Post by xavier on May 29, 2011 12:40:17 GMT -5
Name: Xavier Alexander Leoni Arimathea.
Age: 3. born in march.
Gender: Male.
Breed: ½ Egyptian Arabian . ¼ Kabardin . ¼ Akhal-Teke
Height: 16hh.
Coat Color: Liver Chestnut.
Mane/tail Color: Black / red.
Eye Color: Blue, red flecks.
Markings: Black points.
Alignment: Neutral.
Personality: The mesh of our enemies, cleverly situated in bone and sinew as directed from the devil's pits. Some form of consumption grown by might and ambition, an eager sort of vehemence forever audacious in haughty hues. He is the reckless debacle of your terror fraught dreams, the beautiful incarnate resolution of what juxtaposition has in play. Your hero. Your villain. Your heaven and hell, dignified in every means of violence. Yes, violence in the flesh. There is a hideous sense of beauty to this work, the vice beatings of this butcher horrifically ensued, that could nearly be forgiven of his cruelty for the pity of his monstrous ravishings. The terrifying truth of a ghosting archangel, where in his grief wrought such damnable fantasies. It is the carnal deliverance of the rogue, the fury that sends him, the berserk that holds him in his ninth circle waiting. There is no time, no patience, in this arabesque art of puddling bloods and wilting souls. He collects greedily these lusting composites of the faint mind and withered heart. A heart, a heart indeed. Sufficed for his suppressed desires that grew in his dreams day by night. Some sylph phantom that haunted him in taunting reverie, that in this soft madness of his sensual nightmares, he had lost himself. He was immersed in his wrath. O wrath, that is what took him like a pestilence melancholy and --- grave. Oh so grave. Death in his eyes. He laughs. A horrid laugh that peels the breathless catch of air in shrieking fear, and tastes the dream on the tender masque of affection. It seeps from his lungs, collects in the vapor, seethes chillingly in this depraved silence; of longing. His mouth gaped, draped in the luscious coating of red, dribbling rivulets that stained his dark body. It was the abyss that stared back, washed behind his lolling tongue as it lapped coolly over blackened lips, upturned to the mayhem which bore an abhorrent grin. He moves, the vicious sense of a movement that in lethargy mimics the feral lupine grace of a warmonger were-devil, and graciously poised before you in the vindictive cunning of a lewd fox. In his stare he traps you, the ticking box of such slaving slaughters unkempt to a man's wild, sultry commands. “I love the look of terror in your eyes,” he whispers slowly, a dripping miasma venom that sinks in your ears and stills your berating heartbeat – oh poisonous lechery sweetly thereout. His voice is an exhilarating specimen of baritone drawl, some horrific roll of delicious pheromone tones that seizes frigidly, coaxing chills down your trembling spine, crooning you closer, a temptation of the wicked saint. “It suits you just as beautifully as the blood.”
History: Born to Amunet and Lacuna Arimathea, beta pair.
Raised in desert scape.
Amunet dies of tuberculosis.
Lacuna falls to insanity, abandons Xavier.
Xavier leaves the herd at age 2.
Comes upon a love interest, sadism twists him.
She too abandons him.
Comes upon another filly who looks like the last intrigue.
He kills the filly in fear she would abandon him.
For a year he wanders alone.
Happens upon Windriver Valley.
Batty/Bregu returns. ;D
"Hello Clar-I mean Kairi." <3
Age: 3. born in march.
Gender: Male.
Breed: ½ Egyptian Arabian . ¼ Kabardin . ¼ Akhal-Teke
Height: 16hh.
Coat Color: Liver Chestnut.
Mane/tail Color: Black / red.
Eye Color: Blue, red flecks.
Markings: Black points.
Alignment: Neutral.
Personality: The mesh of our enemies, cleverly situated in bone and sinew as directed from the devil's pits. Some form of consumption grown by might and ambition, an eager sort of vehemence forever audacious in haughty hues. He is the reckless debacle of your terror fraught dreams, the beautiful incarnate resolution of what juxtaposition has in play. Your hero. Your villain. Your heaven and hell, dignified in every means of violence. Yes, violence in the flesh. There is a hideous sense of beauty to this work, the vice beatings of this butcher horrifically ensued, that could nearly be forgiven of his cruelty for the pity of his monstrous ravishings. The terrifying truth of a ghosting archangel, where in his grief wrought such damnable fantasies. It is the carnal deliverance of the rogue, the fury that sends him, the berserk that holds him in his ninth circle waiting. There is no time, no patience, in this arabesque art of puddling bloods and wilting souls. He collects greedily these lusting composites of the faint mind and withered heart. A heart, a heart indeed. Sufficed for his suppressed desires that grew in his dreams day by night. Some sylph phantom that haunted him in taunting reverie, that in this soft madness of his sensual nightmares, he had lost himself. He was immersed in his wrath. O wrath, that is what took him like a pestilence melancholy and --- grave. Oh so grave. Death in his eyes. He laughs. A horrid laugh that peels the breathless catch of air in shrieking fear, and tastes the dream on the tender masque of affection. It seeps from his lungs, collects in the vapor, seethes chillingly in this depraved silence; of longing. His mouth gaped, draped in the luscious coating of red, dribbling rivulets that stained his dark body. It was the abyss that stared back, washed behind his lolling tongue as it lapped coolly over blackened lips, upturned to the mayhem which bore an abhorrent grin. He moves, the vicious sense of a movement that in lethargy mimics the feral lupine grace of a warmonger were-devil, and graciously poised before you in the vindictive cunning of a lewd fox. In his stare he traps you, the ticking box of such slaving slaughters unkempt to a man's wild, sultry commands. “I love the look of terror in your eyes,” he whispers slowly, a dripping miasma venom that sinks in your ears and stills your berating heartbeat – oh poisonous lechery sweetly thereout. His voice is an exhilarating specimen of baritone drawl, some horrific roll of delicious pheromone tones that seizes frigidly, coaxing chills down your trembling spine, crooning you closer, a temptation of the wicked saint. “It suits you just as beautifully as the blood.”
History: Born to Amunet and Lacuna Arimathea, beta pair.
Raised in desert scape.
Amunet dies of tuberculosis.
Lacuna falls to insanity, abandons Xavier.
Xavier leaves the herd at age 2.
Comes upon a love interest, sadism twists him.
She too abandons him.
Comes upon another filly who looks like the last intrigue.
He kills the filly in fear she would abandon him.
For a year he wanders alone.
Happens upon Windriver Valley.
Batty/Bregu returns. ;D
"Hello Clar-I mean Kairi." <3
