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Tigermay wrote:Username: Tigermay
Name: Kassandra, she's named after the Trojan princess who knew the future but was never believed.
Gender: Mare
Height: 16.3 hh
Personality: Kassandra is an interesting mare for sure. She's hard and tough, as the bayou demands all things within it to be. However, she also has a dreaming, artistic side because of all the stories she's been told. To her, everything is part of a living story, one who's end is not very clear, and that fascinates her to no end. She's always looking around the corner and into the future as far as she can, with livid curiosity in her bright purple eyes.
While she was raised a loner, she doesn't go out of her way to avoid other kelpies. On the flip side, she only occasionally seeks out others, she usually lets other kelpies decide whether or not to approach the mare. In accordance to stallions and love, she's leaving that entirely up to fate. After all, in all of those stories, true love has always found a way to put the right people together, so it shouldn't be any different for kelpies.
In a pinch, she's the one to stand by your side, unless she feels the need to save her own hide. So she's loyal, but only to a point. While she can be selfish and distant, she can really rise up to meet any challenge if she chooses to. This leads to her to have a streak of stubbornness which sometimes conflicts with her reason and her good intentions.
Story: Ever since she was a filly Kassandra has gone to the rickety old shack hidden deep in the bayou. She doesn't remember when exactly she found it, but she does remember how...
The young kelpie had wandered off, the squishy ground of the swamps and the constant noise of rustling life drawing her into the green and brown depths of the bayou. She knew she wasn't supposed to wander off, her mother had warned her countless times of the dangers and had always scolded Kass whenever she had gone off exploring. But today the humid air was positively thrumming with the beat of dragonfly wings, the calls of birds and the other noises of the bayou. Occasionally splashing and the rustling of bushes could be heard as other animals moved about in their environment. It was summer, when everything was the brightest of colors and the scents were the most ripe.
Her brindled coat blended with the shadows as she kept strolling along, ears flopping with her movements and her eyelids droopy as she took her relaxed stroll. Then, a most peculiar sound struck her ears and her right ear rotated to hone in on it. She didn't give it much thought, but the sound just kept pouring out of one corner of the bayou, ever so faint. Eventually her piqued curiosity got the best of her and she turned towards where the whispery voice was coming from. Her eyes were wide open now, a determined shine to their purple hue as she struck out at a trot.
She had made a complete turn around, now she was alert; gaze actively searching around her, ears scanning for the voice-like noise, and nostrils flared to nearly their limit. She kept trotting, but after about twenty minutes she was getting frustrated. Sure the voice was getting closer, but she'd had no glimpse of the source. She snorted in irritation and frustration, then as her snort echoed out she heard the voice stop. Then a long, low whistle sounded, one that made Kassandra pin her ears with wariness. A moment of tenseness passed and the now familiar drawl of the voice was back.
One at a time, the filly peeled her ears from her neck. She huffed quietly, tail now smacking some bothersome bugs. The fact that whoever was talking had resumed even after her snort made her a bit more relaxed. Mainly because it meant that she was supposed to hear this voice. Legs moved forward, carrying her towards the source in an amble. Her eyes narrowed in a squint, and miraculously — as if that whistle had cleared her mind — she now made out the angular edges of some wooden thing. She eagerly moved forwards, excited to finally see what she had been pursuing. She rounded a natural corner of trees into a clearing and stopped dead.
There was a rickety old shack, its door hanging off its rusted hinges and the windows nothing but leaves. The whole thing was askew, the left side of the house was tilting into the channel running through the man-made clearing because one of the front supports had given way. The whole place looked like it was as old as the swamp and was burrowed into by all manner of animals. And there on the only flat surface — the porch — and rocking back and forth in an oak rocking chair was a wrinkly old man who looked as old as the house. His eyes shifted to the kelpie then back down to the book he held. It was thick and weathered, and a pile of ones in the same well-used and taken-care-of condition were sitting to the right of the rocking chair. The old man cleared his throat, nearly spooking the filly off, then resumed his reading.
She blinked, almost not believing the deep tenor sound that she had been following was this man's voice. As his words, which she didn't understand, sunk into the filly, she decided to at least get out of his sight in case he wanted to harm her. She stayed just behind the tree line, enthralled by the way his voice swept up and down and spun a web of complex sounds. After what must've been hours, a whinny of another kelpie rung out.
Kassandra froze, ears slowly moving back as her mother made her way over. "Kassandra! So this is where you has been?" Her mother asked, seeming surprised. The filly was ready to beg her mother to not make her leave, but her dam then did something remarkable. "I was wondering when you'd find him." Kass was utterly confused. "Find him?" She asked with a tilted head.
Her mother smiled a knowing grin and explained. "This man's been telling stories to the bayou for a long, long time. I've been listening to him for all of my life. I even got your name from one of his stories."
So that's what this mysterious human was doing way out here, telling stories to the swamp. But why? "You got my name from his stories?" She asked in a bit of awe, looking back to the man. "But why does he tell stories to the bayou?"
"He wants to share the heroics of mankind and to just be with the swamps. He's a wise man, as he's seen quite a few kelpies since he stays out here by himself and tells stories." Kass' mother replied, then poked her head quickly out into the man's clearing before drawing it back in just as quickly.
"Why'd you do that?" Kassandra asked, staring puzzledly at her mother.
"So he'll start from the beginning. Do you want me to tell you what he's saying?" The mother kelpie asked, reaching down to nuzzle her daughter. Kass nodded furiously in answer to her question, nearly colliding heads with her mother. The mare chuckled, and a flipping of pages could be heard before the man's voice rang out again. And underneath his deep drawl, was Kassandra's mother murmuring to her filly. "Once upon a time..."
One word that describes her: Fantastical: existing in fancy only.
(Woo, done. ;3)
i just loved the story of this one ;3
