Post by silrain on Mar 19, 2009 2:01:49 GMT -5
Alias from birth;
Ω MorpheusΩ meaning he who forms, shapes, moulds
I have lived far too long;
Ω Eternally evil; immortal
Makes me who I am;
Ω Male
And we all said hallelujah ;
Ω Lesser godΩ God of Dreams
the devil sings;
The persona of a beast is a most fiddle thing, there is the interior being and the outer shell. Morpheus is like all beasts but he has molded it together in a strange way like wax mixed between two different colors. The tantalizing heart of his exterior shell is as cold as the wintry caps of the solemn pillars of rocks. The cruelty that grips him hones from the rage of being with brothers, being unable to be the true God of Dreams. This cruelty makes him treat others as dirt, as those inferior to him but those who have beaten him in wits or brawn he treats them fairly better than dirt. His favorite method of cruelty for mares is to enchant them, fake emotions for them, love them, and then at one point he would start acting meaner. Nipping them here and there and then biting them and for the encore he would tell them that they were just pawns and leave them heartbroken. He derives the most joy in seeing the mare stare brokenly at him and then the begging that he was just joking, lying.
Cunning fills the thoughts of this being, his mind is forever cleared from panic or horror until it truly is a desperate situation. He can calculate exactly what the wishes, the desires of those who doze so he can send a befitting dream, a wish or a fear. This cunning also also makes him insufferable as he acts high and mighty when someone flatters him about it, everything would seem like nothing to him if he was flattered but flattery never works on him, most of the time. His intelligence is used for his own needs and for his duty. He is truly a brilliant God as he would need all his wits as God of Dreams.
Cruel or mostly vices he may be he is still a very efficient God. He adheres to finishing his duties before enjoying his time on his luxurious ebony bed in his cavern filled with poppies. Everything he does must have a purpose as well or else he wouldn't even bother doing anything. All his games have a purpose if one were to ask him, the purpose is of course to amuse the God of Dreams or her would get bored and all dreams would come out as a bore.
His interior self is just a quiet little being begging for the feel of true comfort, true love not the petty excuse of lust. This soft hidden part is covered by all those parts of his outer exterior, like the inner child sheltered from the harshness of reality. When alone in his cave without his attendants and such he enters a daze where he was not a God but a normal equine living in a small happy herd, close to and loved by all. When an attendant calls for entrance his rage is spewed out as a nightmare to whoever is out there.
Inside he also is quiet violent which turns him into a quiet and violent being. His heart is like a storm, at some points it is a steady rain and other times it is a hurricane. His inside self also hates rape as emotions is different from turning a person crazy through that, though he is not the most virtuous of beings but he is better than most already.
In the middle, the merging of the two, the inside and the outside, the shield and the prize, he becomes a wretched demon of far too many mixes. He is cruel but his interior makes him give mercy and a horse he had tortured would be freed, injured and all. His inner child merged with all his brilliance turns the world into a place for his 'playful' experiments. Because of all these merging he thinks that he is the best, turning him arrogant and overconfident, a true beast to fear.
To sum it all up, Morpheus is a beast that should not be trifled with. His mood change, he can easily go from his merged persona to his shield one. Only the closest to him would ever be shown his inside self, only few would ever live to see that part of him.
an addiction;
Ω Power//to get drunk in it//
Ω Dreams//it's my forte//
Ω Sleep//where dreams begin//
Ω the Night//secrets hide well in this dark and its his mother//
Ω Smoke//the mist that kills//
the killer drug;
Ω his Brothers//worthless fools who leech his powers//
Ω Mares//they are useless when they're lovestruck//
Ω the Day//horrid light that scorches//
Ω Rape//what fool does so?//
Ω Loss of Power//it's mine! all mine!//
phobias from hell;
Ω his Father//without slumber there is no dream//
Ω Love//i know not of this for what is love but sorrow//
blessings i pray for hallelujah ;
Ω to Love not Lust//wishes, only wishes//
Ω a Mate for himself//to bound across dreams in hell//
Ω a Land for him to claim//to live the dream i hope for//
i keep dreaming for dreams to be true;
Ω to No longer feel Jealousy//i cannot hope for this would be a miracle//
Ω someone to Share his Life with//this is a goal i shall endure for//
Ω complete Control on dreams//what is dreaming but dreams?//
the devil struts;
His appearance is as dark as the inner bowels whence he emerged from. He is a pure navy shade, almost black but not quite yet. His thick mane is a silver with the mix of some strands of gold as if to represent that he was the one who sent dreams to kings and all the royalties as he does. His plume is a completely different thing, it is like a snakes, scaly and part of him. His tail is the only part of him that holds a different shade, a lighter one but on the end of it is like that of lion's except it is wispy, almost as if where there would be a gust it would fade away.
Under the rippling hide, are muscles hidden, a strong physique yet so agile at the same time. His columns are overall short but they are strong and are trimmed with feathers and onyx hooves, ready to pummel a rival to death. His build is compact yet still graceful when he moves, his muscles rippling showing them that he did not only stay on his ebony bed. Dark wings grow from his shoulder, bat like instead of feathery such as those of birds.
From his sloping shoulders, Morpheus' head is well-chiseled even by the Gods' standards. Short-eared he may be, he is glad of it as too long and one might look like Midas. From those ears come the most placed black eyes, those eyes make one feel as if the secrets of the evening, of dreams are revealed there but all one sees are the intelligent shining orbs of a stallion who knows what you want to dream of and can manipulate it.
the blood chains that connect;
Ω Hypnos-father//immortal-alive//-God of Sleep
Ω Nyx-mother//immortal-alive//-Goddess of Night
Ω Phobetor-brother//immortal-deceased//-a God of Dream
Ω Phantasos-brother//immortal-deceased//-a God of Dream
the devil's steps before;
Morpheus has forever been living in the dark caverns of Hypnos. Born to Nyx, Goddess of Night, and Hypnos, God of Sleep, he once thought himself as an only born the favored foal until his brothers came from another union between his parents. When he was alone he held the power of all kinds of dreams in his hooves but once his brothers appeared his father forced him to split the power of dreams into three then he would decide who got which. At first he was irritable but the time of the kings made him happier as it was his duty to give dreams to the rulers as guidance or as an omen. But as Zeus disappeared most of the rulers soon became Gods and they threatened him to spot giving them dreams. Angered that he would not be denied of his duty but as his brothers dealt with more comfortable parts in dreams they continued on in their duty.
He bide his time, kept his anger to himself as he lay on his bed. He pretended to become lazy, used to giving dreams just to normal equines, living in luxury with his poppies all around. His poor brothers never knew what hit them on a night when his father was truly busy and unable to watch over them. Morpheus butchered them like the fools they were, using illusions to tantalize their minds, their thoughts first before luring them to the cavern of a lowly servant. Phobetor had his death first, swift and truly merciful, Phantasos tried to get away but as he saw Phobetor lying dead with his blood on Morpheus he turned back and in rage attacked. But Morpheus was stronger, smarter, and more experienced, than the two that now lay there, slain. Fear held him as he remembered his father and he ate the bodies of his brothers, relishing the fact that his power was now whole, purely his.
He fled as soon as he could, to the upper world he went. On the first weeks he had the hardest time he ever experienced as everything was strange and wrong. The sun was too hot, too scorching, while the moon held not the homely feel of the lit candles he was once surrounded in. After watching the equines that lived on the surface more carefully, Morpheus had picked up what he needed to know and left to find a land to call his own.