[P:0]
Post by Gretal on Apr 20, 2009 3:45:43 GMT
welcome to the world of wolves[/center]
Your Name/Alias :: Chia
Your Characters :: Gretal
Where did you find us? :: RPGC
and freefall into the abyss below
Name :: Gretal
Alias :: Gretty, mayhaps? it's already pretty short ^^
Age :: two years old
Gender :: female
Element :: air
Pack :: loner, right now.
Rank :: nonejust let yourself go with the flow
Appearance :: Gretal is a frail wolf, tending towards the smaller side. Her legs are long and her build is more slender than muscled; she has neither great strength nor stamina, but can summon up surprising speed in a short period of time. Her coat is light brown, the color of a fawn. Thick and ruffled, her fur grows in fluffy tufts and usually sticks up at an odd angle to her body. Her ruff, especially, is very long. The fur that trails down to her belly, and at the joining point of her ankles and the rest of her legs, is a soft, surprisingly pure white.
Gretal has large, luminous gold eyes, similar to those of many other wolves. They peer out from under her thick coat of dusty brown fur. Overall, Gretal is a rather malnourished-looking wolf, although that's how she looks even at her healthiest. She eats like any other, and if she exercises a little less it has no great effect on her build other than to decrease the size of her muscles. She just appears like that always; small, wraithlike, and as though liable to float away any second.
Personality :: Gretal is not a kind wolf. Put simply, she believes in number one and her priorities are ordered as such. She herself comes first; all else, all other wolves, follow. But it is greater than that, even.
She does not have a strong sense of vanity. This is by no means a great virtue; the only reason she does not think hugely of herself is because the other major aspect of her personality, her intelligence, comes into play. She is cynical, and she knows that there isn't a lot of herself that warrants pride or even deserves it. But if she is not impressed with herself, she is neither impressed with anyone else. Flaws are apparent to her; she barely sees anything else. Looking at another wolf, Gretal is not thinking of the endless possibilities for success, but those far more endless for failure.
She is, at least, focussed. When she puts her mind to something she will do it, and little can stop her. The problem is there is not a lot to put her mind to. Gretal claims to be very unsocial, and maybe she is. But often she seeks out company, if only other wolves for her to harass.
And harass she does. Gretal has a mean tongue, that is skilled in enticing the very worst traits of another out to the surface. She relishes the very action. But her tongue is snakelike; it can be used as often for evil as for good. Honeyed words and flattery pour out of her like water gushing from a stream, only in great profusion. All it takes is a wolf sufficiently higher up on the totem pole. (While Gretal has no great respect for authority, her totem pole tends to be according to brute strength; she has no love of being beaten about, and is less physically adept than most. Her sweetness depends on the size of your muscles.)
She has few redeeming graces. She is loyal, if you can convince her there is something worth it. She is rather opportunistic, which can be both good and bad. She is not prideful and does not demand attention; indeed, if the pressure is great she is apt to disappear. Overall, Gretal is a rather stymieing character, one whom you rarely see all the sides to.
History :: To sum it up, nothing very good had ever happened to Gretal. Nothing terrible or awful though; her life was a series of accidents from the beginning, but accidents happen. Gretal's mother was a loner who fell in love with the wrong guy; he stuck around, but not for very long. He was tired of living the lonely life and went and joined a pack, without letting Gretal's mother know beforehand. None of them ever saw him again. Gretal, at least, had no desire to; but her mother was never really okay again, and died a year after Gretal and her siblings were born. After that, they were on her own.
It seemed like nothing but bad things came upon them. Their father was only the beginning. Gretal was born in a litter of five, with one stillborn sister along for the ride. The four others, three males and one female, were the closest thing she ever had to true friendships. What they had was amazing, close, and more beautiful than anything else in her life; but it was fleeting. The four other brown fluffballs that were her only living kin soon disappeared as quickly as the rest of her family had.
First went the stillborn sister, whom she never knew but for their short time inside their mothers womb. Second went her eldest brother; he never even got a name, for after only a few weeks a hawk descended and there was just no more brother. The next ones lasted longer with her, but they were gone in quick succession when the time finally came. She can reel them off like a song. Anna, the clumsy, swept away in the first season's flood because their mother forgot she had two daughters. Jordan, the sweetheart, who got lost in the forest and never came back. And finally Sevan, the joker, who had danced on the edge of the cliff and laughed in surprise when the ground crumbled beneath him.
And then it was her mother, and then Gretal found herself alone, irrevocably alone, in a world she knew nothing about.
Roleplay Sample :: It was evening; the sun was sinking, slowly but surely, behind the horizon. The air was growing cooler and cooler with its progress. Her paws found themselves following a well worn path that meandered over the landscape of the valley, no fixed destination in mind. The bluesight had the luxury and the curse of nowhere that needed going; the cold was nothing to her long coat, so the oncoming night was no threat at all. The valley seemed hers totally, and she intended to take advantage of it. She would spend what remains of the light drinking in the uncomplicated beauty of it.
Celandine's slow amble presently took her to a shady glen, so cozy looking that she was loath to pass it by. So she turned and wandered in, lazily taking a seat on a springy patch of moss. The pale silver wolf looked around to ascertain her solitude, then laid her head down on her paws. Listening to the sound of the wind soar through the trees, she thought.
Cel was satisfied with her own company (who wouldn't be?) but the approach of winter sparked some concern in her. She needed to find a pack. Her days were not aimless wandering, but searching. A bluesight on her own stands little chance, least of all in a harsh winter. It would mean so much extra work for her, too, which Celandine hated. It wasn't that she was lazy, exactly; she just loathed prolonged exercise. Or short, for that matter. Getting to know the land, looking for bluesight packs, involved a lot of this. Finding one at last would give her more time to laze about, she hoped. Any pack would be lucky to have her, she told herself. Even though it was a given.
Motivated by her thoughts, the little wolf sat up again and resolved to walk a little more today. The sooner she found a pack, after all, the sooner she could stop all this meaningless exertion. She would start again soon. Maybe in just a few more minutes. It really was quite a beautiful glen, though, the kind you didn't find just anywhere. It would be silly to just walk away from that right away. Celandine tucked her tail tighter around her paws, happy to share these moments with herself.
Other :: none! other than I'll be making a picture for her soon, so don't worry.