His white locks of hair cascaded down his shoulders like a waterfall of snow. His unusual silver eyes always seemed to glint with a hidden mystery. The male walked with cautious strides in knowing of previous dangerous paths. He wore a faint smirk of confidence to banish away the scowl of his past. He was well built. Lean muscles with a tall frame. His regal mane lay untamed symbolizing his lack of motivation, or effort. His features were marked sharp in the spot light of the unforgiving light of the room. Particles floated around in the air like pixie dust spread from the wings of fairies. His bare chest heaved up, and down in a rhythmic fall. Finely toned skin gleamed like crystals from the light film of speckled sweat that lie across the surface of his skin. His eye lids flicker lazily. Lips curled in a slight smug gesture that was washed away by the boredom his features gave away. Some would see him as a mystical Beauty, others would run. The rest, wanted him dead.
It had been years. How old was he now? 1? 2? 3? 5? 7 years? Yea. 23! 23 years old. It seemed to finally become clear to him that he couldn't pity himself for his past, or outrun it. He needed to stop the slaughter. He had lived as a mortal for the last few years, and learning to accept the supernatural world once again wouldn't be easy. There was one place that could get him fit again. Only one. A place he dreaded. A place he fear that his name be spoiled. The one place that he had avoided all the years to escape who he was. He needed to stop feeling pity for himself.
He raised one hand to push back the white strands on top of his head. A small sigh escaped his lips as he slid from the stool. Combat boots touching the burned floor that lie under him. Swiftly, he pushed open the doors that lead him into the natural light of the awakening sun. To Vrijeme Estates . Dear old Friend.
The black combat boots had accumulated a light film of grey dust across the toe. Puffs of the crumbled gravel drifted into the air in small clouds anytime the tiny pebbles were stirred. His pants looked much like any military pants would, but solid black. He wore a matching black shirt that had the sleeves cut out, and extended to near the bottom of the shirt. This revealed a small portion of his elegantly formed ribs, and lightly tanned skin. The fabric was light, and almost a see-through material. This caused it to ripple at the slightest of wind. The neck also had a V neck cut into it to reveal a small portion of the male's upper chest. Mostly centered around the area of his collar bone. None could yet see the result of his adventures from living among the mortals. Across his left shoulder blade a flock of black birds took flight to somewhere distant. "Amara" was scripted in Greek across his left ankle. "Revenge" was tattooed across his other ankle. The suicide flower was tattooed across his left hip, and "Strength" was tattooed small across a rib on his right side. His silver eyes flickered anxiously at the sight that lay before him. Pupils shrinking at the sight, and the bright sunlight didn't help. His black hair was long, and gleamed with the sweat that formed across his scalp. It had been a while since he had allowed this appearance shine through. 7 years at least. The 23 year old took several minutes to allow his anxiety to reside before tilting his head. A soft sigh escaped his lips; arms coming to cross over his chest. His eyelids fell closed. Silver eyes disappearing from sight. His once ebony locks faded to a quintessence white before growing out. Soon, it cascaded down his shoulders like a waterfall. The ends reaching down several inches below his armpits. Once again his silver eyes returned. Eyelids flickering open to allow the light to flow back to his pupils. His irises could change 1 of 2 colors. Silver being the natural color he inherited, and blood red ;which was a recessive color he had adapted to. None were dependent on moods, and were completely decided by him. The long, white strands lifted into the air. Dancing in the wind as he stood at the entrance of the stables. A ice cold sensation gripped his finger tightly causing him to look down at the glowing ring. https://s16.postimg.org/42dne1e8l/IMG_3891.jpg
Within the depths of the metal a blue glowing essence stirred. Souls. Only three. He had visited a hospital before coming here. Just incase he might need the extra energy.
A soft nudge at his arm caused the male to slightly shift. Directing his attention to the 2 year old black, brindled filly. The filly looked over to him with expectation. A dark purple halter rested across her elegant head. "Hey Amara." He spoke softly. Now realizing that he had dropped the black lead rope. She swished her short, soft, black tail before letting out a girly whinny. If Luka wanted to be at Vrijeme Estates he would need a horse. So, here she was. The abandoned filly whom he had named Amara for a certain reason. He leaned down before wrapping his fingers around the black rope. He gave her a small pat before sighing again. Amara shook her head before letting out a small buck, and snorting. He couldn't help but smile. "You are rather enthusiastic about this." He said softly before leading her deeper into the Vrijeme Estates property.
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The white-glazed eye bore across the landscape. Black eyelashes falling closed every once in a while. To the left the shimmering, frosty, blue-ish, green iris took in the sight before it. Pupil becoming larger to take in all of the beauty. It was a sight for sore eyes. The vast, and beautiful landscape. The fearsome, yet elegant equines only added to the pure bliss. White strands of hair cascaded down her shoulders. Mixes of smokey grey, and black strands managed to find their way among the others. A faded scar ran right through the right eye. Which more than likely was the reason that eye was damaged. The daughter of Poseidon sat comfortably across the sturdy, wooden fence. Her attire consisted of tall boots with three different linked pieces to it, and arm cuffs which were both made of celestial bronze coated in silver. She wore a black skirt made of thin threads that fell loosely like a waterfall. Styled much like a double slit dress. Secured with a armor belt made of the same thing that the rest of her outfit was made of. The same black threads cascaded gracefully down her arms from the metal arm cuffs secured above her elbow. Finishing the look; a armor breastplate rested across her chest. Coming down to a point over her belly button. This exposed her floating ribs, lower back, and parts of her stomach. https://s16.postimg.org/577pjf0ph/IMG_3930.jpg
A long elegant sword rested against the fence beside her. Blade glinting in the light.
Carefully she reached up to tie her hair into a pony tail. Fingers skillfully looping the black ribbon around her silver locks. Strands fell loose from her quick and sloppy job; but this seemed to only compliment her. Despite her attire suggesting that she followed the older traditions that the immortals followed; this was not necessarily the case. Within the depths of her black cloak that hung on the rail beside her was a gun she had stolen from a FBI agent. The details of the gun were unknown to her for all she was interested in was using it successfully.
She had yet to venture deeper into the grounds. For now, she seemed content with lingering near the furthest pastures. She wished not to startle anyone with her appearance as she had yet to experience any supernatural aura enter the property since she arrived. The demigod was thoroughly intrigued by the equines that walked the stable. Finding much enjoyment out of them as her father when he created them.
(Sorry! This was pre written)