Post by sneakingsuspicion on Nov 27, 2011 15:21:43 GMT -5
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[/color]Pieces![/i][/color][/color][/font]Racing faster,
Escape disaster
Partners in crime will leave their mark
We make our own way,
No thoughts of yesterday
Black hearts of chrome and battle scars
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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
Name: Pieces
Nickname: ----
Age: 4 years
Gender: Stallion
Alliance: Noble
Personality: Pieces is a generally stoic fellow, the kind who avoids contact with other horses when at all possible. He enjoys taking the road less traveled, and has an eye for the simpler beauties of the world. However, this soft, pleasant side of him is usually hidden behind the rough, blunt outer shell he usually shoves ahead of him.
History: Pieces was brought up in a no-nonsense society. Fun and creativity were crushed beneath the hooves of his father, who always blamed his son for his mate’s death during childbirth. His name came from his fathers repeated phrase “You tore our family to pieces.”
When at last Pieces was old enough to run away, he realized that he had no idea what to do with himself in the world. While his homeland had been bleak and grey, this new world was bright and full of curious things to look at and smell and eat. He quickly became aware of the struggles of the land, and sought to separate himself from them. He had been taught to avoid that which didn’t immediately affect him, and he applied this teaching with a will.
It is in this way that Pieces ended up travelling the world alone, relishing in the silence and quiet beauty of the different places and not becoming entangled in the wars of strangers. Not to say that he hasn’t helped in some ways. Pieces’ own nature tends to override the personality shaped by his father, and he will come to the aid of whoever seems to need it most, be they considered “good” or “evil.”
Sneaking Suspicion[/font]
14 | halfdeadhandmaid@gmail.com |
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The wolf looked at the mess before him, eyes wide. A low, awful moan escaped his throat.
It happened again, it happened again! Great Spirits above, what's wrong with me?!
Thick and metallic, the flavor of wolf flesh coated his tongue. It was familiar to him now, no different from anything else he had eaten. However, the thought that he had eaten this wolf, or, at the very least, part of it, disgusted him.
Looking away from the torn, mangled remains, the wolf quickly emptied his stomach, replacing the taste of flesh with the more bitter one of bile. Having done this, he stole a glance back to the dead thing laying a foot or two away from him. It's single eye stared back, forever locked in the wide-eyed gaze of pure terror. It was a look he had seen before, almost every time he had awoken like this, assuming the body was still recognizable as anything but a mass of gore and fur.
The wolf looked around. The other eye would be somewhere nearby. There, the tiny little glint in the grass. He strode over to it, nudging it gently. A dark feeling stole over his heart, and, quite suddenly, he began to smile.
A good job, I did a good job! the thought went scurrying about in his head, It's perfect! I didn't squish it this time! A demented light gleamed in the wolf's eyes. He picked the eye up gentle, careful not to crush it between his blood-stained teeth, and deposited it into the little bag he had around his waist. He had gotten a lupus to make it for him, using her power to twist the vines around him, to make the leaves form into a little pouch. He had one of her eyes in there, a pretty orange globe, slowly drying out. He would have to find a way to preserve his little treasures better.
Four little eyes, one orange, one blue, one green, and, his latest edition, one red, rolled around together in perfect harmony. He had killed others, but he had been angry, far too angry! He hadn't even bothered to keep their eyes. They didn't deserve it.
A giggle of glee escaped the wolf's muzzle. He spotted a small pool of water and went to go and clean himself up, swiping the blood off of the yin-yang mark on his chest, swishing it around in his mouth to rid himself of the taste of bile. He smiled the whole time.
This done, he trotted off, glancing only briefly at the remains of his latest toy.
What's wrong with me?
For a brief moment, he paused. A name bubbled to the surface of his conscious mind.
Tiatsu...
He frowned, shook himself, dropping a few feathers in the process, and then began to smile again.
No, I'm not Tiatsu. Tiatsu is somebody else. Silly me, I forget that sometimes...
With that, he resumed his walk. He wanted to have another toy before sundown. He suddenly felt awfully playful.
And so, Hafalong began his hunt.
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THIS APPLICATION WAS MADE BY SLOW AGAINST
THE RAIN! OF CAUTION 2.0. KEEP THE CREDIT ON.