The Last Rose of Summer // Anastasia - fin

[~M.i.n.x~]

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'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone
All her lovely companions are faded and gone
No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh
To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh

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[style=text-align: center; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #8294aa;]( the basics )

name • Anastasia
age • Three, roughly.
gender • Female
species • Equine
breed • Tersk
sexuality • Heterosexual

dominion • Angletus

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[style=text-align: center; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #8294aa;]( a little deeper )

personality •

Anastasia is a mute. She cannot speak, and her entire personality virtually cycles around this. Ana is extremely introverted and skittish, and seems to be the type to blow away in a strong - or weak - wind. She's used to being tossed around like a rag doll, so she's extremely submissive and rarely puts up any sort of fight when she's forced into something; she's simply too scared. She'll run from anything and everything, mainly because Ana has never attached herself enough to find something worth protecting. She doesn't seem to care for anyone more than the next, and even though she rather likes company, her silence can hardly keep it, and she's normally a bit of a loner, even among her domain. She can't find it in her to simply stick around and listen, because hearing the voices of others makes her insides churn with just a little bitterness, because after all, it is her forbidden fruit. Her character isn't bitter in actuality, and she's really quite nice, but unable to get her point across. On the flip side, she's often taken as naive, but she's the exact opposite; she knows exactly how cruel the world can be, but she's come to accept that she's powerless to stop it from turning. She's completely lost her fight, a rather dangerous flaw.

Behind her total lack of will, she’s a reasonable and level-headed character. Anastasia can think quickly in a situation and come up with cunning ways to get out of things, but she’s rarely brave enough to actually act on her wits in a situation involving danger. She can come across as somewhat careless, and even though she’s loyal to her domain, (or as loyal as she can manage) Anastasia’s personality is not self-sacrificing in any form or fashion. As I’ve mentioned before, she’s never found something that she considers “worth protecting,” and until she does, you can bet that she won’t consider herself to have any lasting obligations to anyone. Furthermore, life and death are not foreign concepts, but they aren’t things she considers to be especially important, as the only deaths she’s witnessed that could be considered “close” were only tied by blood, as she didn’t exactly have the perfect family life. She doesn’t put a terrible amount of value on life, as she accepts that everything will die someday, and the only difference between now and five minutes from now is the amount of time you’ve spent living.

Anastasia doesn’t have many fears, and they don’t often show; she normally doesn’t acknowledge them as anything that cannot be conquered, as with most obstacles, but she does accept them for what they are. Weaknesses, stated simply. She will run if she’s bone chillingly terrified or in some sort of grave danger, but she doesn’t run from her smaller fears and bad memories, because she sees that as a loss. She has little respect for those that easily give in to their own imperfections, though you’d never actually know. While we’re on the subject of respect, she gives a certain, varying amount of respect to each character she meets, but it takes a lot to win her real, deep-rooted respect. Nonetheless, even if she holds someone in high regard, you should not mistake it as caring; you can respect your enemy on the battlefield, after all. Anastasia does want to find someone who might actually understand her, a friend if you will, but she’s been so broken down by both herself and others that she has difficulty feeling anything past respect for anyone at all. She generally goes along in life as a floater, not caring enough to really get close enough to anyone to genuinely experience and live her life; she is alive, but she is not truly living.

likes •

Flowers of all varieties, the sound of dripping water, sound in general, late evening, the sunrise and sunset, beautiful scenery, beauty in general, birdsong, shade on a hot summer's day, watching snow fall down from a white sky, waterfalls, the company of others, stars and the moon.

dislikes •

Being reminded of her handicap, being considered to be an idiot because of her inability to make noise, being misunderstood, being unable to get her point across, lust, giving into one's flaws, nights without stars, animals circulated around violence when there are better ways to get around things.

weaknesses •

Inability to make noise, has no will whatsoever, extremely submissive, can't find it in her to attach herself to anyone, may blow up on you if you can't figure out what she's trying to say, blurry on the concept of life and death, extremely introverted and socially awkward, no self-confidence, a floater who can't seem to tie herself down to the ground.

strengths •

Quick-thinking, the opposite of rash, not naive at all, thinks things through, has an "I can conquer all" mentality, fairly positive, generally accepting of everyone, rarely lets her past ghosts catch up with her, physically quick with a lot of stamina.

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[style=text-align: center; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #8294aa;]( on the outside )

pelt color • Chestnut pelt, flaxen mane and tail.
eye color • Pale Blue
height • 14.3 hh
weight • 430 kg, approx
markings • Bald face, stockings
scars • N/A

general appearance •

Anastasia, for a start, is not a large animal as equines go. She is small and compact, her bones light and her physique delicate, her heritage shining through obviously. She’s thin, though not painstakingly so, and looks like an animal that is built for speed over all else. Her stride lacks self-confidence and bravery, and at first glance, she seems like the sort to trip over herself because she’s so preoccupied with dark thoughts. In reality, she’s quite positive, but she can’t manage to display it outwardly. She’s managed to keep herself neat and prim, however, normally lacking much dirt in her coat or tangles in her mane. She does appreciate beauty, after all.

Her thin coat’s coloration is a slight bit of a rarity amongst her kind. Normally, Tersk are grey or white, but Ana is one of the few that have a coat outside the monochrome range; hers is a stunning chestnut, bright and vibrant. It could be said that she would stand out in a crowd thanks to it, in fact. She has several white markings, a bald face and stockings on each of her legs. Her mane and tail are both a honeyed flaxen, and her eyes are pale blue, thanks to her bald face covering her eyes. She’s rather beautiful, in a deteriorated, depressing sort of way.

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history •

Her entire life has been a world of breathtaking noise, because somehow, some way, you can always see, or in her case hear, the things that you can’t have the best. You are born lucky or you are born cursed; there are only two sides to the spectrum. Life and death are considered bleak, greyscale, and blurry; in the end, one will always lead to the other, so why bother thinking about them? Perhaps she’s never seen – never truly seen – at all. You might think that she began this way, but even if her bad luck began at her birth, only our past twists us into what we are in the present. There’s a saying that evil is not born, it is created, and even though Ana is not especially evil, her entire personality cycles along the lines of her history.

Calypso was a mare who lived for the moment. Consequences weren’t part of her world; the future would work itself out, and everyone else could just go along with it. She was stupidly naïve, and only real “redeeming” qualities were her kindness and looks. Her parents often worried for her, as the young mare often went out gallivanting on her own, but Calypso was so far off from reality that she never once actually heeded their words, the worst mistake of her life, by far. It was because of her ignorance, after all, that she met him.It wasn’t that she ran into Gage on purpose. In fact, if she had known that she’d meet him, Calypso would have turned around and went home before she reached the woods. Little red riding hood went trotting into the forest, however, and the wolf caught her by the hood. When he saw the mare, he was somewhat charmed by her beauty, and he quickly caught her in his trap. Calypso was raped, and it completely changed her. She never met her parents again, too scared of going back and being branded as a whore or something that she was not; she’d heard horror stories about it.

This was not the only thing to come from Calypso’s unfortunate encounter, however. She was pregnant. Using a bit of cunning that she didn’t even know she had, Calypso sweet-talked her way into a small herd, telling them that her lover had been killed, leaving her alone and pregnant. They accepted the sweet (but now bitter and weary) mare with open arms, and it was in their small patch of land that she gave birth to Anastasia. At first glance, she thought that the foal was a beautiful little angel…until she didn’t make any noise at all. At first, they thought she was merely quiet, but Calypso soon came to terms with the fact that her daughter had no voice. A mute! Imagine the perfect, angelic Calypso giving birth to anything less than par! Anastasia was quickly branded as a fool and an idiot because of her inability to speak, and her mother hardly helped; in fact, she seemed to share their beliefs. They had a relationship that was twisted in many ways, but Calypso loved her enough to let her know one, important thing; life was not perfect. She never had to say that she didn’t love her, but Anastasia could figure it out; she never really spoke to her when they were alone, instead communicating through looks and gestures. She could come across as a proud, doting mother when they were around others, but Ana was no fool; she knew that it was a fake.

Anastasia was an outcast socially around the rest of the herd from the start. She didn’t play or frolic with the other foals, instead staying depressingly quiet and serious. She was often the subject of the others’ taunts and jokes, and she’d just watch them and listen, and tell herself that she could never be like that, voice or no. She never really held it against them exactly, but she did look down upon them for it; she had to have some way to be superior, and if nothing else, a false sense of security. Ana tried to get along with them of course, but it can be said that, as always, difference was seen as wrong or scary. They simply didn’t know how to handle her, and it led to her constantly wondering if she should leave, then changing her mind again and again. She probably wouldn’t be able to fend for herself, and besides that, even if she did try to join another herd, she wouldn’t even be able to tell them her name. It would probably be the death of her, for that matter; they wouldn’t be able to understand her intentions, and she might even come across as impudent or somehow threatening. Anastasia just put up with it all, trying to enjoy life as most as one could, given the circumstances. She seemed lively enough, at first glance, even though she was normally alone; she would search the herd’s territory and find the most beautiful spots, and then watch, just watch. She’d see miracles that few others ever witnessed, and they would remind her that she still had reasons for being, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t still be around.

The storm was what changed everything for Anastasia. When it rolled in, it was as turbulent as her own feelings and twice as powerful; she was the first to feel it. The storm held something in it, something she didn’t understand…she felt it days before it happened, and merely addressed it as a silly flight of fancy; even if she felt any genuine worry, it wasn’t as though she had the voice to actually tell anyone. It kept her on her toes and tense, however, and soon afterwards, they all felt it. The fog rolled in, the floods swamped, and she was forced under a sort of wave that she’d never imagined being forced under; a physical one, rather than an emotional one. Anastasia managed to stay near her mother, occasionally buoying up the older mare as they swam; Calypso didn’t act particularly grateful, sometimes grumbling to just let her die, but Anastasia had other thoughts on her mind. The two had been separated in the chaos, and if she had any hope of surviving at all, she’d need a voice. In some ways, she’d already lost any love for her mother. She only helped her for her own sake.

They finally reached the shoreline. Calypso was half-dead when they got there and Anastasia even closer. Nonetheless, she stayed awake and on watch while the other horse slept; Anastasia rested, but she couldn’t find it in her to even eat or drink until she had a better idea of what this new place was like. The two wandered around as loners for a short time, able to somewhat fend for themselves, and she began to relax and even enjoy it, but Calypso wished to find a permanent place to stay. Anastasia didn’t really agree; the girl hadn’t been fond of her last encounter with a herd, and she didn’t think that she’d be fond of the next. Calypso, however, was persistent, and Anastasia was fairly certain that it was her own fault. She wasn’t exactly very good company, anyways. Thus the twosome started a second search for that of a herd; Calypso had high standards and high ideals, but she’d already decided that the first reasonable place they found would work. Therefore, they came to Angletus, and Calypso, by some miracle, got them in. She was somewhat happy for a short time, but her mother’s death came soon; she’d had heart conditions her entire life, and the journey had been the last strike. Anastasia was then left alone again, not that she had really attached herself to her mother; she’d never attached herself to anyone.

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[style=text-align: center; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #8294aa;]( the sample )

roleplay post •

Eyes of liquid brown scanned the crystal-clear surface of the lake coolly, masking the darker emotions twirling in carousels beneath. The mare lay in a delicate heap in front of the lake, staring out uncomfortably at the still waters of the lake. Nothing betrayed her uncertainty or discomfort; she remained calm and collected. Though inside, she was decidedly a mess. Her feelings felt both twisted and mingled, and it felt wrong to think the thoughts that currently curled up in her mind. On the outside, she was calm as ever - That was the way she had always been taught, after all - though inside she was as precarious as a venomous snake. Her mother, bless her soul, would be disgusted by the mess that her youngest daughter was slowly growing into. Titania, her little fierce queen. She had absolutely doted on the child. Titania had never actually said it aloud - She was far too well-bred - but when she was with her mother she had felt more like a plaything to be thrown away after it was used. A pretty little trophy to sit on the shelf and collect dust, you might say.

Titania had to admit she hadn't really adjusted well to life on her own. Her mother had always made sure that her "Darling little angel" had the best of everything, and though she had taught her all manners of useless ramblings, she had never dared to teach her what she might need to survive. Most of it came as an instinct, boiling up and surging through her, but some of it came as trial-and-error, a risk she generally found worth it. Still, she could feel her own emotions turning against her, making her wonder at times what exactly was right and what was wrong. Titania's views of the world were considerably morphed, especially on views of right and wrong - Perhaps curved to a way of an alice-in-wonderland esque style. Right was bloody. Wrong was clean. This didn't imply death - The female was by no means a killer. She...was merely a sadist, you could say. Flicking her tail across the ground in a movement like a whip, she forced her gaze to travel up to the matted web of leaves above lazily. Then it went back to the lake, that brilliant lake.

She had to say she loved the term bittersweet. Sweetness on its own was sickening, and bitterness had a habit of annoying her - Combining them had a certain air of perfection that she couldn't quite phrase. She had to say, she enjoyed the pain that this certain term implied - it wasn't always physical. It was generally emotional, to be exact, and that was an obvious yes for her. Juicy. She sucked it up like a moth to a flame, enjoying the disgust, the pain of all of this. Still, there was nothing wrong with some kindness, though she herself wasn't exactly the type for being lovey-dovey. Pain was more interesting. Pain was...beautiful, interesting. It made you realize that kindness and happiness were gifts, and deserved recognition. Not that she didn't enjoy, in a twisted, morphed way, the beauty of fools writhing on the ground in agony (Both literally and metaphorically) but she had to acknowledge the occasional pity she felt for them. Still, it rarely came without an overpowering sense of hatred and disgust, and she eventually came to the decision that no creature deserved her pity.

Pushing her legs out below her and pulling herself into a standing position in a rather jerking, painful movement, Titania ceased her stream of pointless thinking. There was little use in contemplating things - she had better things to waste her time doing anyways. Gazing at the lake with a slight longing, she wondered if the water was safe to drink...Still, just from the name, she had to admit that she was skeptical. She supposed she could drink it, but the rumors. The rumors said that the water wasn't safe, that it was a killer. She wasn't sure whether or not they were rumors or the truth, but however she desired to taste this liquid pain she supposed that her own self-preservation and potential were to great to waste with folly.

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[style=text-align: center; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #8294aa;]( the roleplayer )

name • Minx!
age • ...I am thirteen.
experience • Ohhhh, 3-ish years.
how you found us • I found you all a while ago. I'm pretty sure it was advertisement on one site or the other...-enjoys looking at random sites, but doesn't often join them-
other • (Yes, I put it in. ) Hopefully Ana will stop being a floater eventually. xD Otherwise, lovely site, looking forward to meeting everyone. Ummm. The sample is old, I rambled on the history, and…yeah, that’s about it.

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[style=text-align: center; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #546881;]So soon may I follow when friendships decay
And from love's shining circle the gems drop away
When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown
Oh who would inhabit this bleak world alone?

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[Byrdlet]

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[style=text-align: center; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #8294aa;]( quick note )

A mute character! How fascinating and a challenge too, I would say! But I can not wait to follow her! So glad she is Angletus! Illythia should meet her soon! She is always eager to get to know her herd members! Be sure to post in the names claims and who owns who thread and then go to the Angletus board and post in the joining thread! It is so great to have you here!!!

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