Moon Dancer

Female. Lives in Lake Lyn, Hollow Shades, Equestria. Born on January 15

Race

Pegasus

Roleplay Availability

Maybe

About Me

~Was originally on PonySquare... Just now getting back into a slow swing. Rusty but still interested in getting the RP train rolling, slowly.

Roleplay Universe

Adaptive

Roleplay Type

Narrative Multi-Paragraph

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Liked Pages1

136 Likes

Narrative Role Players

Entertainment » Fictional Character

Joined Groups2

36 Members

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Moon Dancer

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Status Update

Moon Dancer

May 23, 2019 6:32 pm

Argyle, the lovable large burr of a Scot... Somehow, someway, he always seemed to find it a grand idea to throw a fabulous and extravagant party whenever his 'Wee Lass' came home for a visit. This was... View MoreArgyle, the lovable large burr of a Scot... Somehow, someway, he always seemed to find it a grand idea to throw a fabulous and extravagant party whenever his 'Wee Lass' came home for a visit. This was never a wise choice, regardless of anything he had to say. Moon Dancer was by far the furthest thing from social. There was a reason she did not live in the city any longer. There were a vast many reasons she chose to reside in seclusion of the forests... amidst a ruins. None more so than the fact that Moon was not like other ponies. A resigned sigh left her lips as she gazed upon her reflection within the hollows of the standing mirror. Truthfully, if Argyle did not insist she wear the traditional garbs of Lorraine, a village no longer located on any map of the current age, this might have been a tiny bit more bearable. At least she wouldn't stick out like a lamed foreleg. The stark white of her mane had been brushed and braided, adorned with glass beads and jeweled bobbles sporting brilliant turquoise and rich coral red. Her throat sported a heavy bronzed choker of some kind with rich rough cut emerald stones and deep blood red garnets. Another delicate chain of gold with single golden coins hanging below it at length with a jade pendant. A sage colored cloak with the embroidered emblem of her kin. A half sun with Lorraine's Arcane crook housing it. Under that were layers of various gauzy fabrics that created an elaborate gown that flowed more freely in dark navy. Something none of the party guests would get a closer gander at. Pursing her lips, Moon turned from the mirror and headed toward the heavy oak doors of her room. "Make an appearance he says... Alright, fine. I'll make an appearance. And then a quick 'disappearance'..." A groan, "Ugh... that sounded so much better in my mind." Shaking her head she fortified her nerves and pushed through the doors and began the long trek down the halls of the manor. Argyle was beyond well off. He was a renowned archaeologist, and while he was pretty much retired now, that didn't make him any less popular. Ponies from all over sought his keen eye and approval. Moon meandered her way toward the lower level of the manor and headed toward the less traveled entrance to the grand ballroom. Pausing at the cracked door she glanced down to her hooves. Swallowing once before tapping on the door, which opened right away. The various hired hands all knew too well it was her, so there was never a fuss when she made herself 'known' through less than spectacular means. Argyle should have learned by now. Moon entered the room, hoping to avoid any query or odd gaze cast her way. Easily slipping in beside Argyle, whom was bellying up to the hard-cider while telling some story about his days as a strapping young stallion. His bellowing voice booming across the ballroom despite the chatter and music. "Da..." Moon regarded him quietly. He wasn't her biological father... Argyle had taken her in when she was still quite young, but he was the closest thing she had to a father anymore. "Ah dar she be! Me wee lass Moon. Bea-u-teaful as a'ways~" His heavy accent dropped from his mouth in almost a slurred fashion, making Moon smile if only a little. That was her Da. A giant, lovable... sometimes drunk... burly fellow. Moon gave a mild thanks, icy orbs gazing about at the many party goers. With luck... she could slip out in five or so minutes. Argyle would resume some tall tale, that would be the perfect window of opportunity. She was sure of it.

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