[ExVenor]

General Info

Chrysaora Basilisk are the prevalent equine creatures that inhabit the world Lucent. They roam by the hundreds, using their unique hooves to score the uneven rock and track down their most vital source of nourishment; evil. The relationship between Chrysaora and humans is a complex one. Chrysaora vocalize like horses, but are also thought to have a syrinx much like birds do and have been recorded displaying a variety of sharp, avian sounds. Their eyes layer over with a dark, murky black until their normal eye color pierces through in a great ball of electric light, radiating toward their victim's open eyes and paralyzing them. The Glare is able to stop both human and creature, and after a few days, unique to other forms of basilisk, the paralyzed being transforms into a sea nettle.

Owner: Oвѕєѕѕє∂
Name:
Gender:
Link to form: XXX
Coat Color: Chocolate Palomino Pintaloosa [Blanket Appaloosa + Tobiano]

The story goes like this;
A human trapper had stolen many chrysaora foals and was selling them in a underground black market. A organization of people stopped him and rescued the foals, and are now trying to adopt them out. Each of the foals needs an experienced owner to love and raise them. We're counting on you, the members of the chry community, to give these babes a second chance at life.

Tasks:
- first encounter
- gaining trust
- first feeding
- free spot [make it original!]
You have until: 12/19/2015 to tame this Chrys!

Code: Select all

Name:
Gender:

[Obsessed]

Eep! So precious omg OwO Thanks a million Stumpy! I'll get right on taming this babbin ♥

Name: Bittersweet Symphony // Reese
Gender: Stallion

Tasks:
(○ = Uncompleted, • = Complete)
• first encounter
• gaining trust
• first feeding
• free spot

Sam, in their few years of owning a Chrysaora, did not in the least
expect to receive a phone call asking would you like to adopt an orphan
Chysaora? much less actually agreeing and asking for more information.
The overwhelming number of orphan foals would send anyone reeling, and
Sam was no exception when they came to pick up their own. Choosing one
was difficult, and the desire to scoop them all up and give them homes was
strong, but they knew their boundaries; one Chrysaora, Becca, was a
challenge they'd never faced before.

Now, here they were opening their home to the pale rainbow-maned foal
watching them so endearingly. Sam's first encounter with the curious colt
was peeking into the meadow where a group of them were out. They
moved in slowly among them, the many pale forms with their bright
manes dashing this way and that. Sam had meant to ask what had happened
to the mothers of these foals, and as they looked around at the Chrysaoras,
it bothered them. That faded to a background concern when the colt who
would later be known as Reese seemed to have enough of the intruder,
and faux-charged, barreling with his tiny horns down and pulling up at
the last minute.

Sam had laughed, and took the foal home that day. The mini heart attack
left them breathless as they asked for tips and help from the staff, and
admired the colt's twin red horns.

As was to be expected from young Chrysaoras who had only known
the cruelty of humans, the newly named Reese did not trust Sam at all.
They put the colt with their mare Becca, to be a surrogate mother and
good influence. She was steady where Reese was flighty, and did not
seem to particularly care about the little newcomer who ran shrieking
around the pasture. At the very least, they did not fight, and Sam was
relieved for that much, gaze following the two Chrysaoras. It was
stressful enough when one had to worry about the behaviour of one
without being certain how the other would react. Once, Reese
attempted to scuffle with Becca, but was pushed onto his bum
as a result and had faced the hindquarters of the not-amused mare.

For the first week Sam couldn't get anywhere near Reese. The colt
dashed madly away at any sort of attempted approach, and Sam had
to exasperatedly reach the conclusion that if there was something
wrong the little Chrysaora wouldn't run. In the end, Sam asked around,
talked to those with more experience, and decided upon simply letting
the Chrys approach him. It was a long process, filled with briefly
fluttering hopes and sour disappointments as the col remained doubtful.
One evening after another was spent in the pasture, taking care of Becca
and then sitting stock still, eyes closed or sometimes watching Reese.
It was an interesting experience, and one evening Sam felt
an almost dreamy disconnect, and next thing they knew, Reese had
done a 360 flip and decided this human couldn't be so bad after all.

Sam liked feeding Becca. It was like taking a heavy weight off their chest
and the negative emotions from the day were eased as she fed. She seemed
amused, but Sam couldn't tell for sure. Feeding Reese happened at first
by accident, the Chrysaora's instincts to keep alive making bits and
pieces of the negativity disappear. But the when Sam fully relaxed,
and felt the doubts, fears, frustrations, and sadness being fed
upon by Becca, Reese joined in. Two heads, it seemed, were better
than one, and a Chrysaora was better than a therapist any day of
the year. Sam laid on Becca's back with the mare's nose twisted around
to rest on their hip, and Reese hesitantly pressing his nose to Sam's hand.
Most of Sam's negative emotions lately centered on Reese, the strongest
being doubt and worry, and feeling them slip away was such a relief.
After feedings, though, Sam usually felt relief, a little empty inside
but so idiotically happy.

Reese was a greedy feeder and attempted after that first full feeding
to get bits and pieces of emotion whenever he could, which meant
more often than not Sam had to come back later to avoid the colt.
But they were happy that Reese was less afraid. He still started, and
stayed in the middle of the pasture or near Becca, but he didn't mind
being touched now, and seemed to enjoy his rump being scratched.
Soon, his coat would change, and that was an exciting prospect. Dull
colors were beginning to show through, and Reese often looked at Sam
like they were crazy for the random excited whooping and jumping.

Reese was filthy. Filthy. Sam stared in bewilderment at the
colt, who looked back at them as if saying, 'I'm dirty. What of it?
Every day, for the past week, the colt had gotten into all sorts of trouble
and gotten even sneakier about getting out of it one way or another. Sam
sighed, rolled up their sleeves, and fixed the aloof Chrys with a firm look.
"This," They said, "is unacceptable." Those words were Sam's undoing. A
mischievious look entered the colt's eyes, and he became an uncatchable
whirlwind that danced tantalizingly out of Sam's reach and could not be
lured or tricked forward. Mud was everywhere, from the last rain, and it
was kicked up by the running hooves. By the time Sam conceded they
were not going to catch Reese, they were covered in mud, filthy,
exhausted, and frustrated, the cheeky gangly colt throwing his head
triumphantly.

And then the rain started. It came down like a floodgate had been opened,
one of those sudden brief showers. And it rinsed away the mud on Reese's
coat to reveal the dull colors that had formed. Reese squealed and ran, but
was unable to escape the torrents of water, before conceding to a sort of
sullen defeat, as soaked as Sam was, seeming to scowl at the world around
him. It was hilarious, in its own way. And Sam stood there, drenched,
tired, less muddy, but a good deal more satisfied with nature's justice.

[ExVenor]

Sorry for the late reply! Congrats you tamed you baby, they are all grown up. <3