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Discord Handle: Helena#7447
Domestic cat
Date of Birth:
13th February 2016
Not Applicable
Capella is a cat; specifically, one of the calico persuasion, with patches and stripes of white, black, and orange. Her most distinctive features lie on her face. For one, her facial fur is divided in color almost perfectly down the middle. The left side is subtly striped with white and orange, while the right is solid black. Her other feature is her eyes, her left one a brilliant, icy blue, and her right, a soothing green.

Capella is a tad more concerned with personal cleanliness than the average cat, rendering her fur almost perpetually neat, with nary a hair out of place. In fact, grooming can almost be like meditation for the feline, and she does so even when she doesn't need cleaning if she has something to think over or she needs to relax.

Her full growth left her at slightly above average size for a calico, though she is usually of average weight. While in many cases a cat's size is a detriment against opponents of the canine persuasion, Capella attempts to turn it into an advantage with displays of evasive agility. Even when not in combat, she is light on her feet, and prides herself on padding silently through nigh any terrain, seemingly without effort.
Knowledge is power, and power is safety. So said Capella's mother, and the belief most certainly rubbed off on the growing kitten. Capella, however, took the belief a step further in her desire to know everything about the world, about those around her, even their private lives, and most of all, about those that might threaten her or those she cared for. Practicing these beliefs, naturally, led her to develop the skills in passing without detection that she prides herself on.

Pride influences much of Capella's personality. Pride in her abilities, pride in her appearance, pride in those she considers worthy. Sure, she appears to laugh off a slight, but beneath her unique visage lies one aspect of herself she does not take pride in: a vicious, vindictive streak paired to a long memory. When her desires for retribution are not tempered by her self-preservation instinct, those who have gotten on her bad side find themselves on the receiving end of a seemingly sourceless instance of bad luck, carefully arranged so as to be untraceable to her. She does, however, try to temper her revenge to be proportionate to the inciting offense.

Pride is also absent for the way she places her own safety above that of others, or as she puts it, her cowardice. When confronted on the matter, she is quick to deflect blame, but so to does she blame herself. Her opinions on the matter cause her to be harshly critical to others she deems cowardly.

When possible, however, she hides what she deems to be her 'lesser' qualities beneath a facade of kindness and curiosity. After all, the best lies are those crafted from truth.
Spica (mother, almost certainly deceased)
Eos (sister, location unknown)
Pallas (brother, location unknown)
An exhausted calico cat padded along atop a fallen tree, her eyes flitting around frantically in search of shelter. Her search was hurried, for not only was she tired but also heavily pregnant, and the kittens did not want to wait any longer to greet the world. Finally, her gaze fell upon the large gnarled roots of the tree on which she stood, and resigned herself to giving birth in their embrace.

Spica, for that was her name, was not always forced to huddle alone in some roots. Once, she was a valued member of a pack of Lupceri beyond the 'Souls territories, fluent in both High and Low Speech and considered worthy of teaching the pack's pups what they needed to be more than mere wolves. She'd even had a budding dalliance with a comely tom, with hints of becoming something more.

It was that tom who warned her of the coming chaos that would bring the pack to its knees. At first she didn't believe him, but the sudden death of the pack's Alpha convinced her to leave before things got worse. And that's how she found herself on a cold winter day in the middle of nowhere with a bellyful of kittens.

The birth, fortunately, was an easy one, resulting in three adorable balls of fluff mewling for their first meal. Spica curled up around them, shielding them from the chill air with her body as she fed them.

As her kittens grew, Spica found herself quite taken with the most unique of their number, the little calico she'd named Capella. She doted upon her daughter, to the point that she had to force herself to give her offspring almost equal attention. As soon as the kittens were old enough Spica began teaching them as much of what she knew as she could, and Capella in particular proved an avid student. Spica grew quite happy with her lot, despite what she'd had to leave behind her.

The happiness did not last forever, unfortunately. A remnant of the pack, left to roam in exile, happened upon Spica's scent. The embittered wolf had lost everything in the pack's disintegration. Spica's scent, that of one who had fled ahead of the troubles that befell them, reminded him of what he had lost and kindled resentment in his heart. He followed her scent and, upon seeing her frolicking with her young, fell into a rage. So wroth was he that speech was impossible, and Spica was left with no recourse but to distract the wolf so her terrified children could flee. At her repeated urgings, they did so, and the last Capella ever saw of her mother was her hind leg snapping between the wolf's jaws. The image stayed with her, feeding her budding cowardice.

On the felines ran, until Capella realized they should split up to confuse pursuit. Calling out her plan, she peeled off from her siblings, refusing to look back as she ran off into the undergrowth.
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