crunchjaw - - the noble.

[Cress is awayy!]

*

[/color]CRUNCHJAW![/i][/color][/color][/font]

<sup>it is is cruel and unclean
But I still worry more about you

And my body's weak
Feel my heart giving up on me
I'm worried it might just be
And my body's weak
Feel my lungs giving up on me
I'm worried it might just be
something my soul needs</sup>

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_{i'm sending you away tonight, put you on a bird's strong wing}
and i forget, how fragile are the very strong

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<sup>name: Crunchjaw
alias: - - -
alliance: Noble

sex: Stallion
years: Ten
blood: Thoroughbred x Paint x Lipizzaner x Tennessee Walker x Shire
towers: 17.2hh

canvas: Bay
stains: Overo Pattern, heart etched
whipcords: Black
optics: Green
slates: Black

physical health: 100%
mental health: Unstable 60%

personality: A stallion of class and manner, he's the epitome of a gentleman. However, he's got more eccentricities than he does basic attributes. Crunchjaw often trails into the language of the unknown, via mumbling to himself or merely talking about the many species of birds to others. Upon first glance he's a somewhat handsome, polite steed. But beneath his skin, he's much different. His brain often reels with the impossible and mulls over unique fantasies. Crunchjaw often considers the possibility that he's both awake and asleep. Too mad to be placed in the real world, but enough of a basic equine that he still believes he belongs in reality. All in all, he confuses both his onlookers and himself.</sup>

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cressy[/font]
_{16 | msn [renellydeph (at) hotmail (dot) com / skype [ninjaxspartan] / pm |}
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Mausoleum's labarats parted in interest as he began, her harks swirling upon her tiara. Thus far, he showed more masqueraded affection toward her aristocracy than he did arrogance. But, oh, stallions could be complex in the ways they so quickly changed their demeanor. His voice was purely destructive, a corrosive manor that saturated pitiful fillies and colts with fear. Mausoleum, however, was only mildly impressed. Her brow was twitched in a cocked position and a string of both obscenities and threats lay waiting upon her tongue. Incisors clicking together as she closed her grey lips, the mare let him continue without interruption. Can't be rude to my guests now, can I? She mused, just barely intrigued in the steed's introduction. She'd have time to demand his name again later. "Yes, sweetheart. You should be pleased to meet me" The devil queen simply couldn't help herself. The lissome vixen's dappled bodice convulsed in a wrack of absurd giggles. Still, she managed a rather melodious accent into the bizarre cackling. Oh, this stallion was biting off an awful lot. She could only hope he choked instead of swallowed. Either way, the stallion wasn't at all like Fallout. Modest in every way; the way he drooled over her canvas aside. The seal bay before her was a dark creature, not the aloof roan she'd met near the shack.

"Is that right, Pluto?" The druidess catechized, a rather flat tone to her lyrics. Even a stunner such as himself wasn't quite enough for this mare. Mausoleum befitted the tone and attitude of the egotistical beasts with home she quarreled so often with... quarreled, murdered, was there really a difference? She studied the hellion, not entirely expecting a response as the duo stood idle. She had another response upon her lips when he made the most subtle of gestures. Harks leaning back atop his pole and nape arching in a nod. Curious as she was, Mausoleum kept her tongue tied. Why not listen to what the pretty-prince had to say, first? She'd could flay his skin, need be, at a later hour. Cerebrum inclined at a peculiar angle, the dove absentmindedly nodded her pate at his compliments on their greeting. She eyed his own mahogany voids with her twinkling amethysts, mind reeling deeply. Whatever he had to say was quite clearly upon the tip of his tongue, but apparently he needed to cleanse his brain with some touch. Rounding her haunches, the brute ran his incisors upon her spine before she had much say in what went down. Stupid fucker. She thought sweetly, her obsidian whip cords flanking her hips. She sneered at him as he rounded to her front once again. "I have a thin patience, Pluto. And your ridiculously inept impersonation of a vulture was sexy, but wearing time." Her voice was a flat purr. Still baring her characteristically seductive voice, but more venom doused than normal. Her bicolored facials creased with evidence of her impatience but she did not lash out at him. Instead, she stood with weight shifting from dappled stocking to stocking. He was clearly vehement on whatever submerging topic he kept at bay, and she could only struggle to keep from snapping at the stag.

"I have a proposition, my gorgeous queen." As if she already didn't know... "You shall not live forever, highness. There comes a time when someone else must take a hold of the throne.." That's what you think, darling. Her innards mused, mulling over the thought of immortality. The souls she donated to hell put in a good word for the devil. Surely he would guarantee the dappled goddess with some sort of eternal life. Cleansing her throat with a quick swallow, she watched as he trailed into his thoughts; his voice rather casual in the way he spoke so gently of procreation. But to Mausoleum, it was quite the opposite. "You and I both know we don't need some idiotic, weak, worthless dark slithering their way into royalty simply because they are a loyal follower.. Loyalty does not breed royalty." She pondered this. Indeed, he had quite the point, but she wasn't quite sure what trash had strutted into her kingdom quite yet. She'd yet to tell if his balls had dropped a bit too low for him. "An heir to the throne is the only option. And you, my dear, would need a sire to that heir. A devilish, foul animal with strength, power, and most of all, a dark hearted soul to breed darkness into the heir you would provide.." Her tongue tickled her ivories, and she began to circle him. Not quite at the same intimancy he'd provided when waltzing about her own bodice. No, she navigated him with a more.. purposeful step. Her eyes scanned his equal height, silky tassels tossed from her visage so she could get a better view. Her bicolored skull was turned at a scrutinizing angle as she judged his finesse in structure.

"I won't say I'm, the perfect match, my sweet. However I would gladly battle any who dared crossed my path in an attempt to sire the royal heir, and stand as rightful king." At this she chuckled boredly, her chest cavity swelling to an extent before closing yet again. Her lissome frame found itself once again at it's front and her pillars pawed the lithosphere. There was a multitude of ways in which she could approach his proposition, and she had yet to make her decision. In fact, she'd been quite keen on keeping her legs closed for some time, not have her deathbed predicted by some lonesome steed looking for a good screwing. Perhaps she just had that effect on stags. She'd seen them drooling over her pepper-flecked bodice. She'd seen them with their eyes white and glazy from when she'd smashed their heads in for looking too close. They simply never learned. The fae eyed him for a moment before beginning to pace. Her long, destructive strides crossing the land nonchalantly. Mausoleum wasn't at all deep in thought, in fact, she contemplating today's weather. She'd already made up her mind on the decision, no matter how severe a question it was... Simplicity was better when grotesque manners weren't involved.

All sixteen point two hands of her lean frame flexed with each influx of oxygen. Her strands of ebony whipped against her skin in the putrid winds, blowing death their way. She was the Queen of the Darks. Thus, Mausoleum hardly felt any sort of desperation in the need to procreate. Quite frankly, she could simply step outside and find a chorus of studs professing their sick, twisted love. But in the end, they were really nothing but indecisive neutrals, confusing the true blood of a dark. One was only evil when they recognized the years of careful breeding, careful breeding of darks etched into the slender walls of their veins. She was one of those.. She was the Queen of them all. The heir to the White family, a name she wanted her own spawn to live to. If they hadn't a good father, they'd be looked up as nothing but the blood of her prey. If they managed to be so lucky, they'd be just a bit more favored by mumsie wumsie. "Oh, Pluto, Pluto... Clearly, you have the aura and speech of one demented. But is it enough?" She heaved a false sigh, one portraying a masquerade of inflating exasperation. But no, she was feeling quite the opposite. Her nerves were placated by humor at this point, and a crazed smile twirled her jowls.

"As much as I appreciate your persistence, you must understand the swearing of a threat is hardly enough to make up my mind. I prefer to see deeds performed instead of promised. Empty threats are for the weak," Mausoleum hummed, her voice a quiet sound. A quiet, melodious toxin. "But your offer will be considered, seeing as you at least had the nerve to walk in here when the eidolons of executioners are what so many envision..." She finished with a flat, disinterested tone. Fact, it was. But she'd never been one too keen on matters outside of destruction. "For instance, I could kill your at this second. Smash your skull against the rocks and tread upon your brains till they're nothing but a delicious, steaming slop..." The speckled goddess gave a delightful sigh, turning her skull away with an overly casual air.
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THIS APPLICATION WAS MADE BY SLOW AGAINST
THE RAIN! OF CAUTION 2.0. KEEP THE CREDIT ON.