Totally in-love with this boy.
This Gypsy is up for re-adoption!
To win this stallion, write about one of his holiday adventures.
(You may suggest for his halter to be changed, his ribbon will be changed to match it | Or you can ask for it to remain the same.)
klovesugar2 wrote:Username: klovesugar2
Name: Samurai's Misdemeanor :: Sammy
Age: 4 years
Gender: Stallion
Halter: I adore them as they are~
Height: 16.3hh
Adventure:
The stallion snorted, ears flicking back in undisguised ire. He chuffed, twisting and turning and pacing within the stall. His stall, or it was supposed to be. It was only with great reluctance that he'd agreed to leave the North Pole, agreed to leave his sire and dam, and baby sister. It was with great reluctance that he'd agreed to give this human a shot, this human who was supposed to be his. So why was he still waiting? Minutes had long since turned into hours, and plenty of those had passed as well. The sky had lightened with morning's first rays, and darkened with evening's dusk. He wasn't the most patient of gypsies even on his best of days, but he'd tried. He'd tried to wait, honestly. He'd tried because he understood the importance of family, understood that the humans might have other things to do. He tried for old Saint Nick, who'd asked him just to give the family a chance. He'd tried, oh how he'd tried, but his patience, what little he had, was long since frayed, until finally he simply couldn't take it anymore.
He was tired, he was hungry, he was thirsty, he was homesick, he was lonely, and as much as it galed him to admit it, being ignored like this hurt. Sure it was possible that some mistake had been made, that no one was home, that he'd been dropped off at the wrong place, that perhaps the human that he was meant for was waiting with their own growing sense of disappointment... But that didn't change the fact that he refused to wait any longer.
Mind made up, his pacing stopped. Now he just needed to find his way home. Back to the northern lights and glistening snow, to his sire, dam, and sister, to Santa and the elves... Home. His heart ached with the thought, the fierce longing it invoked. He was going home. Realizing his eyes had slipped shut as the memories danced, magenta orbs swiftly snapped open. His burning gaze focused on the lone door keeping him from his freedom. Something hot and furious seared through him at the sight, and it was with a bugling battle cry that he lashed out. He reared, striking it with his forehooves before letting his weight crash against it. The door groaned in pained defiance, yet 'no' was not an answer he'd accept. Whirling around, muscles bunched and coiled before the caged stallion struck out with a powerful buck. Still the doors remained defiant, though wounded and shaking from the force of his attack. Still they stood, yet his acute hearing caught the sound of splintering wood and it was the ensuring promise of victory which lit his eyes during the next barrage.
The sound of thunder seemed to echo as his hooves once again met with wood, the sound of a tree about to fall splitting the air as the bolts and nails were ripped from the rest of the door, and his trumpeting cry sounding out above it, the ambrosial taste of triumph upon his lips. In his jubilation he was blind to the nails and splinters which drug across his left haunch during his victorious charge from the stable. Adrenaline and ice helped numb the slight injury, yet still he faltered for a moment in the gathering gloom of night. Waiting. Yet not a sound came from the house, no lights flickered on, and no little girl came running out with wonder in her wide, innocent, eyes. The only hurt he felt as he fled wasn't that born of wounded flesh, but that born of a tratorious heart. He shouldn't be upset. Really. There wasn't any reason to stay, he could go home. He hadn't wanted to be here in the first place. So why... Why wasn't he pleased? Tickled to pieces? Ecstatic because this meant that he'd be with his family for at least another two or three years?
Every horse deserves to be loved by a little girl at least once in their life. The words rang through his head as he stole through the night, hoofbeats that of weary war drums, mane and tail tattered banners. In his mind's eye, his dam's fond expression as she spoke of her own human and the joyful years they shared before the child fell ill before the sled dogs could arrive with the medicine. Miles slipped by, yet he remained lost in thought. Springing over fences, logs, ditches with slowly waning energy. His ebony sire's tales of battle, of carrying his own human into battle and then safely home, time and time again, before age ultimately claimed the man, and the aged stallion returned to the north. Time ticked by, marked only by the gradually lightening sky. How happy his parents had been with their humans... Was it really any wonder that somehow, some teensy part of himself wished for the same?
Snorting, he chased away the though, focusing instead on the scent and sound of running water. Licking his dry lips, his lagging pace slowed to a trot, and then a walk, as the cold air stole wispy clouds from his heaving breaths. Sweat saw his coat dark and slick, steam rising from him even as the encroaching cold caused him to shiver. But the more he realized how far he'd pushed himself in his mad dash, the more he realized that stopping right now to really rest would be a bad idea. North Pole born and raised or not, the thick snow and biting frost could still claim him if he wasn't careful. Heaving a sigh and hiding a grumble, the stallion dipped his muzzle into the frosty stream, taking tiny sips despite the desire to all but inhale the wondrous liquid. His parched throat might whine at the moment, but it was nothing compared to his stomach's rebellion otherwise.
A sound reached his ears, growing louder the longer he stood there slowly sating his thirst. It took a moment to register, but it was unmistakably the sounds of laughter, hoofbeats, and footfalls. Sipping on the stream, it didn't take long before the culprits showed themselves. A human, female in nature with long brown hair, garbed in thick winter clothes, darted trough the trees like a spry young filly. On her heels was a large bay stallion, snaking his head in a playful manner, chasing her at a slow lope. What really caught the runaway's eye, however, was the big red and white bow on his fellow gypsy's hock, the meticulously braided mane, tied off with another festive ribbon, the mirth in the stallion's amber eyes... An ache struck him anew at the sight of the happily matched duo, and he couldn't help but raise his head to watch. That could of been him, gleefully frolicking in the snow with his own human, hair braided with loving care, coat brushed to a healthy sheen, eyes alight in unbridled joy... That could of been him.
Angry for some reason he couldn't quite name, the roan whirled about sharply to vent his frustration on the nearest tree. There was something distinctly satisfying about the feeling of hooves against wood, though the suddenly muffled yelp was certainly new. Curious despite himself, his gaze darted towards the only creature close enough to make such a sound. The vision before him was even more satisfying, and infinity more amusing than the abuse of a tree. His fellow gypsy was now stock still, snow upon his back and head with eyes wide in surprise. The stallion shook it off with a shiver, but it wasn't the equine he watched. No, the human had slipped in her surprise, falling face first into the thick snow. Rolling over she attempted to scramble to he feet, only for what little purchase the snow offered her feet to give way, landing her in the ice again with a startled squeak. Owlish brown eyes blinked, a mousy sneeze escaped her, and the little human shivered where she sat with a disgruntled pout. She peered up at her companion in askance, only to find him as clueless to the cause as she.
The blue gypsy couldn't help the snort of equine laughter which escaped him, drawing the pair's attention just as a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye pulled his own toward the third member of the party. A mare this time, with a pale grey tovero coat which made her seem as ethereal as a spirit in the surrounding winterscape. Violet eyes met his own, knowingly, not having been distracted in playful merriment she'd seen his bout of temper and the results of it. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he was never so glad for the fur which his what would of sure been an embarrassed flush. Having seen the temper of the overprotective mother mares of the north, he half a healthy respect for the female gypsies. Taking a knee to bow as he'd seen his sire do before his dam plenty of times before, not realizing such actions had always been more playful than respectful, when he straightened once more his magenta gaze was met with her own mirthful violet.
So absorbed by his thoughts of the regal mare, he missed the human's approach. A gimlet gaze took in his heaving sides and sweat slicked fur, the thin red stripes upon his haunch, and the bow around his hock before darting towards the tag on his halter. Her fretful frown and furrowed brow became even more pronounced as she attempted to read the waterlogged tag. Giving it up as impossible, at least for the moment, her greatest worry was the stallion's health. He'd already been through a bit of an ordeal, and could certainly use a warm place to rest, and let those wounds be tended to, if nothing else. Perhaps he'd enjoy a warm mash and some water warmed than the frigid stuff he'd been trying to drink? Whatever the case, nimble fingers slipped under the halter as she gained a firm grasp upon it, not relinquishing her grip even as the stallion jerked in surprise. Magenta pools met her own worried chocolate, hesitating for a moment before reluctantly softening.
Relieved, she gently pulled on his halter, tugging him in the direction they'd come from. A smile curled across her visage as the gypsy complied with her silent request, and again as she repeated the gesture. Step by step he began to follow her, until her hand remained there only to guide him. Pensively she considered him as they made their way back to the barn. What could have happened for one of Santa's gypsies not to be with their human? She'd hoped to get a name from the tag, so that she could perhaps contact the family, but eyeing the ruined tag again, she doubted the likelihood of such a lead. Yet without it, how could she help him find them? Huffing a sigh, she wondered how long he'd be with them. Even if he wasn't going to join their little family, if he was going to spend any length of time with them, she couldn't exactly call him 'that horse' for the duration of his stay.
Starring at his jagged white badger face out of the corner of her eye, it crossed her mind that the ivory mark looked kind of like a scar from some sort of blade. A warrior's memento of some fierce battle in which he'd emerged victorious. She debated for a moment, before an insidious whisper of samurai crossed her mind, fickle and fleeting, but far too fitting for it to slip away like other such whimsical thoughts. A samurai... There was something fierce about his magenta eyes, which if one didn't look closely at their shade, seemed the red of fresh blood. There was a proud, defiant power which rippled with every stride, muscles prominent beneath his fur. Said coat inspired thoughts of a blizzard raging against a moonless night sky, while the sharp tobiano became a blinding flash of white lightning. A raging storm, a force of nature, something nigh unstoppable...
Yes, calling him a samurai wouldn't be too remiss as far as names went. Now she just needed to see if he agreed, but that could wait until after his wounds had been tended to. It wouldn't do to sour what tentative trust and fledgling relationship they had if it turned out he didn't like the comparison, especially if he'd refuse to let her tend to his injuries because of it.
-Ends on the 27th
-Timer is way off
Decoration: http://bitmapdreams.lastsecret.net/
