Rp game

[+ flint + tiny dancer +]

Ok. This is a game if your waiting to be accepted but you want to rp! Aurora... I shall speakith with you later... please let me know if this game is acceptable. tankies!!!

[+ flint + tiny dancer +]

Stats:

Call the mysterious corpse: Trivalli

Age The Arrogance: A little over one

Blessed Gender: Female

The Side She Fights For: Rebel

The Breed Satan Blessed Her As: Paint

Picture Me As:

[+ flint + tiny dancer +]

REMEMBER!: The 'animals' you rp in here you DO NOT rp in Dreamscape UNLESS Aurora says it's ok.[/color]

[+ flint + tiny dancer +]

Trivalli:

I have broken myself...

Female strode through the lifeless timbers, harks positioned themselves downwards, clamping upon her rounded skull. Pathwork 'quilted' pelt shone in the radiant sun, its rays bounced off her quite bulky build, caressing her bodice in a warm glow. nostrils opened loudly, parting to twice their normal sizing, flank was scratched from thorns that she passed on her journey to this, The Promise Land.

dentals grinded continously in her maw, saliva dripped from her parted labrums, specks of blood splattered upon the vegetation below. forelock swept o'er her dull sappire spheres, eavesdroppers then flickered up, appendages sprawled 'round her build. her frame trembled emensly, crimson upon her flank, daggers cut the moss below, paperthins expanded, Halt, who goes there? she snapped, her puny physique trembling in an envelope of fear.

her maternal and paternal had left her, only because of a large metal disc clamped upon her right thorn. the humans had captured her, then peirced her eavesdropper with a ringing disc. it sung a sharp note in her ear canal all day and night, never ceasing... ever.

flints recollected under her mass, delicate flicka looked before her....

[creative]

My Curse: Celtic (sell-tick)
My Declaration: Feminine
My Bloodlines: Arabian
My Paint: White
My Falls Past: One
My Stance: To be 15 hh
My Calling: Neutrals

[creative]

I already told you, that falling is easy, it's getting back up that becomes the problem, becomes the problem.
If you don't believe can find a way out, you become the problem, become the problem.

Celtic' twin towers perked up to the sound of rushing daggers in the west. Her physique spun around, she was a curious one. She would always get into trouble because of it, but it did not bother her one bit. Her auds pinned back for a second before she picked up a collected canter, her tresses slashing back upon her slender, ivory nape. She cantered toward the noises, her classy Arabian crown was held high as she watched in the distance this dark figurine. It was another filly, around the age Celtic was. She gave a faint smile and proceeded on ward.

The young vixen halted near the little one, her optics of slate blue scanning the feminine. She c.ocked her classy Arabian dial and inquired to the femme, "What are you doing?" she inquired in a sassy sort of way. She tossed her dial back wards, her banner flying back in its rightful place. She shifted her weight among her daggers as she awaited the flicka's response.

The wind rushed by them both, leaves scattered this way and that way as the coldness drew in. She gave a faint smirk to herself and then turned to her side to look. The trees were moving slightly by the harsh winds. Would a storm be coming? Who knew? Celtic did not flinch, nothing scared her... yet. The femme then turned back toward the flicka and waited silently and patiently.

Falling is easy it's getting back up that becomes the problem, becomes the problem.
And if you believe can find a way out,
Then you've solved the problem, you've solved your problem.

[+ flint + tiny dancer +]

the petite female snorted defiantly, she knew better than to babble her life-sentence to this un-indentified equus, Perhaps you ought to learn to hold your tongue, contessa, before Satan does it for you. she snapped, dentals grinded furiously, Trivalli never did well with other equines, especially of the same s.ex. You ought to be respectful of those whom are smarter than thine, those who wish to keep their hide safe, I suggest you leave if you know whats good for you. came her hissing lyrics, tassel cracked behind her mass.

I may be small, that is not all, I can murder you, with one swipe of my dentals, one flick of my plume... darest ye advance upon the Rebel lord's child?

suddenly her hardened visage expression changed. she smiled warmly then frowned, Forgive my actions, that was my 'bad' side talking. she hissed softly, her serpent lyrics wriggling from her maw, flooding from within, My calling bieth Trivalli, my parentals have left me to fend for myself, they recognize the band upon my thorn as bad luck, so I was shunned. she grinned, You seem to be the same age as I... back at home there were many of our age, frolicking around... until those greedy bastard humans came and took my sibling away... as well as myself.

she paused, watching Celtic and smiled warmly... I used to be a princess... loved by all... she gulped, But things change.

[creative]

I already told you, that falling is easy, it's getting back up that becomes the problem, becomes the problem.
If you don't believe can find a way out, you become the problem, become the problem.

Celtic c.ocked her classy Arabian dial as the rebel femme spoke her harsh words. Scared she was not, but interested in what she was to say. After she had spoken those words, she was about to give her a piece of her mind, but then other words came out of her parted maw. She understood the flicka's pain, for she was in the same position as her. Well similar to Trivalli at least. Celtic was born into a grand land, emerald stalks as far as the eye could see. She was born by the Neutral lord and Neutral lady, they were great. The part that her parents owned had wondrous waterfalls and grand fields, but then an evil curse swept the lands, murdering all in site. Celtic and a few others escaped the lands, no adults survived. Her parents were killed with the curse...

"No problem, it does not bother me. At some times I can be a bit harsh, it is in my blood. My father was mostly dark, and my mum was in the middle, so I have more of a dark side when I need it..."

She stated calmly to Trivalli. The vixen then placed her right hind dagger upon its tip, resting slightly before tossing her dial up once more. The wind rustled back and forth making her vision blurred slightly. Her pure white forelock slashed before her, her optics watching the hairs dance in front of her. She ignored them as best as she could before she added to her statement,

"I understand your pain, I too was in your place once. I am come to realize that I should not dwell upon my past, but make my future better. My curse is Celtic,"

She finished her statement up and then placed her right hind dagger upon its frog. Her optics scanned the flicka before slowly inching their way to the ground, her nape arched slightly. She was saddened by her losing her parents, but things must move on. Dwelling on the past only made things worse. Besides, she knew one day she would find a life with a neutral stag and rule over some lands, even if it was not the whole lands. Though that would be nice, and she was pretty good at fighting. She always flay-fought with other colts, never with the fillies because they always hated to fight. She despised them and always made fun of them, the colts did not put up much of a fight, Celtic always won. She was pretty strong for an Arabian filly too, she got that from her father as well.

Falling is easy it's getting back up that becomes the problem, becomes the problem.
And if you believe can find a way out,
Then you've solved the problem, you've solved your problem.

ooc| Just to say, I do not post like this normally, I am just saving my muse.

[+ flint + tiny dancer +]

a warm smile plastered 'cross her facade, she replied coldly, her smile vanished within seconds, like a house being ripped from the earth in a tornado, [For, you must understand, Score's are nothing but horrid creatures that stalk the earth, looking for things to kill, helpless, poor creatures.] her visionnaries were set ablaze, [My mother was almost killed by one of 'em. She was a delicate Luce, and still is I beleive.]

she did not stop herself from speaking her mind, she was a flicka that never shut her mouth, [They are wicked, Celtic, us Rebels must stick together, though you are not one. Indeed we must forgive our past and move on but some just cannot flee from their visions that still haunt our dreams like wet blankets, never drying.] of course, the filly was talkng about her own past, she roared, her vocals rising, becomming more stronger, she hissed, her vocalizer muse fading quicklu.

she coughed, her flank still wet with crimson, daggers tore the earthen as corpse streamed past Celtic, her vision blurry with furious tears. skull was tossed to the blue yonder, hind appendi dangerously kicked out behind her dou tinted canvass. tresses slapped greedily upon her forehead. her corpse twisted this way and that as she bucked, reared and cantered blindly around the open meadow.

her anger being released, tears fell from her sappire pools, muddy hocks kicked off the lithosphere again, tassel flew up with the gust of wind, only to land then be thrown up again by her dangerous actions. if one was close enough, their skull would surely be stricken. harks played back, her dished visage tucked under her talons as she bucked again, her corset falling to the dirt in a heap of sweat, crimson and failure.

she mumbled curses then defiantly got up, shaking her pelt free of bloodsuckers, her gaze turned upon the horizon, her tiny chest puffing in and out with carbon... her cheekbones were flushed...

[Aurora]

Ooh, I like this game!
It's fine, and well done Tikimister! -slaps high five-
I'm so lucky I have geniuses in my rpg -dances-

This game ish...accepted!

[creative]

ooc| Thank you! I was bored, of the waiting.

[bujingyi201]

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