Post by seeker on Dec 23, 2011 5:19:59 GMT -5
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SO CLOSE, I ALMOST COULD TASTE MY OWN GRAVE
{ my moment of selfishness caused by your pain - - - *
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SO CLOSE, I ALMOST COULD TASTE MY OWN GRAVE
{ my moment of selfishness caused by your pain - - - *
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• • NAME : Azkadellia Nemesee.
• • AGE : Just shy of three years.
• • GENDER : Female.
• • SEXUALITY : Heterosexual, however, she is not above experimentation.
• • BASE COLOUR : Ever the drama queen, she was besotted a pelt of varying hudes of purple from lilac to violet.
• • MARKINGS : Grizzling of pitch throughout her fur with kohl liner encircling her eyes and flicking backwards across her orbital sockets.
• • MUTATION(S) : Simply an extra tail, which she holds on a pedestal for it causes her both great amusement even while betraying her at moments of indiscretion.
• • EYE COLOUR : Her irises are predominantly golden with flecking of copper.
• • DEFECTS : As a young weanling and well into her yearling days, she was plagued with horrid insomnia as well as crippling agoraphobia, barely leaving her mother's side if possible. However, she soon grew from that awkward phase yet was left with emotional duress after trauma in her youth that resulted in patterns of mania scattered with brief periods of sweet sanity -- bipolar disorder. Flying mainly on what could only be described as auto-pilot, Azkadellia's senses have heightened somehwhat over the past year of her life as her mind slowly begins to fade, slipping into a darkness where she seems content in drowning.
• • PERSONALITY : She is the epitome of introversion and self-loathing. Azkadellia spends most of her time locked somewhere deep within herself, far off in a realm of her own creation. This has caused her to lose all social graces that would garner respect and friendship to most, leaving her frightened and alone. Her trust is virtually lost and she finds it hard to let down the shields she had built up around herself down. Most seem to be cautious of the vixen at first until her true colors begin to show past the hardened exterior. Deep down, she is still fascinated with the beauties of the world as any young pup would be, having lost all claims on youth with the loss of her family. She craves attention and the company of another, but has difficulties expressing her emotions to others after forging a life far from normal ack society. Fierce loyalty and a sharp mind blend well with her silvertongue and make for a fine speaker during negotiations when she can, of course, break free the confines that bend her to their will of solitude and ultimately self-destruction.
• • HISTORY : The twins' birth to their affluent pack's alphas was greeted with euphoria. After years of trying for progeny, her parents' were finally graced with offspring that survived their first few hours. Azkadellia was light in her brother's darkness, seeking shelter in her parents' closeness while Balthair sought comfort in solitude. It was clear from early in her life that Azkadellia would forever be a fragile creature, mental disease bending the vixen from birth. Still, she prospered knowing the love of her family, her clan, and that all was safe on the shores of her beloved wilderness that thrived with riches and wisdom far beyond what the young vixen could comprehend in all her naïveté. Her stocky body transformed -- stocky body turning lithe and nimble while her downy soft fur slickened, glossy -- and she soon spent countless hours with her sire in the woods, learning expert hunting techniques and the ancient ways of her pack. It all seemed calm; her world was safe.
All was not what it appeared, however, and unbeknownst to his pack, the young Prince, Balthair, had secretly been meeting from a lecherous seer from another land. Delusions of granduer soon blinded the gangly yearling that often fell prey to ridicule for being sickly and not certainly not the image of vitality and health the pack would look for in a future heit. His anger grew and with it so did the contempt not only for his pack but for the simple lack of sanctity his parents' spoiled his sister with. It was in that moment his plotting began, and soon Balthair was meeting under the shelter of the stars with his seer and horde of mange-bitten minions that had heard seedy whispers of usurp and damnation. The Prince saw his moment of opportunity to strike the morning of the first frost, slinking along the sandy beaches that crawled alongside the rocky peaks of his childhood playground. His former pack members were asleep, blissful, in their dens except for the Princess, having stolen away well before sunrise. She was on her way home, casually drifting the worn paths she knew as easily as her own body, when she heard the first shrieks of agony and hopelessness. Blood had chilled instantly in her veins, but still she found herself creeping closer towards home. The metallic stench of death had clung to the air and her stomach rippled, lips curling into a silent grimace. The bloodbath was beyond what her fragile mind could process until the limp bodies of her parents glistened in the rays of dawn. Balthair stood, unblemished and pure, amongst the horror with a twisted calm that made the vixen quiver where she watched from the safety of the forest. She knew he would have murdered her, his own twin, his heart, if given the chance, and had turn and fled to never again long for the shores of her homeland, becoming lost in a world marred now by longing and despair.
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* - - - almost threw this life you gave me away }
IN THIS INSTITUTION, FOR YOU NOW I PRAY
[/color]* - - - almost threw this life you gave me away }
IN THIS INSTITUTION, FOR YOU NOW I PRAY
