MR SNAKES

[cammeo]

M R SNAKES

Name
Angela

Age
19

M R NOT

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Full Name
Dallas Zeke Morrow

Nicknames
Dallas(usually), D.(never), DZM(on occassion), Mr. Snakes(as a joke)

Riding Level
Advanced

Age
24

Gender
Male

OSAR

Height
6'9"

Hair Color
Dark Brown

Eye Color
Deep Blue

Build
Muscular/Fit

Clothing Style
Anything Cowboy

Personality
Dallas is quite a difficult person to understand. Complicated in every way, after the accident many of his friends up and left him. He went from joyous and carefree to serious and concerned. It was such a dramatic change, it even drove him to the limit. He's now a very edgy kind of guy, and quick to change his mind. He's still the loving, caring guy he always was, it just takes a bit longer to get there.

Dallas would never purposely hurt someone, but it's becoming quite easy to do. When he's sad, he tends to sag and silence himself. He rejects help and it may even seem like he's holding a grudge against you for nothing! If you know him well enough, you could talk to him. If not, just leave him be.

When Dallas is mad, it's a whole other story. A 200-some pound boulder that won't move. In that case, silence truely is a frightening thing. It just becomes to eerily quiet around him, and even if you were purposely the cause, he won't usually fight back. When he does, though, it's either a lift by the collar, a few words, and a set down, or it's a hit straight in the face. His tolerance level never really was that good.

Finally, when Dallas is in a happy mood, he's a brand new man. He'll joke around, and maybe even get carried away into a dance. He likes cheering up other people in down moods and recieving tons of attention. He always was that way, an attention seeker. That'll probably never change.

CMBDI'S

Sports/Hobbies

• Girls
  
• Riding
  
• Ranching
  
• Working Hard
  
• Sex
  
• Fooling around
  
• Girls

OIC

Background
Dallas has lived in the Wild West all his life. Growing up, he was ranged from the class bully, the lady's man, and especially the cowboy. He wasn't popular, but for those into cowboys or strong guys, he was the school hotty, along with his buddy Jackson. The two of them were partners in everything. From school projects to rounding up the cattle, they were like brothers. Nothing could tear them apart, except for one thing. Out of all the women he could have chosen to fall head over heels for, he chose his best friend's little sister. He'd never even met her until his Junior year of High School, and her Senior year of Middle School. Jackson didn't really like to talk about his family, and he was sometimes real protective over his sister. So seeing them go at it so quickly, it literally drove him over his limit.

To make this story short, I'll give a summary. His best friend ended up having to stay at home and away from everyone. His sister, on the other hand, really got to know Dallas. Unfortunately, like every other sad love story, she ended up in a car wreck. She died on impact, driving to his house after a good dose of drugs. That's what caused him to start acting more mature, as well as allowed his quiet cowboy nature to take over. That's pretty much was has him here, now, I guess. If you want more details, just talk to him. I've grown lazy...

Picture



M R SNAKES


The stables were quiet, all but the shuffling of hooves and exchange of nickers and neighs. It was early in the morning, maybe about 4:00AM or so. The crisp morning air is cool, and the spring time early birds chirp to awaken those around them. Yet the sun hasn't even risen. Stars still dot the sky, but would soon fade as the sun began to peak over the horizon. The grass still held a dew on each blade, making it refreshing to simply walk on it bare foot. It is one of those mornings where everything wishes to sleep in late, but must rise and breath cold air into warm lungs.

Not far off, in some other stall, there is a great echo of hoof against floor as the creature inside moves uncomfortably around. Then, there's the sound of the crack of hoof against wood, a short yell, and then silence. After what seemed forever, the hinges creaked as a man appeared from out of the stall. He had an arm around his chest, bent over slightly as he shut the stall door behind him and walked to the wall, turning and leaning against it as he released a long, painful breath. Over the stall door came a dark head, and even though it was barely visible against the few lights it was definitely a horse. With its ears pricked foreward, it watched the man, just as the man looked up and watched the horse.

After a few minutes, the man burst into a laugh, the horse shying and pulling it's head back into the stall. The man pushed off the wall and stood, his blue jean jacket and pants barely standing out, but his white shirt gave him away. As for his black Stetson, it was still in the stall, laying trampled in the hay. The man, on the other hand, merely had a smudge of dirt on his shirt where he held his chest. No, he hadn't been kicked. The horse had come foreward as it kicked out and slammed the two against the wall. He'd scurried out before he was further injured.

". . ." In his silence, he still spoke so many words. His respect toward the animal that had hurt him was evident, but his charge over it was there, as well. Standing tall, removing his arm from his injury, he walks toward the stall again. In utter silence, he stands at the door, tense and ready. In the stall, the horse remains near the back, eyeing him carefully. Finally, the man relaxes, and his horse picks up on that. The horse walks over to him, and nuzzles his shoulder. When the man does not respon, he repeats the act, now lipping at his jacket collar. Then the man slowly reaches up and takes hold of the black halter, stroking the horse's neck with his other hands. He begins to whisper quiet words to it, calming it as it tries to search for what is holding onto the left side of its halter. When it is unable to, and when the man's whispers finally reach it, it stops struggling and rests its head on his shoulder. There the two now stand, and it is roughly 5:00AM, now. The stars are beginning to fade, and the horizon is a different shade of purple. In the back of the man's pocket is a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of alcohol sits on a chair near the wall... Nearly empty...[/color][/center]
((Sample))
((By the way, "We Are Who We Are"))