I believed all of your dreams; anyone

[Juju]

It’s like this.
 
You’re born, your parents love you—but things change. Things start falling apart. It’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault. They weren’t ready, they didn’t really love each other—they don’t know, how could they know?—and you play the witness to countless clashes that get bloodier and more violent with each tick. They’re time bombs. Tick, tick, tick; it’s a matter of time before another one of them goes off again. Tick, tick, tick. They get so predictable after a while, as the years drag on, they start to tick like Doomsday clocks—tick, tick, tick. There’s nothing you can do for them now, but you get to watch; you get to watch them go off and everything go down. You get to watch, and learn, and absorb all of that shit until you’re just like them.
 
‘Tick, tick, tick....’
 
She isn’t here to make nice.
 
Nice is for the ones that want to find a happy home with a happy man and have a bunch of happy, healthy babies that grow up and make even more happy, healthy babies; nice is for the ones that keep things going, nice is for the normal—the everyday, the dredges that keep all of the cogs turning. Nice keeps everything orderly, running smooth and oiled. She isn’t nice. She’s gasoline to the fire, she’s walking barefoot across broken glass; she’s got about much hope in her as someone having a massive heart attack. A wet match on a dark night, a jammed gun in the middle of a firefight.
 
She is Juju.
 
Bad Juju.
 
And it’s the middle of the night when she arrives.
 
The white of her coat stands out starkly against the black, practically glowing under the pale moon light; she slips between the trees, heading towards the sound of running water and the promise that she might find a better life around the next bend; the water rushes over the colorful, smooth stones, and salmon shoot up out of the water one after the other as they fight their way further upstream. She notices the cool sheen of their scales as she lowers her head to drink and pays them no mind after a while.
 
It’s something normal, after all.
 
She kind of missed normal.
 
Never one to quit while she’s ahead, Juju crosses the river and presses on well into the night; she follows the lights—pretty, pretty lights that twinkle and giggle and bolt ahead when she gets too close. Others might have ran the other way, terrified—but not Juju! Oh no, never Juju. Juju’s too brave for that. Too smart. And that’s exactly how she gets led into the clusterfuck that is The Field, where the faeries abandon her and then fly off back to resume their actual duties. Dawn is fast approaching, but she doesn’t need much light to see that something is amiss here; there’s horses with wings, horses with horns, horses with scales, horses shifting sizes and shape and horses of every color you can possibly imagine and then some. And without missing a beat, without pausing, without drawing much more than a breath to speak, Juju mutters in her ever-eloquent way: “What in the fuck kind of freakshow is this?”

[ooc: She's new, I'm sorry.]

[Archam]

all of us have a hero and a villain in us

Archam was a dark soul who had to pretend to fit in. From a young age he did not fit in with the others, he had no desires to chase butterflies he wanted to eat them. As an adult the horse would speak to others and invision ripping there throats out. The land he finds himself in now is not like that, he has to pretend to bea nice gentleman but when the sun sets and the moon is the only source of light the stag is out to cause havic.

He found himself in the field today looking for another mare to expand his herd. He enjoyed the ones he already had, but he also continuously looked for a mare who could assist him with his evil desires. Today he found himself a black and white over, she seemed pretty enough. The giant bay roan found himself hiding in the shade of a tree and made his way over to the mare. He gave a laugh as he caught a tail end of her conversation with herself. "It is a quite odd sight to see, youll get used to it though." he said with laughter in his voice "My name is Archam, and you?" he asked staring intently on the mare, with a gentleman smirk. 

archam

[Juju]

Juju doesn’t eat butterflies, though they’re probably very nutritious and part of someone’s balanced diet. She prefers grass and sometimes berries, maybe an apple—bark in the winter even though it gets stuck in her teeth sometimes and is just way too chewy. You know, the usual things. Ripping out throats and the like simply doesn’t appeal to her in the way it might appeal to others. She’s funny like that.

Although, there was that one time she noticed an anthill and just kind of purposely stepped on it and smeared it and kept going. She murdered millions that day (maybe, they probably dug themselves out and swore vengeance on her and she’s probably labeled a menace in all ant societies now and if she ever dies and is reincarnated as a human, they’ll invade her house and fuck up her countertops and she’ll never be able to set anything sweet down anywhere—ever) and didn’t even bat an eye.

Along comes a fellow who overhears what she’s said and she turns to him, her ears swiveling forwards; he seems nice enough, normal enough, but she knows enough (her parents come to mind) to know that not everyone is as they seem. “I doubt I’ll get used to this,” Juju replies, scanning the field for more unusual things. They’re not hard to find, in fact, they seem to overpopulate this place; freaks are in such abundance here that she actually feels like the one that’s out of place. Too ordinary to even be seen among the extraordinary. It’s odd and she doesn’t like it at all. Maybe she’ll go ask the pretty lights later if they know how to get some wings or some shit somewhere. Wings shouldn’t be too much to ask with everything else that’s running around, right?

Er, right?

“I’m Juju,” she says, with a slight incline of her head. It's an odd name but it suits her just fine; besides, it's proof that her mother had a sense of humor to go along with that explosive temper. "I gotta ask, though, man," she grins. "Do you have a staring problem or something?”

[Archam]

all of us have a hero and a villain in us

The stag turned from interested to irritated, flicking his ears back in annoyance as the mare spoke. He has never been given such an attitude from a mare and rolled his eyes with irritation. "Well dont you have quite the attitude?" he questioned stepping closer to the mare. "You should take it as a compliment when a stag stares" he snorted flicked his tail walking to the other side of the mare putting a distance between them.

She surely isnt like any of the mares he has met in these lands. Although he didnt mind that, she wasnt a push over and had a personality of her own. She was not afraid to speak up. Although he was irritated with her annoyance she caused him, most mares would feed into Archams conversation looking to him to protect them. This one did not need him, but he didnt mind chasing a mare, so long as he won in the end. "Not everyone has something magical, there are plenty of us who are normal, just like you and I."

archam

[Titanium]

The roan's ears prick as he slips underneath the few trees littering the center of the field, the dark irises of his eyes as bottomless and empty as an abyss home to the souls of the tortured. He scans the field, searching, looking for a mare that will do her job. She doesn't have to be perfect, or beautiful, she will just have to suffice. For a first go at gathering a herd, he isn't sure if he would rather have a challenge or an easy go at it to get himself a strategy. 

Though the mare who catches his eye is none too striking and would otherwise not stand out among the beauties today, she is just another flower in the bed, but the choice language that streams out of her mouth within seconds of his gaze being directed her way certainly holds his attention.  He can't help but chuckle darkly, enjoying her spirit. Maybe such a feisty mare would not be a fantastic first pick, but Titanium certainly liked his fun.

He starts to move in her direction, but abruptly stops in his tracks when the unfamiliar stallion makes his way over. He huffs indignantly, almost child-like in his annoyance. But I saw her first! He takes a few moments to sort through his feelings and digest, but carefully listens to what the spunky little mare says next. She's certainly the sassy type, he muses as he watches the interaction. That could be potentially problematic. "Juju," He murmurs, rolling it across his tongue and wincing. How ridiculous. But she would certainly still do, and though he wasn't too fond of the idea of making an enemy of this Archam, his stubbornness wins out. After all, Archam isn't too threatening a figure to make an enemy of.

He makes his way over, mindful of what he is about to stay. He wonders what words would appeal to this mare most, what would make her happy enough to come to the Village with him. He tries to control his desperate desires, so strong that he is sure the pair can smell his need to bring a mare home. He approaches slowly, an amiable expression covering his face. This must go perfect. "I'm sorry, is he bothering you?" The Nokota stallion asks hesitantly. "I couldn't help overhearing."