NAME » the foolish one
CALL ME » shenanigan
BREED » Paint x Quarter Horse
GENDER » female
HEIGHT » fifteen zero hh
AGE » nine years
EYES » pale green/mint
COLOUR » perlino
MARKINGS » n/a
OTHER »
click PERSONA » she is a people pleaser. fiercely loyal to those she can open herself up to. this girl was used and abused by humans and horses alike, but she's always come out feeling brighter and better. she isn't over confident, but she has pride to her name. she is care and worry free, almost whimsical. shenanigan has more patience than your normal equine, and shows it well in her calm, straight posture. she likes to outdo herself, but she will never outdo another. she lives on positivity and spiritual growth. sensual, philosophical. there is not a single moment that goes by where she isn't hard at work in her little mind. helpful and gentle. a part of her has attachment issues, anxieties that others don't see very often. the girl is a suffer in silence kind of girl. of course, while she isn't the type for hurt feelings, her frustrations can cause her to throw a tizzy. somewhere in there, she is quite the blunt and upstanding woman.
HISTORY » she couldn't do much in a sense of being her own savior. she was a working horse, bred well and strong. her mother never really said a word, and her father didn't matter much. the life of a caged bird was not as expected. you'd think you'd like a life considered of luxury, right? the foolish one did, as well. and maybe that's truly where her name came from. the woman spent her time as a child as a cocky, blooming woman who feared nothing and tested the limits of many. no, she was not always a patient, composed thing. she took it day by day and flaunted herself off without a fuck to give. her breaking was, however, fairly easy. she didn't struggle much. still a people pleaser, of course. she had become quite the jumping prospect, as well! but she was damned for self destruction after that. the two older men of the farm sold her off with a grouping of youngins she didn't quite know. and again, she was put to work.
this time was fairly different. she did not carry the weight of a woman or man or even world. no, she was thrown to pasture at almost three years old. older woman would swarm her during her first couple days, some much kinder than others. grazing was her main food source, because she'd be damned if she'd get trampled by the stampede come grain time. shenanigan didn't mind the minor weight loss, she did keep up good for a while. nobody had explained to her quite why she was there; wasting away in a field of sway back mares and growing children. it continued like that a few months, and then a stallion was turned out to pasture with
his mares. he was, bluntly put, a simple little thoroughbred with no outstanding qualities. by nature, mares turned into suffocating whores come spring. while mature enough and calmly following in the adult hoods footsteps, still: breeding did not interest her. who would want a child at, now, three years old?!
oh, she was a wild one for quite some time. she raced the fences, kick up her feet and attack short notice.
nobody was touching her without permission. the stallion, later known as capistran, was never short of angry with such a dame for disobedience. she didn't care. never would, either. the owners of this place would watch, horrified and amused at the same time at the tiny girl who bested the stallion every single time. and he would hang his head in defeat at night as he walked by on his cutsy little halter.
hell no, she belonged to no one! of course, she sometimes missed back home. but she had become consumed in her little games to stop and think about it. common mares taunted and made fun, but she was coy and young and would throw her tail to the air. victorious, through and through. the days passed by, spring ended. the stallion wryly stared from across the pastures. shenanigan danced and played about while the others become more immobile in old age and pregnancy. it had become her who taunted them now! oh, the glory days.
she made a wonderful babysitter that following year, to the children born of brooding mothers. and they did, wholeheartedly, appreciate the assistance. oh but time, for her, had never passed so fast. soon enough, she was taken from the pasture with teary-eyed goodbyes. off to a place much different than her previous home. again, she was thrown into a stall and kept there the majority of her days. she had two hour riding periods that just barley fed her itch to run and exercise. she became a more pristine, prodigal horse. while she still held her confidence and wild ways, she did mature out. she was around very uptight and coy horses, as well as very strict and rude humans. she was beat, smacked around, when she would fail. the girl learned to keep herself above it, but even now she has scars of mind and body. things were tough for her there. and now not only did she miss the sound of her mothers voice; she missed the children and their soft noses and their playing. she missed watching over those moody older women.
come spring of her fifth year of life, she could not escape the inevitable. at this point of her life, shenanigan was but a broken spirit with a facade of confident, joyful strides. she had become a withering outcast and loathed what the humans put her through physically. this time, when
it happened, she was not in a pasture with room to escape. she was held and chained. she screamed and wailed and kicked and bit and struggled for as long as her already tired body would allow. of course, god wasn't quite on her side then. she carried child as happy as she could manage, finally allowed pasture time. she was left there: rain, snow, sleet - it didn't matter. she gladly found shelter where she could, kept herself warm fairly easily, too! pregnancy wasn't as bad as she imagine. birthing was even easier, if you could believe it. she had a strapping little woman, who she happily named ipsken. the little girl was lively and wild, just as she had been as a little girl. you may ask what happened after that, right? she couldn't quite tell you. not without extracting flame infested details from her mind. but what a cliche way to end such a story.
her child was weaned and sent off. she was tired and alone again. she longed for home, whichever came first. they left her there by her lonesome for months and months, simply throwing her food and acting as if she really didn't exist. she walked with no more happiness. it didn't take long for it to happen, the fire that burned down ironshoe. the fire that burned down half a city. end of story, really. she was never recovered and just ran. like a bat out of hell, desperate to find her way home. somehow, though... she ended up
here. 
I'm still Splashs on there!
I miss rping.
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