[woolly]

custom for starz!



Username: iStarz & Everly
Name: ÇwÇ Informed Suspicion 'Suspect'
Gender: Stallion
Eye Color: yellow/red
Phenotype: Silver Dapple Smokey Grulla Tobiano w/Ink Spots and Mapping/Shadow marks / Double Cream Ivory Champagne w/black lacing / Blue Taffy Minimal Sabino Reverse Brindle w/Ermine Spots & Gulastra plume
Genotype: EE/aa/Dd/nCr/nZ/TT - ee/CrCr/nCh + lacing - EE/Ata/ZZ/nSb + reverse brinde
Breeding Notes: Reverse brindle can only pass to half the 1st generation if rolled for, reverse brindle cannot pass after 2nd generation, it instead resorts to regular brindle. Regular Lacing can pass to any offspring/grandfoals if rolled for. Black lacing cannot pass.

[feverrr]

boom goes the gene bomb
as it splatters it's glory all over this tolter

[Tazaria]

Omg, soo many coat genes!

[iStarz & Everly]

Oh my gosh!! I love his face so much!!!

He will be a stallion, not sure on the name yet.
------------

Reverse brindle can only pass to half the 1st generation if rolled for, reverse brindle cannot pass after 2nd generation, it instead resorts to regular brindle.

Regular Lacing can pass to any offspring/grandfoals if rolled for. Black lacing cannot pass.

[iStarz & Everly]

His name is ÇwÇ Informed Suspicion 'Suspect'

[iStarz & Everly]

Personality: Suspect's motives can be considered questionable, but his intentions are honorable. Though the methods as to achieve said intentions are a bit twisted. Suspect will try to do what is best for others, even if it means cheating to do so. Suspect had a kind heart, but he isn't quite sure how to use it the right way. He is undyingly loyal if he knows you well enough, but getting there can take sone time and patience on your part. Suspect isn't very good at patience, but his loyalty somewhat forces his patience to exist.

Breeding Slots:
1- Wynter
2- Wynter
3- open
4- open
5- Closed - mate
6- Closed - mate
7- Closed - mate
8- Closed - mate
9- Closed - mate
10- Closed - mate

[iStarz & Everly]

Everything Changes
By: Vinson

Standing on a hilltop, the stallion squinted his eyes and looked down into the shallow valley below, training his gaze on his grazing mate. She must have sensed him watching her, because she lifted her head with ears perked and eyes wide to meet his golden gaze. Her faint nicker carried along the breeze to his ears, calling him to her. Happily he obliged, trotting down the hill he had been standing upon and eagerly stopping by her side. Gently he nuzzled her, his nose finding the crest of her neck, letting his lips bury themselves in her silky mane, breathing in her scent. She turned to look at him and nipped at a part of his mane, tugging lightly.
He let out a muffled nicker, appreciating her gesture of affection as he nibbled along her neck. He strived to please her, to make her happy with him - he had held this feeling since their first meeting, when he had fallen desperately in love with her. The strong urge to make her contented ran through his body.
Normally he wouldn't have the patience to put up with a mare, but he found that lately she had been changing him a lot. It was all for the better, yes, but still he found his patience being tested,and he was always trying to keep his temper in check when he was around her. Before meeting Wynter, he had often found himself throwing fits of rage and anger, but lately, he realized, he was becoming calmer and even more relaxed. He quite enjoyed this new sense of peace within his world, and subconsciously he realized that he really wanted to be one of those calm tolters.
With the spring sunshine lighting the air and a few butterflies flitting around the shallow valley, he didn't realize that his life was to be drastically changed. His strength of will and heart would be tested harshly. His training was to begin, and soon, wether he acknowledged it or not. His fate was set in place, and he would be trained to be the best reining tolter in the nation, perhaps even the world.
And he wasn't sure of what would happen to him that day when he was taken away from his home, his family, his love - everything he knew.
It started out as a day like any other. His morning routine was kept the same - his morning meal of hay and grain was delivered right on time, and happily he gobbled it up, hungry. After he finished eating, he was brought outside to the shower stalls for a bath. Suspect enjoyed his weekly bath like no other tolter, playing and splashing in the water, spray and bubbled flying off his coat. Usually the groom would laugh and play along with his antics, spraying him with the hose and soaping him up well. But today was different. As soon as he saw the groom's solemn, serious face, he knew that this bath was no joke. And that was when he figured out that something was wrong, different, out of place.
He stood completely still as the groom sprayed him down, lathered him up, then washed off the soapy bubbles. The sweat scraper made a dull, dragging sound as it ran along his coat, and he didn't much like the silence. Sure, the birds were chirping, he could hear the other horses in the barn nickering quietly among themselves, but his groom wasn't talking and he himself didn't dare make a noise.
The fluffy towel didn't feel as good and tickly as it did every other bath day, and he found himself wishing he knew what was going on. The whole element of surprise was throwing him off making him cautious, nervous even.
He was led to a crosstie stall, clipped in, and dried off even more with a blow dryer. This struck him as odd - the grooms had only ever used fans before. But he enjoyed the grooming session to come nonetheless, the curry stirring up damp patches, hard brush slicking everything down, soft brush running along everything and making his skin tingle. His hooves were picked and smoothed down, lightly shined. The groom ran a comb through his mane, pulled out a few loose strands of hair, and lightly ran through his tail with his fingers before running the comb through his tail as well.
Why he was being given such a careful and thorough grooming session this early worried him a bit more. He didn't know why.
The groom unclipped the ropes from his halter, and a lead rope immediately found its way to him. The groom tugged lightly, and Suspect followed, unknowing of his fate.
He was led to Wynter's stall, and he nuzzled the side of her neck lovingly, rubbing his cheek against hers. She did the same, nibbling lightly at his mane once more, nickering.
"Alright, Suspect, say goodbye. I can hear the trailer waiting outside," the groom murmured, looking at the pair sadly.
Suspect jerked his head up abruptly, not believing what his ears had heard - he was leaving? But why? Stubbornly he turned back to Wynter, nipping at her ear affectionately, nickering a loving tune.
He heard the groom sigh and tug lightly on the lead once more, but he ignore the command and delved his muzzle into his mate's mane once more, breathing in her scent again.
"Come on, boy," the groom said, patting him on the flank. Once again he ignored the groom, stubbornly digging his heels down and grunting.
"We have to go now," the groom said quietly but forcefully. Suspect tore himself away from his mate with a sad sound, finally heeding to the groom's command and walking away. She pricked her ears as he left, a quiet sound of sorrow making its way out of her lips.
He desperately wanted to turn back and pretend this was all a joke, but he couldn't - he just couldn't, no matter how hard he tried to tear himself away from this decision to follow commands. The groom stopped at the door of the barn and Suspect frantically looked towards Wynter, sadness and fear clouding his vision as their eyes met and his head hung low in sorrow.
As he got on the trailer, all he could do was hope that they would be reunited, back together soon.
And as suddenly as his fate was told to him, he was off to said fate - away from his love, his home, and away to the unknown.

He arrived at the training center half asleep, in the late afternoon. Sunlight suddenly flooded the trailer and he blinked back the pain as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, and then he realized that the trailer had stopped a minute or two ago. With a sigh he let the unknown hand lead him away from the trailer, into the new surroundings he would need to look clearly at later. He was still drowsy.
His halter was clipped to an automated hot walker, and he mindlessly walked in circles with it until his mind awoke fully and he was alertly pricking his ears, flaring his nostrils to catch the scents of this new place. Was he to stay here long? He hoped not.
This new groom came back after a few more minutes of walking around, clipped the lead to his halter, and led him to a crosstie. There he was lightly brushed down once more with a soft brush, and he saw his bridle coming towards his face.
He didn’t like it much, but it was familiar - and so he welcomed it, led the bit slide into his mouth, let the leather rest on his skin.
He let the new groom slide splint boots along his legs, and he watched a saddle come sliding up onto the crosstie rack. He spied a cinch sitting on top of the saddle, too, and sighed.
But he let it be placed on his back, let the cinch be tightened without puffing out his barrell.
The new groom patted him lightly on his neck, rubbed his ears, then left.
Suspect stood there for a few minutes before a woman came in, beaming at him.
“Welcome to training, Suspect.”
He cocked his head. Training? For what? It intrigued him, and he toyed the thought around in his mind. He watched this new woman's face closely, very closely, and she smiled at him. He trained his eyes on her body as she moved to his side, checking the cinch, running her hands through his mane.
"You're even more handsome than they had said, pretty boy," she murmured, and he puffed out a breath.
"Alright then, if you're so bored, should we start now?" She asked teasing,y. But he perked up, curious, and turned his head to see her better. Yes, he wanted to start something, anything, now. He had been still and lazy for too long.
And so the reins were over his head and he was unclipped from the crossties, led over to a mounting block. He stood impatiently, leaning unevenly on his hooves and swaying, a nervous breath finding its way out of his lips. The reins were thrown back over his head and tugged on lightly, he calmed his movements. And then she mounted.
He was surprised with her light weight in the saddle - she wasn't just sitting there, kicking, pulling, tugging, but rather, it was almost as if she was a part of him. He felt the light, constant pressure of the bit on his teeth and tongue, not harsh, soft.
She tapped her heels to his sides, and he found himself moving forward at a slow walk, and he surprise himself - he didn't even have to think about the movement, and her cues were small but clear.
He liked this rider. She was unlike the rest.
He was guided to an arena, an empty arena. The gate was already opened, and so he walked in and suddenly her seat was different, the pressure in his mouth increased the slightest, and he drew his head up.
"Good boy, Suspect!" He heard uttered from her lips, and suddenly it dawned on him - that meant he was supposed to raise his head. She relaxed her seat a bit more, let him lower his head, then pulled evenly on the reins. He stopped with a raised head, and she smiled.
"Such a smart stallion," she praised, and he swished his tail. Suddenly his mind was on Wynter again, and he found himself moving, picking up a slow lope and cutting across the arena. He had to push her to the back of his head as he started moving a bit faster, otherwise he was sure he would have crashed into the rail.
Suddenly there was a tap of her heel upon his inside side, right next to the cinch, and the outside rein was lain upon his neck. He circled, spun, eyes wide at this unfamiliar and somehow very familiar movement. He continued spinning in dizzying circles until she released the pressure on his side and collected the rein.
He had no idea what he was doing, but he felt he was doing pretty good.

Only when he was in the arena did his mind stray from his mate. Every other time his thoughts were full of her - he always found himself staring just too long into blue eyes, his own golden gaze catching on any bright pelt, and often enough he thought he even smelled her, before realizing that it couldn't be possible, she was back home.
He enjoyed the training, yes, but he missed her and his old friends so much. He was glad that his training took his mind off his old life, if only for a few small hours a day.
All he knew was that he wished to see her, smell her, be with her again.
And so he excelled in his training, trying his best to do everything they wanted him to do, in hopes that it would get him to her quicker. Little did he know, it was actually working.
After about a year of training, it was proposed he should take a break for a few weeks because he was progressing so quickly. And so they sent him back home, and he had never been happier in his life - his plan had worked! Even if it was only for a few weeks, he would get enough of her to keep driving him forward, inspiring him, keeping him going.
When he was led out of the trailer and to the pasture, the first thing he did was gallop up to that hill he had stood upon not so long ago, looking down at her.
He spied her standing in the valley below, and he let out a small nicker - she raised her head with her ears perked, clearly not believing what she was hearing and now seeing.
He trotted down to her, buried his muzzle in her mane, and inhaled her scent deeply. Oh, how he had missed her..