: Earth PonyMane
Dishevelled and short, he keeps his dark muddy colored mane clean, but it always seems to want to do its own thing. Tail
Medium length, matching his mane in color and style.Eyes
His eyes are a deep, somewhat muted blue. He always has a half lidded, sleepy look on his face.Body
His fur is a rich brown, and somewhat shaggy, with long feathered patches along his hooves. The fur on his chin is a bit longer, giving him a faint 'goatee' patch. He's tall and lanky, even for a stallion his age, and often feels a bit out of place because of it.Voice
He has a voice that lends itself well to singing the soft songs he prefers to sing, somewhat rough, but gentle and quiet.Voice Example
The cutie mark of a pony is often an indicator of their special talent, their calling, so to speak. But for Indie, it is more of a second thought than a major part of his life. It is probably fitting in a less obvious way, being an oak leaf floating on a gentle breeze, never in the same place, never finding one resting place, much like Indie himself. If you ask him when his cutie mark appeared, he probably wouldn't even be able to tell you an exact date, as the memory isn't even present in his mind. His calling is his music, his cutie mark is more of an afterthought in comparison to that.Age
Indie is an old soul, always quiet, always contemplating, always staring out at the world from some place deep within his own mind. He is kind, polite, and very down to earth, with a gentle nature that makes him wholly nonthreatening. He has the presence of a pony who has seen far too much of the world, and sometimes his smiles are a bit melancholy, but he smiles regardless, no matter what life throws his way. He is generally happy, but sometimes a sadness will creep in like autumn cold and paint his face in a more mournful light, this is normally when he is the most productive musically, and where most of his songs have been born.Likes
: The autumn, cold weather, singing, playing guitar, making ponies smile, travelling, stormy days.Dislikes
: Large crowds, loud noises, isolation, bright lights, large bodies of water, bullies.History
Indie was born to a family on the road, nomads who never stayed in the same town for long. They were a loving family of free spirits, who preferred a roving life to one of stale stability and mundane day-to-day living. His mother and father was artists, who made their bits selling their paintings in the towns they would come across, they were never without food, shelter, and love. His home was a decorated cart that his father pulled, just big enough for the three of them to live comfortably.
He had a passion for music that bloomed the older he got, his father taught him to play guitare on a beat up old acoustic, and his voice blossomed the older he got. He was sure that he would earn a cutie mark that related to his talents, but his flanks remained bare even into the start of his teenage years. He knew that this meant that music wasn't his destiny, but his parents taught him to always follow his heart, and so he did. He kept playing and singing, not caring whether his cutie mark appeared or not.
When he was just leaving his teenage years, on the threshold of adult hood, his world was shattered. Miles from civilization, on a dusty old road, his family's beloved home was robbed. Indie managed to slip out undetected, but his mother and father were not so lucky. After a day or so, he made his way back to what was left of the old wagon, mustering up the courage to give his mother and father a proper resting place at the base of an old tree, he slung his dad's old guitar over his back and turned his weary hooves to Ponyville.
Now an adult, Indie still does what he feels he was born to do, though he has no home to call his own, he manages to live fairly comfortably. He makes shelter where he can find it, sometimes on a park bench, or an alley, or the home of a kind passerby. He makes enough bits to eat by performing, never in the same town for long, he prefers living on the road. He's recently begun preforming for local radio stations, hoping to find the right pony to pick him up and allow him to live his dream of sharing his music with every pony across Equestria. Example RP segment
It'd been raining for hours, or it felt like hours.
Indie usually didn't mind the rain, in fact, he loved the feeling of rain on his coat on a hot day. But today had been very cold, and he was shivering to the bone from the drops that hit his back like sharp icicles, permeating his fur to chill his skin below. He sneezed as he trotted along the sidewalk, eyeing the buildings through the driving winter rain, most lights were off, the ponies inside tucked in their beds to sleep.
But his ears perked when he noticed the light of a welcoming tavern just ahead. He put a bit more speed in his steps as he made his way to the building, standing under the lip of the entrance to shake himself dryer before putting a hoof to the door and pushing it open.
He could tell by the look of the ponies around him that this was a welcoming environment, their faces were warm and full of life as they chattered animatedly to whoever they happened to come with. He made his way to the bar, and hopped up on one of the stools, taking in the warmth as the barkeep approached him, "Chilly out there tonight, innit?"
He nodded in response, "Mmhm. But it brings ponies together pretty nicely."
The barkeep gave him an agreeing smile before asking if he wanted anything to drink. Indie nodded, reaching to his saddlebag to feel for bits to order a hot chocolate, his face fell when he realized he had none, "Sorry, I thought I had more on me..."
The Barkeep's eyes flitted over Indie's guitar, and he gave the stallion a knowing smile, "It's pretty quiet in here, there's a stage over there. I bet you could find another way to pay for a hot chocolate, hm?"
Indie returned the smile with his own, sliding off the stool to make his way over to the small stage, a simple raised platform with a seat and a microphone.
When he climbed up the small set of steps, the ponies quieted their conversation and looked on with curiosity as the young stallion tuned his guitar, before clearing his throat and beginning to sing.