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SA | Passoa | Talori | Rogue

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fediarwoods
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Passoa

''Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone.
Lost in the pages of self made cages,
life slips away and the ghosts come to play."
_________________________________________
Astral Tracker | Star Chart | Moodboard


     Trouble


     Name: Passoa 
     Allias: Trouble (who she represents as when she doesn't want to use her real name)
     Gender: Mare
     Age: 21 years old
     Breed: Bashkir Curly x Mustang Common Horse
     Color: Rose Grey (ee AA nG)
     Height: 14.1hh or 146cm
     Orientation: Straight
     Mate: --

     Herd Affiliation: Talori
     Rank: Rogue, smuggler & thief of all things good
          Talent: Naturist
          Blessing: --

     Parents: Raina, Roy
     Siblings: Kalakara
     Cousins: --
     Offspring: --

     Familiar: Dublin, curious adolescent male Sugar Glider

     Items:
     → Sea Shells & Coral: one red sea star entwined in the braid in her mane
     → Cloak: a speckled dark grey cloak with golden details.


_____________________________________________________________________________________________________


     Quirks


     Appearance:
     ∞ Her scent resembles those of pine needles and the salty sea water.
     ∞ She has an incredibly fluffy looking coat, which is the results of the curls of her Bashkir Curly side.
     ∞ She is not particularly skinny, she's more on the chubby side, and certainly has curves.

     Notes:
     ∞ Passoa loves interaction with stallions. She loves flirting and everything that comes with that. She usually doesn't take shit serious though.
     ∞ And with that come bonding issues. All she's seen of relationships are the shitty end of them, so she's very nervous about them and rather just stays out of
         them. She has the bad habit of fleeing once things get difficult.
     ∞ Like a crow Passoa loves collecting things that are shiny or pretty. She has a cave that she calls her home and it's full of little treasures.
     ∞ She's allergic to flowers. She can handle them, but she will sneeze a lot if she does so.
     ∞ Passoa absolutely hates pushy stallions that think mares are things that they can own; they remind her of a mistake she's made in the past. They better not
         set their eyes on her.
     ∞ One of the things she's had since childhood is a very bad fear of thunder. Storms are fine, it's the rumbling of thunder and the lightning that sets her off.
     ∞ Passoa has from very early on been intrigued by Pegasi. Where others of Aquore don't like them or see them as less, she looks kinda up to them. Knowing
         her mom was a Pegasus she's even got a bit of jealousy going on that the Gods kept her from having wings too.
     ∞ She lives in a small part of the Wilds, where she has made a home out of a cave hidden behind a waterfall. It's not much, but it's home.


_____________________________________________________________________________________________________


     Personality

    Stubborn | Friendly | Manipulative | Brave; Fearless | Secretive | Provocative | Leery | Curious | Passionate
    Above all things, Passoa is incredibly secretive, and usually keeps everything for herself. Wherever she is, she always hides behind a mask that represents the proud Rogue that knows what she's dealing with. She's flirty, fearless and likes provoking things to see what happens. She is incredibly manipulative, and plays into what she can read from other's expressions, to get waht she wants. She likes to seek out danger and just play with it. She loves the thrill adrenaline gives you, the way it makes you feel alive. She doesn't take no for an answer. These are all parts of the character she likes playing, though, not the character she really is. She has made it a part of herself, and she loves being that self of hers, but she knows deep down that it's all a facade.
    The real her lays way deeper. So deep and closed off, that no-one ever comes that close to her. She secretly is a hopeless romantic, playful, friendly and curious (to such an extent that she can be very nosy). It's just that she never shows -- when she truly feels like she can be herself, she is all on her own in her home, where no one can see her and no one can find her, but anywhere outside of there, she feels like she should hide herself. Taking no risks means not being fragile and when you are not fragile but strong, chances are little that you won't get hurt.
    As a Rogue though, things are so different. She feels like she can say whatever she wants, and not pay for it. She flirts her way out of trouble, or instead just bluffs out of it. Fake it till you make it and it works for her. She loves drinking as it drowns your sorrows, but also makes horses way more talkative and spoiling than they would without the booze. She is no difference, yet she is so entwined in her lies and deceiving, that she still can when she has a drunken tongue. She's nosy, and usually tries to get to more information than is good to her, but let's be fair -- who can resist those big, golden eyes and those thick lashes?


''And if somebody hurts you, I want to fight,
but my hands have been broken, one too many times.
So I'll use my voice -- I'll be so fucking rude;
words they will always win, but I know I will loose."

...

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________


     History

    Note: There's hints of abuse below. For the ones rather not reading that part, skip the paragraph that's surrounded by the (( ))

    [PRIOR BIRTH]   My story starts where many stories start; a very handsome stallion, which would supposedly be my dad, met a very handsome young mare. While he was a well known men among the Talori, was she literally a nothing. A scruffy Vagabond, but a beautiful one at that. Every time I've asked my father about her, his answer differed, but there was always one thing that stayed the same. She was breathtakingly beautiful. White as the flowing clouds, feathers that reached so far she could hid herself into them. And the thing that seemed to've struck him most were her golden eyes. Her golden eyes, my golden eyes. It was the thing he hated most about me, I've always known that.
    He never told me much about her, but from all the little peaces he over the years shared, I know they met on a day he was out of town. From all the tense and stressful work he does during the week as his work in the Council, he had to clear his head when there was space to do so. And on these days he usually tried to calm his mind with a walk along the shore. It was there where he met my mother. She emerged from the line of trees and as soon as she locked eyes with my father, he was sold. She casted her spell over him, how he told me, and even though he was a married man back than he spend enough time with her to conceive me. She dissapeared the same way as how she had appeared to him; knowing their surroundings much better than he did, and he was left with a mushed feeling of guilt and fulfilled desire. He talked himself over that nobody would ever come to know, but little did he know that I grew inside of my mom's belly from that very day.
    [CHILDHOOD]   The scent of pine needles is still written fresh into my mind from the very day I was born. It stuck to my curly fur the days after and I came to love the scent. Maybe because it reminds me of my younger days... of the days before everything changed, the days I spend at my mother's side. She was too honest. Too pure. I still know the very moment you ripped me from her feathered arms, how I cried for her while you pushed me further away from her. I don't know what happened that day - it's all shards in my memory. I've asked him a million times, asked him so badly for the truth I longed for, but he always kept your mouth shut. The only time he opened it up was for all the lies to be spilled, for even more lies to get spilled.
    He left me with a far, far relative of his. He took me from the Vagabonds with the knowledge that "it wasn't safe out there for younglings", but he couldn't take me home either, knowing a bastard filly would be the end of his yearlong marriage. The far relative, an older Cleric mare, adopted me, but only out of the stupid fact that there was no one else that wanted to take care of me. She took me into her home, gave me a room and a bed to sleep in. Even though it was the first time I had a roof above my head it made me feel more lost than ever. One of the well known storms terrorized the lands that night, the thunder flashing up the room every half a minute. I've never felt more alone than that night, shivering under the thick blanket the mare had offered me. I cried myself to sleep night after night.
    That day had changed me. I've from that day on always worked against the stream. I didn't eat for days, no matter how lovely she tried to give me some. In the beginning he still visited me sometimes, but when I grew older and got my mouth to talk with, his visits became more and more scarce. Even after his wife died he didn't took the effort to take me in as his own flesh and blood.
    Never was I to be called someone's own. Everyone knew I was adopted and even though no one knew the story, small talk found it's way and I was known as a bastard child. I came to hate everyone around me and distanced myself from others. I didn't wanted to be social, knowing others frowned upon my weird, curly coat, frowned upon the fact I was different. I took much more interest in nature, in the many different kind of animals that crawled the earth around here, and the more I did, the more I was pulled towards the jungle that surrounded the villages. I was much more often found there than around the house, even though I was still a young filly back than.
    It was than that I grew distant. I didn't felt like Talori, nor did I feel like I belonged in Aquore. As I wandered off further and further I came in touch with the Islands of the Dead and with the horses that wandered the islands. The villages were, in comparison with the Islands Of The Dead, premium existence. Still the freedom, the rebellion, it pulled me towards them. When I visited the Islands I met a Rogue mare that was quite friendly towards me. She told me she had freedom, she lived her own life instead of letting others live it. They lived underneath the law of Aquore and they'd nothing to tell about the Rogues. It stuck with me.
    [TEENAGER]   The words of the Rogue kept pondering through my head, while the distance I felt between me and my herd members felt bigger than ever. The day I turned seventeen years old I left the surrounding villages to not return. I lived for a long year as a wanderer without a home. I lived of the lands as I could or was a thief when I could not find food elsewhere. Even though I got around pretty okay, I was too naive. I was still a filly wandering around, carefully tasting from this new world that I've never heard of before. Everything went fairly well, until I met him.
    (( He was an incredibly tall stallion and a handsome one at that. He was a bit older than I was back than, but all I could see were his pretty eyes and his charming demeanor. I met him day after day and he smooth talked me around the black market, showing me around so that when I was alone I could also find my way round the isle. I was insecure and he just filled that gap in my character, telling me how pretty and beautiful I was. I believed him straight away as the stranger of the world I was. I walked after him like a silly lamb, followed in his footsteps with whatever he did, believed him in everything he said. I was blinded by love, and always talked the part where he hit me because I didn't wanted to do things that he did want to do. It was he who gave me my scars. Until one day, he went to far, scraping my back open with his sharp hooves, because I wouldn't obey to his lies. ))
    He left me with two deep gaps running over my back. I felt horrible. I thought he was my love, my soulmate, my best friend. I was so naive, so young, so stupid. I hid for days; feeling so damaged that I didn't want to be seen by the world that felt once again so foreign to me. I lingered in the shadows, watched the world crawl by as I myself was frozen in time. Weeks went by, but the dirty feeling that hung as a blanket around my shoulder didn't go away; nor did the trophy that was slowly turning into scars on my back.
    Lingering in the shadows I saw the horses go by. The Vagabonds that visited the black market regularly, while the Talori Rogues came and went with every day that passed. One striking mare caught my eye. She was a steel grey, not that tall, but she had the character of a mountain. She didn't let others pounder over her and she never ever lost an argument. She became my idol. I wanted to be like her, wanted to be so much stronger than I at the moment was; I wanted to be as strong as she was; or at least as she seemed. And that, for me, was the keyword. That mare couldn't be stronger than big ass stallions, but even they sometimes got out of her way. Maybe out of ease, maybe because they were truly scared of her, but they got out of her way. And if she could do that, why couldn't I?
    I lived with eyes in the back of my head the first days I tried to do my normal routine of things. I was a bit paranoid and I was very, very itchy about a certain kind of stallion. Black coats; I started to hate them, since they reminded me of him. Very tall stallions were the same story and pushy stallions were my complete allergy from that day on. But I learned to live with it as the days past and it got easier every day. My attitude worked; the more I believed I was a mare that could do damage and the more I believed I was a mare that shouldn't be messed with, the more others started believing it too. You could say that day was the day I truly became a Rogue.
 
    [ADOLESCENT]   I can't say I really thrived as a Rogue like others could. I was no born pirate -- I wasn't at home out on the sea and even though I liked sailing with a few of them every once in a while, I like my hooves to be on steady ground much better. It took me a while to find my turn around the world of the Rogues, and eventually find my way into smuggling. I have a few clients up Inaria who I sell my stuff to that they can't get the legal way, and work on orders too. And I'm not proud of it, but I'm a pretty good thief too. I have learned to move myself silently, and to be gone before others notice I was even there. It's getting my ass into trouble, but I'm addicted to the thrill it gives. It makes me feel like I'm alive.
    Things changed though. With the mayhem that spread through Aquore it even trembled through to the Islands. The Rogues are all eyes and ears for the profit they can make with the Freedom's Flight, but after having our asses busted, and well... as certain personal situation, things have changed. I don't trust them. I never really cared for the safety of others, but I don't want to endanger a whole society by helping them. By helping terrorists. There are choices to be made though, and the window is closing in on me faster than I can make up my mind and I'm afraid I'm going to make a wrong decision either way.


Passoa belongs to fediarwoods 
Pose referenced from [Click!]
Image size
2300x1294px 10.33 MB
© 2015 - 2024 fediarwoods
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MeepMeepMelee's avatar
MeepMeepMelee
What a great horse *0*