Esther Hennamin

Out of Character

DEAD
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Luperci
crazy cat lady
Myst --
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Wisconsin, USA --
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Fri Oct 26, 2012 8:26 am --


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266
Sun Oct 07, 2018 5:28 pm
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In Character

Female 22 Sep 2002
Coywolf Ortus
Esther is old. Old, old, old. Her fur has turned mostly to one dull grey color, except for her hair while in Optime form and her ears, which are both white. In her Optime form, she keeps her hair pulled up in a bun; sometimes knitting needles can be seen stuck in it, usually because she forgot she put them there. She doesn’t see as well as she used to, thanks to the cataracts that have caused her eyes to look more cloudy white than yellow--her left, and green--her right. Esther shakes when she moves and her head wobbles when she talks.

Being part coyote, Esther is small to begin with, and when coupled with her hunched back, she is very short indeed. In her Optime form, she reaches a mere 5 feet tall, although she used to be taller. She is also thin, weighing in at 105 pounds, and looks quite frail. Arthritis has slowed Esther down a bit; her joints are quite stiff and and her hands are a bit knobby. She also walks with the aid of a crooked wooden stick.

Esther doesn’t generally shift between forms anymore, mostly because she can’t be bothered with the effort. Optime suits her fine since it allows her to sit on her porch in her rocking chair and pet her many cats. If, for some reason, shifting to a different form was necessary, Esther would be about 30 pounds and 19 inches tall in Lupus form, with a dull grey coat and white ears. In her Secui form, she stands at 24 inches and weighs 85 pounds. She is relatively thin in both forms and walks quite slowly.

For clothes, Esther wears whatever will keep her warm. This usually consists of old, patched, mismatched fabrics and prints. The colors she wears are bright because that means she can still see them and doesn’t realize exactly how badly they clash, not that she would really care if she could tell. In the winter, she wears sweaters that she knitted, along with scarves and gloves that were made without fingertips so she can continue to knit while sitting in her rocking chair under a pile of blankets.
Ester’s mind is still there. Mostly. Okay she'd gotten a little bit senile. Every now and then, she doesn't recognize someone, which could be attributed to her eyesight, not just her memory. This is sometimes covered up with the use of pet names.

If someone seeks her wisdom, she gives cryptic answers that are generally useless. The things she says make perfect sense to her, even if she gets odd looks for them sometimes. The way she sees it: why would someone seek her advice if they won’t understand the answer? She doesn't mind when wolves come talk to her, though. Being around the younger generations makes her feel more youthful. If she likes someone well enough, she'll even give them an almost endearing pet name, such as 'turnip.'

The cats she cares for are the most important things in Esther's life, and her cane doubles as a weapon if she thinks someone is picking on one of them. She has terrible aim with it, and if she does manage a hit, the only real damage would probably be to the offender's pride.

Esther still makes all sorts of articles of clothing, sometimes with a specific person in mind, although she usually forgets who by the time her project is finished. If someone has recently had puppies, Esther will make all sorts of puppy things, but doesn’t always remember to give them to the new parents. She leaves her work out in her shop and either doesn't notice or doesn't care if others take or borrow from her, as long as they don't harm her cats.
As a younger canine, Esther was really quite lovely. She had creamy fur with a reddish hint to it, and was the one many of the males chased. Her pack moved around quite often, however, with wolves coming and going for their business. This made it difficult to settle down, although Esther's two sisters eventually did so. Their puppies were her joy as well and she helped raise them whenever she was around.

Instead of finding a mate, Esther traveled with her father selling their wares to a couple of nearby packs. They made all sorts of items with cloth, and she did much of the sewing. She eventually took over for her father when he became too old to continue.

Her small pack eventually disbanded and Esther continued selling to the couple of packs around her while visiting her family often. They had scattered between the other packs. Every time she returned, it seemed as though she had gained another cat with a story to tell about how she had rescued it. The cats rode in her cart or trotted along behind her.

Eventually, Esther decided that it was time to stop traveling. Her joints couldn't take the constant movement anymore, even in a cart pulled by a horse. By then, both her sisters had passed away and their children were even more spread out. So, she took her cats and found a pack to settle with. Esther hobbled on in, joined CdA, and no one told her no when she took up residence in a shop with a nice large porch.

Over the past couple years, Esther's arthritis has grown worse, so she spends more time on her porch than walking around. She still keeps in touch with her family through letters and enjoys the company of her packmates and especially her ever-growing population of cats.

Esther eventually settled in Cercatori d'Arte because no one told her no. She enjoyed the pack as it reminded her of her younger years, and they tolerated her cats just fine. The children of Esther's nieces and nephews have spread out even more, and she keeps in touch by sending letters to many of them.

The Cats:
Whitey: white male; cuddly, very friendly
Snow: orange female; playful, energetic
Sandpaper: buff male; curious, bold
Ashes: grey male; standoffish at first, a bit aloof
Tawn: buff female; jumpy, skittish
Nightshade: black male; calm, not overly friendly but tolerant
Kittensworth: tabby male; very playful and kittenish
Sunrise: orange female; curious, intelligent, does that head tilt thing
Sunshine: white female; friendly, likes attention on her terms
Whiskey: tabby male; very cranky, somewhat feral
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