Jered Xander Stryder

[JERED XANDER STRYDER]

N A M E '

Jered Xander Stryder.

A G E '

Twenty-six.

G E N D E R '

The masculine sort.

S H I F T I N G '

Jered shifts into none other than a horse, of course. And quite a lonely horse as well. He belongs among the Equis group, but prefers that it be just hisself and that is all.

P E R S O N A '

Jered prefers his anonymity usually, but might open up to another on the rare occasion. He believes himself to be a freak. What kinda a person would want to be around someone who shifts into an animal? Though yes, he does love the creature that he becomes, he hates the fact that it sets him apart from everyone else. He treats his other form as a second persona and that is exactly what his equine counterpart is. Jered is quiet and the Beast is more outgoing. With a bit of an attitude problem. But what else would you expect from a stud?

S K I N . D E E P '

Jered stands a bit on the tall side. At the height of six foot two, to be exact. He has caramel-colored locks that he prefers to style in a slighty spiky manner and misty blue eyes with a sort of-golden-yellow-color bursting from the iris. He's slightly tanned and fairly well built muscle-wise, though he does not throw the fact around.

Beast on the other hand tends to make his presence known. Besides, it's not exactly easy to miss an eighteen hand horse. He's large not only in height, but in his build as well, just like Jered. His bones are thick and his muscles are prominent. He's unusually stocky and large for your average Dutch Warmblood, but I guess he isn't "average" after all. His coat is a bronze-bay color, meaning his mane, tail, muzzle, and lower legs are solid black (except for the brilliante ivory socks that occupy his hind legs and teh stripe that trails from his forehead to his maw). The only thing that links the Beast to his human half are his eyes.

A . S M A L L . T A S T E '

Darkness. The absence of light. It crawls inside like an infectious parasite. It flows through the veins like a disease. It's a vicious monster that lurks within us all, waiting for the opportune moment to lash out with every ounce of its fury. Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win. Despite how much of a fight is put forth, sometimes there is nothing that can be done to prevail against it. Only echos wait in hiding, the night allowing nothing to be seen. No matter how faint, the sound will be heard for miles. Perhaps more. For when all other senses are impaired, the ability to hear is heightened sevenfold. After time, it will begin to take over, enjoying every taste of the power that it has gained. Once you have succumbed, there is no turning back. It's all you care about. It is all you know. You sit and stare for hours on end, days, months, or even years perhaps, just waiting for nothing. Just the darkness. That is all you will ever find. And as time continues to slowly pass you by, you are afraid to look away, afraid to sleep. For you fear that it will swallow you whole. You fear that you will never open your eyes and be able to see anything ever again.

No light of the moon, nor light of a single star in the sky, more or less the millions that exist in the thousands upon thousands of galaxies up there, may break through these branches. During the depths of the Winter, not even the frost can slice its way through the branches most of the time. Though, there will be the rare moment when the slivers of snow manage to sneak their way between the branches to settle into a fine white dust upon the moss and other green-covered floor. This forest, that of the Pahane, the black forest, the forest of death, whichever name that could possibly be deemed worthy to it, has not known the existence of light for many, many centuries. Who knows, perhaps the blackened pines had never even seen the presence of the light to begin with. It is said that the Pahane moves at night, but the darkness makes it just near impossible to tell. Yet here in the Pahane, quite often even the day seems as though it is the night for the canopies are thick and the towering pines grow fairly close in proximity. So close together in fact that it rides on the brim of being completely unnatural. Then, on occasion, during the most spontaneous of moments when it seems as though the golden rays of the sun may breach through the opaque canopies at any moment, a glimpse of a shadow may be seen from the corner of your eye. You look, but not a single thing is to be seen. Or is there? The Pahane is a dangerous place, certainly not one to wander alone, to get lost within its seemingly endless reaches.

Overhead, a Forest Raven screeched, shattering the silence as though it were a thin sheet of glass.. Though how peculiar that an unusually large bird for such cramped quarters such as these, its wing span reaching 52 centimeters from feathered tip to feathered tip, be flying throughout the Pahane. It swooped upward, giving a hard thrust of it's wings for some height, and circled back to fly in the direction in which it had come. Silently, the creature folded its ebony wings and dropped the short distance onto a thin branch that jutted out directly below it. It gazed forward, staring at nothing n particular. Unlike the rest of its brethren, this Raven possessed eerie, crimson irises as opposed to the natural snow white ones. It turned to look left, then right, and left again, gaze piercing through the darkness as though it were fully lit beneath the trees. It was as if it were searching for something, yet no one was there. The bird shook its head and looked down, releasing its korr-korr-korr-korr of a cry, holding the last note until the echo drifted off into the distance. It ruffled its feathers and settled again, continuing to stare forward. Swiftly, it hopped sideways a few times, making its way closer to the end of the branch. The strong wood bowed every-so-slightly under the Raven's weight as it now stood motionless, seeming not to breathe.

In the near distance, a the snapping of a twig, or rather a large branch echoed. The Pahane fell silent again. A eerie silence that threatened to split the ear drums. Not a single creature, any of the few that existed in the darkness, dared to move. To breathe. Something was out there and that something was not exactly friendly. It shifted and it moved forward at a lumbering pace. The Shadow appeared beneath the Raven, hardly taking any shape within the infinite darkness that it thrived. The only definite source of substance that could be pinned as separate from the darkness were a set of glowing red orbs that floated near seven feet from the Earth's damp crust. They stared forward, gazing into the black world around them. With its appearance came an intense amount of heat that appeared to be radiating from the Beast's body. Quite a contrast from the frigid air of the Winter that coated the Pahane. It breathed slowly, breath rising before its facade in a thick, silvery white transparent mist. The Shadow stood as still and as silent as the Raven, watching, waiting, barely breathing. Yet for what? No one knows. Likely nothing, for that was all the Shadow has known from the time it forced itself into the clutches of the world that it now haunts relentlessly. Nothing had been able to catch its interest since They had stolen the world. It seemed, to the Shadow, as though there is nothing left to live for. Not anymore.

A heavy sigh came from the windpipes of The Beast. Part of it was from contentness, and part was from the exact opposite. It turned its glistening crimson pools toward the Raven who returned his gaze with tiny crimson orbs of his own. The bird clicked its beak a few times before looking away. Ears flattening against its poll, the black equine snapped his unusually sharp incisors in the direction of the bird before looking away. Korr-korrr... went the bird as it hopped down along the branch and onto the Beast's scaly half-folded front wing. "Always along for the ride..." the Beast muttered to the bird as it moved forward and settled into its leisurely, lumbering pace. For as large as the Shadow was, it hardly made a sound as it walked though the pines, managing to not brush up against a single thing. As it lurked, all senses fully alert, searching for nothing in particular, it secretly hoped that something would cross its path. For better or for worse.

Word count ; ; 1190 (not such a "small" taste, eh?)
As Schatten, a mythical equine character of mine, with his Raven familiar, Nero.