N o t e

First and foremost, one of the only things you would ever need to know about Note was that he was a deeply twisted being. He found life and people beautiful, but could not bring himself to love either. In fact, he despised them. He had a hatred for them that burned with the fire of a thousand suns seeing as he found them so utterly immaculate, yet impossible to capitulate any distaste he found regarding their influence upon him.
In such a sense, he almost didn't hate life. He hated the beings who screwed it up for him. He hated the beings who twisted his soul; the ones who mangled his perception of emotions. That's what he hated. Folk of their kind, he supposed, should not be allowed to live. Oh, but that would be "unfair." The mutilation of his existence was unfair, therefor, their argument was tragically invalid.
Another characteristic to be valued of Note was that he did not let anger affect him easily. He let every negative emotion within build up until he exploded into a muddy-looking beast of fury, electricity, and fire. Normally the bay would find someone to spar, unleash his anger in a sport that required a similar passion. But on this particular contemptible day Note was unable to find anyone to deface on his own expense.
Every bit of rage and sadness and simple anguish had filled him up. It was boiling over, spilling across his surroundings and the horses who were ever-so unfortunate to happen upon the stallion. What else was there to do but flee?
Note had wings, making the particular action all too easy. Sabel splayed across his back, present in body, not in mind. She did not enjoy an unpleasant Note and felt no need to fight him. The bay landed, he didn't care where, looked like a meadow, and immediately sprang back up into the air. He landed with a thud, bucking and rearing, doing anything to keep himself from crying and screaming in mental agony.
He stopped once he found himself in water, coat drenched, much darker than it really was. Note's sides heaved, staring at himself in the shallow liquid. He looked like he did when he was younger. When the stallion was younger, he wasn't any happier. He committed crimes unknowing that they were wrong. As broken as he was now, Note did not wish to be young again. He would rather be anyone but himself, for he was twisted and dwelled in a constant state of affliction. He would kill himself, but life and people were far too beautiful...

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@[Irrydae]