his ranks. He lives a solemn, wise life, no love, no rebellious attitude. Those things are foolish. But fear is not.
IT'S HOW I AM;personality: He’s quite a solemn boy, though he’s also a bit sly and cunning. He replies almost with a nonchalant monotone manner, in sleek baritone, to any comment. And he replies the truth. He relishes in being silent and at ease, where he can never face the world’s horrors. And thus, he spends most of his days among others, but utterly alone. Love is a colt’s game, siring is a stallion’s will. He has no taste for either, or so he thinks. Rebelling and fighting are not amongst his top picks to have a merry time either. He likes to travel much, and slays only the abyss he sees beneath him. Every step, a courageous step into nowhere and everywhere, the world he has yet to see, beneath his feet. Beyond him, lurk answers to questions unasked. He seeks nothing, feels no emotion but ease, and yet redeems himself in a sleek, justified way. He has no hope, nothing bigger than himself he seeks. He is emotionless and forgiving. And so, he comes as no threat. He is just a sliver of tranquility, in this world of hate. Unless, of course, he loves you. Because sometimes, love is dangerous. A blind man’s game.
