Nzuri

●●MEETING THE MAKER
alias: Stephykinns
histories: Gerato, Voodoo

●●MAKING A MARK
moniker: Nzuri
age: 2.5
bloodlines: Quarab

●●KEEPING UP APPEARANCES
physical description:

14.1 hands tall mare, Ivory colored with a golden tinted mane and tail. Large scar on her left shoulder, the results of a large cat attack as a foal.

traits description

Nzuri is super skittish and fearful, but also an absolute sweetheart once you can somehow manage to earn her trust. She always feels as though her small stature makes her an easy target, and she has yet to meet a stallion that she likes. Despite her fears, Nzuri is unbelievably naive, and she is willing to believe anything if its said in the right way.

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

Post from another thread:

The younger stud followed closely behind Gerato, a little too close. Too tired and weak to do anything about it, Gerrie swished his ratty tail in his direction and moved on, trying to ignore him. This newfound company felt strange to the stag; it had been so long since anyone had accompanied him anywhere, he wasn't entirely sure how to react. Should he even attempt a conversation or just continue on in painful silence? Being him, the beast opted for the latter. As awful as the silence was, he had grown used to it, and he depended upon it to be there for him when nothing else was. And so they travelled.

It wasn't long before he once again began to see gloomy figures lurking about; they loved the darkness that pressed in all around him. Their whispers filled his auds, painful reminders of his past, each word feeling like a knife wound in his chest. Despite the dropping temperatures, dark patches of sweat began forming across his pelt, an occasional drop spilling off his body and landing softly on the ground below. "I'm Fiore." said the red stud. His voice had startled Gerato, who had nearly forgotten he wasn't alone. "It means 'flower', I think. My friends used to say I have a girl's name." he continued. Gerrie could feel the gaze of the youngster upon him, waiting for a response that the beast wouldn't give. A few more moments of silence went by before this Fiore kept talking. "What's your name?" Another sentence gone unanswered. "You're really tall, huh? My ma was almost as tall as you. I'll never be as tall as that. I don't think I was really hers, you know. My brothers and sisters all looked just like my ma, but not me." The kid seemed to grow more and more chipper with each word that rolled off his tongue and flowed out of his tiny mouth. Gerrie swished his tail again, and his ears slowly pinned flush against his skull, but still grudgingly croaked "I'm Gerato" as they weaved through the trees which became increasingly dense the further they moved.

The terrain was beginning to slowly shift from a rocky landscape into edible foliage, that cloaked the ground in a greenish gray mass. Except for small streaks of dim moonlight that had somehow managed to crawl to the earth, everything was dark, and Gerrie travelled mostly by memory, following the same trail he had for weeks (which was now dug into the earth a couple inches from his footsteps). The large creature remained silent until they finally reached the water, which seemed to take hours but was likely no more that 10 minutes. The water source was a tiny stream that trickled along slowly, weaving its way in between trees. It was no more than 2 feet across and barely deep enough to cover a hoof, but it was water nonetheless. He paused to take a brief sip of the cool liquid, even though he could have used much more, and then stumbled across the stream, tripping several times on the slippery rocks. Exhausted, Gerrie leaned against a large tree, slinking his way down to the ground. Suddenly remember he had a follower, he turned his head back slightly and ushered the youngster to come over with a small nod and a snort.

He couldn't help but to feel sorry for the little guy; Fiore seemed lonely. 'Not as lonely as you are' whispered a voice. He mentally scoffed and began to wonder how the red stud had ended up on his own in the first place. He looked and acted both young and inexperienced, clearly having had a pretty sheltered childhood. What sort of a normal horse would follow a skeleton into the woods? The fearlessness in the little flower child amused Gerato; as he realized how easy fearlessness was to come by when you are young. It came through so many different channels. Some acquired it through trust, like Fiore, and others like Gerato had already seen it all and had nothing left to fear. Others still just didn't care about the dangers in the world. However they came about it, it often seemed a gift short lived, with very few keeping it throughout their life.

The faint sound of thunder brought him to his senses and his auds scanned for danger, though it was a futile effort with the voices that already filled them. Giving up the stag lowered his head, resting his chin on a mossy, exposed root, his mind wide awake but his body praying for rest. He softly closed his eyes, wishing that sleep would finally join him.