12-22-2010, 01:51 PM
OOC: Someone come luff (or hate) my little weirdo? 
For the record, she has not technically entered Inferni lands yet.
Character Name: Saraqael 'Destroying Angel' Kanga
Character Birthdate: November 3, 2009
Shifter?: Luperci (ortus)
Species: Mearns coyote
Gender: Female
AIM: IDateZombies
Currently played characters: No others.
How you found 'Souls: I used to play here, once upon a time, as Echo Seadance.
IC:
They fucking laughed at her with their hollow, pitch eyes and their ashen maws. They sprouted in rows, ganging up on her, large and imposing, an unbeatable army of ever-grinning jackals. Ah, no, if they had been jackals, she would have feared for her safety. These were the heads of wolves, humongous and full of air, the same in death as in life. In place of being petrified, Saraqael bristled with caution. She understood that that her kind were not always pleasant, and she risked being driven off, or worse, by approaching... And yet the heads goaded her. She was dared to touch them, and when one appeared, abandoned and red-spattered on the ground, Saraqael did.
First she penetrated its eyes with her clawed, dark finger, feeling the strange ridges in the holes. Giddy, she plucked a tooth from the thing's unhinged jaw and brought it to her lips, pressing it there to feel the smoothness, then CLACK! It did not break when she chewed. It fell to the earth, covered in spittle. There was no time to worry about the destiny of loose wolf teeth when mmm, it smelled! Dirt, piss, dust, and death flooded her nostrils as she shoved her pale nose into its sharp crevices and crannies hungrily, wildly. She cared not if the ridges scraped or cut her – the frenzy sparked by her curiosity could not be stopped. Her dark paw pads touched the skull's paper-dry surface and she listened to the rustling sound of her own rubbing hands. Ecstasy.
In the open, making tactile and sensory love to a deceased animal's persistent remains, Saraqael cared little for the fact that night was falling, that the gloaming was stretching out purple and orange over weather-ragged trees. It was winter, which meant that she was largely safe at night. Her pale body and dark markings were perfectly suited for the time, for she might dash behind the low-hanging branches of a conifer and be mistaken for nothing more than a stray scent on the breeze.
For the record, she has not technically entered Inferni lands yet.Character Name: Saraqael 'Destroying Angel' Kanga
Character Birthdate: November 3, 2009
Shifter?: Luperci (ortus)
Species: Mearns coyote
Gender: Female
AIM: IDateZombies
Currently played characters: No others.
How you found 'Souls: I used to play here, once upon a time, as Echo Seadance.
IC:
They fucking laughed at her with their hollow, pitch eyes and their ashen maws. They sprouted in rows, ganging up on her, large and imposing, an unbeatable army of ever-grinning jackals. Ah, no, if they had been jackals, she would have feared for her safety. These were the heads of wolves, humongous and full of air, the same in death as in life. In place of being petrified, Saraqael bristled with caution. She understood that that her kind were not always pleasant, and she risked being driven off, or worse, by approaching... And yet the heads goaded her. She was dared to touch them, and when one appeared, abandoned and red-spattered on the ground, Saraqael did.
First she penetrated its eyes with her clawed, dark finger, feeling the strange ridges in the holes. Giddy, she plucked a tooth from the thing's unhinged jaw and brought it to her lips, pressing it there to feel the smoothness, then CLACK! It did not break when she chewed. It fell to the earth, covered in spittle. There was no time to worry about the destiny of loose wolf teeth when mmm, it smelled! Dirt, piss, dust, and death flooded her nostrils as she shoved her pale nose into its sharp crevices and crannies hungrily, wildly. She cared not if the ridges scraped or cut her – the frenzy sparked by her curiosity could not be stopped. Her dark paw pads touched the skull's paper-dry surface and she listened to the rustling sound of her own rubbing hands. Ecstasy.
In the open, making tactile and sensory love to a deceased animal's persistent remains, Saraqael cared little for the fact that night was falling, that the gloaming was stretching out purple and orange over weather-ragged trees. It was winter, which meant that she was largely safe at night. Her pale body and dark markings were perfectly suited for the time, for she might dash behind the low-hanging branches of a conifer and be mistaken for nothing more than a stray scent on the breeze.