Username:Cobweb
Name:Aurora Lucens - Latin for 'shining dawn'. She likes to be called Rorie, in spite of the boyishness.
Gender:Female
Species:A Shetland pony
Kennel Number:66
Why would you like this character/What will you do for this character?:Goodness, I can't describe how much this lovely horse suits me! I love that goldenish-creamy color of her coat, and her thick, luxurious mane and tail. But overall I guess it's that star on her forehead which summed up my decision to try out for this sweetie.
I'll order tons of art for her, or even draw her myself. I'm not much of a digital artist, so I'll be most likely drawing her on paper. If I get a new tablet, then I shall attempt at some decent digital art. I'll write stories about her, and perhaps showcase her in my siggy! I might even brighten up her colors and do some shading, if my time permits and if I win her. If I find a good RP I shall roleplay her.
Personality:Rorie is very, very stubborn - it would take more than apples to change her mind. She is feisty, often getting overexcited and getting nauseous in return. She's shy and quiet in front of many people, but will be witty, boisterous and teasing with her friends.
Rorie gets self-conscious at the weirdest of time, like walking in front of scarecrows. She'll thoroughly check if her coat in spotless or stained with mud, and then quickly trot off as if nothing has happened.
She feels insecure when alone, but feels safe when surrounded by something. She loves apples; she must eat them before bed if not she'll have nightmares.
History:From Rorie's perspectiveBeing born during a thunderstorm wasn't a very good thing, but getting extra licks and nuzzles to keep me warm was worth the cold. That was the monsoon season - grass was sparse and we Shetlands lived on nothing but marsh grass and whatever weed we could scrouge up.
My dam grew thinner day by day, and her milk lessened. I was often sent to bed with a growling stomach. Still, my dam stood strong beside me. It got worse when frogs overran the then-swampy field. Those slimy things would croak the night away and we Shetlands would have a disturbed sleep.
I remember my first summer - how I embraced the warm sunlight that dried our soggy coats of muck and scared pesty frogs into faraway ponds. Grass grew as long as my shoulders, along with a few bushes stock-full of juicy berries. My mother's milk was sweet and creamy, and I enjoyed life.
Winter and autumn - how cold and bitter! Our coats grew thick and rugged, protection against the screaming wind and icy snow. Plants withered into black, crumbling excuses of their former emerald-green selves, and I managed to scrape by on bark and whatever edibles we could find. Two ponies died - my half-sister and my mother.
How I mourned! My mother was gone, really gone. I would have no more of her warmth, no more of her unlimited kindness. Still, I grieved silently; at least my mother lived on in my heart.
That was my early years. Now I am five years of age - a matured mare, young nevertheless. I have gone through so many harsh experiences, and now I await a foal of my own - every mare's dream. A foal meant a step up in the herd ranking, as pregnant mares have to be taken care of and were labeled 'precious'. And, I want to be doing what my mother did years ago, when I was a little foal - nuturing and loving.
Other: Thank you for this golden opportunity! c: Might be doing art of this sweetie.
it'sgonnabeEaster