Deviation Actions
Description
Chevy
“I don’t fight with anger, I fight with heart”
NICKNAME(S) : Tba
GENDER : Stallion
AGE : Twenty-seven
HEIGHT : 17hh
SPECIES : Common horse
BREED : Friesian Shire Mix
PHENOTYPE : Seal Bay Tobiano with Birdcatcher Spots
HERD : Aodh
OCCUPATION : Pit Fighter
LOCATIONS : Sol District in Valore, Eithne
PATRON GOD(S) : Ignacio
BLESSINGS : Locked
TALENT : Locked
ORIENTATION : Heterosexual
VOICE : Tba
SONG : Tba
PERSONALITY
[ Over-Protective, Brutal, Obsequious, Foodie, Indifferent, Exuberant ]
Over-Protective
Often times, Chevy is the sweetest horse out there. A gentle giant, in other words. His outer appearance is usually misjudged due to battle scars, making him out to be an angry soul when really he’s just a sweetheart. But, there are exceptions for a lot and he doesn’t tolerate any ill treatment to his family, as he sees his owner and their own family that he loves dearly. If his owner likes someone, they’re safe and receive just as much kindness from him that they get from his owner. If they’re disliked, Chevy will basically become a guard dog and watch their every movement to ensure his family is safe. Anyone met on his own will make him wary until he believes they’re a decent enough person and deserves his trust. He wouldn’t want to bring anyone too close to the family if they weren’t trustworthy.
Brutal
Watching Chevy in battle is a scary thing compared to when he’s not in them, a big difference in his personality when he’s laughing and smiling and playing around with the younger children in the family. He becomes so focused, so determined to win that he’d go all out against his opponent no matter what injuries he may cause or how much blood is shed. It’s a battle and no battles are clean, but he will go on until the other fighter is down and he is victorious.
Obsequious
Whatever his owner desires, Chevy is willing and eager to please them. If he is asked to do something, he doesn’t ask questions and does whatever is needed. He’d jump right to it, excited if anything to get a job done. Even if the children ask him to do something, as long as it doesn’t disappoint his master, he will do anything to make them happy as well.
Foodie
A somewhat food motivated person, Chevy obviously loves food of all kinds. His masters feed him well, giving him the strength needed for the fights he’s put in and every time a fight is won, they give him something extra special which also motivates him to do his best every time. The children also enjoy stealing bread for him on the side and feeding it to him, finding it funny and knowing how happy it makes him. As long as it doesn’t get them in trouble or annoy the adults or his master, he doesn’t say much about it but sit there and gobble up the food.
Indifferent (towards learning)
Like most slaves, Chevy doesn’t have knowledge of reading or writing and isn’t even familiar with the alphabet. Zaina tries to teach him as much as she can, but he doesn’t understand so it doesn’t stick in his head, or what he does get will be easily forgotten. He appreciates the attempt, but also doesn’t see what a fighter like himself will ever need letters and words for when he only needs his teeth, hooves and strength.
Exuberant
Chevy is very gentle when it comes to the younger children, not wanting to hurt them as he is much bigger and stronger, but he is seen running around with them and playing when he’s on his free time and has nothing else to take care of. He may be a fighter at heart, but knows how to have fun and gets excited when he’s able to go and spend time with them.
HISTORY
I was born a twin to a pit fighter father and a servile slave mother, two slaves who had fallen in love during their time together under the same master. Despite their love, children were not their own plan so soon as it was the master's will, demanding children to be raised as pit fighters to bring in more money. He was a greedy horse, as I remember him, and no amount of money could please. So as one could imagine, my parents had been forced to have children only to please their master’s wish.
And so, my brother and I came into the world. Complications happened during pregnancy and birth, and it was a miracle my mother survived seeing as twins were rare in horses. Our master was pleased, but I was not the one he was pleased with. I was the runt, so much smaller than my brother and I was deemed weak, not worthy of being a pit fighter or even existing. I was not the colt that was supposed to come from the pregnancy, but my mother was surprisingly not punished as she had ended up providing him with two. My brother would make our master proud. He would make him rich.
My brother and I grew up close, though it was more difficult to spend time together under our owner’s watchful eye and the training sessions he was put into eventually to help him learn and bring out his skills. Me? He wasn’t sure what he wanted with me other than simply doing chores and running errands, a servile slave if anything. I loved being with my brother, playing and wrestling and just being boys. Dad saw potential in me, as did my brother, so they both used whatever free time they had to teach what they knew to me. When we wrestled, it looked much like mere playing when in reality we were learning as they were teaching to me.
My master wasn’t to know of what we did on the side, but it was like he knew everything we did. Eventually, he found out and we were all punished, yet he learned that there was so much more to me than a weaker, smaller child. He decided to put his faith in me and gave me a chance to actually learn, that maybe I could actually be the pit fighter he’d wanted and he would have the two he’d dreamed of when he first learned about the twins the day we were born.
I’d fought against my brother multiple times, regardless of being more inexperienced with his months and months of training. We fought, he’d beat me and and we would go on that on top of more training on the side. I never thought I could be as good as he was, that maybe I was nothing but a disappointment child. Yet I never gave up. I wanted to prove that I could be more, that I could be strong and give my master something to be proud of. So fight I did, refusing to give up the small sliver of hope there was.
On one day, my brother and I had been allowed to wander about close to our home. We ran and messed around, having fun while the time was ours. In our path, another horse stepped in and put us to a halt. The bar wasn’t too far and a drunk happened to stumble by, spitting profanity and angry words, yelling at everything and everyone they seemed to pass. Not wanting to get involved, we kindly stepped aside to continue on our way until they knocked into my brother and went on about how we bumped into them and how clumsy we were. Anything that put the blame on us in their drunken state.
My brother kept his cool, apologizing and being respectful and even taking the blame, but this horse would not stop. At first he merely raised his voice, stepping up to my brother who stood his ground, though it was only then that we realized how much bigger they were and they sported a lovely horn on their forehead that was set by my brother’s throat threateningly. This wasn’t the Crucible and my brother refused to fight if it wasn’t necessary, telling me to leave and get to safety if things were to get dirty. I couldn’t leave but I also knew I wasn’t strong enough to take them on, that I would burden my brother and get him hurt. So I stood, watching as the drunk finally lunged out.
I watched the two horses battle it out, teeth snapping and hooves flying, flesh tearing and blood spilling. My expectations were high for my brother, more experienced than I was and looking to be handling the other horse with ease. He was smaller and more agile, also not drunk and clumsy and was able to dodge for the most part what was thrown at him. There was a proud feeling that washed over me momentarily, that this was my brother and he stood up to the drunk well-- until the tables turned and it was my brother on the ground with huge hooves pinning him down.
All I could do was stand there and watch, the drunk constantly beating at my brother and rendering him useless and wriggling beneath the weight, trying to break free. It ended quickly, in the blink of an eye when one moment he was still breathing and the next he lay lifeless. It’d been his horn that had pierced his throat, or teeth that ripped it open and left him bleeding and choking on his own blood. He was dead and I could do nothing but feel scared and angry as the emotions came over me. My brother, my best friend, was dead. I hardly remembered much of what happened afterwards, having apparently blacked out and only came about to Chevaliers ripping the two of us apart. I wanted to fight, I wanted to make them pay for my brother.
The next couple of weeks were Hell, my family and I still mourning my brother and me getting punished about everyday. I’d turned violent, disobedient and my master was not having it. What was I supposed to do? My brother had been butchered in front of my very eyes and all he cared about was losing a perfect money maker. If I had a perfect chance, I would have showed him exactly what he had gone through, exactly what I had seen. But I never got to as he went out and found another owner for me. My parents? Well, I never saw them again.
My second owner was nice, but my stay didn’t last long. The few months I was with him though were actually decent, as he was kind and patient with me as I recovered and also continued to train. It was hard and I was lonely, depressed even, but I wanted it to work so I tried my best. I only got into one fight at the Crucible before my owner went bankrupt, leaving him unable to care for me any longer. That left me being sold once again to another family in order to get the money out of me.
It was hard on me, but I wanted to be a good slave to these new people. It was all I knew and I wanted to have the best of it while also giving them the best as well. It took a while to get used to it, to all the kids that would stare at me with wide eyes as I passed the halls. They were as nervous as I was, I could feel it. I was big and scary, marred by scars in several areas from training and from those few fights. They would scurry like bugs if I stepped anywhere near, so I laid myself down one day and I waited patiently. Slowly, the kids would approach me and look me over, cautiously. A couple times I would move or jerk to watch them flinch, but my laughter showed I meant them no harm and soon enough they came up to me and flopped by my legs or over my back to mess around. They were cute kids and I promised that I would keep them safe.
Some of them loved to steal bread that was being made in the kitchen and share it would me, laughing as I gobbled it up. Every time we were given time to play, they would steal a little snack or two for me as if their parents wouldn’t notice. Yet, they were fine with it and just laughed it off. One of the older kids, Zaina, would try to teach me to read and write. I barely understood anything, but it was nice to her her try her best and make her happy. So in turn, I tried to learn. I mean, letters and pens weren’t used in the Crucible fights, but what was the harm in trying?
This family grew on me and I grew on them. I loved them, and I know my brother definitely would have as well if he’d still been with me. I had a nice family, though I still missed my own whenever they came to mind. Would I ever see them again? I hoped so one day. I just hoped I would never be tossed into a fight against my own father, because it was something I could not to. I aimed to please my masters, but I could not harm my family. As I protected them, I would protect my parents too.
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
LIKES :Tba
DISLIKES :
Tba
HOBBIES :
Tba
OTHER :
Tba
CREDITS
Character © SpiritoftheNighttApplication art © SpiritoftheNightt
Written character Template © Originally War-Colt
Template / SA itself © Starborn-Alignment team
Updates
July 1st - Created applicationJuly 14th - Accepted
August 2nd - Added headshot
September 4th - New app art