Name: Klondike Starflier Sex: Male Age: Young Stallion Species: Pegasus Pony Pelt Color: Sky Blue Mane/Tail/Markings Color & Style: Deep Purple dishoveled Mane and Tail Eye Color: Purpleish blue Cutie Mark: A renaissance lute. Physique: Light and Thin Framed Origin: Born in Gallopocous Island, Moved to Cloudsdale, Currently resides in Fillydelphia Roleplay Type: Mane Occupation: Cafe Owner and Coffee and Tea Grower Motivation: Despite how the fates and muses have sung of his talent, he considers his mark to be a fluke. Rather than following his cutie mark, he aspires to own a reputable cafe. Likes: Coffee, Tea, Music, and Socializing (More or less the listening side). Dislikes: Incredibly loud and obnoxious folks and Slow days. Character Summary: [tab=15]A colt who wears himself as the sleep deprived pony that he is. Normally sticking to himself, Klondike tends to keep his hooves grounded, rarely picking himself up from the ground for flight. Walking in what appears to be in a trance, he keeps his purple mane unkempt, and his matching tail in tangles. His most notable feature is something that isn't there, his plain blue flanks without a decoration to specify himself. This frail looking pony, who seems to be intelligent, is swift on land and on air (If not a bit clumsy when flying). A rather warm individual that would be happy to help, he is laid back, but rather skiddish. Though normally kind, a snappy side will emerge if stressed enough. [tab=15]Though he tends to keep to himself, he doesn't mind to listen and participate in a conversation. In fact, the fool can be incredibly generous. To keep himself supported, he manages a cafe in Fillydelphia. [tab=15]As a youngster, Klondike considered himself to be rather intelligent. He was one for studying over socializing. His parents, much like his future self, cultivated various coffee and teas. He didn't want any of this, he would much rather be a magic teacher, regardless of his inability to cast magic. It was later that he soon realized that there was more to teaching than lectures involving magic, and the fact that his cutie mark didn't apear for that seemed to indicate that it wasn't his greatest aspiration. [tab=15]One thing was for sure, his insecurities resulting from a lack of direction caused him to question his abilities in his day to day endeavors. It was as if he was looking at himself through a cracked mirror, questioning his every movement, wondering if there was a better way to do things. What he thought was wise would only serve to determent him during flight school. It was there, that he would fly through an obstacle course. Rather than embracing the moment and perform the necessary movements, he froze during his flight and broke through the course. As humiliating as it was to endure the taunts provided from his classmates, the harsh judge from within wouldn't let him forget his folly. As of today, he hesitates to let himself up from the ground. Some days, he can manage flight without thinking about the past. Other days, it's almost as if he has to relive that scenario. [tab=15]Through his colt years, he strived to find what his cutie mark would be. To him, it seemed like he tried everything, sans bungie jumping or any other sort of obscure skill. Ultimately unable to find his cutie mark, and it was almost time for him to take up some sort of occupation, he settled with helping with his parent's cafe. His first payment for his services went to buying a lute. Why is something that he himself was unsure of, nor was he sure of why he continued that uphill struggle of playing his lute. A mistake on his part, or so he thought, was executed one night when he was fighting his newfound battles against insomnia (Which was not brought about by use of coffee). Playing some of the classical music created for the lute, he found his hooves unwilling to comply with the sheet music. Frustrated, he began to let himself unwind with random notes. The unpleasant tune soon subsided into a simple melody, but its metamorphosis began when a fantasia cascaded from his lute. Before he knew it, it was as if the darkness had sung him to sleep. [tab=15]It took him awhile to catch the fact that there was now a lute on his flank, and with it, brought confusion. He couldn't possibly emulate the great lutists in the past, why in blazes would he get a mark over some hobby that he barely picked up months ago? It was almost as if he resented what his mark revealed to him, and his action to revolt against what occurred was to take up the bean and leaf, and become a cafe owner. Even to this day, he considers his mark to be a fluke. [tab=15]A little about his skeleton in his closet, he once owned a cafe in Cloudsdale. One faithful day, he brewed 13 lattes for a party that he was going to host. Little did he know that it was going to be for a group of young fillies and colts. He was unable to stop the consumption of the lattes, and the youngins went wild, practically destroying his store and running him off into Fillydelphia. With what little money he had, he managed to get a store in Fillydelphia. Ever since this 'party,' Klondike finds himself rather unnerved by the presence of fillies and colts. If said youngster was acting incredibly energetic, he would be paraliyzed with fear.
