Kitrasfel

Name: Kitrasfel
Gender: Male
Species: Horse
Age: Eight
Height: 17.2
Body Type: Warmblood
Coat Color/Markings: Bay Overo
Mane/Tail Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Scars: He has numerous white spots on his body from fighting scars, sometimes hard to discern from his natural markings.
Physical/Mental Abnormalities: None

Genetics: EE/Aa/PATN2PATN2

Color/Marking Ref LEFT side Color/Marking Ref RIGHT side

Additional Description: Ref right and left sides of body are swapped from actual images :)

At first glance, Kit's a creature of legend. Tall, gorgeous, and strong, with striking eyes and a regal demeanor. He cuts a princely figure if there ever was one, all lean lines and easy grace. However, he only has to open his mouth to shatter that illusion. Oh, don't get me wrong, he can be a sweet talker if there's something he wants, and it's very hard to read insincerity off of him. And sometimes he is sincere, but he never has only one motivation for doing something. He puts his entire being into the act. But if he gets too irritated or is communicating with someone he doesn't need to sweeten up to, he's an absolute snake. He's got a foul and filthy way of speaking, and it's quite shocking coming from such a pleasant exterior. He's not necessarily cruel - or rather, he's not indiscriminately cruel. He's vicious when he wants to be, and soft when he so chooses, but he is never weak. He would rather die than lose his free will or pride. Because of this, it's nearly impossible to get close to him with such a rigid wall around himself. That doesn't mean he avoids others, though - he quite enjoys companionship, and the thought of having others indebted to him in particular. Even if he isn't personally close to them, he's got a strong desire to protect those he considers his, even at the expense of himself. It is that, and only that, that truly draws any sort of admiration for him. But it's a powerful thing in and of itself, so while he may not be loved as a friend, he can be loved as a devoted protector.

Kit has an incredible mind behind his brash way of speaking, and if one only listens long enough, they'll see it. As stated, he never does anything on a whim - everything is deliberate, everything calculated for the best chance of survival or to reach his goals. He shifts between blatant honesty and hidden motives. He's got a very tactical mind, and he puts it to use for anything from personal relations to war strategy. It's hard for him not to overthink things, actually, and it makes it nearly impossible for him to have a deep relationship. Casual ones are more his style - love them and leave them wanting, never having to open up. However, he isn't a total cold fish, and he is capable of love if someone can get him to open up.

Kit was born the third son of a mighty Central king, far enough removed from the throne to be worth his father's interest but close enough that he couldn't be left to his own devices. Kit was raised under the iron tutelage of his father's beta, and it was an altogether stifling existence. He was never without instruction, but was forever without purpose. Decorum was everything, and he was expected to look and act like the prince he was born to be. Nothing but a pretty doll good for casual conversation. And to make his father proud, he obliged. He set aside the notion of friends for the practice of alliances. He smiled, he bowed, he made intelligent chatter - but not too intelligent, as it was not his place to look smarter than the heirs. It was an easy existence, but it was almost literally the death of him. It was hard to say if he was ever truly suicidal, or if he simply was willing to take any escape from his smothered life. He began taking incredible risks, wandering out alone at the times of high predators or picking fights with visiting guards and ruffians. But even then, it was his status that saved him. Someone would come along in time to usher him home lest he fall to wolves, and the guests knew better than to put down the son of the king even if it was he who had forced a confrontation. The common of the herd wouldn't believe them, because their sweet prince would hardly do such a thing.

He couldn't take it.

It was a golden twist of fate that found Kit stolen one night, taken by one of his father's enemies deep into the Southlands. To many that would have been unbearable - walking on eggshells, limited on sustenance, and expecting death any day. But for Kit it was life-affirming. He thrived on the challenge of keeping himself alive, of wheeling and dealing with the leaders of the herd that held him captive. It eventually led to him offering his services - enslaved still, but supplying them with ideas for overcoming their foes. His former tutor would have called him every sort of coward for the types of strategies he employed, but the ruffian herd saw the merits. Stealing children to keep their enemies quiet, ambushing in the dark of the night, assassination and trickery... Not things, mind you, that Kit would necessarily make use of himself, but this type of stratagem was exactly what his captors preferred. And so it was for years, with Kit raising in respect from a lowly captive to, finally, a free general. However, he was never meant to live under the tread of a cruel boot, and Kit knew he would eventually meet a brutal end if he stayed in their company. At his first available opportunity, namely in the midst of a small battle between herds, Kit snuck away. It was hard to say if the herd believed him to be dead or the deserter he was, but the stallion never found out. He didn't particularly care.

Kit spent a lot of time on his own, after that. It made his forced social skills somewhat rusty, but he couldn't bear the thought of groveling for some herd leader just at the moment. He needed time to heal, to regroup. And after some time, he did just that. He's ready to start a new chapter - finally, finally, his own chapter.