heaven for peace .:: AORTIS ::. earth for pain

[Angelness]

Arabian

Name
Aortis
Talking
Thinking

Age
4

Gender
XX

Alliance
Of the Sun

Height
14.3 HH

Halter
None

Appearance
Light gray and white hairs sprout from her well bred bodice, while long tendrils of the purest white cascade down from both the tip of her neck as well as from her rear. Around her eyes sprout darker gray hairs which vividly enhances her dark-as-night eyes. From the tip of her muzzle is the same shade, while they fade back into light gray a bit before the hair line reaches the bridle line. Her hooves, like her eyes, strongly set off her pearly white color. They are solid black. No scars nor symbols adorn her almost angelic bodice, save for one that she hides quite well. Her ears are shape in a delicate manner, though her left ear has suffered some sort of damage in the past, and has lost some of it's hearing abilities. Her legs are well muscled from long hours of running, but aside from that, she has the strength of your everyday, average Arabian mare. She does not mind, though, because she has no intention of ever fighting... Again.

Personality
Aortis is rather shy, to the point of avoiding attention at times. She can occasionally become deeply secluded to her own thoughts, the thoughts she shares with almost no one, save those she really trusts. Haunted by the memories of her foal hood, there are times when some could just as easily call her a dark as they could call her a light. But once she feels the need to break the ice, or if someone else breaks hers, she opens up. She's an unusually kind mare, at least for what she wen through, but most traces of humor have long since escaped her. Always thoughtful and a deep thinker, she chooses her words carefully. Because of that she can hardly be called a big talker, but she means what she says and has a way of making every word count.
Though some mares long to be the lead and are willing to leave the ways of the lights to get it, Aortis is comfortable just being in the safety of a herd. And after seeing what her mother went through, she is actually cautious of being a higher ranking mare.

History

I cannot believe you would even CONSIDER doing this to me, to all of us, Mariya... HOW COULD YOU?

Carcen raged, failing to hold back his temper at the first fae he had ever forced into his pack. Not herd. Pack. A dark pack.
The vixen called Mariya shrank back into the shadows, pushing back the helpless horse foal she had saved from the fire. Her fur was scorched, but the filly had not been harmed - at least, not physically. Or so it seemed. Carcen was not concerned in the least with the well being of the foal he hated, anyway, Mariya carried their third litter, and in his mind, should be more concerned with her own safety than with a mindless foal's safety. The animal would not survive the week anyway; she was sick. It was obvious. Glaringly obvious. Leave it to a once-light to foolishly run to the rescue of every unfortunate life carrying animal she saw. Every d**n one of them. Why did female's have to be so caring? Especially the attractive ones.... Life sucked sometimes. This was one of those times, apparently.

Because... I could save her Carcen! I could! And I did! Don't you think, that as rulers, it's our duty to protect the forest? Don't you think you should take some responsibility along with the pleasures you take so willingly?

She had crossed the line. Responsibility? Please. So not his thing. Never was, never would be. And by suggesting it, she had lost more than her place. She had lost her life. Not literally, of course. Selfish though he was, Carcen was not openly a murderer to the innocent, unless he was out hunting. Which he rarely was as he had his own professional hunters. That's luxury for you...
But no, she had lost all say she had in things. She had lost all fairness, and equality that even she had taken for granted. Force breedings and starving and beatings were common, everyday things to the once-queen. The foal, meanwhile, survived even harsher circumstances, simply because she was prey and the wolves were more adapted to hurt her than they were to hurt Mariya. Not only that but they were also far more willing to hurt the nameless foal than the one they had once trusted their life to. Mariya had basically held all their respect, even if Carcen had been the once to use it and take as much advantage of it as he possibly could, as often as he could. That was the kind of wolf he was, and the pack doubted he would ever change for the better. Him getting worse was a possibility - and a likely one, at that, but better? No. That just couldn't happen. And it never did.
Finally, after two and a half years of this kind of brutal treatment, the filly ran off in the middle of the night. She was found, but Mariya had followed her and held off the wolves long enough for her to get away. Mariya died that night; it was an act and a sacrifice that the still-nameless filly would remember all her life.
As she had never known her birth herd, and that wolf pack was more a hell than a home, the first land she entered became her official homeland. But it was a neutral herd, and they considered themselves to be neutral-darks. Even if she liked the lead stallion, she couldn't live with the rest of the herd. She had thought that that little bit of lightness in their actions, that absence of daily torture would be enough for her. Or, at least, she hoped it would be, since she was sick of traveling and was ready to settle down and call some place home. But no, fate had a different plan.
She decided to try to stay in the herd, even if she disliked it. They weren't bad equines, really; no, they were actually quite nice. But a lot of their beliefs and ideas were the polar opposite of her own.
They were even nice enough to give her a name; Ameo, meaning Shooting Star in their own, weird, demented language that she didn't understand. She like the name, but not the idea that they had come up with it. She went along with it anyway, though. She didn't want to offend them by not accepting it, especially after all the hospitality they had given her. What right did she have to be picky with them?
But fate was firm on her; she wasn't to stay in that herd much longer. She resisted the longings to leave and forged bonds with the herd members. However, she soon let it slip that she had different values than their own, thinking they would be understanding, as they had been with everything else. But they turned out to be no better at accepting differences than Carcen was at accepting responsibilities. They kicked her out - literally. Hoof marks from the lead stallion's hind hooves rested on her chest, wounding her for life; not physically but emotionally. She had truly loved him; he had been one of the key factors in her staying. But then, what choice did he have? She had mortally offended them, so they had convinced their leader to mortally wound her. All was fair in love and war... Right?
So she left. She was three years old and didn't have a home... Who would accept her? It didn't matter. She found a witch doctor to hide her scars, the indents from her love's hooves. She was able to rest her head over her neck in such a way to block any remnants the doctor had left behind. She planned to only tell her REAL true love about them, about her past. So she began being careful with her words, and careful with whom she trusted.
And after being rejected from a good many lands for not finding a suitable stallion immediately, she came across a newly starting land where she thought she might find someone who could truly lover her; for who she was, not what she looked like. That had been an issue in many previous areas. They took her in for beauty, kicked her out for various other reasons.
She changed her name there, to give her a new start, a fresh beginning, and a chance to forget her past. She knew it wouldn't happen, but she decided to try it anyway, just to see how it work out. Ameo became Arorma, which then became Aortis, which she stuck with.
Would true love be around the corner? Or was there an infinite amount of corners for her to pass?

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[Santiago]

Very Much Accepted!

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