Post by Arien Verloren on May 10, 2007 22:53:53 GMT -5
Name: Arien Verloren..... no duh
Gender: Femme
Age: 3 cycles
Description: Paws step through the undergrowth, so delicate and light for such a powerful creature. Dark dappeled fur becomes invisible withen moss-draped trees, black and brown spots fading into the dark bark of the trees behind her. Her emerald eyes become mere leaves upon a bush, but they speak of nothing a leaf has ever felt. They are full of pain, winding down and down into their depths of graceful despair. She looked just like a wolf about to give up, her lovely pelt unwashed, spiked up in most places by her own blood. She looked almost dead, but she had only a far-away wish of dying. Her usually high head is no longer proudley held high, instead, she carries it close to the ground. Not wanting to be noticed, admired.. even seen. Wishing to leave this world, she opens her soul only to the bright moon abover her.
A cream colored muzzle opens, pointed toward the dark sky. She let out a heart-rending howl. Foul to the ears that heard it, even she couldn't stand the pain in the song. Her tall ears fell back across her head, flattening, muffleing her own cry. The pierceing note dwindled out, and she hung her head, as if even such a simple task took so much energy. Feeling hot tears collect in her soft greeen eyes, she shook her slender head, not wanting them to come forth. She wasn't afraid of crying... But she was afraid of others seeing her crying, being so alone. So unwanted. She never wanted to appear weak, though she always did. Hearing other wolves nearby, she coils her slender body, and leaps away.
A foggy breath of hard panting is barley heard through the still air. Her lean body pounces through the bushes with barely a whisper, as undistinguishable as the far-off wind. With a almost black pelt, and a soft creamy underbelly, she blends into the forest with graceful movement, becoming one with the stillness around her. Thick fur that looks soft can bristle fiercly at the first sign of danger or a fight. Despite her beauty, she hates herself. An mirror image of her mother; that is who she sees every day at the pool, every day of her life. She feels haunted by it, and tainted by guilt.
(hah... mine isn't only appearence xD)
Personality: She is true, as well as to her name, to her title: Loner. She hates the word, despises, wishing to grind it down into the dust. But there it is, on the tip od the tounge of every wolf she passes: Loner, Loner, Loner... It makes her want to scream, to lash out at an entire pack, not caring if she died. For that is what she was, who she was. And it wasn't who she wanted to be.
Usually keeping her head low, she never want to stand out. Always been on the low side of things, she want nothing to change. Or maybe she does. To hear her own voice, sure and true, and to hear it speak orders, hear them be obeyed. Perhaps that was what she really wanted, but it was something she couldn't even comprehend. To be at the top, not at the bottom, begging for a scrap of food. To be chasing, not running away. Once she realizes this is really her wish, she will do anything to get there. Short of... nothing.
When Arien is fighting, nothing is too far. Nothing ever is. She can launch herself at the strongest wolf in the forest without hesitation, not really knowing nor caring about the consequences that might occur. Her eyes, usually filled with quiet longing, pain, and mourning, burn in battle. She can let out a cry so fearsome that her enemy puts down their heads, yipping in panic that sends many away into the bushes. She loves seeing fear in other's eyes. She bathes in it, letting it lead her on, feeding it and nurturing it. She loves other's fear because it adds to her power.
History: Born a loner, Arien still lives as a loner. Her history is almost nothing but pain and starving. Except for one thing: her mother. Her mother loved her as much as any mother would her child. And she hated it. Since the minute she was born. Well, okay, thats dramatic. Ever since she could open her eyes, could feel feelings, her first was that of hate. She hated the way she couldn't take care of herself. Couldn't fight, hunt.... live. As soon as she could, she turned up on her mother. When she learned everything her mother had to teach her, she waited. Waiting patiently..... waiting. Always waiting. For her to return... so that Arien could feel the sweet revenge she had wanted so long.
One night, she was waiting. As always. But this time, it would be different. Far different. As her mother walked in, not seeing Arien in the small bed of leaves in the corner, she screamed. "Arien, my baby!" Arien, outside in the bushes, cringed. She hated it when her mother called her that. She hated how much she cared. She walked over to the den entrance. "I'm here, mother," she whispered. The elderly wolf turned around to see her baby, the little pup she had always loved, flying toward her with her mouth gaping. She never stood a chance. Arien leapt upon her own mother, her sharp claws making her bleed as she pinnerd her down. Arien, being dramatic, couldn't resist some parting words. "Mother," she cooed almost lovingly to the stunned wolf below her, "I hate you!" The last word turned into a snarl, and Arien lunged at her mothers throat, spilling blood over the den's dusty floor.
And, since that night, guilt had stalked her, following her through the days, horribly reminding. Every time she got a drink, a drink just to keep her alive, her own appearence was there. A shadow of guilt. But not as much as one expected. It was just the connection between mother and child that made that shadow, not anything else. Not the look of astonished fear that had been in her mother's eyes at her death. Not the blood that had stained the den, the dead wolf, her own teeth and muzzzle. She loved that... the way she could make another wolf fear her. And now, many moons later, she longed to feel that again. She longed to kill.
Family: Speranza, a pup she abandoned (who I will probaby RP later)
Foi, her foolish careing mother, dead
Picture:
Gender: Femme
Age: 3 cycles
Description: Paws step through the undergrowth, so delicate and light for such a powerful creature. Dark dappeled fur becomes invisible withen moss-draped trees, black and brown spots fading into the dark bark of the trees behind her. Her emerald eyes become mere leaves upon a bush, but they speak of nothing a leaf has ever felt. They are full of pain, winding down and down into their depths of graceful despair. She looked just like a wolf about to give up, her lovely pelt unwashed, spiked up in most places by her own blood. She looked almost dead, but she had only a far-away wish of dying. Her usually high head is no longer proudley held high, instead, she carries it close to the ground. Not wanting to be noticed, admired.. even seen. Wishing to leave this world, she opens her soul only to the bright moon abover her.
A cream colored muzzle opens, pointed toward the dark sky. She let out a heart-rending howl. Foul to the ears that heard it, even she couldn't stand the pain in the song. Her tall ears fell back across her head, flattening, muffleing her own cry. The pierceing note dwindled out, and she hung her head, as if even such a simple task took so much energy. Feeling hot tears collect in her soft greeen eyes, she shook her slender head, not wanting them to come forth. She wasn't afraid of crying... But she was afraid of others seeing her crying, being so alone. So unwanted. She never wanted to appear weak, though she always did. Hearing other wolves nearby, she coils her slender body, and leaps away.
A foggy breath of hard panting is barley heard through the still air. Her lean body pounces through the bushes with barely a whisper, as undistinguishable as the far-off wind. With a almost black pelt, and a soft creamy underbelly, she blends into the forest with graceful movement, becoming one with the stillness around her. Thick fur that looks soft can bristle fiercly at the first sign of danger or a fight. Despite her beauty, she hates herself. An mirror image of her mother; that is who she sees every day at the pool, every day of her life. She feels haunted by it, and tainted by guilt.
(hah... mine isn't only appearence xD)
Personality: She is true, as well as to her name, to her title: Loner. She hates the word, despises, wishing to grind it down into the dust. But there it is, on the tip od the tounge of every wolf she passes: Loner, Loner, Loner... It makes her want to scream, to lash out at an entire pack, not caring if she died. For that is what she was, who she was. And it wasn't who she wanted to be.
Usually keeping her head low, she never want to stand out. Always been on the low side of things, she want nothing to change. Or maybe she does. To hear her own voice, sure and true, and to hear it speak orders, hear them be obeyed. Perhaps that was what she really wanted, but it was something she couldn't even comprehend. To be at the top, not at the bottom, begging for a scrap of food. To be chasing, not running away. Once she realizes this is really her wish, she will do anything to get there. Short of... nothing.
When Arien is fighting, nothing is too far. Nothing ever is. She can launch herself at the strongest wolf in the forest without hesitation, not really knowing nor caring about the consequences that might occur. Her eyes, usually filled with quiet longing, pain, and mourning, burn in battle. She can let out a cry so fearsome that her enemy puts down their heads, yipping in panic that sends many away into the bushes. She loves seeing fear in other's eyes. She bathes in it, letting it lead her on, feeding it and nurturing it. She loves other's fear because it adds to her power.
History: Born a loner, Arien still lives as a loner. Her history is almost nothing but pain and starving. Except for one thing: her mother. Her mother loved her as much as any mother would her child. And she hated it. Since the minute she was born. Well, okay, thats dramatic. Ever since she could open her eyes, could feel feelings, her first was that of hate. She hated the way she couldn't take care of herself. Couldn't fight, hunt.... live. As soon as she could, she turned up on her mother. When she learned everything her mother had to teach her, she waited. Waiting patiently..... waiting. Always waiting. For her to return... so that Arien could feel the sweet revenge she had wanted so long.
One night, she was waiting. As always. But this time, it would be different. Far different. As her mother walked in, not seeing Arien in the small bed of leaves in the corner, she screamed. "Arien, my baby!" Arien, outside in the bushes, cringed. She hated it when her mother called her that. She hated how much she cared. She walked over to the den entrance. "I'm here, mother," she whispered. The elderly wolf turned around to see her baby, the little pup she had always loved, flying toward her with her mouth gaping. She never stood a chance. Arien leapt upon her own mother, her sharp claws making her bleed as she pinnerd her down. Arien, being dramatic, couldn't resist some parting words. "Mother," she cooed almost lovingly to the stunned wolf below her, "I hate you!" The last word turned into a snarl, and Arien lunged at her mothers throat, spilling blood over the den's dusty floor.
And, since that night, guilt had stalked her, following her through the days, horribly reminding. Every time she got a drink, a drink just to keep her alive, her own appearence was there. A shadow of guilt. But not as much as one expected. It was just the connection between mother and child that made that shadow, not anything else. Not the look of astonished fear that had been in her mother's eyes at her death. Not the blood that had stained the den, the dead wolf, her own teeth and muzzzle. She loved that... the way she could make another wolf fear her. And now, many moons later, she longed to feel that again. She longed to kill.
Family: Speranza, a pup she abandoned (who I will probaby RP later)
Foi, her foolish careing mother, dead
Picture:
