08-21-2010, 02:04 PM
Alias:
Élodie Fortescue
Birth:
January 1, 2009
Mutation:
None
Species:
Canis Lupus Arctos
Gender:
Female
Contact:
PM
Method of Discovery:
http://alphawolf.gotop100.com/
Initial post:
She sat at the edge of the border, not a hair's breadth further in nor out. Her coat was hanging in mangled clumps off of her back, and her thick ruff was tangled in brush and feathers. She was the spitting image of a survivor: the kind that the Wild swallowed and spit back up without so much as a sideways glance. A ferocity most kindred of one that has lived a life of fear and regret shone clearly in her eyes and the tense set of her face. The velvet corners of her lips, caked in old blood and morning dew, were lifted to reveal a formidable pair of large, protruding fangs. But in a sharp contrast, her jaws were slightly parted, enough so as to allow her tongue to loll off the side of her mouth. In this sense, she resembled a panting dog, ears hovering just over the temples, eyelids held loosely at half-mast.
It was, in fact, her attempt at a pleasing countenance--a display of civility that far outpaced the short span of her early life. It was a behavior that echoed in the very fiber of her being, passed on to her through the genes of her father and mother, and their parents, and their parent's parents, and so on. Thus it was with this wolf, --a pitiful sight of jutting ribs and dull eyes--, following an instinct that was not only ingrained in her brain, but also a part of her spiritual soul, as sure as her bones and as deep as her howl.
And in this fashion, she waited.
Élodie Fortescue
Birth:
January 1, 2009
Mutation:
None
Species:
Canis Lupus Arctos
Gender:
Female
Contact:
PM
Method of Discovery:
http://alphawolf.gotop100.com/
Initial post:
She sat at the edge of the border, not a hair's breadth further in nor out. Her coat was hanging in mangled clumps off of her back, and her thick ruff was tangled in brush and feathers. She was the spitting image of a survivor: the kind that the Wild swallowed and spit back up without so much as a sideways glance. A ferocity most kindred of one that has lived a life of fear and regret shone clearly in her eyes and the tense set of her face. The velvet corners of her lips, caked in old blood and morning dew, were lifted to reveal a formidable pair of large, protruding fangs. But in a sharp contrast, her jaws were slightly parted, enough so as to allow her tongue to loll off the side of her mouth. In this sense, she resembled a panting dog, ears hovering just over the temples, eyelids held loosely at half-mast.
It was, in fact, her attempt at a pleasing countenance--a display of civility that far outpaced the short span of her early life. It was a behavior that echoed in the very fiber of her being, passed on to her through the genes of her father and mother, and their parents, and their parent's parents, and so on. Thus it was with this wolf, --a pitiful sight of jutting ribs and dull eyes--, following an instinct that was not only ingrained in her brain, but also a part of her spiritual soul, as sure as her bones and as deep as her howl.
And in this fashion, she waited.