Post by Ƨhatan on Dec 27, 2007 16:01:11 GMT -5
Ƥersephone
She was just another
Conquest
‘Till he looked into her
Eyes
She was just another
Conquest
‘Till he looked into her
Eyes
Ƨhe Was ɟust ƛnother Ɔonquest: Persephone
With ƛll Ƕer Ƒemale Ɠuile: Mare
ƛa ƪong ƛs ǶeWon Ʈhe Ƥrize: Gypsy Vanner
Ɖidn’t ƆareWhose Ƕearts Were Ɓroke: Dark
Ɵut Ʈo Ɯake ƛ Ɔonquest: 13 years
‘Ʈill Ƕe ƪooked Ɨnto Ƕer Ǝyes: The world hath seen not a beauty to rival this one since the days of Demeter, for Persephone’s form is as though the Goddess of the Harvest sculpted this horse in the likeness of her own daughter. Her form is the perfect likeness of her Gypsy Vanner blood; she stands proud at 15 hands, her form thick with the stout build of a Vanner, but not to the point to sacrifice beauty. Her legs have grown long and graceful, reaching beneath her well muscled body in the same two tones as the rest of her. Her hooves are of the lightest of off-whites, graced by the presence of her cloud-like feathers which drop from legs socked in ivory and inked above in ebony. Her coat is mottled of the same two tones twining together in perfect harmony, but in a unique lack of uniform patterns. Her forelegs are socked to the knees, where they turn abruptly to the ink which coats her chest and neck, but upon the backs of her inked forelegs the porcelain color keeps control, running up the sides of her form to wash her back in the moon’s pallid glow of white, reaching up her nape where her mane, a thick mixture of grays, blacks, and whites, sprouts to flow in the winds which caress the fae. Upon her face the black reigns from tip of nose to tips of ears, broken only by the thick white stripe which runs from right beneath her ashen hued mane to the start of her nose. Her eyes, deep brown pools, gaze out from the black hues which surround them. Upon the right side of her body the white passes back to the midnight hues of black, interrupted but to small dots of black a splotch near her tail. The black blankets her leg to the tips of her white feathers upon the outside, but underneath the white reigns to her joint. Upon her left side, the white reigns uninterrupted save for a small splotch of black which carries lightly to caress only the top of her hind left leg, which then falls to ivory hues as her other legs have done. Her tail, a thick plume which spreads wide and reaches long, is graced by the purest of whites and tainted by a tinge of black all at once, reflecting the two colors which make her, the light and the dark which caress her mottled form. Her form is pure and unmarked, left free of wounds or scars, and she carries herself in the utmost grace which a mare of any breed could muster. But beauty, her beauty, is only skin deep.
Ʈhe ƦolesWere Ʀeversed Ƒrom Ʈhat Ɖay: Oh how beauty can deceive, and oh how time can change even the most hardy of stones; once upon a time Persephone was the joy of a herd, energetic and happy, caring and kind. But once upon a time was such a thing as was over, and just as that time was over, so is that side of Persephone done and gone. No longer is she a light-hearted, light-souled filly as she once was; time and pressure has turned this bright spot into a spot of shadow, just as the reversal of the same two elements acting upon coal to change such a dark thing into the bright spot of a diamond. For a time, Persephone was even an emotionless mask of a horse, one who hid behind a pretty face and showed nothing, for she felt nothing to be shown. But that part of her life, too, is gone. No longer are her heart and emotions as frozen as ice. But she has not changed much since those times; she has still remained cold, simply not fully frozen. Persephone’s beauty is as deceiving as it can get, for her soul no longer reflects her outer beauty, but merely hides an ugly inside. She now shows the darkened attitude of her true alliance: hateful, cruel, unforgiving, even arrogant. She will show no mercy to her enemies, and refuses to forgive mistakes by any except her lover—once upon a time, that lover was Theron, the very stallion she changed for in the first place, but, years of separation has destroyed that bond, to be replaced by the newer, stronger love she shares with Niseno, the only other horse to who she shows that spark of light within her.
However personalities, too, can be as deceiving as beauty, for cannot people lie and act? For Persephone must not show her true side to any of the horses who she is about to meet, for she comes to this new land under the guise of a light. For the sake of Niseno, who is under the same guise, she must revert to those early years as a light, and act as close as she can to the joyful little filly she once was; she cannot revert fully, for that chapter is closed in her life, but for the sake of her act, she’ll cover her hateful nature with her beautiful face, and she will use her beauty to her advantage. No, she won’t be vain; she is, after all, acting as a light. But there are more subtle ways of using her beauty. She will be the pathetic mare, kidnapped and tortured for many long years by the darks, whose heart has been broken and who is in dire need of a rescue. She will have the stallions eating out of her hooves by the time her act is done; she will be the kind innocent, who wishes to love again but is too afraid to do so. They will do anything to gain that love from her, for her beauty will be irresistible. She will, quite simply, play the stereotypical light, the perfect mixing of all the right traits from the lights which she knew as a filly, and, in her mind, they will all fall for the act.
Ɨn Ʈhe ƧtrangeWay Ʈhings Ƕappen: ((I have this really incredibly long history for her, but I’d have to go through and edit it for it to fit this site instead of the one I used her for originally, and I’m far too lazy for that, so I’m just going to sum things up real quick xDD))
Born into a light herd, Persephone was the pride and joy of her parents; the happy-go-lucky, innocent, and drop-dead gorgeous little filly that was every parent’s dream. However, such a perfect little filly could not remain so forever: when Persephone was only three years old, the herd was attacked by a dark herd, and while the others fled or were slaughtered, she was taken prisoner by the lead stallion of this herd, a stallion named Theron, who was caught up in her immaculate beauty. For a time, Persephone refused to speak, barely ate or drank, and only went far enough from Theron’s den to get water or grass; she was simply there physically, and not mentally. Theron worked to crack that shell, to make her his mate without forcing her into it so he did not mar her beauty, but it simply would not work; after all, she could not forget who he was.
However, when Theron’s herd was attacked by a a larger, stronger herd of lights seeking his land, and she was run out the same as all the darks, she turned to the only one she had for comfort: Theron. The two grew quite close, Persephone becoming more and more like a dark with each passing day, until both of them saw fit to seek revenge on the lights who had run them from their home. They devised a plan: Theron would gather followers and build a strong dark herd to fight under him, while Persephone would infiltrate the lights, find the herd’s location, and weaken the herd from the inside. When both sides were ready, she would return to Theron, and together they would lead an attack to decimate that herd.
Things did not, however, go as planned; in the light lands, Persephone met the stallion Niseno. He was, seemingly, the perfect gentleman, the perfect light. But, no act is perfect, and eventually she saw through his, just as he saw through hers; both were darks acting as though they were lights, and they found some kinship in that, and remained close. Over time, Persephone and he grew very close, while Theron, out of sight and out of mind, became a smaller and smaller concern to Persephone. He was supposed to send for her when he was ready, but none had come for her, and she began to question his abilities, and his affections for her; that darker section of her heart recalled that he had killed her father and brother, run her mother off, and his herd had killed others she had known. Before, she had not hated him for it, but could not accept him until she saw that the lights did not accept her; now, however, that she was a full-fledged dark, she began to hate him. And there, to help her through such a hard time, was Niseno; no longer stopped by her relationship with Theron, her love for Niseno blossomed.
Eventually, the two grew bored with their own home; Niseno, who hated being in one place for very long, suggested they leave, and Persephone was all for it. The two have wandered along now until coming across these new lands, where they plan to set up shop and continue the act.
((Whoo, cheesy history of doom! It sounds quite bad when shortened xDD))
ƛa ƪong ƛs Ƕe
Ɖidn’t Ɔare
Ɵut Ʈo Ɯake ƛ Ɔonquest: 13 years
‘Ʈill Ƕe ƪooked Ɨnto Ƕer Ǝyes: The world hath seen not a beauty to rival this one since the days of Demeter, for Persephone’s form is as though the Goddess of the Harvest sculpted this horse in the likeness of her own daughter. Her form is the perfect likeness of her Gypsy Vanner blood; she stands proud at 15 hands, her form thick with the stout build of a Vanner, but not to the point to sacrifice beauty. Her legs have grown long and graceful, reaching beneath her well muscled body in the same two tones as the rest of her. Her hooves are of the lightest of off-whites, graced by the presence of her cloud-like feathers which drop from legs socked in ivory and inked above in ebony. Her coat is mottled of the same two tones twining together in perfect harmony, but in a unique lack of uniform patterns. Her forelegs are socked to the knees, where they turn abruptly to the ink which coats her chest and neck, but upon the backs of her inked forelegs the porcelain color keeps control, running up the sides of her form to wash her back in the moon’s pallid glow of white, reaching up her nape where her mane, a thick mixture of grays, blacks, and whites, sprouts to flow in the winds which caress the fae. Upon her face the black reigns from tip of nose to tips of ears, broken only by the thick white stripe which runs from right beneath her ashen hued mane to the start of her nose. Her eyes, deep brown pools, gaze out from the black hues which surround them. Upon the right side of her body the white passes back to the midnight hues of black, interrupted but to small dots of black a splotch near her tail. The black blankets her leg to the tips of her white feathers upon the outside, but underneath the white reigns to her joint. Upon her left side, the white reigns uninterrupted save for a small splotch of black which carries lightly to caress only the top of her hind left leg, which then falls to ivory hues as her other legs have done. Her tail, a thick plume which spreads wide and reaches long, is graced by the purest of whites and tainted by a tinge of black all at once, reflecting the two colors which make her, the light and the dark which caress her mottled form. Her form is pure and unmarked, left free of wounds or scars, and she carries herself in the utmost grace which a mare of any breed could muster. But beauty, her beauty, is only skin deep.
Ʈhe Ʀoles
However personalities, too, can be as deceiving as beauty, for cannot people lie and act? For Persephone must not show her true side to any of the horses who she is about to meet, for she comes to this new land under the guise of a light. For the sake of Niseno, who is under the same guise, she must revert to those early years as a light, and act as close as she can to the joyful little filly she once was; she cannot revert fully, for that chapter is closed in her life, but for the sake of her act, she’ll cover her hateful nature with her beautiful face, and she will use her beauty to her advantage. No, she won’t be vain; she is, after all, acting as a light. But there are more subtle ways of using her beauty. She will be the pathetic mare, kidnapped and tortured for many long years by the darks, whose heart has been broken and who is in dire need of a rescue. She will have the stallions eating out of her hooves by the time her act is done; she will be the kind innocent, who wishes to love again but is too afraid to do so. They will do anything to gain that love from her, for her beauty will be irresistible. She will, quite simply, play the stereotypical light, the perfect mixing of all the right traits from the lights which she knew as a filly, and, in her mind, they will all fall for the act.
Ɨn Ʈhe Ƨtrange
Born into a light herd, Persephone was the pride and joy of her parents; the happy-go-lucky, innocent, and drop-dead gorgeous little filly that was every parent’s dream. However, such a perfect little filly could not remain so forever: when Persephone was only three years old, the herd was attacked by a dark herd, and while the others fled or were slaughtered, she was taken prisoner by the lead stallion of this herd, a stallion named Theron, who was caught up in her immaculate beauty. For a time, Persephone refused to speak, barely ate or drank, and only went far enough from Theron’s den to get water or grass; she was simply there physically, and not mentally. Theron worked to crack that shell, to make her his mate without forcing her into it so he did not mar her beauty, but it simply would not work; after all, she could not forget who he was.
However, when Theron’s herd was attacked by a a larger, stronger herd of lights seeking his land, and she was run out the same as all the darks, she turned to the only one she had for comfort: Theron. The two grew quite close, Persephone becoming more and more like a dark with each passing day, until both of them saw fit to seek revenge on the lights who had run them from their home. They devised a plan: Theron would gather followers and build a strong dark herd to fight under him, while Persephone would infiltrate the lights, find the herd’s location, and weaken the herd from the inside. When both sides were ready, she would return to Theron, and together they would lead an attack to decimate that herd.
Things did not, however, go as planned; in the light lands, Persephone met the stallion Niseno. He was, seemingly, the perfect gentleman, the perfect light. But, no act is perfect, and eventually she saw through his, just as he saw through hers; both were darks acting as though they were lights, and they found some kinship in that, and remained close. Over time, Persephone and he grew very close, while Theron, out of sight and out of mind, became a smaller and smaller concern to Persephone. He was supposed to send for her when he was ready, but none had come for her, and she began to question his abilities, and his affections for her; that darker section of her heart recalled that he had killed her father and brother, run her mother off, and his herd had killed others she had known. Before, she had not hated him for it, but could not accept him until she saw that the lights did not accept her; now, however, that she was a full-fledged dark, she began to hate him. And there, to help her through such a hard time, was Niseno; no longer stopped by her relationship with Theron, her love for Niseno blossomed.
Eventually, the two grew bored with their own home; Niseno, who hated being in one place for very long, suggested they leave, and Persephone was all for it. The two have wandered along now until coming across these new lands, where they plan to set up shop and continue the act.
((Whoo, cheesy history of doom! It sounds quite bad when shortened xDD))
Ɲow Ƴou Ƙnow
The hunted became the
Huntress
The hunter became the
Prey
Lyrics ©The White Stripes
