01. the basics

Breed: Unicorn
Sub-Breed: Marwari x Thoroughbred
Height: 15.3 hh
Eyes: Purple
Pelt: Sunset Fading - Pale Cream to Pink to Purple to rich Navy.
Markings: ----
Hooves: Pale Pink
Mane: Pale Cream
Tail: Dark Navy Blending Down into Dusty Pink Near End
Other: headdress, shawl and hair piece

02. the details

Mhmm, of course you're curious on my appearance, I'm not surprised, most are superficial like that. I guess my 'blessed looks' are what got me into this life's hell. I wear the colors of Dusk on my pelt, a cascade of pinks, purples and navy, with cream highlighting my muzzle, eyes, basic joints. Sorry, was that too fast for you? Okay, let me slow it down for those of you who can't keep up. My base pelt is the pale pink of the sun beginning to set, before it fades at my shoulder into a dusky purple. From there it continues to roan over my flank, and eventually hits a dark blue/navy at my hips - that color stretching down the lower limbs of my back legs. The inside of my legs, as well as joints, around my eyes and muzzle are a soft cream, almost like pangare, but it doesn't soften my lower body. My hair is long, straight, and while my mane is more of a pinkish cream hue, my tail is darker, navy fading dusky, deep pink. My mane is usually bound up and back, though if it were to hang long, it would likely brush against the lowest part of my chest. My tail is long enough to brush against the top of my hooves, but never long enough to be stepped on - the maids of my home keep it trimmed up. My eyes are purple, almost matching the gems on my head in hue. I'm told I'm a stately being, lean, long limbed, long necked. My hooves are a pale pink - almost odd against the dark blue of my hind legs, but not a single white marking mars my design. I'm the perfect sunset, Vespera painted my pelt that way, or so they say. Frankly, I just don't care, it's another body, another look, and this one has been a curse since my birth. You stop caring about how you look when it's constantly changing.

03. the mutations

I was meant to be a blessing, what blessing would I be if I looked peculiar - if there was something wrong? The closest one might say to me having an oddity is the straight golden cream horn jutting from my forehead, between my ears. Pale pink at the base it turns to a golden cream at the top, with out any shape, curve or otherwise deformity - just a sharp, straight point.

04. the accessories

Ah yes, you want to know about the finery - the drapings? Not my choice, I promise. I wouldn't be allowed out of the house with out it, I'm certain - not that the like me to be out of the house. 'Our blessing must be protected, sheltered, where nothing bad can happen to her' a caged doll, that's all I am. To be decorated in finery. Atop my head, is a small head piece, a large purple gem at my snout, fine gold chains looping along my cheeks, behind my ears - all in one piece. Something odd was used in fastening it to my skin, as the stupid thing won't come off - I've tried, countless times. The maidens of the house keep my hair tied up, as well, hold in place by a purple strip of cloth, tying the top portion of my hair into a bun. I get yelled at if I undo it. Lastly, around my shoulders is a dainty shawl of sheer fabric that fades from a dusky pink to a pale cream. It's fascinated at my chest with a gem of red and yellow, and a gold chain loops from the top of the gem and around my neck, as if to secure it in place so the fabric, and stone don't become lopsided - perhaps it's to make sure I don't make a fool of my appearance. Another piece of my puzzle crafted for me I suppose.

01. the basics

16 Personalities: The Architect - INTJ-A
Big Five Personality: The Analyst - BICGD
DISC Placement: Dominance
likes:

solitude, sunrises, new beginnings, fruit [particularly apples and pears], innocence of youth, runa, the idea of an afterlife

dislikes:

death, making enemies, war/fighting, naivety, foolishness, most other individuals, the concept of love.

positive traits:

Excitement-Seeking, Adventurous, Intellectual, Progressive, Self-Sufficient, Orderly, Self Disciplined, Extravert, Agreeable, Formal, Serious, Quiet, Proud, Relaxed, Resilient, Calm, Down-To-Earth, Practical, Artistic, Stylish, Self-Confident, Neat and Tidy, Methodical, Casual, Versatile, Resourceful, Ambitious, Goal-Oriented, Self-Motivated, Persevering, Restrained, Reserved, Tranquil, Composed, Pleasure-Seeking, Well-Balanced, Clear-Thinking, Decisive, Unflappable, Calm, Patient, Even-Tempered [Sometimes Irritable], Poised

negative traits:

Quick to Anger, Self-Conscious, Assertive, Overly-Modest, Cautious, Fearless, Neuroticism, Reserved, Hard-headed, Sceptical, Competitive, Proud, Controlling, Unreliable, Irresponsible, Loner, Arrogant, Somber, Forceful, Dominant, Unwilling to get involved, Arrogant, Independent, Unsentimental, Self-centred, Suspicious, Cynical, Highly Cynical, Worst Cynic Ever, Guarded, Manipulative, Indirect, Outspoken, Stubborn, Calculating, Coldly-Realistic, Tough-Minded, Intense, Pessimistic, Prone to Discontent, Self-Denying

Strengths:

Strong Will Power, Calm Under Stress, Open-Minded, Strives for Achievements, Strong Sense of Duty, Well-Organized/Tidy, Not Easily Stressed or Upset

Weaknesses:

Extremely Paranoid About Other’s Motives, Not in Touch with Emotions, Unhelpful, Disregards Feelings and Emotions, Prefers to Work Alone, Susceptible to Depression, Impulsive/Makes Rash Opinions on Others

Motivations:

Strong Inner Motivation to Assertively Create and Implement New Ideas and Thoughts
Strive for Excellence, Expects Others to do the Same, Handles the Pressure Well
Extremely Innovative and Progressive [but tends to avoid risk-taking]

02. The facade

They always said I was destined for greatness, a mare with a purpose, a mare with a plan laid before her. I always felt they were idiots in their faith to their precious goddess, but no one asked me. Why would they bother - I was just a pretty jewel upon their crown, something to be paraded around, all the while, they would whisper of my grand destiny as an excuse for - quite literally - planning my life for me. No one ever bothered to ask me for my opinions, so now you want to know more about me, what do you take me for? A fool? But I’ll tell you, I suppose.

I’ve been told despite my short comings, I’m relatively emotionally balanced, though I think that’s just the image I put forth. I appear emotionally balance - immune to depression, able to cope well when faced with anxiety, anger, vulnerability. It’s a laugh, a joke, but sure, believe it all you want. I’m also called arrogant, unfriendly, like a phantom that is on another level, another playing field. Crossing ships in the night, and I don’t bother calling out with a horn. Not my fault I’m stuck in the harbor when you’re on a grand adventure.

I live a life of facts, and am praised for always learning, always digging into some unknown knowledge, though I’m also called lazy in lessons. ‘She doesn’t want to learn. She sleeps in my class. She always snarks out the answer, even when it’s right. How is it always right when she doesn’t study?’ But I’ve already been through the lessons, I just want to learn something new, something more, something I don’t already know - so of course I’m climbing the walls of the library, desperate for something to hold my attention. Better to be caught reading than napping in a lesson anyway - I think I still have the marks from the last time I was caught.

At least I’m the perfect lady in the eyes of mother and father, to the maids who report to them on my behaviors, well-organized with a diligent planner full of my routines and schedules. Lists and plans to organize my thoughts. I’m calm, or so they say, tend to be less prone to high energy spirits, careful of my emotions, to not express them where others can take it as boastful. I’m modest, don’t talk up my strengths: but I just don’t like attention.

They do talk about concern in my distance that I keep from others. So reserved, so polite, so formal. Isn’t that their definition of a lady of the house, however - of any house. Seen, not heard. Noticed not spoken too. A lady should be learned in the arts, not in the art of war. Would they be ashamed if they knew I could take control, lead if I must? Perhaps the part that truly bothers them is I don’t actively search for large crowds. I am a wallflower in parties, and I value privacy. Yes, clearly I am not the mare destined to be their little debutante - which means I’m pulled into more and more parties for the sake of ‘gradual acclimation’. Idiots.

I guess truly you could say I’m just playing the part of what they expect of me. A lovely lady grooming to become the perfect wife and lady of her own house. Silent, seen, beauty that doesn’t speak. A forlorn picture painted to perfection, the delicate blessed mare of Vespera. No one ever sees me.

03. The personality

Huh, that not good enough for you. Well stop digging, you're not going to like the truth. Don't push it. Listen, you seriously don't want to unearth this can of wor- OH FINE. You want the truth you idiot. Fine. I'll tell you the truth. I'm a creature crafted after year and year, life and life, suffering and suffering. Happy moments - ha, how can you look back at happy moments when they always fade, always. "Oh, but you had love once, didn't you?" - yeah and I watched them die. Each. And. Ever. Single. Time. So yeah, you want the truth. I'm nothing like some porcelain pony prancing in frilly get up. I'm a creature as old as time on this world would allow - and perhaps even then some.

They call me distant and reserved because I honestly don't give a fuck about them. I've seen and lost so many times I don't want any more connections. I don't want friendships to just watch those friends die. I don't want romance, to see them pass by, foals grow up, or worse don't get a chance to. A life long lived is a great thing, but when you live life after life, death to rebirth, and back again - a never-fucking-ending cycle, you stop reaching out. You don't see the point. So yeah, I'm distant, I avoid others, I look to keep to myself, my privacy - because I. Don't. Care. About. Others.

I seem laid back, carefree, living the easy life, but frankly I'm buying time. I'm desperate to get out of the damn place, see the world. Made it out once, and you wanna know what happened. Those idiots brought me back, soothing worries about what they assumed had been a terrible kidnapping that I luckily managed to get away from. No, I was lucky to get away from them. I crave adventure, I crave to see what is going on in the real world. I crave the world beyond those stupid walls caging me in like some priceless treasure to be kept from the bandits.

I'd love the chance to be kidnapped, whisked away. I don't even care where I would end up, gotta be better than here, and I've lived every kind of life so far by now anyways. A chance to see new things would be great. I want to actually do stuff, not sit on my rump, painting, or reading, or anything else. Because this is my own brand of hell! And I've certainly lived through many types of hell!

I'm not some dame to be tricked by flights of fantasy either. I don't have any super active imagination. I don't have any world that isn't real to focus on - I just don't see the point in ignorance or pretending what is real isn't. I don't live in the past, or the future, and just go day by day. I focus on the real world, because imagining and wishing doesn't get you anywhere. That doesn't mean I do make plans and dreams of a realistic nature. I want to see the world, travel to foreign lands, try new things, anything to break up the constant routine I've been raised in, trapped by - though I will likely forever be organized in mind and action. You can't help it, when you're forced that way.

While I like artistic avenues, got raised into that too, I love a new and unusual idea, to play with and think things through, see new ways of living. Debate with issues, try out challenging riddles, puzzles, brain teasers. To prove I'm smart, more adept at the world then what I'm expect to be - some frail princess to be treasured, some gift behind closed doors. I have a brain, damnit, let me use it.

While I have played the part of a perfect daughter, a lovely lady, don't let it fool you. I am freakin tired of this game I have to play. I willingly challenge authority, even if it's underhanded, manipulative ways. I don't agree with the conventional, the traditional - especially with how a mare should behave. Heck, some might say I'm even hostile towards rules that regulate my life. Frankly I think I'm just tired of sitting on my haunches playing quietly to the world. I want to be myself. I want to be truly myself. I'm tired of being some fragile little dove in a gilded cage, singing on command, let me rise up from the ashes like a vengeful phoenix, or so help me, I'll end up burning this cage to the ground!

Perhaps this is why others can sometimes see past my facade, and are unnerved. I've heard the whispers that I am intimidating, that I am manipulative. I guess it's true. I'll do anything when I need to, to try and get my way. I don't balk at the challenge, instead, meeting it head on, eager to prove myself, eager to do what I must. But, I try to work in the shadows when I do. I don't want attention - I don't like it. I don't like others - remember that part before, where I literally don't. Care. About. Them? Needless to say, I'm not exactly going to go around singing my own praises and getting myself noticed. I'm willing to acknowledge when I do good, but I'm not going to go out of my way to impress you - you're not that special to me.

Of course, that's not the only part that has others seeing past this carefully constructed design. Many see me fearless, and in some ways, I suppose I am, not afraid of dying for sure - I'll be born again. Not afraid to let my feelings be known when it is most beneficial to me. I guess you could even say I'm manipulative to a degree, though I consider it less about being manipulative, and more about knowing how to play others - live long enough and you'll figure it out too.

I have a strong direction towards my life, and in some ways can even become single-minded and obsessed on that next goal. But I'm strong-willed, likely why I haven't given up yet. I will overcome anything that stands in my way, and while I take time making decisions, and think on every action and reaction those consequences and choices may have, I usually am sure in my decisions when they are made.

Though, I guess I can be rash towards my decisions about others. Live long enough and you get paranoid too. I've seen too many friendships that ended up being one sided because the other had an agenda, and I am done being the victim. Others can scoff at me, but I'll call it as I see it, and when given the chance, everyone can be selfish, devious, even potentially dangerous to another - myself included. We all strive for what we want, with little care for others. I guess you could say I handle my own relationships like that as well, a little deception never hurt anyone.

I'm fairly guarded when it comes down to it, as well, less likely to open up - reveal anything about myself. Definitely nothing about my past selves, no one needs to know that. For those same reasons, and my desire to not connect, I don't typically help others too. Usually it's a waste of time, help someone for what? Nothing really. And when it comes to dealing with others, I'm not afraid to get dirty, or even intimidate others to achieve my goals, especially because it's better to be the victor and cruel one rather than be the victim to some else's hyped up moment. You'd be best to live your life the same too.

01. the basics

full name: asta unn stendahl
nickname: tata, little blessing, little gift, precious one, promise, hope call me asta.
date of birth: SPRING, 502
hometown: Terrastella
occupation: citizen
financial status: upper class

02. the family

parents:

mother, astrid stendahl
father, garth stendahl

siblings:

none, their first was such a blessing, why bother with others.

children:

in which life time? This one? None.

other family:

Runaveig - "sister"

sexual orientation: demisexual
relationship status: Who has time for such foolishness.
current partner: None.
past partners:

I refuse to think in the past, particularly as you have no idea how far back this goes.

03. the past lives

Life is fleeting, or a single life is. I’ve grown accustomed to blinking at it being gone. But I guess I’m a step above that. Call it a blessing if you want, I call it a curse, because you see - we have all had many lives. Some we remember in our dreams, some might catch us with the senses of Deja Vu, but I remember each one. Every horrifying moment in graphic detail, every loving embrace with gut-wrenching loss. I remember each life as if it had been yesterday. This is not a tale of star-crossed lovers destined to meet again - that is my sister’s story. No, this is the darker truth of reincarnation, this is my story. I’m Asta.

----

I was born the first time [and I do mean absolute first] when one might not even recognize me as equine. For truly I was of some prehistoric variety. Thick in the limbs, delicate in the ankles, with fingers instead of hooves, and puffs of hair for what would one day - many generations later - be an actual mane. I was a scrawny thing in hues of ebony, brown and tan - another member of the herd, digging through the dirt with those odd hard fingers to dig up edible roots. Life was shorter then, predators were many - and much larger than us. I lasted a year before I was hunted down by a cat with giant fangs in its mouth - so large it couldn’t close them in with the other teeth - a predator’s weapons always on display. It was horrifying, it was painful. It wasn’t quick. - A young cat, just learning to hunt. I was glad it was over.

----

And then I was born again. It wasn’t a long wait, like waking up from being well rested. But I was small again, and a new face was snuffling mine - not my mother, someone new. This life was the most difficult, the most confusing, trying to find out what had happened - if my previous life had been a lie, if this was real. Until we came across my old herd on travels. And there, with a new foal at hip was my first mother. I had felt numb, more confused than before, watching her tend to another as if I hadn’t perished. I learned quickly life is fleeting, not to get attached if I could help it. Not to my mother, not to anyone. I’d, of course, break that rule along the way of my many-many lives, but it was the first time I realized this second chance wasn’t exactly a gift, even if a surprise.

----

My next life came and went, and another, and another, and another. Each time I passed, I was brought back in another form, in another shape. Sometimes to the same herds, some times to different ones in completely different places. Sometimes I wasn’t even a horse. The first time I woke to see my own small, but large in my face, canines sticking out from a feline mouth, I’m pretty sure my quick follow up death was fear of my own reflection.

----

Life would not go easier, even as time passed. In some periods I was treated as a goddess, favored about all others, part of the upper class, other times I was among the poorest of the poor, struggling to work in the fields beneath cruel masters who saw some of us as nothing more than living tools. The times I enjoyed the most were when I was born into solitude. Small family units, no established ties, just casual come and go philosophy of being able to be who I can, when I can, how I wanted to be.

These times were the easiest, when I could ponder on the past, the present and the future. Where I didn’t have to try to hide myself behind my apparent age [oh, how frivolous of a time, when I actually attempted to fit into the social scheme I was born into, behave how I was expected.] These were also the most dangerous times, when I could forget myself, forget my rules. These were the occasions I tended to slip, I would make friends that I wouldn’t see again in my many, many life times - each loss like a stab in my chest. But each memory to be cherished above the frivolous lives within proper societies.

----

Perhaps fate felt sorry for me, but my life began to ease up after a couple hundred cycles. I doubt it was karmatic - I rarely did anything to gain positive or negative karma. I kept to myself, isolating to avoid forming proper connections - though some couldn’t be helped when arrangements were made for me. Still, I began to be born into privilege more, and more often. I was wedded to higher privilege, gave forth young ladies and hiers to my new husband of that lifetime. I, a proper wife of the house, with a sharp tongue, and increasing wit behind closed doors.

Not fitting for a lady in public - surely. At least my ‘darling husband’ thought so, but he was also a different man behind those doors - a stallion with a temper, and I was the frail damsel who didn’t know my place. Perhaps Fate didn’t feel sorry enough for me. Or perhaps fate knew I would one day be able to handle anything after dealing with everything else it willing shoved in my corner.

All I know is that marriage would be the first of many bad ones. The first of the many times I was ‘reprimanded’ for not being the perfect wife. Didn’t matter how I behaved in public, but a mare with a mind wasn’t a wife-to-make.

----

I began to grow tired of this, and many lives I spent trying desperately to make my own way - break free from family, see the world, ignore the demands of my station. No marrying some horse, no throwing some party. No fancy styling to my mane, no watching my meals to maintain my figure, no painful lessons of posture that left my neck strained and my ankles sore. ‘Stand up straighter, don’t look down, hold still your jostling.’ The perfect daughter, the perfect mare, the perfect pin cushion and doll.

I was glad when I began to stray from those days, when they seemed less important, less in demand, less demanding of me. But these days spoiled me for romance, I suppose. I knew the truth behind those loveless affairs, how often those sincerities only lasted in public. I’d rather not deal with any more of that nonsense. Especially when I will outlive them anyway. Out survive, one life after another. Repeating. Again. Again. Again. And. Fucking. Again.

----

But time would continue to pass, locking me in it’s unyielding grasp - tossed from one body to the next like a toy that couldn’t be forgotten. Eventually the scene would change, a new land, a new script, new expectations - for there were always expectations. But this one, this land was filled with gods, and those who worshipped, those who spoke. I laugh at these ideas, for what god would subject me to this kind of life. What god would torture me so. What god held my life string and kept tying it onto others, forcing me from one life, one existence to the next. New name, new age, new breed, new color - and yet I was always me. But this land would be my mistake.

This land is where I met them, the young mare who lived as some ‘Goddess’s’ Champion - not that I would believe that, not that I would find any reason to believe some make believe deity would pluck up someone for some oh-so-special path. Though, perhaps she herself was plucked at some point to, cursed by whatever god to follow a cycle of life, of death - always standing just outside it.

I knew the mare only from passing, just the same as the stallion - another so called Champion of some Deity that I have since wiped from my mind. But I had seen it in there eyes, the connection, the awareness, the history they shared, beyond their current lives. I remember, though I now realize I never asked further about their shared pasts - if I had shown up before, if I would show up sense, but I remember that connection - I remember the bitterness that I couldn’t share in it.

They had each other on this whirlwind ride. I had myself. And yet, it wasn’t just me. The mare had taken me to her, I remember that dimly now, like a passing fancy, claiming me as family, showing me I didn’t have to be alone in time. The Necromancer would put a halt, a full drop stop. I was lost in that battle, alone, surrounded by death - and then I would wake again.

04. The current life

Eventually the lives merged. Sometimes I would refind my ‘sister’ of time, other times I walked paths alone. I married, I birthed, I was rich, I lived in poverty. And then came this life, my newest life. I was born in Terrastella, to parents who sang praises when I woke, joy in my colors, joy in my apparent blessings from some frivolous goddess of this land. Touched by Vespera, Loved by Vespera, heralded by Vespera. She painted her dusk into my pelt - surely blessed, beloved by the Goddess. They say I was a blessing, the colors of her Court coat my skin, blessing my every step, securing my path here in Terrastella. My father called me ‘Promise’, my mother called me ‘Hope’. I know better. I am neither of those things, am an not blessed, I am cursed with lifetimes lived, loved, and lost.

There was no love, there was nothing special. It was just another footnote, another small entry to what would be an endless period of lives [Even now I wonder if I would continue to exist even after this world would stop spending, lost in space or perhaps taken to another reality, another world, another time, another story].

I grew up spoiled, doted on. I heard my parents praise as I portrayed the perfect daughter - oh how they ignored my boredom. I read, I wrote, I painted, I danced and was instrumental. When it came time to introduce me to society, they did it with baited breath - showing off their so called blessing. I was an ornament to their cookie cutter life. A display piece to parade around others. Mane curled up, tail twirled with ribbons, so much jewelry adorning me a thief would have seen me as their dinner ticket [oh how I wished they would whisk me away].

But I wasn’t always perfect. I was a child who was bored of this world before I hit the age of a year. Full of wit and sarcasm, wisdom and age - further proof for my parents of how blessed I must be, their little dusklit Angel. I was an abomination in fancy wears. I would sneak out, I would retaliate. I would purposely scuff my hems, lose a ribbon, get tangled in the rose bush. Anything to prove I wasn’t special, I wasn’t blessed. I wasn’t blessed. This wasn’t a blessing, my lives hadn’t been a gift, this entire existence has been a fucking joke. Year after year, life after life, and now my time, the way it cultured me, the way it provided me with too much knowledge, too smart for my age, to well re-read for the lands - it was all given credit to some goddess?

I fell out with my parents. As soon as I hit two I left home. I saw the signs begging for any knowledge of my whereabouts. I saw the posters begging me to come home. I stayed hidden for a year before I was found, I was drug back with out a question, offered to be ‘shown the way home, because my parents were so worried, and I must be so scared, but it would be all okay now.’

Life is worse. I have a guard. I have the doors and windows locked, for clearly I had been whisked away, tempted and led astray, and I needed to be protected. Because I was a blessing. This entire life is a damn joke. I’ll have to be more creative to sneak out from this prison palace. Because I wasn’t going to live another life trapped behind walls and dressed up for another’s design. I’m not the perfect daughter, I’m not the goddess’s blessed. I’m just Asta - and I have always been, since the beginning of time, when the world was new.