A P P E A R A N C E
A hide colored with murder and sun bleached decay lays before you. Cobwebs hang in a thick nest from the neck and ass of the decay like reminders of where we all end up when life is done. It might all be bearable had you not noticed that things are dusted with black rot. The wings have stripes of it, the legs are fully coated, and the feeling that this thing is evil begins to creep over your skin. But wait, something stops it, a smile. His smile is ravenous, devouring you whole with its charm, and it will eat up any unsuspecting creature with its wiles. Its that smile which makes everything clear now. His body is not murder and evil but glorious and regal. The crimson orbs which flit about beneath the cobwebs are not made of blood, but instead, of rubies. Perhaps the two ideas fight for a place in your mind and perhaps one idea wins out over the other. Regardless of your stance, there are two undeniable commonalities; he is always charming and he is always strong, always.

Come, come one, come all
You must be this tall
To, ride, this ride at the carnival.


P E R S O N A L I T Y

Charming // Charismatic // Kind // Tenacious// Self-Absorbed // Manipulative // Deranged // Racist
He is a strong, vicious soul who lives in shards of time. There is not often a "present" for him. Past, present, and dreams all fuse together in a bastardization of what really transpired. Facts are, well, irrelevant if they're not his own.

However, as his time in Helovia has progressed the Blood Prince has grown in his own sort of odd way. There are flickers of sanity, of freedom, of equanity. Of course, dear reader, his actions still miss the mark of proper intention with almost comical regularity. Still, he tries now, a shattered soul trying to walk the straight line when he's no clue what the straight line is or how to follow it.

Oh, come, take my hand
And run through playland
So high, too high, at the carnival.


H I S T O R Y Version #2 of the Story

THE B E F O R E
He was a prince, a future king...noble. This stallion, this creature, before you made the gods bow to him and not the other way around. They marveled at his grace before the masses. How does one charm with just a glance? Calstron was power and brilliance and no one could match his light in a space.

What they could never know was the violent fight it took to keep that facade up. The King, his father, had initiated him to the difficult aspects of ruling at an exceptionally young age. His son would be strong and violent so as to never be taken advantage of in any situation. Honor above all else. Calstron was made to watch, and later participate, in executions and punishments. The colt was strong-willed though and he refused to be daunted by these terrifying things. He refused to give in, even when his Battle Coach began instructing him in...extracurriculars. Not that it made a difference. The same as a child who finds themselves in a lake before they've learned to swim, Calstron began to drown.

The Blood Prince turned two and, while the front was kept up well in public, his private quarters were slowly becoming a different matter. Oh, his mother never knew. The closest courtiers likely only had the occasional glimpse of it. But there were a few guards who began to talk of what their much beloved Master had taken to engaging in under the cloak of the dark night sky. How sad, they murmured amongst each other, for they'd been sure he'd be one of those rare royals untainted by their country's dark past. But the Prince's late nights, black outs, and lack of recollection continued. Eventually, he came to know what he did. Sooner still did he accept it, embrace it even, in spite of the rumors surrounding him. The stream of spellbound mares into his rooms increased, discretely, but still no one saw them come out. Only laundry and cleaning carts. His father began to worry around the third consecutive month of this behavior. A few dead whores here and there was no big deal. But you couldn't very well kill half the best whores in the kingdom and not expect some harsh words from the nobles who were now denied their favorite toys.

It was discussed and decided that the young prince merely needed direction, a mate, who could guide his mind and restrict his actions. An unmarried prince was often able to lurk in the background but a married one was always in the spotlight. "When is the ceremony?" "Where is the royal couple traveling now?" "How fares the pairing?"...all the noble males had experienced the drought of sexual freedom when they'd first taken an official mate. Perhaps, if Calstron was kept distracted long enough, he'd loose this atrocious habit and stick to what was socially acceptable.

And its all fun and games,
'Til somebody falls in love
But you've already bought a ticket, and there's no going back now.

AND T H E N
The most unusual offer came from a kingdom long their enemy. It was suspicious, to be sure, but they really didn't care. Calstron needed a mate and they needed peace. So She came, atrocious horn and all, from the Northern Kingdom. The Blood Prince showed up for her arrival, was painfully official, and proceeded to ignore her thereafter. He laughed at her black-striped face whenever she spoke to him privately but smiled in public. But he did not engage in his favorite..pastime like a good little colt and that was all that mattered to his father.

Her pathetic ignorance of the fucked up country she'd found herself in was laughable. Surely, what kind of princess hadn't learned her geography well? He fully expected her to thrust herself out the highest window within a month. Still, she fought to establish even the smallest farce of a bond. Rexanna prodded for his deepest thoughts and darkest secrets. He hated her as much as he loved her while she fought to change him, to save him. Who was she to say he needed saving anyways? It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with him in the first place.

They were together in their chambers one night, her babbling away with her usual chatter, him staring at the ceiling in an odd mixture of loathing an attachment, when the idea came to him. He wanted to use his special gift on her. She refused at first but he quickly broke the barriers of her untrained mind and took what was rightfully his(In his eyes). Her memories played out before his mind's eye and his gaze slowly fell from arrogant giggles to silence. His mouth set into a line.

All she'd been doing, the entire time, was a lie. She was just a false plant, a spy, and someone out to fuck with him and dishonor his family with false blood. Well, that was fine. She'd pay for it well enough. A quick talk to his war advisors and his father and he was off with her in a cage, drugged. But oh, he made sure she was sober when he tied her to a tree and made her watch her home burn. "Fuck them all!" he'd screamed at her with a bloody face. When the killing was done he'd returned to her, only to find her gone. How dare she? How dare she even bloody consider not living out her punishment. Oh, she'd not be his princess anymore, she'd be his top whore...but she certainly couldn't leave him without his permission. So he set off to find her.

There were leads in the beginning, tales of the Western Kingdom's princess fucking her way through taverns for money(Sigh worthy, really, for her insults to his family just kept coming. Perhaps he should have thrown her out of the window for her own good rather that waiting for her to do it herself?) There were also rumors, other rumors, that she was pregnant with the Blood Prince's foal. It was a mixture of rage and desire and curiosity which drove him forwards until the day came which melted whatever remained of his tiny, broken soul. He tripped on that mound of dirt, uncovering a shallow grave that reeked of Her except it was too small.....and the wrong color. It was, indeed, his foal. A beautiful, perfectly formed colt who would have been the worst and best of kings. She, that bitch had killed their son.



Round and round like a horse on a carousel,
We go
Will I catch up to love? I could never tell, I know.

THE A F T E R
Everything is always too bright. Everyone is too nice. Ohhh, how fucking retarded they all were. Didn't they all know who he was? He hunted Her with the deepest conviction of vengeance. He followed Her to Helovia where he found her with a new family...just as many lovers as the soldiers she'd fucked..but a family still. She was happy and a mother and, and, and as enraged as he was initially he slowly came to forget her.

Well, thats not entirely true. He still held the same amount of arrogant innocence with regards to the situation. But he just had a hard time staying focused on her in the new land. There was just far too many painfully bright things for him to take a hold of here. There was also a mare made of moonlight and the shadows of the night. Nevermind her horn, she was everything Rexanna hadn't been. She embraced his darkness, molding it with him rather than trying to cut it away as had Rexanna. It was almost as if he was being given a second chance he didn't deserve. This life he was leading was a window into what might have been had he been born elsewhere. But this scene is to be but a brief reprieve for the lost, broken soul which is Calstron. Karma does not care the causation of any action, only that it was done and there must be justice to balance the pain.

Dear reader, please, remember that you must never trust what you read in this history. Its all been a lie anyways.
Chasing after you is like a fairytale,
But I,
But Feel like I'm glued on tight to this carousel