Out of Character

Box --
26 --
Buckeye Nation - Ohio :] --
Full time Student; Vet Assistant --
Wed Sep 16, 2015 6:48 pm --
Thu Sep 24, 2015 4:30 pm

In Character

Female 13 Apr 2014
60% Timber, 40% Artic Verto
At first glance, she doesn’t look like much. She only stands at 25”, 34”, and 62” in her lupus, secui, and optime forms respectively. Yet if you look closer, one would be able to see her muscles and the time she enjoys putting into her physical fitness. Beyond that, she takes careful care of her coat in all three forms. However, she has a tendency to not shift into her secui form and therefore she might look a little bit more unkempt there.

Lasheal has piercing blue eyes, ones that are light blue. They look as though they had been plucked out of a glacier and set into her face. The pale blue eyes seem to match willingly with her silvery looking coat. She is white and dark grey all over, giving her that appearance. However, on the bridge of her muzzle there runs a line of black. The charcoal color always accents her back and down through her tail, coming to a blackened point at the end. Finally, her hind paws are the only parts of her link color- they are snow white, about a third of the way up her lower hind limb.

She has two identifying markings: a scar on the inside of her right hip, and a slit in her left ear, on the right side of the point that has come from a training fight when she was younger.
The werewolf doesn’t really fit into one personality type; you might want to call her a little chaotic when it comes to that. She has a mind of her own, taking everything another person has to say with a grain of salt. She has a back log of memories to reassure her that nothing comes from someone else without a price. Not knowledge, not physical help, not anything. This has become part of her, now seldom offering anything without a string attached. She has a way of straying from directly answering anything, unless she sees it as necessary.

However, she does have a sense of humor. It can be anywhere from dry to completely childish. She tends to keep her less mature remarks to herself, though. If someone can get past her exterior walls to get to know her, she would be forever faithful - the type of person who tends to give five too many chances. Yet, from being on her own after her pack had disappeared, the thought of trust or allowing herself to settle down again wasn’t in her thoughts. Lasheal isn’t one that is easily fired up, but once you get her there, the result is anything but contained.
Lasheal [lash-ee-al] Arklione [arc-lee-own]

Lasheal was a mistake, and not one that was going to grow on her estranged father. Once she was born, he was nowhere to be seen by her mother, Risa. That was no matter, though. She had been a strong person, even if her not so modest actions had resulted in offspring. Risa had raised her daughter to the best of her abilities. Teaching her not only to hunt and fight to ensure she could take care of herself, but how to make sure she would turn into a respectable adult. Other older males in the pack tried to help out too, giving her a strong sense of security.

The female loved her mother, but there was always an empty space where her father should have been. As she got older, she struggled with this reality and it continually haunts her. However, she did enjoy her life in the small pack her mother and she resided in out in northern Washington. That is, until a rather unthinkable event happened. Their leader one night had been murdered. This was odd on many levels because their pack had been so isolated.

The sun had not even risen yet and she could hear Risa barking, screaming at her to wake up. She had uncurled her dark body quickly and had shot up into a defensive stance, trying to figure out what was happening. Till this day, and probably forever, Lasheal could hear her mother hissing ‘Go, go, go, Balthazar is dead!’ She had stood slack jawed for a minute before the sound of snarls and fighting were coming in more clearly as her head became less hazed with sleep. She had received a bite on her shoulder from her mother an d she ran as fast as she could manage in no particular direction.

Years later she was disappointed in herself for not staying. She had been on her own since then. She had never found her mother again, and when she had gone back to the site, everyone was gone. No bodies, not even her dead leader. So she left, off to wander alone forever or perhaps find a place to belong. She didn’t know.