Post by Black Thorns on Jun 5, 2011 23:33:47 GMT -5
Scathashoun
Name;;
Scathashoun
AKA;;
Scath
Age;;
Seven
Gender;;
Stag
Breed;;
Fresian ((Belgian Black))
Height;; 16.2hh
Coat Colour;;
Pure black
Eye Colour;;
Dark brown
Markings;;
None
Personality;;
Scathashoun has a personality much like his name might suggest; he is a stag of the shadows, one who observes from afar from acting on his thoughts and plans- he is, you might say, a strategical horse. He tends to keep a cool, level-headed mindset, though he is prone to the occasional bouts of anger, sorrow, shock, and such. Though, to keep this mindset, Scathashoun has managed to, at least, partially block emotion towards others- that is, he feels it but refuses to acknowledge or to act upon what he feels. Instead, he closes off from others, pushing away love and support. He feels that to keep himself as he is- cool, strategic, and a "wallflower"- that he must keep from growing attached to others. Doing so is not a good thing, however; when he needs the help, support, and love of another, he finds himself without one to turn to. His coldness and hard exterior cold quite possibly lead him to his demise.
History;;
Scathashoun- a name that is as strange sounding as the history of the stag who bears the title. Before he had even been fully birthed, the colt had his mother's body give out from the strain and die. His mother was unusually old to be bearing another cold, and found her body incapable of the strain of labor, finally collapsing with the foal only out into the world with his head, chest, and front legs. The mare aiding her mother- as the mare suspected that the foal's mother would be unable to handle childbirth, and was there in case anything went wrong- had to pull out the halfway-into-the-world Scathashoun. He had no name at that point, and in grief over losing the mother, the mare found herself unable to name the foal. Seeing as the mare had lost her filly, intended to be named Baletasau, in a stillbirth just the day before, the mare had milk for the foal. Scathashoun drank its first milk from a mother
that was not his- though he grew up believing so. The mare felt no need to tell him of the true mother of his; and, as the father had drowned himself in pure misery over the loss of his mate- he was very, very strongly attached to her- she had nobody to prove otherwise. The herd would know no difference- mares were given a few days to birth their foals.
As Scathashoun grew, he soon found that all horses he met had a name, one that they were referred to and reacted to instinctively. Upon realizing he had no such title, he began to compose a name for himself. He was oh so very tired of replying to his fellow herd-mates when they asked him for his name that he had none. This resulted into his frequent disappearance into the herd, the invisibility that seemed to surround him. He began to avoid others, as it was not a confrontation that he wanted. Each day, he would sift through the names in his mind, before finally deciding on one that he wanted to keep as his. So it was that one wintertime morning, while the air was cold enough that it seemed the horses breathed smoke through their velveteen noses, that the young stag announced his name to an inquiring young colt.
"I am Scathashoun."
So the stag grew, and began to become suspicious of his supposed mother's true biological relations to him. He noticed more differences as he grew between himself and his supposed mother; his locks tumbled in waves, while hers were straight. His bodily shape was different than hers; she had a smaller, more delicate shape. His coat was pure black, whereas hers was spotted with white. His eyes were a dark brown, and hers were a pale blue... One evening, when the herd began to fall into sleep, the young stag lowered his head to his mother's height and looked her straight into her eyes.
"Are you my true mother?" he asked quietly. At first, the mare began to form the lie she almost came to believe herself, but instead saw the deep need to know the truth within her false son's eyes.
"No," she replied, a silver tear escaping her eye before she divulged into the story of his birth.
And so it was, now, that Scathashoun found that everything he knew, everything he was and that he trusted to be real, was simply a lie, a web of falseness spread about him like a suffocating blanket. And so Scathashoun began to become warier and weary of the others, pushing himself into the shadows and distancing himself from those that he one loved. So became the Scathashoun that is now seen- cold, calm, level-headed, distant, and strategic.
Loves;;
The winter, the honest-to-God truth.
Hates;;
Betrayal, getting too close to someone.
Alliance;;
Supposedly he's aligned with Ramaskith...
Store Items
None
Ranking
None
