| Subject: (Arrival) |
Author:
Arvad
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Date Posted: 23:30:12 10/14/02 Mon
Name: Arvad
Gender: Male
Appearance: The sturdy colt appears to have been dropped into a human washing machine and washed with permanent bleach, so ashen is his pelt. Though, as he grows older the white will change to another color that will remain with him for the rest of his life. Though his he is long-limbed and slender as any female; already as a colt small muscles are spread evenly throughout his small body. His slender muzzle can be definitely recognizable as Arabian, though his tufted ears and silvery saffron eyes appear unearthly. The only other color that lingers upon him is the one golden lock within the whiteness of his mane.
Personality: Arvad is most often found to be straight-faced and blank-eyed. He dislikes telling others of his feelings and emotions, so often they will storm within him until they finally melt away. Following that line of thought, it is hard for the colt to find and keep friends because he trusts almost no one. Occasionally, he will succumb to fits of anger, but otherwise he is - as long as he doesn't feel threatened - a loyal, and steadfast companion. Unfortunately he has another side of him that may develop, or be suppressed, as he grows and matures.
A dark figure, concealed in an overlarge cloak, strides briskly within. A creature grasped in its arms writhes in the confining burlap sack that enfolds even its head. The man - for that is what the cloaked one was - pauses. A devious grin flashes forth from the blackness of the drooping hood and, as if signaled, the man goes down on one knee and carefully places the bundle on the ground. With a quick jerk of gloved fingers, the sack is taken to reveal a colt that glares angerly through the sudden light to where the face of the man should be; fear lines the small foal's eyes.
Laughing quietly, the man presses two fingers between the ears of the colt in mocking farewell. Hastily, and perhaps too quickly for one so young, the colt twists his head to snap at the offending fingers... but the man is already gone. Alone. The colt had known the human for a moment in passing - but he could feel the solitude like steel slashed across his soul. A pitiful mewling whimper is released as the foal strains against the rope that binds him. Pain sears his tender flash and he stops his struggle as if releasing the source.
He lies as still as death itself.
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