[Looking] Forward;;Never [Back]

[misty]

Name:
Cyrus
Age:
7 years
Gender:
Male
Deity-or-Normal:
Normal

Personality:
Cyrus is a placid beast. He wishes not to gain honor and glory in fighting, but simply to enjoy life and evade death for as long as possible. He has great respect for the gods and admires their abilities and immortality. Oftentimes, he will keep his opinions and thoughts to himself, to avoid offending others and because he is not use to sharing them. For most of his life Cyrus has lived in a world of darkness, with no one as company but himself, though others may be beside him, and so he is not very sociable. Many hours will pass while he studies a brook or watches an insect gather food, for he takes joy in observing anything and everything around him.
Likes:

• Snow/ Cold weather.
  
• Galloping.
  
• High places.
  

Dislikes:

• Not being able to see around him.
  
• Night.
  
• Arrogance
  

Fears:

• That he will become blind again.
  
• Death.
  
• Hades.
  

Hopes:

• To live on a mountain.
  
• To live in the herd of a god who will protect him.
  

Dreams:

• To gain immortality and escape death.
  

Appearance:
Of short and stocky build is Cyrus, with muscles that are well-defined. A milky white coat covers his entire body, save for lower legs and muzzle. From the hooves up to his knees, all four legs are stained blacker than a moonless midnight. The muzzle also carries the black coloring and is thick and broad, as is the head. His face looks kind and welcoming, but his orbs speak of a sad past. Small ears sit upon his cranium, usually pricked and listening. The mane and tail are relatively short, but are thick and carry the same ivory color as his coat. The eyes are blue pools that look as liquid silver, due to their once blindness. His barrel is round and stout, giving Cyrus a portly appearance, while the short neck is also thick and well-muscled.

Family connections:
None
History:
Cyrus was born a pure white foal and completely blind. His blank, un-seeing eyes disturbed the other horses in his herd, and they demanded that he be cast out. The foal's parents loved him too much to send him to his death and boldly refused to do so. The equines would not have the blind colt stay, and so the entire family was banished. Cyrus' parents never regretted their decision, however, and instead focused on making their son's life better.

His mother and father took turns guiding him around the clearing in which the made his home, and each tried their best to describe the world to him. But Cyrus hated the dark prison he was in, and nothing would ever satisfy him as long as he could not see. The stallion began to shrink father and father away from the love of his parents, sometimes standing in the same spot for days, refusing to let them come near him. Finally, he left the clearing, stumbling slowly through forests and over plains. But little did he know what the excursion would cost him.

Hades, god of the underworld, was watching the surface of the earth from his realm that day, and noticed the milk white stallion. Hades could tell the animal was blind and his mind began to form an idea that was incredibly heinous. The god came to the surface and spoke to Cyrus. He told the equine that he could rid him of his blindness and release him from its dark grasp - for a price. Cyrus, now knowing who it was that spoke to him, agreed without thinking. He was willing to give up anything to see.

Taking him to the underworld, Hades bade him drink from the pool in front of him. Wading in until the water lapped at his knees, Cyrus plunged his muzzle in and drank deeply. At once the darkness cleared and the world appeared to him. But the first thing he saw was his parents' dead bodies, lying cold on the ground. Grief and anger gripped Cyrus, and he shouted that Hades had tricked him. Hades merely laughed, telling him that this was the price he had to pay in return for his sight. Cyrus rushed to his parents side, but before he could so much as touch them, Hades transported him back to the earth.

Only when he was back on the surface did Cyrus see his new markings. His mother had often described to him what his image was, but always she had called him white as snow. Cyrus knew that he would be forever marked, forever reminded of what he had done. Overcome with despair, the stallion let loose a neigh that held every ounce of his grief and anger. Then he ran, ready to run until he found a place where he could live forever protected against the merciless Hades.

[watayastaff]

[accepted]