Post by Tessa.:. Fire's Tempest on Oct 5, 2005 19:11:20 GMT -5
Call Name: Tessa
Show Name: Fire's Tempest
Breed: American Quarter Horse
Age: 5 years
Sex: Mare
Style: Western but also doesn't mind English for pleasure. Trained in: Barrel racing, Rodeo purposes.
Appearance: Her coat is a dazzling fire hue. But her mane and tail are that of an almost pure white. Long white stockings run down all four of her limbs along with a white stripe down her face.
Temperment: She adores the company of people, particularly girls and women, although she doesn't always take well to men. She's odediant and calm although she can get a bit jumpy during the breeding season.
History: She was born on a ranch to a couple whom wanted a colt, and when she was not what they wanted they quickly sold her to the people whom run the auction company. And now she awaits whomever wants to adopt her.
Example Post: What subtle actions bring to us the illusion of courage, they compel us to believe that whatever is being said or done, is simple bravery, gallantry, anything which requires a strong will and nerves of steel. But for what we do not realise is that this courage is but a mirage in the dessert of our lives. Just a simple chimera, which hinders our very perception to make us believe what we have seen is part of the greater good. What I mean is, we all relate these words, bravery and courage to good things. Yet flaws such as envy or hate are often part of evil things. But what really does define this daring that lurks somewhere within us all.
Silver hued hooves clicked againt the steel of the concrete beneath her, but that terrain quickly changed as the gate was swung open. Her immediate reaction, and natural instinct, was to move forward into the small open pen in front of her. Humans sat on the tops of the fences around, their eyes staring intently at her like a vulture to a carcass. Air was exhaled through her nares as she snorted and began to trot swiftly in a clockwise circle. Her previous owner had for some reason not wanted her, keeping her enclosed to a stable and small pen. She continued her circle, wearing the dirt down near the fence.
Show Name: Fire's Tempest
Breed: American Quarter Horse
Age: 5 years
Sex: Mare
Style: Western but also doesn't mind English for pleasure. Trained in: Barrel racing, Rodeo purposes.
Appearance: Her coat is a dazzling fire hue. But her mane and tail are that of an almost pure white. Long white stockings run down all four of her limbs along with a white stripe down her face.
Temperment: She adores the company of people, particularly girls and women, although she doesn't always take well to men. She's odediant and calm although she can get a bit jumpy during the breeding season.
History: She was born on a ranch to a couple whom wanted a colt, and when she was not what they wanted they quickly sold her to the people whom run the auction company. And now she awaits whomever wants to adopt her.
Example Post: What subtle actions bring to us the illusion of courage, they compel us to believe that whatever is being said or done, is simple bravery, gallantry, anything which requires a strong will and nerves of steel. But for what we do not realise is that this courage is but a mirage in the dessert of our lives. Just a simple chimera, which hinders our very perception to make us believe what we have seen is part of the greater good. What I mean is, we all relate these words, bravery and courage to good things. Yet flaws such as envy or hate are often part of evil things. But what really does define this daring that lurks somewhere within us all.
Silver hued hooves clicked againt the steel of the concrete beneath her, but that terrain quickly changed as the gate was swung open. Her immediate reaction, and natural instinct, was to move forward into the small open pen in front of her. Humans sat on the tops of the fences around, their eyes staring intently at her like a vulture to a carcass. Air was exhaled through her nares as she snorted and began to trot swiftly in a clockwise circle. Her previous owner had for some reason not wanted her, keeping her enclosed to a stable and small pen. She continued her circle, wearing the dirt down near the fence.
