12-27-2010, 05:36 PM
OOC: Oh noes. Sorry it got so long. >_< WC: 500.
IC:
Saraqael stood in front of the body-length mirror of her room. She was pleasantly naked, pure white all over except for her few marks of coal. Her eyes were always masked in shadow and her forearms and lower legs had been dipped in the blackest of ink. The orbs stared back at her, sickly lilac and gemstone teal. Curiously, she stretched, flexing upward with her arms locked above her head to watch her skin roll over her ribcage, the black crescent on her chest becoming taller and thinner. She cocked her head, relaxed, and turned to the side, examining her slight curves. Her breasts were tiny, her buttocks nothing to be proud of. She would never be a buxom babe, a thought that gave her cause to smile. She sometimes felt bad for those weighed down by overzealous fat deposits. The coyote would always be light and free instead, able to leap, slide, run, and fight, even in Optime. In the mirror, she wagged her shadow-tipped tail, curving to see the silvery V's that peppered her ghostly pelt in traditional coyote fashion.
In that moment the short girl decided to get dressed. It was not something she did every day but it was the best way to show off her wares and boost her confidence. With all her natural lack of coloration, she enjoyed sporting some flare. Flicking her emerald, turquoise, and sapphire bang with her pinky to fluff it, she took one last look into the glass then turned towards the wardrobe. The doors pulled open with ease. She had unpacked everything she had no intention of selling there, a vast collection of decorative fur bands, a scant few tops and skirts. Unhesitatingly she pulled out a bi-colored magenta and teal arm bracer, a neon yellow, green-spotted bracelet, and a pair of happy orange calf-warmers with red snow-leopard spots and purple, dangling charms. All of them laced up like human shoes, thongs threaded through eyelets to crisscross, and she tied them on with practiced ease.
Now ready, her bedroom door opened with an aged, croaky creak. Poking her pointed muzzle into the crevice, she sniffed and peeked. Satisfied that the corridor was empty, she sprang out, her door closing behind her. In three bounds she was at and through the west wing's entrance and in three more she had successfully flown the mansion without encountering a soul. It wasn't that she was avoiding anyone in particular but the hallways made her antsy and Saraqael was not in the mood for talking.
An overcast gray kindly shielded her way from a harsh winter sun as she made her way to the borders. As she understood, it was any good pack member's duty to patrol them and keep Inferni's territory unmolested by strangers. Despite that it could have involved speaking with someone new, the borders were an expansive enough route that she would take her chances. The only company offered by the outside area was a troop of passing, squawking birds.
IC:
Saraqael stood in front of the body-length mirror of her room. She was pleasantly naked, pure white all over except for her few marks of coal. Her eyes were always masked in shadow and her forearms and lower legs had been dipped in the blackest of ink. The orbs stared back at her, sickly lilac and gemstone teal. Curiously, she stretched, flexing upward with her arms locked above her head to watch her skin roll over her ribcage, the black crescent on her chest becoming taller and thinner. She cocked her head, relaxed, and turned to the side, examining her slight curves. Her breasts were tiny, her buttocks nothing to be proud of. She would never be a buxom babe, a thought that gave her cause to smile. She sometimes felt bad for those weighed down by overzealous fat deposits. The coyote would always be light and free instead, able to leap, slide, run, and fight, even in Optime. In the mirror, she wagged her shadow-tipped tail, curving to see the silvery V's that peppered her ghostly pelt in traditional coyote fashion.
In that moment the short girl decided to get dressed. It was not something she did every day but it was the best way to show off her wares and boost her confidence. With all her natural lack of coloration, she enjoyed sporting some flare. Flicking her emerald, turquoise, and sapphire bang with her pinky to fluff it, she took one last look into the glass then turned towards the wardrobe. The doors pulled open with ease. She had unpacked everything she had no intention of selling there, a vast collection of decorative fur bands, a scant few tops and skirts. Unhesitatingly she pulled out a bi-colored magenta and teal arm bracer, a neon yellow, green-spotted bracelet, and a pair of happy orange calf-warmers with red snow-leopard spots and purple, dangling charms. All of them laced up like human shoes, thongs threaded through eyelets to crisscross, and she tied them on with practiced ease.
Now ready, her bedroom door opened with an aged, croaky creak. Poking her pointed muzzle into the crevice, she sniffed and peeked. Satisfied that the corridor was empty, she sprang out, her door closing behind her. In three bounds she was at and through the west wing's entrance and in three more she had successfully flown the mansion without encountering a soul. It wasn't that she was avoiding anyone in particular but the hallways made her antsy and Saraqael was not in the mood for talking.
An overcast gray kindly shielded her way from a harsh winter sun as she made her way to the borders. As she understood, it was any good pack member's duty to patrol them and keep Inferni's territory unmolested by strangers. Despite that it could have involved speaking with someone new, the borders were an expansive enough route that she would take her chances. The only company offered by the outside area was a troop of passing, squawking birds.