Samanayr name: Scythe of the Pale Apocalypse
Gender: Stallion
Species: Samanayr'sa'krien
Physical description, including traits, accessories, etc: His coat is a pale, pale off-white, almost skin-tone, with a light blonde mane and tail. He has upright ears. Beyond this, the only color on him are several patches of yellow and purple stripes on his neck and rear legs. He has the traits of double horns that sweep back, blade-like over his head, and a small pair of horn nubs in front of them. As with all Sa'krien, he has clawed paws rather than hooves, and typical of his breed, his claws and horns are bright red, as are his eyes. He's got a mouth full of chompers, too, all the better to nom on you with. :3 Rather than full wings, he simply has the membrane-less tines. His head-mane is short and tousled, more like hair than a mane.
Leetle doodling of him:
In terms of personality... Well, Scythe is crazy. How crazy? Very, as his backstory should demonstrate. <3
Character history: Scythe loved to watch them play, frolicking on the land and in the sky, oblivious to the way they were being watched.
He loved their colors, bright and vivid, flashing in the light of the sun. He loved their variation - where his paws were clawed, marked in a bloody red that seemed almost to glow against the pale tone of his skin, they had hooves and claws in almost as varied a spectrum of colors as he could see in their coats. Sometimes he entertained the image of himself running along with them, in the midst of a group of doting Mares, as happened in the Songs he observed.
But they'd run from the sight of him, the more polite Mares simply asking him to leave, the more protective Stallions chasing him away. Their frolicking would stop. The vivid light that lit their eyes from the inside would go out, replaced with a fear, a nervousness. They didn't trust him. They didn't see his own beauty, the elegance of his pale coat. They only saw the way he slunk at them, head held low to the ground, horns flashing, the sparkle of vividly pointed teeth in his mouth.
When he left their lands, he'd pace. He'd snarl. The hair on the back of his neck would stand on end, and he'd vow that next time, oh, next time, he would show them.
He'd had a mare of his own, once.
She'd been unclaimed, away from a group, sleeping under a tree. She hadn't noticed when he'd crept forward, his eyes locked on her. She was beautiful. He couldn't remember her name, but he remembered the way she looked. She'd had flashes of rainbow in her hair and tail, bright against the midnight tones of her hide. And her eyes, oh, her eyes. When she'd finally opened them, the color had almost made him gasp. They were the color of the sky, with all the subtle variations in tone that such a color entailed.
So entranced was he with the look of them that he hadn't noticed the fear that reflected back at him.
He'd smiled at her, a smile filled with pointed fangs, raising a taloned paw and running it through her mane. Her trembling was from awe, he convinced himself, the tears born from joy.
He'd finally found her, after all. He'd found her, and he loved her, though he didn't know her name. She'd gone with him as he instructed, hesitant at first. It didn't take long, however, before she was following his every move, her head held low, her posture obedient. She grew accustomed to the curve of his talons, the sweep of his wings as they swept over her, the deadly glint off the tips of his horns.
He'd protected her, kept her close. That was what a stallion was supposed to do, wasn't it? Protect his lady love? She left only when he left, stayed at his side every day. He brought her meals - a haunch from his latest kill, the most delicate of organ meats, things which he would normally consume as quickly as he could. She'd cried then, too, but it was out of gratitude, he was sure. She'd only eat small bites, then smile at him and let him finish what she couldn't eat. Such a small appetite!
One day, she'd left him. He'd found her in the tall grasses, by a small stream, after he'd tracked her footsteps. She was standing in the water when he made himself known, lunging forward, holding her with his talons as delicately as he knew how. He'd pressed his nose against her neck, whispered to her how much he'd missed her, and when she cried, he cried, too, the water splashing around their feet. He couldn't lose her, he needed her. She'd gone home with him that night, and he'd realized exactly how important to him she really was. How close he needed to keep her, how much she needed him to protect her.
And oh, he loved her, he loved her more than ever before.
Even as she'd gone so thin that he could count every one of her ribs, he loved her. That worried him, and he'd nosed her, nibbling at the curve of her neck with his oh-so-sharp teeth, making a worried noise in his throat. She was ever so thin, and he brought her more food, hunting almost every day. She never ate a bite.
Then one morning she was gone. He'd nosed her still sides, called out to her, blinked at the silence that met his ears. She was gone, but she'd left her shell behind. And he knew.
She'd left him, but this time, he couldn't follow her.
So he'd watch the others from his shadows, waiting, hoping. He knew he could never have her back, but perhaps this time he'd find someone more suited to him, someone who would love him as fully as he loved her. This time, he'd find a mare who deserved him. He'd find someone who would never leave him.
All it took was the patience of a hunter.
