Post by Zethiael on Apr 25, 2005 16:40:43 GMT -5
Name--Zethiael
Gender-- Fae/Femme
Age-- 2-3 (or so). *twitch*
Fur color-- gray-black. However, her pelt is so close to black, however, it’s barely possible to tell.
Eye color-- Blood red.
Markings-- Her left paw (the one with her banishment mark) appears to be dipped in blood (has blood red fur) up to the elbow. 0.o One scar on her left paw, formed by the fangs of the Alpha of her old pack, signaling she was banished. A knick in her right ear, from her older sibling, who blamed her wrongfully of murder, to get on the Alphen’s good side (and have an excuse to get rid of Zethiael)
Jewelry-- None
Other accessories-- None
Mate-- None.
Pups--None
Friends-- none (x__o. Lot’s of “none”s.)
Personality--A solitary wolf. She has a great liking for shadows and such, because of how they have helped her in the past. She tends to avoid conversation with other wolves, and strays from company. Does not trust anyone, due to how trust had betrayed her in the past, and mistrust has saved her here and there. She is secretive, mysterious, but is sympathetic, too.
History-- Oh, boy… Here ‘goes: Zethiael was born from a sort of “pure” mother, who was an all-white, happy, docile, and adorer-of-life and light, fae. She gave birth to a litter of three during a time of scarce food and nourishment- a very harsh period of mid-winter, when the pack was forced to eat anything they could get their hands on. When she was born in a litter of three, suspicions of her were immediately arose. She was… /different/. She had blood-red eyes which really disturbed her pack members, and she always knew when someone was coming to her, or close to her- what were called shadow-senses by Zethiael. Whereas the rest of the pack were happy, bright, open wolves, she was a melancholy-like, dark, secretive and mysterious one. She liked to lag away from the rest of the pack, because she liked to be alone.. None of the other members liked to be alone! As time passed, more an more suspicions rose, centered around her. She was not one of them…<br> And yet, she was. She slept with them, she hunted with them, she cared for them, and she helped them. She came with the other wolves to listen to her mother’s storytelling; funny thing, whenever she was around, they’d be dark, demonic stories. She always tried to see herself in the demon wolf’s shoes, unlike the othes listening, who weer completely against him.. She bowed to pretty much everyone, appearing docile, but, in heart, was rather rebellious to her situation. They began to accept her. But then..
“Theft, I say, theft!” A wolf shouted; “OUr food store is empty!” Suspicions turned to Zethiael, although she was not guilty. Her older brother, Veeia, whispered with the Alphen…
“Zethiael did it, sir. I saw her sneak off and dig our stores up.” Zethiael couldn’t believe it- her brother was accusing her! She didn’t understand, but before she could think it out, the Alphen trotted toward her, his iron gaze fixed. He accused her of the theft, and told her that she must come to him at sun break tomorrow, and to prepare to leave.
She did what he said. Come sunrise, she trudged forlornly to where he lay waiting.
“Zethiael, at attention!” He roared. She obeyed.” You are a criminal here now. The moment you were born, you were an outcast- and we tolerated you. But theft is going to far…”
His diamond-sharp fangs swept across her left paw, scaring, branding her for life, with an X-shaped swipe on her left paw. She whined to herself in mind-speech, so no one could hear…<br> “Come this sunset, you will leave. You are no longer a concern to my pack anymore, nor a curse, as many believed. Come back, and you’ll be killed.”<br> He trudged back the way he came head held high, as Zethiael tried to nurse her bleeding scar. She slept under cover of shadows, as was her only shelter…<br>
“MURDER!”<br> A pack member had been eaten alive! What a horrid thing to do! NO one knew who did it. Everyone was puzzled. Zethiael watched in the background, trying to figure out how a wolf would result to cannibalism, as well as figuring out where she would go come sunset.
Once more, Veeia conversed with the Alphen.
“The outcast did it. Zethiael did it!” Veeia howled. “Barbarian! Sick wolf!”<br> Zethiael wasted no time, and yet veeia was on her as if he’d been shot to her as a bullet. He proceeded to maul her, managing to bit part of her right ear clean off, and giving her a scar down her maw..
I took a while, but Zethiael kicked him off, and fled. Before she did though, she vowed to avenge herself if possible- she knew what Veeia was doing- getting on the Alphen’s good side, and he got a chance to murder her.
Zethiael lived on the woods, now. She slept, as always under cover of shadows, and every day, her hatred for her brother accumulated more and more…<br> ((err… it’s more complicated and interesting, but I had to compact it. -.-))
Loves-- Shadows. n__n
Loathes--Giddy, happy, and light, bright things/someones. If you know what I mean…<br>
Fears--People hungry for power. When they get some power they want more. When they get more, they still want more, and it makes their people/pack suffer, etc. And betray them.
Example of your intro-- [DEFINETLY just an example. *twitch*] A lone figure walked through the shadows, sullenly. Her maw was hovering above the ground, smelling, searching for any dangerous scents. She dismally padded her way through the forest, paw-falls making barely a sound on all the dead leaves, as if she was not really walking, and floating instead. Her head lifted forlornly, searching the premises, assuring her she was alone. That was how she was always- alone. With only shadows at her side, only shadows to comfort, protect, and understand her… in a way, she liked it that way. And yet she did not. For Shadows did not create some one to talk to… so she’d talk to herself in her mind. Of course, that didn’t bother her too much- how could she talk, and why, anyways?
She gazed at the moon- oh, so beautiful! It shined on the terra, majestically creating shadows and darkness she could hide in, embrace with. Memories of the past came rushing back to her, and her left paw throbbed in pain after seeming to fell to smart piecing motions… fangs of the past, cutting in, seeming to make her x-shaped banishment mark one more.
In pain from her past, in misturst for the present, and in mistrust for the future, and everything else, her maw rose to the sky, And sung. It sung a long wail of her pain, her hate, her sympathy, everything… in the darkness of the shadows cast by light the fae howled her heart’s cry. In the lonely night, Zethiael howled- and, for once, she didn’t care who heard. For once, she didn’t care if someone found her. For now, she’d just pour her heart out into the oblivion of night…<br> Funny, though- the mournful chorus was there- you could feel it, shaking down into anyone‘s soul- but you couldn’t here it…<br>
Notes: Demisi, you know about the thing we did on the weekend, so that will be meh real intro. If you know what I mean. Eh heh….
And Zethiael is much more complicated than this, but, obviously I had to compress it. Majorly. x.0 And yet, it’s /still/ too big.
Gender-- Fae/Femme
Age-- 2-3 (or so). *twitch*
Fur color-- gray-black. However, her pelt is so close to black, however, it’s barely possible to tell.
Eye color-- Blood red.
Markings-- Her left paw (the one with her banishment mark) appears to be dipped in blood (has blood red fur) up to the elbow. 0.o One scar on her left paw, formed by the fangs of the Alpha of her old pack, signaling she was banished. A knick in her right ear, from her older sibling, who blamed her wrongfully of murder, to get on the Alphen’s good side (and have an excuse to get rid of Zethiael)
Jewelry-- None
Other accessories-- None
Mate-- None.
Pups--None
Friends-- none (x__o. Lot’s of “none”s.)
Personality--A solitary wolf. She has a great liking for shadows and such, because of how they have helped her in the past. She tends to avoid conversation with other wolves, and strays from company. Does not trust anyone, due to how trust had betrayed her in the past, and mistrust has saved her here and there. She is secretive, mysterious, but is sympathetic, too.
History-- Oh, boy… Here ‘goes: Zethiael was born from a sort of “pure” mother, who was an all-white, happy, docile, and adorer-of-life and light, fae. She gave birth to a litter of three during a time of scarce food and nourishment- a very harsh period of mid-winter, when the pack was forced to eat anything they could get their hands on. When she was born in a litter of three, suspicions of her were immediately arose. She was… /different/. She had blood-red eyes which really disturbed her pack members, and she always knew when someone was coming to her, or close to her- what were called shadow-senses by Zethiael. Whereas the rest of the pack were happy, bright, open wolves, she was a melancholy-like, dark, secretive and mysterious one. She liked to lag away from the rest of the pack, because she liked to be alone.. None of the other members liked to be alone! As time passed, more an more suspicions rose, centered around her. She was not one of them…<br> And yet, she was. She slept with them, she hunted with them, she cared for them, and she helped them. She came with the other wolves to listen to her mother’s storytelling; funny thing, whenever she was around, they’d be dark, demonic stories. She always tried to see herself in the demon wolf’s shoes, unlike the othes listening, who weer completely against him.. She bowed to pretty much everyone, appearing docile, but, in heart, was rather rebellious to her situation. They began to accept her. But then..
“Theft, I say, theft!” A wolf shouted; “OUr food store is empty!” Suspicions turned to Zethiael, although she was not guilty. Her older brother, Veeia, whispered with the Alphen…
“Zethiael did it, sir. I saw her sneak off and dig our stores up.” Zethiael couldn’t believe it- her brother was accusing her! She didn’t understand, but before she could think it out, the Alphen trotted toward her, his iron gaze fixed. He accused her of the theft, and told her that she must come to him at sun break tomorrow, and to prepare to leave.
She did what he said. Come sunrise, she trudged forlornly to where he lay waiting.
“Zethiael, at attention!” He roared. She obeyed.” You are a criminal here now. The moment you were born, you were an outcast- and we tolerated you. But theft is going to far…”
His diamond-sharp fangs swept across her left paw, scaring, branding her for life, with an X-shaped swipe on her left paw. She whined to herself in mind-speech, so no one could hear…<br> “Come this sunset, you will leave. You are no longer a concern to my pack anymore, nor a curse, as many believed. Come back, and you’ll be killed.”<br> He trudged back the way he came head held high, as Zethiael tried to nurse her bleeding scar. She slept under cover of shadows, as was her only shelter…<br>
“MURDER!”<br> A pack member had been eaten alive! What a horrid thing to do! NO one knew who did it. Everyone was puzzled. Zethiael watched in the background, trying to figure out how a wolf would result to cannibalism, as well as figuring out where she would go come sunset.
Once more, Veeia conversed with the Alphen.
“The outcast did it. Zethiael did it!” Veeia howled. “Barbarian! Sick wolf!”<br> Zethiael wasted no time, and yet veeia was on her as if he’d been shot to her as a bullet. He proceeded to maul her, managing to bit part of her right ear clean off, and giving her a scar down her maw..
I took a while, but Zethiael kicked him off, and fled. Before she did though, she vowed to avenge herself if possible- she knew what Veeia was doing- getting on the Alphen’s good side, and he got a chance to murder her.
Zethiael lived on the woods, now. She slept, as always under cover of shadows, and every day, her hatred for her brother accumulated more and more…<br> ((err… it’s more complicated and interesting, but I had to compact it. -.-))
Loves-- Shadows. n__n
Loathes--Giddy, happy, and light, bright things/someones. If you know what I mean…<br>
Fears--People hungry for power. When they get some power they want more. When they get more, they still want more, and it makes their people/pack suffer, etc. And betray them.
Example of your intro-- [DEFINETLY just an example. *twitch*] A lone figure walked through the shadows, sullenly. Her maw was hovering above the ground, smelling, searching for any dangerous scents. She dismally padded her way through the forest, paw-falls making barely a sound on all the dead leaves, as if she was not really walking, and floating instead. Her head lifted forlornly, searching the premises, assuring her she was alone. That was how she was always- alone. With only shadows at her side, only shadows to comfort, protect, and understand her… in a way, she liked it that way. And yet she did not. For Shadows did not create some one to talk to… so she’d talk to herself in her mind. Of course, that didn’t bother her too much- how could she talk, and why, anyways?
She gazed at the moon- oh, so beautiful! It shined on the terra, majestically creating shadows and darkness she could hide in, embrace with. Memories of the past came rushing back to her, and her left paw throbbed in pain after seeming to fell to smart piecing motions… fangs of the past, cutting in, seeming to make her x-shaped banishment mark one more.
In pain from her past, in misturst for the present, and in mistrust for the future, and everything else, her maw rose to the sky, And sung. It sung a long wail of her pain, her hate, her sympathy, everything… in the darkness of the shadows cast by light the fae howled her heart’s cry. In the lonely night, Zethiael howled- and, for once, she didn’t care who heard. For once, she didn’t care if someone found her. For now, she’d just pour her heart out into the oblivion of night…<br> Funny, though- the mournful chorus was there- you could feel it, shaking down into anyone‘s soul- but you couldn’t here it…<br>
.:~~~~*~~~~:.
Notes: Demisi, you know about the thing we did on the weekend, so that will be meh real intro. If you know what I mean. Eh heh….
And Zethiael is much more complicated than this, but, obviously I had to compress it. Majorly. x.0 And yet, it’s /still/ too big.
