Post by {{ Blur on Jan 18, 2009 3:20:51 GMT -5
Quick exams show...
{Aorta
Homeless, loveless, childless
Dark
Moody, depressed, snappy
three
dark, glossy, beautiful }
Homeless, loveless, childless
Dark
Moody, depressed, snappy
three
dark, glossy, beautiful }
just what you know
On further inspection..
Aorta is a dark mare - or rather, filly - just shy of four years old. She is of the darkest alliances, and quiet well-settled in that I must add. In her short life, she's seen a lot, and been seen a lot. One must be careful of this when approaching her.
Aorta is a rich, very dark brown. Seen as black in most lights, with smatterings of white around her hind legs, and a streak of pure white in her thick tail, and another down her face, this one slightly smudged. Her mane is as equally thick as her tail, but not quite so as to flop down both sides of her neck. The only scars are the usual ones a herd mare would have, from scratches and thorns. She is about sixteen hands at the withers, with mixed blood, but no so much that you cannot guess her breed. Alter-real, thoroughbred and Gidran Arab are the main components, though perhaps there is something is there; it is hard to tell. Aorta is reasonably large boned, with a solid muscle mass, but enough refinery so as to suit a mare. Though her skin and coat is dark, she holds two marks of a genetic freak: Her hooves are white-horned and both her eyes are glass.
♫
She is generally a fairly quiet mare, but her eyes are haunted by her past, and one can tell easily she is constantly troubled. Aorta, though usually blunt and prefers to watch from a distance, until respect is demanded from her, can occasionally snap. Her outbursts usually involve lots of screeching at individuals and hurling abuse at those she cares little for, and have been known to last several days. Usually, after these, she will leave a herd or demand to go elsewhere, to the point of finding another stallion in the gathering, then asking them to take her home. However, these a few and far between, as Aorta prefers to sit in the corner and dwell on her past, opening up only to a few select horses. To others, though, she is a slightly grumpy mare that obviously has several issues she hasn’t yet dealt with.
♫
Aorta was lucky when she was born. She was not supposed to have been borne at all, let alone survive and even flourish. It was not that her parents were in love and they weren’t supposed to be or anything, but she was at a time when nearly a whole race of equines were under the control of one cruel dark. He didn’t have his own herd, but rather took several other herd, coming only to breed the mares and spread his progeny, otherwise allowing the mares’ original claimer care for them. He had scouts, of course, surveying the herds and making sure nothing was amiss. And here’s where Aorta struck lucky: the brute was cremello, Aorta’s real sire bay, dam chestnut. Aorta was supposed to be perlino, buckskin or something similar. The equines didn’t, of course, know the extent of their genetic material, but they knew a black foal out of a chestnut mare and cremello stallion made no sense. All eyes would have whipped towards the bay brute, lead of her dam’s herd, but for Aorta’s eyes. They matched her should-be sire’s perfectly. Neither parent would complain of such a lucky outcome, however, and kept quiet.
Aorta grew up into a stunning young mare, with a glossy coat, bright eyes and positive outlook on life. When she had reached about a year and a half in age, a war broke out, a rebellion against the brute, which involves mercilessly hacking apart the cremello and all his young. Lucky strike two; Aorta had two parents claiming she was really theirs, and was (of course) believed. When that long hard struggle was over, Aorta had reached the age of two, and was already eager to show her true colours out in the big wide world.
She had planned to run away from her herd’s grasp, until she met Dural. He was a handsome bay, with a massive blaze and two white socks on the opposite feet to herself. He had reached the age of three around the same time Aorta had hit two, but they buddied up immediately. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but they gradually grew closer, until even they had to admit they weren’t going far without each other. However, it is obvious that such honest love cannot last, for that is how it is in this cruel world.
Dural was begged to leave for a while by Aorta’s dam, for reasons neither youngling knew. He complied politely, but first promised Aorta he’d return. Lonely and deprived, Dural fought a few battles, hoping to have a large herd for Aorta to lead when she returned, and Aorta gathered everything she had left, ready to again run away from home. Sadly, it was about this time Dural found out the fun in having a large herd, and Aorta slipped to the back of his mind more and more frequently. He picked out a few absolute stunners that he favored and kept those nearby. It was nearly a year later that Aorta manage to find the bay again, and by then another stallion had demanded he have her.
Upon meeting again, Aorta felt no different to the lovestruck filly she had, but Dural now saw the big-boned black mare with slightly freaky eyes and was taller than he. However, he still felt a certain amount of nostalgic affection for the mare, and they went for a walk to explain their future together – or not. It was around here that the new stallion that had come into Aorta’s life bullied his way towards them and started making brash comments and hints towards both that destroyed anything Dural now had left for the one he’d once loved most. His pride earned him a fight with the newcomer (which Dural was lucky to win), but his heart had hardened away from Aorta, and he asked her to leave, his motions becoming more and more aggressive as he realized her beauty – which he refused to see, though…heartbreak? – was a threat to his idealized life.
Aorta, full of grief worse than if he had died, turned and obediently left the stallion she’d thought she’d loved, and didn’t stop for nearly six long months. By then, she’d reached a fresh homeless, and bitterly turned towards a new home, hoping all the time Dural was feeling the same pain as she.
...we must make corrections.
♫♫ ♫ Beauty at its best ♫♫♫
