[x-Birch-x]

Impress me
make your own form.
Art is a boost but not needed.
Stories allowed up to 3 paragraphs (paragraphs consist up to 7-8 sentences)

[punkrock.]

Name: LSR's Dubhlainn (Meaning 'Black' or 'Black Blade or sword' and is pronounced as 'dove + lin')

Breed: Mustang

Gender: Stallion

Height: 15.5 HH

Age: 10 Years old

Personality: Dubhlainn is fearless, and quiet strong willed, he could look death in the eye and smile while saying, "I'm ready to fight," he seems all brawn and no brain, which in some cases is true, painfully true. He has no mind for thinking out dressage, or patterns for a jump course, but he isn't stupid. More than once he has escaped his paddock, stall, and rider only to be found grazing in the wide, open pastures. He is swift and nimble as well, despite his body type, which is hardy, stocky and muscular. He gets along quiet well with other horses, but should not be handled by a young rider, only experienced ones. He tends to nip when impatient, and is rather pushy when you aren't fast enough for him, he doesn't like being behind the lead if he is on trail rides, and should be either on the side or in front, or he will nip the other horses hindquarters. But under all that is a sweetie.

Story: Dubhlainn stood lazily in the field, his head low to the ground, tail swishing. He was on lockdown, he bucked a rider... again. He didn't really 'mean to', it kinda just happened. The guy was using spurs, he was told not to! Spurs are one of Dubhlainn's absolute fears, he isn't fond of most metal objects. Mainly spurs and barbed wire fencing. The moon was high in the sky, the dark sky was still very bright that night. The wind whistled and blew his mane in front of him, his forelock blowing in his eyes, he tossed his head and snorted quietly, then burred. A small group of horses came plodding up behind him. It was Smokey, Misery, and Dublin. Smokey was a mottled brown mare, who stood at 17 HH, Misery was a dark bay retired racehorse with a crooked blaze, and three socks. Dublin was an old Irish Sports horse, he was all white with a gray muzzle. The four stood in silence and waited, safety in numbers. Dublin lay by an old oak tree behind the other three, Smokey lay beside Misery's feet, and Dubhlainn stood facing them. "Why'd you do that?" Smokey soon asked, her head poked up in curious wonder. "Do what?" Dubhlainn grumbled, "You know what," Smokey snapped, "You bucked a guy, why?" Dubhlainn looked at the patch of grass between his front hooves, studying it for imperfections as a distraction. "Dubhlainn....?" She asked softly, and Dubhlainn looked towards the heavens, "I was wild, okay? That's not something easily let go. I have every right to buck who I choose, because the took me from my family, my herd, and my life. So, don't go on being a supporter of them when they stole my life, and I bucked one of them. I say that's payback, or revenge, either one. Not an impulsive, babyish act of foolishness. Okay? I just need time," Dubhlainn told himself that all night, no one spoke to him, everyone let his outburst go, slept and dreamed. Dubhlainn, the fearless and brave, was now scared of one thing, change. Who knew what the future would hold for him, he prayed it would be all okay.

[icetea~]

HHHHHH-OOLLYYYY CRUD CAKES!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is flippin' 'MAZIN