;; i'll shoot you down, ole' boy

[Wolfie]

Saint Jimmy.

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'I'm the patron saint of the denial
With an angel face and a taste for suicidal!'

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It was a normal day for Jimmy, roaming Belle Valle snarkily, with that look on his face he always had - egocentric, as if he was above everyone else. His walk was fast paced as if he were heading somewhere important, but in fact, he wasn't heading anywhere at all - in all honesty he was quiet bored. When Jimmy got bored, stuff started to happen. But today he was more solid minded to be good, for he had fought with a stallion yesterday and wished not to fight again for today, in order for his cuts not to be re-opened.

He stopped and stood nearly smack dab in the middle of the valle, and stared off with an inquiring gaze. The day was still - it was midday, perhaps noon, with no breeze. The plants and grass was up tp Jimmy's barrel as he stood. God, I'm all freakin' alone. He closed his eyes and pinned his ears in annoyance. Geez. Jimmy hated the feeling of being alone, and his anxiety piled up. They must all really hate him! But he's Saint Jimmy, that couldn't be possible.. no...

He stomped a hind hoof and waited in silence for his thoughts to slow down.

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[bg=green] Where were the flames and destruction that everyone spoke so fearfully of? Desdemona had been wandering outside of her father’s territory for a week now and had yet to see the signs of the elemental tormentors or the effects of their terrorism. Hell, she had begun to wonder if these rumors of such destructive forces were merely an attempt of the elder horses to keep the younglings in their places. Snorting bitterly, Desdemona would not put it past her father to try and traumatize his herd into thinking he was harboring them from some terrible epidemic. Orpheus had always been known for his deceitful ways. Like father like daughter though – Desdemona had not fallen far from the dark-blood in which she was birthed. Yet, in many ways she was far different and perhaps far worse than her devilish sire. Regardless of her bloodlines, Desdemona did not aspire for tyrannical overrule or anything of that sort. She just wanted to have some fun and have her way; was that really too much to ask? The mare’s preoccupied thoughts shifted suddenly as the breeze drifted a peculiar scent through her nares. Without a second thought or care for the repercussions, the young demon’s brood began in the direction of the unfamiliar. It did not take her long to discover the stallion among such desolate lands. Belle Valle had been quite empty from her observation. Perhaps that was the work of these supposed villains? Another snort shot from her nares. Why the hell was everyone so afraid? The mare stood still and silent before her counterpart for a moment. Her brown tail flicked harshly against her haunches as bugs began to flock her hide from staying in one place for more than a second. And, finally, she spoke, “well, you look quite bothered, dear. What’s wrong? Scared of the big, bad woods and those spooky elementals?” It was obvious the mare thought very little of the threats of the mystical natives of the isle. characters|| desdemona word count|| 331 muse music|| green day, yay! ooc|| hope you don't mind me joining in here – i wasn’t sure if this was open to anyone or if you had someone specific in mind to join.

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[Wolfie]

my name is

[/size]
Saint Jimmy.[/font]
im a son of a gun.[/center][/color]

Sometimes Jimmy thought he was the greatest thing on earth, other times, he felt as low as dirt. But he was never not egocentric. He was never shameful, and never regretful. Today he was in the middle. His mood was fairly idle for the most part as he stood and stared, lost in monodramatic thoughts that had little importance. He was just bored. Often he was such, especially on easy Spring days like this. Everything was hype turning the equines on the isle to brainwashed fools. Jimmy had no patience for such.

Suddenly, however, the peace was disturbed - an equine, a mare, appeared. He looked at her with the same one-track glazed over look of unamusement he always had. He didn't even flinch when she spoke to him like he was a commoner, like he wasn't freaking St. Jimmy. He chuckled inside and smirked. It isn't me thats bothered - it's this world. He stomped a hind-hoof in annoyance and spoke again, looking away. The elementals aren't even the threat anyone should worry about. He watched her for a moment with slight curiosity - hopefully she'd ease his boredom. Worth a shot, atleast.

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[ikr? i had to create st jimmy. had to! lol.]

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[bg=green] This stallion looked like he could afford to let loose a little bit; he seemed terribly rigid. Then again, Desdemona could not say that she was any less bored than he appeared. The most exciting thing she had found all week, hell, all month was this bored chap! Snorting lightly, the mare became rather frustrated with what little this island offered lately – a bunch of scared stiff horses and a complacency with the fear and lack of excitement. It was enough to drive her clear batty! However, his boredom did manage to spark her interest. The painted fae was quite used to people squirming in her pressence, and he was doing the complete opposite. It was great! That was the terrible thing about being the spawn of her father – she was also the spawn of his reputation too. Desdemona did not care if people really liked her or thought she was pleasant to be around. However, if they thought she was a demonic b*tch, well, she wanted it to be because she was and not because of her lineage. And, whether this brute, whoever he was, knew who she was or not, he did not seem the least bit disturbed The mare’s head tilted to the side at his response and smile couldn’t help but creep onto her lips. “Well, it must be a miracle,” she huffed out. “Someone who isn’t pissing themselves over the ‘impending doom.” Her tone was laden with sarcasm as she spoke of the possible damnation of all mortal kind, not that that shouldn’t have been expected from her. Her weight shifted lazily to one side as one ear perked just slightly. “So, tell me, what is this threat that is so far worse than the boogeymen of the land?” The mare just hoped he was not talking of another local spook. She hoped he meant some sort of societal condition, and it wasn’t that she would care if the island’s culture was damning itself. Instead, she just could not bare to hear another rumor of some physical threat that she would have a hard time believing even existed. characters|| desdemona word count|| 353 muse music|| green day ooc|| <3

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[Wolfie]

my name is

[/size]
Saint Jimmy.[/font]
im a son of a gun.[/center][/color]

He began to wonder about her, about who she was and even what she stood for. Rarely did he care about the details behind anyone, but she was interesting. Very cocky, it was hard to peg her as anything. He watched her with more of a lifelike spark in his eye as he tried to figure her out. Normally with mares he cared not who they were, or who they were with, but this one he was certainly curious about. She wasn't stereotypical which wasn't the norm these days. Everyone was whiny and typical. This was why Jimmy had detatched himself in the first place - no one was interesting anymore.

The elementals are hardly a threat. They fell once and they'll fall again. They aren't smart or patient enough to pull anything off. The elementals had never impressed him, when he first heard about them, he hadn't even raised his gaze. He had heard tales of them, none of which sounded like anything he couldn't do himself. The only threat here is believing they could do anything, being brainwashed and all that shit. I thought our race was supposed to be strong. He laughed a little. I guess now we're all really screwed, they'll believe anything these days. Sad.

Jimmy never went with the others - differing from what the others did and choosing his own path, which was nearly taboo these days. He tried to remember what life was like before the dawning of the Elementals rose, but he couldn't. He guessed even then everyone was fretful over something. It seemed like everyone wanted an excuse to be scared.

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[bg=green] At first, the mare wasn’t all that interested in what he was saying. Sure, she was ecstatic that he was not talking about some spook of the woods or a terrorist threat, but she was not particularly concerned with whether their culture was withering away or not. It irritated her beyond all belief that the horses were the way they were, but she was most concerned with herself. She couldn’t save the rest of the morons on this island, but she could make sure that she didn’t turn into a brain-washed buffoon. She was, at least, glad that she had found someone else who did recognize that everyone else was an idiot. That made him interesting enough and worth hanging around, at least for a little while. And then, something he had said did peak her interest more than just realizing that there was another who saw society for what it was. I guess now we’re all really screwed. A small chuckle slithered from her throat, and it felt good. Just being in the company of someone who wasn’t cowering because he was told to, even talking about it, well, it was surprisingly fun. “Well, I would hardly say that we are screwed. You seem to have a decent enough head on you – I mean, you’re not whimpering because everyone says you’re going to die, so you’re at least a step ahead of most of the island folk. But, I’d say it was them; they are the screwed ones.” Shrugging it off, the mare then added, “but, regardless of who all is getting damned, I’d imagine they or we were always screwed. The elementals can’t be the first threat, and brain-washed morons are always going to be susceptible to becoming just that.” characters|| desdemona word count|| 292 muse music|| green day ooc|| whew, deep philosophical discussion within a rp. this is fun ona bun. /loser-ness.

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[Wolfie]

my name is

[/size]
Saint Jimmy.[/font]
im a son of a gun.[/center][/color]

Jimmy never had any friends when he was colt so he had a lot of time to think and build up his own morals. Being the only one in his own world, with a dead father and a careless mother, he also became self-absorbed - a destructive disease that slowly ate away at the mind. Luckily being so self centered he developed a mind of his own, a jewel to have these days. He was able to control himself and didn't listen to anyone but himself and what he believed. In his travels he had tried to convert others to his way of thinking with little success. This is why he pegged everyone as doomed. He knew himself it was useless. So he didn't try anymore. He was just kind of there and thats how it had always been, anyway.

With every word this mare spewed his curiosity of her origin played again and again in his thoughts - what was she? Some kind of different breed. Not like any he had met before and because of this, he had trouble wrapping his head around it. But even then she seemed to have forgotten the main stream of things. She seemed to have this theory that somehow, she wouldn't be mixed in with everyone else. What a hotshot. This time he didn't chuckle, but gave her a somewhat hard stare. And when it's everyone against one or two, which grouping stands the chance? When it all boils down to it we don't matter. I promise. I'm the son of a bum, and a loser. I never stood a chance. I never will unless I leave - and guess what? There's no way off this damn isle. He drew closer to her, a wicked glint in his dark eyes and a smirk on his maw. Who is getting damned? We are the land of the damned. We always were. Me, you, everyone. He breathed nearly on her pelt before backing up a few respectful feet. Who are you? And what do you know about the Elementals. Seems you have some sort of tie to them. It was odd, now that he thought about it, that she seemed so bemused by the fairytales spawned from the 'uprising' of the elementals. Now he wanted to know why.

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[sibber-chow]

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[bg=green] Desdemona had always been known as the daughter of Orpheus, the devil’s spawn, and titles of that manner. Due to this, in her mind, Desdemona was not and could never be lumped in with anyone else. She was not even grouped with him despite whatever similarities she’d already recognized. She realized now that there might be other horses similar to her way of thinking, but that didn’t mean she could or should be tied in with them and their labels. She was just Desdemona, simple and equally as complex as that. The mare either didn’t recognize or didn’t care to acknowledge his change in gaze. “When it is the masses against me, I’ll go down fighting for me,” she mused aloud with a cocky little smirk across her lips. Sure the mutt knew she’d lose in the end, but it didn’t seem to faze her. Auds twitched as she stared him blankly in the face. Soon enough, her eyes sparked as he had caught her interest again. She could admit he was right there; they were all damned, but that didn’t mean she should or would let it ruin her time. Snorting, the mare pawed a foreleg at the dirt. As her gaze veered down at the filthy clouds puffing up she answered, “name’s Desdemona.” She felt no need to inform him of her lineage. As she saw it, it wasn’t really relevant. Honestly, she had given her name with bit of reluctance. She didn’t see that her name was relevant to who she was either. It was just a cordial matter she supposed. “The elemental threat is something that has been drilled into my skull since I was birthed. My pops, good ole bastard that he is, liked to remind the herd that the threat was out there always. Only chance we had at safety was staying tight at his flanks with our tails between our legs… according to him.” Shaking her crown, the mare finally looked back at the stag seeing as the cloud had dissipated completely. “He’s not the only one using the elemental spook to gain control over his ‘dedicated’ followers, though. The elementals may be planning an all-out war, and, hell, we might just all die tomorrow, but our illustrious rulers aren’t telling us this to protect us. Nah, instead, they’re just using a shitty situation to create a bunch of cultist minions. Hell, maybe they’re the smart ones, ‘cause its working.” characters|| desdemona word count|| 407 muse music|| green day ooc|| <3

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[Wolfie]

my name is

[/size]
Saint Jimmy.[/font]
im a son of a gun.[/center][/color]

As soon as she uttered her name he forgot it. He wasn't even paying attention to that part, though. Names were so unimportant. He did however pay attention to what she spoke of next - and he wasn't surprised, rather frusturated at how vague it was. It left him little to work, but he could already tell he didn't like what she spawned from - those types, he hated. Full of shit and for what gain. He stomped a back hoof at the thought but rolled it away from his mind.

Maybe the elementals are a threat. Who knows for sure. Either way we suffer. I guess if it's anything it might as well be them. They're pretty damn good at pretending to be scary, anyway. Again his mood shifted, this time a teasing smile crept upon his maw. Oh, yeah. I'm Saint Jimmy, the patron saint of denial. He gazed away for a moment, smirking at his comment. How he loved what makeshift power his name held for him. He wasn't sure, though, if Jimmy was even his real name - he couldn't remember anymore. But with his mother long gone and his sire dead, he could call himself what ever the hell he wanted. St Jimmy stuck.

And what are you? Tell me this, whatsername, have you ever stood for anything? At the sound of his name, his ego reared it's ugly head and the cockiness in his voice was as heavy as a drunken slur. Perhaps it was times like these he was most dangerous. But he couldn't help himself, the question of her intentions past or present was so nostalgic for him.

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[bg=black] The mare could tell her answer did not completely satisfy him, but it was all she felt important enough to say in the moment. Desdemona never saw much reason in spilling your guts out with every detail anytime anyone asked anything. If he really wanted more, he’d have to work for it. Still, she would only give him whatever she damn pleased or thought important, and, of course, there were many things Desdemona deemed unimportant and far more moments where she didn’t care to be particularly pleasing. The painted mare shrugged off the thoughts of whether or not they were all going to collapse into extinction or who the real threat was. It didn’t really matter because there wasn’t a damn thing fretting would do to save them. A rather amused expression crept upon her face as he provided his calling and self-conceived position. “Oh, well, I had not realized I was in the presence of someone that is certainly so revered,” sarcasm thickly coated every word as it slipped from her lips. She even topped it off with a mock bow. When he spoke again, having already forgotten her name, Desdemona raised her crown. Her tail slapped at her haunches as she only momentarily considered his question. “Stood for something, hm?” The mare’s now rather blank gaze locked with her newfound companion’s as she took a casual step forward. “Well, I’ll tell you this. All I have ever longed for is to do whatever the fuck I want – you know, liberate from the bullshit authority shoves down our throats. And, imagine that, it’s exactly what I’m doing.” She snorted in quiet annoyance at a howling breeze that came rushing past the duo, before stepping away from St. Jimmy. “Call that whatever you feel like, but it’s as close to a cause as I’ve got or care to have for that matter.” The mare began to walk away seeing as the day was growing steadily warmer and she’d become rather parched. Offering a rather indirect invitation for him to join her in the walk, she paused momentarily to glance over her shoulder. “So, what the hell does the patron saint of denial stand for? Surely, you have some big cause, Saint?” After teasing the stallion, the mare turned her attention ahead of her again and began the trek through the tall grasses. There was a part of her that hoped he took the hint and followed; this brute wasn't nearly as boring as most. characters|| Desdemona word count|| 414 muse music|| minority - green day ooc|| Click to see Des's photo manip! <3

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[Wolfie]

my name is

[/size]
Saint Jimmy.[/font]
im a son of a gun.[/center][/color]

Jimmy smirked at her as she taunted him, meerily humoring his serious questions. What nerve she seemed to have. Her rebellious nature intrigued him like he hadn't ever been before. Her morals were heavily linked to his own, and it made the conversation more intinmate and interesting. Sounds fair enough. I've learned in my years, thats the only thing you can do... His thoughts traveled back years to his peak, and his old herd, and what they had stood for. And then they left him, or he left them - either way it had crashed and burned and Jimmy had stayed nomadic and alone ever since.

Sometimes he felt like going with the flow of things, just giving in - but what would he be then? Reduced to less then any other ole' horse? He wouldn't have that. Atleast he could still live in the shadow of what used to be if he couldn't live it now. But to fall in line with normality would be absolute sin. My name? What does it mean.. you tell me. All I know is it's my name, and don't wear it out. He laughed a little at himself before following after her. As for a cause, I think I used to. I don't remember. And as much as he wanted that to be true, it wasn't. Of course he remembered it. But if anyone else remembered it, they didn't care. So Jimmy learned not to care, too.

So you don't fall into some cult? Your parents must not be very proud. Jimmy, shut up, nobody likes you.

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[bg=black] As she lazily waded through the grasses, the mare gave his words some thought. “I spill my guts out,” a small laugh broke her speech as she mused about that obvious lie, “and, that’s all you give me?” And, yet, she didn’t instigate any further. In time, the mare hoped to figure out more about this interesting brute, but she’d let time work that out. “The ole’hag is dead and wasn’t more than scum of the Earth, but then again that’s what pops said. So, she was likely an angel. I don’t recall.” The mare shrugged it off, holding no sentimental ties at all to her mother. Her striped tiara turned towards Jimmy just long enough to flash him a cocky little smirk before saying, “daddy dearest is saying I’m more and more like the filth these days. I’m a goddamn angel! Ha, wouldn’t you be proud?” The mare’s eyes squinted ahead as another fierce gale tormented the valley. She imagined this was something of her father’s doing. Spying on the mare, perhaps? A quiet snort fled her nostrils in irritation, but annoyance turned to humor as she began to wonder if her father had realized she wasn’t coming back home. Probably not. She’d only decided that on a whim today, as most of her decisions came to fruition. Disbanding the thoughts, Desdemona glanced at Jimmy momentarily. She’d taken an interest in him quickly, and for the first time she found herself curious in what someone else wanted or thought. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she liked it. It left her feeling fairly raw, and like she was being sucked into someone else’s authority. A defiant huff left her nares; what a dumb thought! “You always been a nomad?” It was something that had bothered her for a bit now. She couldn’t really see Jimmy in a herd setting. He’d fit in about as well as she had. characters|| Desdemona word count|| 318 muse music|| green day ooc|| <3

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[bg=black] “We should thank them. I’m sure its their shitty parenting that made us such outstanding members of society,” she mused with dry sarcasm. The mare seemed terribly amused as he spoke of a wind god. A wide grin crossed her kissers as she looked to him with an odd glint in her blue orbs. “Must be the damn elemental scare everyone’s raving on about,” and while the comment was another skeptic taunt of elemental threat, well, it was somewhat true. Were they all about to succumb to an onslaught of the elementals? Probably not. Was this the force of an elemental? Well, sure. “I guess all the idiots were right,” she mused with an equivalent amount of sarcasm. Tossing her crown as the wind continued, seemingly directed at them, the mare’s ears began to twitch as if she were listening to something upon the very gales. A robust laughter followed; she’d apparently found whatever the seemingly fictional voice said quite amusing. And, after that, the wind stopped and everything went still as it had been before she’d arrived. Desdemona looked at him as if nothing out of the normal had happened. What was normal, anyhow? “Ah, the lonely life of a saint! Watch it, you might just become a martyr.” In the distance, the mare spotted a small grove in which she presumed a pond existed. Licking her lips, the mare gave a mock rear and side-glance to her counterpart before bolting off in the direction of the waters. To hell with walking! It was getting boring. characters|| Desdemona word count|| 247 muse music|| green day ooc|| <3

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[Wolfie]

my name is

[/size]
Saint Jimmy.[/font]
im a son of a gun.[/center][/color]

Jimmy dismissed her elemental comment, already uninterested in the topic. It was old news. It probably was one of those wind bastards, and what bothers they had with the mare Jimmy knew not of - but he decided not to question it. He watched her with intent as she spoke, as if every word she was saying was gold. And though everything she did say, he agreed with - there was always that sliver he retorted. She consistently forgot the grand scheme of things and it bothered him. There was once a time when he would agree, but not now. And even so, he felt in her some kind of kindred spirit. Thats perhaps why he stayed so long, because by now he would have grown bored and left.

A martyr, huh? Thats not so bad. Whats worth fighting for thats not worth dying for, anyway. He was serious this time, there was no spark in his voice. He knew he wouldn't go down the average way. He had always been obsessed with death and the end, and dying for something - at his own hands. He could fall for someone but not by someone. Maybe he would die trying to change it all.

Her sudden gallop spooked him, and his ears perked up. So energetic, she was. Light on her feet and mocking in her tone. He smirked and galloped after her, and when he caught up, fell in line with her gait. You sure are pretty carefree! Somebody should set you straight. He laughed a bit before letting himself get lost in the tempo of their run.

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[bg=black] The mare nodded her head in agreement after considering his views on martyrdom. Desdemona was not particularly interested in pursuing death any quicker than fate had planned, but she would far sooner die than cave in to anyone else’s authority. Ears flicked back as his gait matched up alongside hers. Offering a smile at his comment she mused, “I’d have wish that poor bastard good luck,” before fading into silence. As the day aged and the sun was prominent in the sky, even these short bursts could make a horse sweat. It wasn’t even summer yet, and the days were already getting so hot. The only good thing about this heat was the cooling storms it often caused. Glancing up, the mare could see a few grayed clouds but doubted the rain to hit until nightfall. As they approached the grove, she slowed her gait in the same abrupt manner as before until she was at a walk. Studying the landscape, she cursed beneath her breath. Sure, there was a pond, but a rather puny excuse for one. Where was the fun in a barely hock high puddle? Where was the fun at all? The silence had grown tedious, and the heat had the mare rather irritable. The mare offered Jimmy a blank stare before stopping movement altogether as they reached the small body of water. Lowering her head, the mare took advantage of the previously chastised silence to catch a sip. As she sipped, her mind reeled about dangerous and destructive ploys of entertainment came to mind. characters|| Desdemona word count|| 258 muse music|| green day ooc|| <3

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