05-25-2010, 03:16 PM
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Character Name: Isra "Smith" Hajara
Character Birthdate: November 10th, 2006
Luperci: Verto
Species: Arabian wolf (canis lupus arabs)
Gender: Female
novaphase1 (AIM)
The climate was perhaps the hardest to acclimate to, ironically enough. The Arabian woman’s fur was not meant for cold or damp—her thin, light pelt was meant to prevent the desert sun’s harsh rays from overheating her. This may be warm for Canadian spring, but it still chilled her nonetheless. In the mornings, evenings, and at night the woman had to wear an old blanket as a shawl to keep away shivers, and that was how it was this morning as well. She had slept fitfully as usual only to resume her journey before the sun rose. She had walked for some way since making landfall further south, the cycle of the sun and the moon virtually unchanged. She slept and then she rose, she walked and then she stopped. Her trek was strange—she was so unused to directing her own actions that she had no end in sight. Smith’s body had not been her own to do as she wanted for years; it was so strange to ask herself what she wanted to do with the day when she was accustomed to being told and directed.
Her wanderings had unwittingly carried her through much of the Souls territory—she had passed Inferni and Phoenix Valley, passing between Dahlia de Mai and the intimidating city of Halifax before continuing southward to the peninsula. Smith would have eventually reached the end and turned around, but her continuous steps were stilled by a scent, of all things. For the first time in hours her gray eyes lifted from her endless path, turning to the east. It was a smell that she could probably pick out miles away, engrained into her mind as if branded.
Smith could tell that they were claimed lands. For the longest time she had not understood the marked boundaries (as European towns were all shared lands, and claiming was generally not practiced), though trespassing once or twice had educated her of that. But no, it was not the pack, but rather the very peculiar scent of fires kindled into existence to bend metal and twist it to the maker’s needs. Smith had lived with that scent fogging her mind for years, which was why it had stopped her a few moments ago, and now drew her a few more paces towards the boundaries. It brought back memories—nothing traumatic, but certainly curious enough to be stirred in this New World. In the end she was in no hurry, and she stood silently at the borders with few thoughts in her mind as her gray eyes looked out, seeing everything but noticing nothing.
Character Name: Isra "Smith" Hajara
Character Birthdate: November 10th, 2006
Luperci: Verto
Species: Arabian wolf (canis lupus arabs)
Gender: Female
novaphase1 (AIM)
The climate was perhaps the hardest to acclimate to, ironically enough. The Arabian woman’s fur was not meant for cold or damp—her thin, light pelt was meant to prevent the desert sun’s harsh rays from overheating her. This may be warm for Canadian spring, but it still chilled her nonetheless. In the mornings, evenings, and at night the woman had to wear an old blanket as a shawl to keep away shivers, and that was how it was this morning as well. She had slept fitfully as usual only to resume her journey before the sun rose. She had walked for some way since making landfall further south, the cycle of the sun and the moon virtually unchanged. She slept and then she rose, she walked and then she stopped. Her trek was strange—she was so unused to directing her own actions that she had no end in sight. Smith’s body had not been her own to do as she wanted for years; it was so strange to ask herself what she wanted to do with the day when she was accustomed to being told and directed.
Her wanderings had unwittingly carried her through much of the Souls territory—she had passed Inferni and Phoenix Valley, passing between Dahlia de Mai and the intimidating city of Halifax before continuing southward to the peninsula. Smith would have eventually reached the end and turned around, but her continuous steps were stilled by a scent, of all things. For the first time in hours her gray eyes lifted from her endless path, turning to the east. It was a smell that she could probably pick out miles away, engrained into her mind as if branded.
Smith could tell that they were claimed lands. For the longest time she had not understood the marked boundaries (as European towns were all shared lands, and claiming was generally not practiced), though trespassing once or twice had educated her of that. But no, it was not the pack, but rather the very peculiar scent of fires kindled into existence to bend metal and twist it to the maker’s needs. Smith had lived with that scent fogging her mind for years, which was why it had stopped her a few moments ago, and now drew her a few more paces towards the boundaries. It brought back memories—nothing traumatic, but certainly curious enough to be stirred in this New World. In the end she was in no hurry, and she stood silently at the borders with few thoughts in her mind as her gray eyes looked out, seeing everything but noticing nothing.