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Post by syri on Sept 2, 2011 2:29:59 GMT -5
 Name: Titania
Age: 3
Gender: Mare
Breed: 1/2 Asil ; 1/2 Kurd
Height: 15.2 hh
Coat Color: Black sabino
Mane/tail Color: White/jetty
Eye Color: Gray/Silver
Markings: sabino markings on belly and two white socks {hind legs}
Alignment: Dark
Personality:
Skin so wet, black lace on sweat; Eloquent ashen lady of feverish sable tresses coiling like inky smoke against the build of her shoulders lay wrapped in the miasma of dangerous mystique. Feminine whiles tracing the lush curve of lips as tentative fingers brush dulcet lines of vicious atrocity beneath the guise of deep slumber resting within the decrypt stare of her arctic platinum eyes darkened by the intensity of her kohl-lined lashes which frame her enigmatic gaze. Femme fatale lay wrapped and warped within the sinister voodoo of imprisoned black magic woman, fleeting glimpses of her true self only shimmering through the carefully weaved masks of placation and beauty when her mind drifts beyond that of reality, which seems endlessly irrelevant to her sordid tales and deviously inventive schemes. Teasing, wicked temptress and benign one moment as the Lady Luna her name resembles, and the next malevolent Calypso ruthlessly dragging the daggers kiss harsh across sultry flesh in her flickering inamorata slaking the sterling blade of her afflictions - of her affections. She lacks the barest hint of remorse for her actions, no regret lingering beneath the dulcet strokes of such innocent lashes and immaculately saintly eyes which mark her as pure of heart, aiding in her manipulative behavior and girlish charm. Though the devilish temptress has her flaws, an irrevocable temper as black as Poseidon's treacherous seas, crashing against the forlorn shore of her restraint and self control in lashing waves of fervor and ire. Leashing the savoring war dogs loose upon her mind and ridding her of control - which she loathes beyond comparison, the fear of being unable to commandeer her surroundings or to at least grip the veils of reality to her favored degree. Venomous, she is a possessive soul, and obsessive into a darkened desire of her lusting heart dwelling within the cruel depths of her chest. She is one who will not relinquish the vows of loyalty she sustains - though it is unlike her to not weave her way into the higher ranks, or at least try in her thirst for power. Yet it is never such a desperate thirst to make her appear distasteful or pathetic for her whims, no, she holds her innermost thoughts and formulations to herself, not a solitary whisper of them spoken to the listening ears of the devilish night. She's a black magic woman and she's trying to make a devil out of me.
History:
Craving fame in all it's decadence; From a young age, the damsel was alone, trapped within the fabled tower of ages lost to the withering decay of endless rhapsody of others. Held in high regard yet she was pushed away by all of those whom she wished to be closer to, almost a hunger which breathed livid impassioned flames in the contours of her chest, fires only stroked by the charm she was supposed to have inherited from her late mother and looks acquired from her beloved father who worshiped her in his feverish affections. By others pulling away from her, the yearning only grew into swelling asphyxiations until she found their own deepest wants, needs, and desires and turned them so ruthlessly against those she craved as 'friends'. Unsatisfied with these pretentious beings, her cunning mind wound for more challenges, to do more with her plagued acquaintances than just their adoration and attention. With innocent eyes and selfish words she turned them against one another, a beautiful end to her home it had been! By the time she had turned two years old, her father had perished, his bones laying strewn most likely around the den of wolves, tearing him apart like the bane of his regrets about losing her precious mother; how it was his fault. She had seen the weakness within him, vowing she would never be as he is in his wicked tears pouring from misted window eyes. It was disgusting what he had become and what she sought to leave behind her when she left the lands that had once been her home. Her voyage was short lived as she trespassed across the swooning lands that these from 'Windriver' inhabited, some constantly enveloped in their sadness and their constant, weeping misery. No one here would recognize her, or know the dangerous games in which she played.
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