fatal
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member is offline
the pain reminds us that we're still alive
![[aim]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/aim.gif)
Joined: Apr 2008
Gender: Female 
Posts: 14
Location: between love && hate
|  | |:| even if that where true |:|
« Thread Started on Apr 3, 2008, 1:35pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
~About Myself~
Online Name:: Fatal or Violet... which ever you prefer. xD
Other Characters:: None, as of now.
~About My Horse~
Name:: Apathy
Age:: 8 autumns
Gender:: Wench
Alliance:: Neutral
Appearance:: Dun hued pelt with slashes and scars littering her frame, mainly the stilts. Opts of dark ebony look out at the world with morbid understanding. Her mane and tail are characteristic of the breed, but stand out because of the rare growth pattern. Horizontal stripes cover the forelegs and a dark, muddy shade outlines the auditives and tips. A full length dorsal stripe runs over the stretch of the femmora's spinal cord.
Breed:: Norwegian Fjord Horse
Personality:: The bellatine has a curious and calm presence, yet she is aloof and high-strung at the same time. Apathy, as her name suggests could care little about anything. She is charming and gentle, and somehow disagreeable and disdainful all at once.
History:: A skeptic of amore, torment by past attempts to love, and trailed by chaotic drama. Yet her past has never been spoken.
Rp Sample:: Apathy, the time-bomb just ticking away. The bellatine duo-beated into the realm, razor-like flints sending loose sod flying into the air behind her. Carbon diluted the atmos as she exhaled deeply, catching her breathe, twas not easy to accept the harsh realities of winter. The air grew thinner during this season, making it nearly impossible to run long distances without tiring quickly.
Her bristled tassels gave no protection from the wind and ice, therefore she was left chilled in the frost. Well, no. I suppose that is not really true. The stout equid's framery was covered in thick, dun peltage that kept the cold out as best as could be expected.
The equine fatale sauntered over the loam as though she knew where she was headed. As though anywhere she turned, there would be a friend. Ha! Friends?! Most certainly not! This wench had never met a soul that gazed upon her and wished to be 'friends.' That was probably for the best though, considering she was quite unstable at times. There was no telling how nasty she could get. But I wouldn't stick around to find out either.
Apathy didn't, pardon, doesn't. Apathy doesn't believe in happily-ever-afters or fairytale endings. The paramour's life is spent dreading each and every waking moment. There have, she'll admit, been times where she has thought of ending it all. Hell couldn't be half as bad as this.
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