Post by »t o a s t e r on Jul 29, 2009 7:46:20 GMT -8
Name: Esseri
Age: 7
Breed: Friesian
Gender: Female
Appearence: Like most friesians, Esseri is very slender. Her legs are long, resembling stilts at best. So to speak, if there was models in the horse world. Esseri would be the Heidi Klum. Her mane is long, black and wavy. Tattered and a bit lack luster from being in the wild. Her coat, when it's clean anyway, is like fine obsidian. Picking up multiple facets of light in the sunshine. She's a bit battle worn from being alone most of her life, but she is a diamond in the rough none the less.
Personality: Esseri is a passionate creature, by far and beyond. She lives each day to the fullest. She craves knowledge, in any and every form it comes. She thrives on her own life power and rarely trusts anyone. Her stand offish attitude may come off as smugness at first, but shes really just trying to keep herself protected. If the time calls for it, she can be just as cynical as any dark. Only because she was more or less trained in their ways. However, Esseri isn't just some snide little hen. When she does open her heart up to someone. She opens it fully and without regret. Those that do have receive the right of passage into her life are often times a permanent friend. For once she finds a friend she cherishes them to her fullest capability. Investing most of her time in making sure their relationship stays solid.
Past: Murder, is as far as I will allow my memory to go. I was no more than a couple weeks old when I witnessed my mother's death. The image itself is vague to me now as I have done a great job of suppressing it. But the sound of my mother's blood curdling scream, as my father relentlessly 'beat her to a bloody pulp' as he so passionately put it to me later on. The metallic stench of blood that plagued the duey morning air as my she layed there cold turkey on the grassy loam. I can still feel the way my little veins pulsed with hatred. But even then, I was wise enough not to take on such a sick beast.
I remember running, for miles upon miles. Not just from that hell on earth, but from the memory. For days it chased me, til I was practically on the verge of death myself. Emaciated I laid there, in a desloate land. Not quite a desert, but baron none the less. I remember seeing a face, a wonderful angelic face. Much like my mothers, but different somehow. I remember feeling something warm slinking down into my gullet. Nourishing me and bringing me back to life slowly but surely.
The rest, is sharp as day. I grew stronger and stronger, mentally and physically. It was a mare named Isolde, who I had come to call mother. She had found me there, practically dead. I stayed with her and her harem for a long time. Preparing myself for the day I would leave and start my own life. Though I am not near her, it is still to this day that she is the only one I trust.
