Misery Business of Paramore
Feb 28, 2010 14:07:40 GMT -5
Post by spirit1 on Feb 28, 2010 14:07:40 GMT -5
Name: Paramore
Age: 9 years
Breed: Arab
Height: 16 hh
Colour: Black
Eye Colour: black
Gender: female
Markings: Stripe and a white sock on her right hind hoof, few fading scars
History: My history is of one that I do not care to share, but, if I must- a brief summary of my 5 summers will be said. My eyes were first opened to see the lush grass and rolling hills, in a land a weeks travel from here. My sire, Genocide, my dam, Shadow. Darling, you haven't idea of how hard my life was. Though, I give her credit, my mother didn't care for me, for, I wasn't a foal that was wanted. My father was full of lust, and my mother was forcebred. Hell; it was. You don't have a idea. Well, as easy as it is to say, at one summer, I fled. Since, my life has been a hell hole of abuse and trust, misused taken and traded with lust. I am not a holy horse. Yes, pleasure and pain reside in my thinkbox, constant reminders of what side I dwell on... the Darks. I live for the thrill of life, residing in shadows, living the life of a tease. But, beware for there is a more severe side. Blood has stained my onyx pelt, signs of killings and murders, payback.
Picture:
February - aged 8 years
4th July 2010 - aged 9 years
Age: 9 years
Breed: Arab
Height: 16 hh
Colour: Black
Eye Colour: black
Gender: female
Markings: Stripe and a white sock on her right hind hoof, few fading scars
History: My history is of one that I do not care to share, but, if I must- a brief summary of my 5 summers will be said. My eyes were first opened to see the lush grass and rolling hills, in a land a weeks travel from here. My sire, Genocide, my dam, Shadow. Darling, you haven't idea of how hard my life was. Though, I give her credit, my mother didn't care for me, for, I wasn't a foal that was wanted. My father was full of lust, and my mother was forcebred. Hell; it was. You don't have a idea. Well, as easy as it is to say, at one summer, I fled. Since, my life has been a hell hole of abuse and trust, misused taken and traded with lust. I am not a holy horse. Yes, pleasure and pain reside in my thinkbox, constant reminders of what side I dwell on... the Darks. I live for the thrill of life, residing in shadows, living the life of a tease. But, beware for there is a more severe side. Blood has stained my onyx pelt, signs of killings and murders, payback.
Picture:
February - aged 8 years
4th July 2010 - aged 9 years