together we're a perfect storm; any

[Phaedrus]

No one could claim to know him, for he barely knew himself. He wasn't angry, he had never tasted the cup of sadness. His drought had been that of coldness. A grey world full of nothing. He didn't feel like he was anything, he didn't feel that the world owed him a drop. No He was the epitamy of dissapointment. There has and never would be a soul that could come across him and think of him as something more then that. For that was all he had been, all that he would be. People would always want more of him, and yet he would always give less. The more they expected the worse they would receive from him. Not even a queen could raise him without dissapointment.

Ah well, boring day, boring life. What a dissapointment. His ears flick as he passes each group of horses, until he comes across the Amazonian queen, and what seems to be her next cohort. They dont hear, because they are to busy trying to find their own ass. He says it dryly. Humor was not his strong point, if anything his draftly body was his only assest. Even that had been a dissapointment.... I'm Phaedrus, of the Golden Plains, He grunts as the women continue to talk, he wasn't about to inturrupt anything instead he stands there muscles gathered waiting to begin moving once more. Patience, patience, and more patience. He knows nothing but.

He glances from one to the other, chocolate eyes lifeless with no expectancy of being acknowledged. Wings fluttering at his sides, he shakes the blue mane, always it got in the way, always flicking into his eyes, always annoying him. Still this would be interesting to watch.

Phaedrus

DEATH GIVES US SLEEP, ETERNAL YOUTH, AND IMMORTALITY