Welcome to Gaia! ::

Soquili Era

Back to Guilds

 

Tags: soquili, horses, breedable pets, pet horses, familiars 

Reply Teepees
Cheri's teepee Goto Page: [] [<] 1 2 3

Quick Reply

Enter both words below, separated by a space:

Can't read the text? Click here

Submit


Cheri


Interstellar Pirate

PostPosted: Thu Mar 22, 2007 10:51 pm
Miss Cherie

Desdemona's idea of beauty was so strikingly different from the norm as to seem grotesque. Yet there was a certain aesthetic appeal to the gleam of blood like liquid drops of ruby across white throats, and throats of all sorts of shapes and sizes. Innocent throats were her favorite to maim. Little baby throats, throats that had scarcely learned how to scream. But the screams were appealing, were they not? The screams brought up things both thrilling and chilling, things that would send shivers down the backs of the craven creatures that watched. Helpless beings who could do no more than wince and whimper, searching for safety beyond her reach. But they were fools! Her reach was farther than they knew.

Much farther. "I tip the scales daily, if I can... and if given the opportunity I will bring darkness into all of that daylight." When she found the time, she made the deaths as protracted as possible. Every shriek of agony that could be teased from their mouths she procured. Every cry of dismay, of horror she cherished, relished and cultivated as one would nourish an exotic plant. It was an art, and one that she adored putting into action. He did not have to be weak. She could, if she wished, make him stronger. She would not. That weakness amused her in ways that strength could not, for if he was strong he was a threat. Competition.

For now, he was one of so many pieces that gracefully fit together to make up the machine that caused mayhem. Mayhem, violence, decay and despair. Oh yes! Yes. Delicious things. Wondrous things. Things with which to bring laughs from a creature as soulless as she. Desdemona did not pretend to be anything other than what she was, and still it seemed to shock many of those who met their eternal rest as her teeth. For some reason, they expected her to be merciful. Why? What use did she have for mercy? The denial of mercy was one of the most sweetest pleasures she could imagine. Making her victim beg, plead for it... but not find it. Ah yes. Wonderful.

"The balance is so delicate," she mused, flicking her tail in a fan of silver. "I am here to drink in the fear of the innocent, the terror of the weak, and the pain of the lame. I also seek to enjoy the helpless anger of the strong when they find that they can do nothing for their loved ones." That thought alone drew another laugh from her throat, cold and without pity. "The meadow will grow rich off of the blood I will spill here one day." Another wicked, evil smile curved her lips as she contemplated those beautiful ends. Deaths, many and myriad. Oh, such lovely screams were to be had. Oh, the pain and abject terror of the masses. It was quite the drug. And she was addicted.


^
Rp in thread.
 
PostPosted: Mon Mar 26, 2007 9:26 pm
Little fillies were fickle things, full grown mares moreso, and Desdemona could possibly take the top spot for it. The Red Pyramid snorted, and grinned. He thought of dying two leggers and newborns shrieking away. The grotesque sights and sounds meant nothing to him, they fueled him and proved that he was doing his job. That he was doing it damn well. He would surpass them all, those paltry hotheads that called themselves guardian angels of the Soquili. He would be their angel of death, their angel of proof. Proof that they were all a sham, fakes and cheap.


"Daily...how pleasantly often," the enigma murmured, taking a few steps towards the skinwalker. "There is nothing quite like clouds at a picnic, as they say." He began to circle around her, not attempting to be threatening, just to memorize her from the knees down. Unless she knelt, there was no way he would know her out of a crowd by view. If she spoke the beast was good, but his limited vision was a blessing and a curse.

If it did anything, however, it did not allow him to be weak. He was an icon with his armor, his chains. He had struggled in silence for years and the result was strength and endurance, and a lack of fear for anything reasonable. Still, to his frustration, he was not strong enough. Was not good enough. Those out there that remained his better reminded him in painful ways that he was just not good enough. Fearless enough.

Such was life. Fate had dealt him his cards, and no matter how he schemed he could not get a new hand, though he had fought tooth and nail to get as far as he did. Her voice was mellifluous as she ranted, crazed and driven all at once. Passionate. She was passionate about death, and pain, and her sadism.

"Balances tend to be that way," he replied. "I am here to shield the innocents from what they may feel in life. To spare those that survive of surviving any longer. I am here to gain my pleasure as I see it, taking it from those that I protect so willingly. I cause minor skirmishes and incite fear into the hearts of two leggers and soquili alike. I am bad dreams of the small and the truth for grown." His story was far less glamorous than Desdemona's, but he filled the cracks that she did not. She was unstoppable, a careening carriage carrying the plague. He was merely a vessel. He carried hate within him, it was his power, but it not WAS him. It was not innate.

"I look forward to that day," the pyramid head said, without irony.
 

its me debz

Wicked Shadow



Cheri


Interstellar Pirate

PostPosted: Sat May 12, 2007 2:17 am

((Another RP. In thread, this time.))
 
PostPosted: Mon May 21, 2007 12:13 am

Snagged from Tweekend. XD <3

Tweekend
RP on AIM with Cherie
Copy and Pasted here <3
May 20th 07

User Image

User Image

Pumpkin Tart had no real love of traveling. Traveling meant encountering others, and encountering others sometimes meant danger. Like, for instance, in the case of that one Skinwalker. She had meant real danger. That exchange had been as close to death as she ever wanted to come. It had been a very near thing. And she had ran, like a little coward. But truthfully, she couldn't tell herself that she wasn't a bit of one. Danger frightened her. She had only been able to keep herself there long enough to convince the younger mare to run before she took off at a gallop herself. As she picked her way through the underbrush, she told herself that that was not a bad thing. It was not bad to be cautious. Was it?

Kitsune was another individual who felt caution was a way of life. He was constantly lurking in the landscape, making himself as unnoticed as many of the other forms of life that dwelled around. He also had his sword in his mouth, which for personal reasons would never leave him until he faced death with it. He hadn't had the 'run-ins' that many others would consider horrible, and it was probably because of his swift ways of hiding. Despite that, though, his vision from behind a solid underbrush was kept on what looked like an orange female, with not as bright of a look as himself, though interesting shades of mysterious colors. From his lurking gesture, he just so happened to spot another who seemed keen on blending in. He knew very well ways to escape his bright coloring, and watched for a second, before making his way out of the brush.

Her name was an unfortunate reality. It had been with her since her birth, and she'd hated it for almost as long. Lurking, moving softly through the bushes, she tried very hard to escape notice. However, it seemed to Pumpkin Tart that she already had caught someone's attention. With a quiet, mostly internal sigh, she resigned herself to the inevitable. She almost seemed to be waiting for rejection, or for ridicule, as though she expected it from all comers. But she did not know this one. From his hoof beats, she knew he was male. Beyond that... nothing, for she wasn't looking in Kitsune's direction.

He crept from beyond the underbrush and around so that he was now in front of the female. She didn't look evil, or as if she was going to attack. He placed his sword down by his hoof, as he always did, to show her that he was not there to attack, either. "Now, under your specific movements, it seems you are trying to stay hidden. What are you doing wandering in front of a steady brush?" He curled his lip and looked at her boldly. Maybe he understood the subject well, so he felt confrontational towards her. "Now I am used to hiding such a bright color myself, and back here," He nosed his way to the left towards where he was hiding, "Its much better for lurking." He chuckled and watched her.

Pumpkin Tart blushed slightly, ashamed of how easily she had been spotted. Her ears flattened against her skull for a moment, before perking forward. "I am not very good at this. I just did not want to be seen by the... Skinwalker." She didn't know if the female was lurking about, and she certainly did not want to find out that she was. "There was one, before, and I thought to avoid seeing her again." And becoming her entertainment, or quite probably her lunch. That would not have been good at all. She was absolutely certain that she had no desire to become food for anyone.

"Oh, I see. Well, that is understandable then." Kitsune had only smelled Skinwalkers before, though had never had the guts to go near one. He could handle a Kalona occasionally, but a Skinwalker he never dared. "Its smart to think that way, especially if she now knows your scent. But I can tell you, that I can usually pick up the scent of a skinwalker, and there isn't anything around us right now." His more.. serious and commander-like side was drifting out, and he felt compelled to explain the scenario. Kitsune went silent for a second, and looked side to side. "Yeah, we are good, there is nothing around us for miles at least." He swished his tail, and tried to control his nervous feelings. "My name is Kitsune, pardon my scary walk-in to this conversation." He chuckled, and realized how socially awkward he was around females. "What is your name, Miss?" Even the word 'Miss' was bleachy as it left his mouth.

The mare winced. Oh god, now she'd have to say it. "It's... Pumpkin Tart." Clearly, that wasn't what she preferred to be called. She honestly did not know what she preferred to be called. How could one take a name like hers, and make something pretty of it? Perhaps Kin? Kin was a little bit prettier. "If you don't mind, I would prefer to be called 'Kin', I think. I'm not very fond of my name. It's kind of long, and bulky." Not a very good name for a mare like her. She wasn't at all round like a pumpkin. And she certainly was not a tart!

"That sounds, tasty in a strange way?" He chuckled, but didn't see the mare laughing. Its not like he was very good at joking, anyways. "Okay Kin, though I don't think there is anything wrong with your name. Why focus on it anyways, its not like I am changing any judgements or thoughts just from your name.." He pawed at the soil, and looked at the strange female. How confusing, though from the females he had met, names and stuff seemed like things that were on their minds more. Maybe he was just strange, all he thought about was getting stronger. "Well, who named you then?"

"I'm not sure about Kin either, now that I think about it." Pumpkin Tart paused, and considered her words carefully. "Words carry a great deal of meaning with them, Kitsune, and so names are also important, if only to the one who carries them." That had been a surprisingly deep thought. Where had it come from? She didn't think she'd ever said anything like that to anyone else before. "Maybe I'll just stick with my full name, since that is what my parents gave me." She had inadvertantly answered his question, caught up in the strangness of actually having been passionate about something. "Oh. My parents named me."

"Oh, well I hated my father so that's probably why I could give a crap about my name." He sighed, and noticed the female change her mind, back and forth. "So ok, Pumpkin Tart it is, then?" He felt exhausted already, no wonder he never hung around anybody. "Don't you think names are selfish, then?" His lip curved into a devious grin. "I mean, our parents get to choose our names, and we are stuck the rest of our lives 'living out' whatever it means? It basically sums up a big part of our existence, and we have no say." He sighed again, and shook his head. Matters like this were to complicated for him, and that's why he usually just stayed away from everyone. "I don't know, that's how I kinda see it." He plucked at the ground to chew on a piece of grass nervously.

Gah. She was so socially inept. Somehow, Pumpkin Tart felt that she had messed up somewhere. "I... well, I suppose it is rather selfish. Some people choose their own names." Maybe one day she would choose her own name as well. "It makes sense, to me," she said, trying to grasp at concepts that were slipping through her fingers. "I think, though, that you came make your own meaning from your name. It doesn't have to mean exactly what your parents wanted it to." For example, her parents had named her after a food item. How nice was that? ... Or could it be that that was why she was always so nervous around Skinwalkers and Kalona?

He shook his head and spat at the ground. The piece of grass that he munched on was now shattered and in pieces. "Oh really now? Well, you can think whatever you would like to get yourself sleeping at night." He laughed, the world was so cruel, he would never waste his time on such meaningless issues. "So, what else does a lass like you think about?" He looked at her, noticing the marking on her body. "Every female I run into is friggan confusing, what makes you confusing then, hm?" He nudged at his sword, to make sure it was firmly by his leg. Of course, it hadn't moved the entire time they were chatting. "Everything is just so overwhelming, don'tcha think? Its way easier to just ignore everyone all day." He smiled to her, though he figured she wouldn't understand.

Pumpkin Tart glanced at the ground, and pawed at it with her hoof. "I don't usually talk to others. When I do, most of what I say doesn't make any sense." Since, well, she was so nervous. They made her nervous, though they didn't mean to. "If I stay by myself, I won't say anything, and then there won't be any problems with what I might say." Like about her name. His name. Anyone's name. She wasn't sure if she liked to be alone, but it was certainly better than saying whatever it took to get someone off of her back. Or, in this case, saying whatever came to mind.

"Oh so you do understand? More then I could have thought.." He glanced at her, amused. "Maybe you are more interesting then I thought.. it might be an orange curse." Once again, his comment was supposed to be funny, but he snarled at how idiotic he made it sound. "Well, I have to go continue my training in a nearby mountain, do your best to stay outta mischief." He picked his sword up, and looked at Pumpkin Tart one last time. "Your not so bad, ya know that? I'll look for you again." And with that he gave her a smooth smile, and turned away from her to trot off. Something positive for him? It was a nice thought, and he pondered it as he strode away.
 


Cheri


Interstellar Pirate



Cheri


Interstellar Pirate

PostPosted: Fri Sep 14, 2007 2:20 pm

Since I'm not sure what I have included in the thread, here's a list of links to RPs I have done/had:

Tail end of a Maeryn/Necro RP: x
A Rot/Maeryn RP: x
A Brimstone/Soth RP: x
Tail end of a Rot/Calamity/Maeryn RP: x
Somewhere in the middle of a Rot/Calamity/Maeryn RP: x
The beginning of a Maeryn/Domnu RP: x
The beginning of a Maeryn/Anevay RP: x
A Rot/Maeryn RP: x
Tail end of a Maeryn/Ariston/Anevay RP: x
A Ruin/Anevay RP: x
Tail end of a Maeryn/Ariston RP: x
Tail end of a Brimstone/Kat/Az/Crowley (and more) RP: x
Tail end of a Des/Plague/Kuro/Draven RP: x
Tail end of a Des/Kat (and others) RP: x
An Anarchy/Hienna RP: x
A continuation of the Brimstone/Kat/Az/Crowley RP: x
Tail end of an Arya/Obe/Wylie RP: x
Tail end of a Brimstone/Kat RP: x
Tail end of a Kwahu/Elu/Akila/Diallo RP: x
A Des/Mint Candy RP: x
A Bane/Rot RP: x
A Pumpkin Tart/Loveless/Kitsune RP: x
A Safi/Kohana RP: x
A Des/Draven RP: x
The beginning of a Ghost/Banshee RP: x
A Taint/Loveless/Anarchy RP: x
A Vexation/Meshach RP: x
Tail end of a Wrath/Incubus/Fury/Vexation RP: x
A Vexation/Loveless RP: x
Tail end of an Anevay/Vexation RP: x
Tail end of a Hex/Maeryn/Anevay/Loveless RP: x
Somewhere in the middle of a Vexation/Wrath/Succubus RP: x
Tail end of a Wrath/Vexation/Anevay/Hex RP: x
A Vexation/Ariston RP: x
Tail end of a Tsura/Wishes RP: x
Tail end of a Des/Res/Dorian/Rhi RP: x
A Des/Plague RP: x
Tail end of a Kwahu/Safi RP: x
A Guilian/Arya (with another to be added) RP: x
 
PostPosted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 4:33 am
Foal
Since emerging from the basket you have known nothing but darkness; a mother who despises you and a father who views you as little more than an object to be manipulated to his whims, used as a tool against your mother. Upon first introduction to Diabetia by your father she snarls and attacks. In order to put her back in her place Plague steps in to keep her at bay. How do you react to this? What are your thoughts?


Mother. Father. Two words that should have meant the world to him, but did not. 'Mother' meant weakness, pure and simple. If he behaved like 'Mother', he would feel the rush of hooves and teeth. Strong words would chastise him, and he would remember that 'Father' was the word that was most important to his survival. 'Father' meant many things, the most important of which was 'master', strength. Dimly, he knew that his words were not the words of others, that his views were different, strange. However, his understanding of them was vital. He must know the difference between them, and he must seek to follow his father.

His sire was difficult to impress. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure that it was possible to impress him. But he would certainly try, if it meant that he might garner a little bit of his father's approval. Suddenly a bubble of anger snapped up, roiling through him. It was his mother's fault that Plague thought he was weak, wasn't it? He must think that his own son was just like her. Weak like her. Stupid like her. Instantly, almost inexplicably, he hated her. He hated her because she had left them before he was even out of his basket, hated her because she defied Father, because she roamed free while he must remain here. If she had not been so wretched, such a coward, he would not have to put up with his sire's lessons the way he did. Surely Papa would find other ways to teach him.

But the lessons were of absolute importance, at the same time. This he knew. He idolized his father, the strange, almost skeletal stallion who had taken him in hand and begun to shape him. He held him up on high. He did not, however, love him. No... love was far too pure an emotion to be felt by one as tainted as he had become, even as a foal. His body was too soft, too small to be right. There were things he must do, ways he must change. He must, absolutely must achieve the greatness that only his father commanded. Manipulation was a tool, and a powerful one. He'd had it used on him long enough to know what it meant, what it was. What it might entail. Swiftly, his baby thoughts began to grow more complex. The change was a necessary one, one that he could nor afford to do without.

He pushed himself, forcing himself to improve. Even a hint of praise was worth whatever pain he might encounter in the interim. But it was not praise he was seeking. No, he had a far grander goal than that. He divorced himself from his gentler feelings, until they became nothing but a shadow, nothing but a memory. Even the desire to appeal to his father was forgotten in his obsession. Perfection took time, took effort. It took everything he had, and more than he had not yet discovered in himself. His failure to achieve that goal rankled, but he ignored the sting.

Personal pride was not as important as the end result. And slowly, the darkness was eating at his soul. His awareness of the passing of days was dim, distant. He did not, in fact, notice how long it had been since he had come to his decision until his father told him that he was bringing him to meet Diabetia. Mother. The mare who had not had any role in his upbringing until now, except as a tale, as a warning. Another foal would have been told to 'be good, or the Skinwalkers will get you', but he was told that he was to behave, or to expect the same treatment as his dam. He did. He listened, he obeyed. He allowed himself to be formed into a tool to his father's hooves. Why did Father want him to meet her? Silently resentful, the colt followed Plague, his young eyes filled with a deceitful wickedness that might perhaps have been perceived to be disturbing.

He almost tuned out the conversation that his father had with his mother, but then he noticed the madness in her eyes. Without any further warning, she lashed out. Well, well, well. She did have some spirit after all. Fool. She ought to know that disobedience came with an almost instantaneous reward. Her striking hooves connected with nothing, leaving her off balance, open to his father's attack. His father stepped in, coming between them, and backed her down.

“Sweetness, you know better than to defy me,” Plague mouthed, his tone harsh, and ... was there a hint of amusement, hidden at its depths? Disbelieving, the colt stared from his sire to his dam, trying to make sense of what he saw. Yes, his father was angry at her show of rebellion, of fire, but he was also amused by something. What could that be? It was then that he realized the true reason that Father had brought him out here to meet her.

She hated him. Hated the sight of him, her son. It seemed to trouble her some how, to torture her. Smirking to himself, the colt drew himself up, giving her a look that said plainer than words how pathetic he found her to be. The darkness roiled within him, giving him strength and shaping his thoughts in wild, twisted ways. So, that was how it was to be. He was truly a tool, truly something that could be used against the candy covered Kalona. The knowledge pleased him in ways that he could not describe. Just by being who he was, what he was, he had assisted his father in punishing his mother. Good.

I hate you too, Mother he thought at her, his eyes cruel and hard. I hate your weakness, and your stupid, foolish 'freedom'. It was entirely her fault that he did not learn the more important lessons from his father. Lessons that would teach him how to be something more than a puppet. How dare she interfere in his life in that way? Senseless mare. The manner in which his father had reined her in was masterful. He was impressed. So, that was the way to do things. Use force, and words. Weapons of the mind, and strength of the body. Watching him once more, he realized how very desperately he wanted to become like him.

Of course, Diabetia was a roadblock to that. However much he cut himself off from the thought of her, of her behavior, her blood ran in his veins. Damnable wench. She corrupted him just by existing. He gave her a hard, unforgiving look. Surely, her weakness was a trial for him, a trial which he must learn to overcome, to overshadow. He had already learned what her behavior meant in his life. Now he was learning what it meant to be her son. Well, he'd show her. He would become more than she could ever hope to be. He would become his name. He would become... Famine. And his father would be proud.

Edit: Just so that I have something to play with, should I chose to with Havoc. XD
 


Cheri


Interstellar Pirate



Cheri


Interstellar Pirate

PostPosted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 11:22 am

<333
 
PostPosted: Mon Oct 03, 2016 6:12 pm
User Image What do you need for her plot wise? If anything. ^^ <3

Miss Cherie
 


AstoriaFallen

AstoriaFallen

Crew

Winter Wolf

Reply
Teepees

Goto Page: [] [<] 1 2 3
 
Manage Your Items
Other Stuff
Get GCash
Offers
Get Items
More Items
Where Everyone Hangs Out
Other Community Areas
Virtual Spaces
Fun Stuff
Gaia's Games
Mini-Games
Play with GCash
Play with Platinum