Voodoo

●●MEETING THE MAKER
alias: Stephykinns
histories: Gerato

●●MAKING A MARK
moniker: Voodoo
age: 4
bloodlines: Friesian

●●KEEPING UP APPEARANCES
physical description:

15.3 hands tall mare, pure black (basic Friesian look and build)

traits description

Undecided

●●SHOW US WHAT YOU'VE GOT
sample post:

All around, the scenery was perfect; a wide, grassy meadow scattered with trees here and there; a babbling creek only about 2 feet in width flowed gently, filled with tadpoles and surrounded by tall rows of cattail reeds; the clouds looked like gigantic pillows of cotton, moving and changing slowly in the gentle breeze. "Perfect my ass," mumbled a vixen under her breath. She hauled herself to a standing position, leaving a large dent in the grass where she had been sleeping. As the powerful mare stood there, the gears in her head twisting and turning, she tried to calculate exactly where she was. Everything seemed so... different. Where she came from, the terrain was densely forested, with dark, olive colored leaves blocking out almost every bit of sunshine. What light did shine through to the ground only revealed mossy ground and tree stumps nearly swallowed in thorny vines. But the vixen liked it that way, with the dark and mysterious surroundings, the beauty of it only known to those who dared to venture inwards. Out here though, everything was far too open, nothing to shield her from the world, to hide her sleek black coat. Out here she was going to stand out, and she didn't like the idea of that.

The equines name was Voodoo, which was perfectly suited to her past terrain. She stood tall for a mare, at nearly 16 hands. Her shiny, ebony coat glistened in the newfound sunlight, and her mane and tail fluttered in the breeze. Voodoo's bright eyes scanned the meadow, looking for somewhere to be, because she had nowhere to be in particular. A small outcropping of boulders stood off in the distance, probably a mile or so out, and having no other ideas, she started in a swift trot forward. Her long and powerful legs cut through the tall grass, tickling her skin as it flowed past. Snorting, she just sped into a gallop, hoping to go fast enough that she could hardly feel the finger-like blades grasp at her pelt. Voodoo loved this feeling, of running. Running gave her freedom that nothing else could; it lifted her soul, and let loose all of her emotions at once. Only when she was running did she finally feel free.