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14 [Year 491 Winter]








Warmblood X


17 hh







Last Visit:

06-07-2020, 05:21 PM


Signos: 0 (Donate)
Total Posts: 66 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 12 (Find All Threads)

He's coated unevenly, a clash of black on white, almost entirely devoid of color. It’s appropriate in an ironic way, mimicking the way in which he views the world.

Pink skin shines through more sensitive areas such as his flanks and throat, sometimes mottled with flecks of black akin to ink stains on paper. A blackness as dark as midnight has been splashed unevenly across his coat in spots and streaks that clash against the white.

Breaking the sea of black and white is a streak of varying hues of blue on either cheek, from chin to temple, a dark navy on top and fading from sapphire to cyan to a pale azure by the time it reaches the bottom. In the center can be seen hints of aquamarine, all the better to match the bright eyes shining from beneath black and white lashes. 

Small feathers line the bridge of his nose and cheeks, their longest points found not far from between his ears. They're packed fairly densely, able to flatten or ruffle them according to his mood. They showcase the same black-mottled white color as the rest of his hide. Aside from this plumage, his crest is quite bald, with no long tresses to grace his appearance.

However what he lacks on his nape he makes up for on his dock, a long white tail falling in thick waves behind him. He makes a habit of braiding it tightly, various plaits traveling to the very end of his spine and then tied off, allowing the rest to fall without a care to the earth. 

Wings sprout from his shoulders, but curiously enough - they seem to be made entirely of light. They contrast the dark splotches of his markings brightly, and despite their appearing insubstantial, they are very much solid. At times the light may fade, and the wings seem nigh invisible to the naked eye and are rendered useless. But when the light flares, and becomes as bright as the sun, Aion may soar for miles untethered.

introversion | intuition | thinking | judging

A wolf dressed in sheepskins, a king who has traded in his silks for rags, from a life of jewels to a life in the dirt. He knows all too well how cruel fate can be, but believes blame should belong to the decision maker. And while he wears a tailored mask to hide his mistakes, his suit is made up with a lifetime's worth of guilt and lies. He knew early on they would catch up with him eventually; even so, he wasn't quite prepared for both his past and future to haunt him simultaneously.

He has always been meticulous to a fault; not a single adornment in his living space is out of place, his groom always complete, and each task he assigns himself to is completed to its exact specifications. Perhaps it's a hint of OCD running in his veins, or maybe he just likes the way an organized workplace looks. Either way, it prevents him from focusing on multiple subjects at once, a tunnel vision overtaking him and blocking out all else from mind.

Likewise, since his removal from the throne, he's become more and more withdrawn into himself. Despite having once been comfortable at the center of attention, once needing to be surrounded by others, he now will go out of his way to avoid even the smallest of interactions and confrontations. Though things rarely seem to go as planned, and he finds himself constantly in the right place at the wrong time. But it will take an extraordinarily interesting individual to pique his interest and convince him to not just turn tail in the opposite direction.

However, when one does catches his attention--for example, his mate--he becomes interested to a fault. A puppy dog-like manner tugs at him, and he follows those he loves to the ends of the earth and back. A softer side comes out, a man who wants only to be loved and understood and even cuddled. Because he was so starved of affection growing up he painfully yearns for it now, even if he finds it hard for himself to ask for it, or to express what he needs and wants at all. It's brought him conflict and strife before, but learning comes slowly, and change he loathes. Nonetheless, for the right person he is willing to reinvent himself time and time again to be worthy. He's already worn so many roles before now, what would be a few more?

He had always thought of himself as a ‘rags to riches’ story. His life had been a long ladder which he had climbed so dutifully and hopefully; there had always been another rung, another obstacle, another challenge that he had been all too willing to face, too determined to overcome. But still he had made something out of nothing: a childish father and a careless mother, he had needed to let go of them both early on in order to get ahead. Because that was what life was all about, wasn’t it? Getting as far as you can as fast as you can?

At least, that was what he had thought.

He was groomed by his uncle in the absence of his parents, raised to be a king. Of course there had been some detours on the way, interests in medicine and freedom and living creating a distraction for many years. But he had made it: a crown became his through death, and willingly or not he had found himself sitting pretty on a throne. He went through the motions, putting on his smile and doing his best, until eventually it had overcome his mind and soul. A man possessed, his only wish power, he had climbed up that social ladder as far as it would take him. But he ran out of steps on the ladder—or maybe his foot had slipped, pushed off the mountain by a friend no less. And it was only here at the bottom that things became clearer, and he knew: he had never been rich, not really. He hadn’t finished the ladder, his climb, had never achieved his goals. Nor had he started out in rags, for there had always been a hand, a connection, even in the beginning. But where he thought he’d been climbing, he had actually been digging. Creating a slippery ditch for himself; it was only a matter of time before he fell in.

It was in the bottom of that pit where he let himself stay for far too long; self pity and loathing becoming his go-to persona. And so when he eventually returned back to his home, he was merely a shadow of his former self, resembling something far more reclusive. Not only had he changed physically, wings ripped cruelly from his body and a new face marring the old, but so had he changed temperamentally. He could remember being happy there once, but now--everything had changed. The land he had once loved no longer felt like home to him, despite the many ways he tried to force himself to fit back in, but still he was determined to try.

It was during one of his wandering travels that he met a stallion named Eros, and subsequently began a relationship with him. He hadn't meant to fall in love--he hadn't truly meant to do anything up until this point--but fate seemed to have other plans. It was love that brought out a new side to him, reminding him that happiest still existed, even if it was hard to find. Even being near opposites in many things, he was drawn to the gold-dipped man, enamored by his affection and thirst for adventure. Over the course of many years, Aion became more and more attached to his partner without even realizing it, until one day it seemed to literally slap him in the face and show him he could no longer live without the cheeky man. He didn't want to live without him.

And finally he knew, wherever Eros went, Aion too would be found.

So Aion starts his journey into Novus on the heels of Eros, but it isn't long before a fierce storm rains upon them. While attempting to find help or shelter, the pair are separated in the dark and swept away in opposite directions. And when first light finally comes, chasing away the storm clouds and wind, Aion awakes to find himself alone, an aching in his chest once filled by his lover, and a determination to get him back. It takes a year, but finally, finally they find each other again at the Woodstock Festival in the Dawn Court, and they choose Delumine as their home.

Active & Parvus Magic


Aion is distinctly aware of the temperatures of himself and equines surrounding himself. With intense concentration, he is able to lower the temperature around him or of others by a few degrees. The effects do not last very long; it takes a lot of energy to cause an effect, and as soon as his concentration is broken the effected area begins to warm immediately. His power is vague and imprecise; he cannot target a subject, nor can he control how cold he makes them.


He is somewhat successful at targeting a specific equine. He can lower their temperature enough to briefly numb a small area, enough to alleviate the pain from a broken bone or minor cuts, or to bring their temperature as a whole down by a few degrees to cool a fever. The effects are still short-term, and he must be close to the subject to maintain any control.


Can now target a specific equine to lower their temperature most of the time. He can now target deeper tissues, and is able to induce short-term comatose-like states by targeting deep nervous tissues. He is unable to hold them under for very long, and has no control over when they wake up, for their temperature will begin rising slowly back up almost instantaneously.


Can induce comas for an extended period of time, or numb deep tissue areas with ease. The numbing is powerful enough to take away pain from serious injuries for a short time. He no longer has to physically touch his subject to cool them; he can do so from a distance of several meters, and the effects remain whether he stays with them or not. When the effects wear off, they do so far slowly than they did at the lower levels.

Due to Aion's newfound abilities, his own internal temperature rests several degrees lower than the average equine's, to the point the air around him is also noticeably colder. Even in the desert, his breath is constantly frosty, and in some areas the ground he steps on will instantly freeze and crack. Most notably, his cooler temperature leads to his heart rate being naturally slowed.

Passive Magic

Long, deep knots of scar tissue line both sides of his shoulders in an asymmetrical pattern, and the muscle grows irregularly. They mark the beginning of his wings--rather, what used to be his wings. Aion is a pegasus by blood, although lacking the wings that once marked him as one. But since coming to Novus, something has begun to change: his shoulders itched almost constantly, they burned with a warmth that seemed to strive for freedom. A year after his entrance to Novus, the warmth escaped.

Aion gained wings seemingly made entirely of light shortly after reuniting with his mate.

The wings are long and angled, but their most striking feature is the light - it seems to come from the feathers themselves, turning the appendages transparent. When folded against his sides, the light flickers and goes out, and it's as if they were never there.

But when he extends them to their full span, the light burns hot and bright, and his wings are as functional as any bird's.


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reference by empluvie
signature pixel by aimless-claims
avatar by aimless-claims
banner by rhiaan
postbits by eldafer

he's a grumpy lil puppydog that loves josie

Played by:

sid (PM Player)


erasvita    //   



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