08-27-2008, 03:39 PM
1. Character Name: Cicatrice
2. Character Birthdate (including year): March 21st, 2006
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci (not applicable to non-canines): Luperci
4. Species (not applicable to canines): Wolf
5. Gender: Female
6. Your e-mail: wolfgirl239@yahoo.com
7. A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M). AIM: WindSeekyr (for others, see my profile)
8. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Already here.
9. Initial post or three past examples:
The place reeked of the scent. The scent of others, of the small ones who her parents chased from kills, the ones who pretended to be Wolf, but were not. The ones who's pathetic shrieking attempts at howls sent shivers down the spine of the Wolf children when their parents tucked them safe in the den. Small ears flicked this way and that as the oddly hued pups, so vibrantly alike and different at once poked their small noses between the foliage as they crept back towards the den which they, in their innocence had wandered away from during some puppyish game of exploration. The Brother and the Sister thought they would be in trouble, for they, unlike their four less adventurous littermates, often wandered off, much to their parents' dismay hand frustration. Their sisters and their brothers would laugh and gleefully taunt at how they would tell the parents of the Brother and the Sister's indescresions.
This, as the two young would discover, would not happen this day, for while the four were indeed still at the den, no more laughter would dance in their eyes, or innocent joy race in their hearts. They were torn assunder like so much careless meat. The Brother and the Sister never saw the attackers, until they realized they were not alone with the dead.
An unconscious snarl rippled from the Sister's throat. She was innocent no longer, the realities of the world carved deep into her pelt and heart. Silvery eyes glinted in the shadow of the trees as the large female slipped through the shadows. One would think her odd markings would make her stand out in the fractured light, but no, they tricked the eye of prey. She would not be prey. Not now, not ever. Her prey were the small ones who's scent she tracked. She did not always actively hunt them, nor did she always kill them. She simply prefered to know her enemy.
Cicatrice, she sometimes forgot the name had not always been hers, knew there were others of her kind here too, for she would not be here if there were not. She would seek them out... eventually, but for now she was alone, as she had been since she scented the Coyote.
2. Character Birthdate (including year): March 21st, 2006
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci (not applicable to non-canines): Luperci
4. Species (not applicable to canines): Wolf
5. Gender: Female
6. Your e-mail: wolfgirl239@yahoo.com
7. A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M). AIM: WindSeekyr (for others, see my profile)
8. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Already here.
9. Initial post or three past examples:
The place reeked of the scent. The scent of others, of the small ones who her parents chased from kills, the ones who pretended to be Wolf, but were not. The ones who's pathetic shrieking attempts at howls sent shivers down the spine of the Wolf children when their parents tucked them safe in the den. Small ears flicked this way and that as the oddly hued pups, so vibrantly alike and different at once poked their small noses between the foliage as they crept back towards the den which they, in their innocence had wandered away from during some puppyish game of exploration. The Brother and the Sister thought they would be in trouble, for they, unlike their four less adventurous littermates, often wandered off, much to their parents' dismay hand frustration. Their sisters and their brothers would laugh and gleefully taunt at how they would tell the parents of the Brother and the Sister's indescresions.
This, as the two young would discover, would not happen this day, for while the four were indeed still at the den, no more laughter would dance in their eyes, or innocent joy race in their hearts. They were torn assunder like so much careless meat. The Brother and the Sister never saw the attackers, until they realized they were not alone with the dead.
An unconscious snarl rippled from the Sister's throat. She was innocent no longer, the realities of the world carved deep into her pelt and heart. Silvery eyes glinted in the shadow of the trees as the large female slipped through the shadows. One would think her odd markings would make her stand out in the fractured light, but no, they tricked the eye of prey. She would not be prey. Not now, not ever. Her prey were the small ones who's scent she tracked. She did not always actively hunt them, nor did she always kill them. She simply prefered to know her enemy.
Cicatrice, she sometimes forgot the name had not always been hers, knew there were others of her kind here too, for she would not be here if there were not. She would seek them out... eventually, but for now she was alone, as she had been since she scented the Coyote.