Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2012 8:35:13 GMT -5
C A E R
NAME. Caer
NICKNAME(S). N/A
AGE. Four.
SPECIES. Equine.
BREED. Skewbald Quarter Horse.
GENDER. Male.
HEIGHT. 16HH
WEIGHT. 1200lbs.
COAT. Piebald, coarse, unkempt.
EYE COLOUR. Pale Azure.
NOTABLE MARKINGS. Two paint markings that look like scratches upon his muzzle. A circular marking around his eye. A long strip of creamy white that surrounds his eye and goes down to his chin.
PHYSICAL. My dreams consist of such barbaric honesty; I hunger for them, I yearn for them, I cannot live without them. She stood before me, staring at my body with widened eyes, smeared beautifully with the exoticism of intense beryl. She was an artist, an author of her own life, and she planned to finish writing mine as well. In poetic ambiance, she described my body in the voice of an angel, trodden with the blood of demons, and the viscous marrow of seraphic pulchritude. 'Your face, it reminds me of God.' She said. 'It reminds me of God when he told me he loved me. When he told me he would forever hold me close, and that nothing would ever hurt me again. The curves of your robust chin, masculinity flowing from each arch of risen, sensual skin, the beauty of your morality shines like the rising sun, your gentle prowess is not a likeness, it is the embodiment of truth. Your eyes are like the tropic sea. Your muscles roll like the slow tiding ebb of a mountainous terrain. Your long pillars, can withstand all the weight in the world, but grapple at the oppression of your own skewed self image. The colors that swirl with ease upon your bodice are that of the earth, russet soil, and cream skies. The feathers lacing your tresses, that flow like water upon each rippling bone within your skeletal design, mean you trust your instincts. You are native to the earth, and beyond. My love for you is ceaseless. You are beautiful, Caer.” I gazed at her, seemingly nonchalant, and yet, my inner sensations were bombarding me with the cruel voices of my low self respect. “No, I'm not. Please, no lies. Let me suffer in the abysmal pool of cess I have created for myself.” She took a step forward, and gently kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes in reverence, and ecstasy; to be touched in such tender mien; I suddenly realized, that there does exist, a paradise somewhere in the endless chasm of the otherworldly ether. “I'll be back for you, one day.” She whispered, a touch of sadness twined with the lyrical sound of her voice. “When you learn to love yourself, I will be back for you.” The fearless progression of evolution, begins with his soul, his mind, and his luxuriously gallant spirit. Beneath the haggard broadness of his chest beats a heart of bravery, and below, where his internal organs clench with the intrinsic struggle of good versus evil, is a soul, wrought with an ethereal essence that breaches the walls between this world, and the next.
FEARS. A broken conscience. A listless existence. Falling in love with someone he's not good enough for.
VICES. In sheer spite of his brutal training, there is a guise upon his visage; beneath the omnipotence of his spiritualistic knowledge, he is a broken man, and though he refuses to pine for what he cannot have, it causes him to be rancorous and bitter. He is detached, isolated, and though his cognition regarding otherworldly matters outstrips all others, he does not like to interact with others. Caer's ethereal sight makes him see things that many others cannot, and the fact causes him to often question his sanity.
STRENGTHS. His morals and knowledge of ethical matters are presumably stronger than anyone else. He is an excellent provider, and makes sure everyone has what they acquire. He has a very wry sense of humor, rare to show its face, but very captivating nonetheless.
PET PEEVES. Himself. Other creatures. Stupidity. Ignorance. Fire.
LIKES. Early morning. Clear skies. Stormy seas. When seances are successful. Secretly appreciates it when others penetrate his emotional walls.
PERSONALITY. I don't want eternity. I don't want immortality. Hitherto, wishes are often futile. There is only what exists, and nothing else. But such a broad spectrum, yes. What actually does exist in this world? What exists in the next world? They believe I know so much, and yet in truth, I know o so little. We all know o so little. The ignorant speak, while the wise suffer in silence. And I stand on the threshold of insanity, a place of transgression and wickedness, the potentiality of immorality growing inside of me. Ever since that fateful day, I have questioned my morals. Though I never committed murder, if I had thought about it for a second more, would I have? Am I truly a selfish being beneath all of this holier than thou mien? Only God knows. Upon the gratuitous surface lies the divine making of a warrior concocting judicature. His strength propels the earth alone, breathing deep, hungrily, for change, of any savage breed. He is proficient in what he commits to, facets which are rare, but kept sternly few, and he excels far as the eye can see. In the breathless transferal of broken souls, he has the potential to be a shining beacon throughout the singed earth. Ever the effulgence of transformation, the voyage of his existence is anything but casual or without the agonizing tincture of pain. Through the barbaric countenance of his life, he has risen time and time again from the ashes of cruel affliction. But each rose must wither, and the sun must set upon each craving, woeful day. Deep within the throng of his forte, lies something damaged, laying haplessly between the squelching flesh of his organs. Ill conceived, the zygote of imperfection, slowly driving him to the brink of psychosis. No one had ever prepared him for this. Ergo, in the deep black of the wretched repose, he suffers.
MOTHER. Anouk (adoptive mother)/Living.[/i] [/blockquote][/size]
FATHER. Kaboe/Unknown.
SIBLINGS. Unknown.
HISTORY. Like a madman, I ran. Like a frightened child, I ran. Like an angel who betrayed God, and fled from punishment, I ran. After all I had been through, every trial I endured, each mind altering vision I had induced throughout my hideous, yet rewarding training, when presented with the knife to take an innocent life, I realized just how weak I was. Or perhaps how strong. There was nothing sacred about stealing life. One could only take a life, and improve it. This was the natural order of things. It was the only thing I would dedicate myself to. It was the only thing I would dedicate myself to. Drenched in the ways of black arts and sorcery, I was nothing evil. Cacophonous, hoarse, but nothing evil. Dark magick broke the spirits of the weak, and invigorated those of the strong. It separated the living realm into two parties, those who floated through life, not caring, not committing, leaving behind their days in a plethora of negligence. I hated them. I hated them, for trying to force me to take someone's life, especially something pure, and innocuous. That was a violation of everything they had taught me to believe. To hunt, to cleave the riches of the earth, that was the perfect way of life. To take innocence and send it back to the spirit world before its proper time, that, was to truly sully what was good in this world. “...Caer?” A gentle voice coaxed him away from the exhausted concourse of unconsciousness. Never had he run so quickly, or for so long. He wanted to be as far away from that hideous place as possible. Ergo, he found himself in the arms, so to speak, of his dear aunt, a strong woman, voluptuous in her morals and almighty ethical balance. He had never heard her speak in such disquieted tones before, but it comforted him to know that she would show such emotion toward him. Caer lifted his sore neck, to gaze at her aging, yet beautiful visage, and spoke, his throat crackling with thirst. “Anouk...thank you for coming.” For a moment she looked affronted. “Why wouldn't I come for you?! You're my dearest nephew...regardless, what on earth happened to you? Come! Rise.” Using her shoulder to assist him, she helped him to stand, and he let out a sputtering cough, clearing his lungs of the phlegm buildup lodged in his airway. “What on earth happened? Weren't you close to completing your training?” Caer did not speak for some time. Her harsh face turned gentle in his midst, and pain. “Tell me, Caer. What happened that made you flee so vigorously?” He choked once more, this time with tears in his eyes. They took everything from him, in the end. “They wanted me to...to...” “What, what?!” Anouk urged him.
“Murder.”
NAME. T.J
AGE. Twenty Two.
EXPERIENCE. Seven years.
OTHER CHARACTERS. Delphegor
HOW’D YOU FIND US. Sordid Secrets
PREFERED CONTACT METHOD. PM me, please.