Post by spade ♠ on Sept 9, 2010 22:15:37 GMT -5
Fire from the Night.
In me the panther sniffs the rose.
In me the panther sniffs the rose.
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g e n d e r .
Female
a g e .[/size][/b]
3 years
o r i e n t a t i o n .[/size][/b]
Straight
r o u t i n e .[/size][/b]
Nomad
p o s i t i o n .[/size][/b]
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d e s c r i p t i o n .[/size][/b]
Fiery red orange eyes gleamed from the depths of midnight black broken only by the splashes of blood red forming the two halves of a shattered heart held together only by thin bolts of crimson lightning covering her sides. A pair of mildly twisted ebony horns resembling those of an eland dipped in bright red, are found mounted upon that skull. She also bears a thin strip of crimson that starts from between her eyes running to the base of her neck. Her tail tip is also been dipped in blood.
a p p e a r a n c e .[/size][/b]
Visual 1, Visual 2, Visual 3, Horns
p e r s o n a l i t y .[/size][/b]
Poised, graceful, the very definition of a perfect lady. These were a few of the things that described this female. Born among the tribe of the Rising Sun she was taught from the moment she could open her eyes the ways of manners and discipline. Seemingly docile with a meek disposition she might seek to be an easy push over upon first introduction. But as always, there is a little bit more to this story. A fiery temper and a pure soul always lead this femme on the path of what is good. Loyalty and honor honed throughout her young life spoke of a history with the hunters of her former tribe. A betrayal in the past has left this ladies heart closed off, giving her a tendency to disregard and distrust the male gender. That doesn't mean hidden deep in a part of herself she refuses to acknowledge, there's a desire to be a part of something, to be needed or desired by someone. But it was a small voice, viciously silenced should it ever dare to raise it's head. Finally she carries the guilt of her past though rarely if ever does this guilt show when others are around.
h i s t o r y .[/size][/b]
Born to a strict mother, she wasn't surrounded by love. A fact that seemed to be accented by the strange shattered heart that mars either side of her ebony frame. Taught from the moment her eyes opened how to be a good and proper. The perfect lady,her mother would preach, does not need to work to gain what she wants. It was a saying that Firenight had hated from the very beginning. But in an effort to earn her mother's love she followed her mother's word without question.
It wasn't until she was two years old, a tom took notice of her. A stranger, at least to the sheltered huntress. She'd been an easy target, naive and innocent it had been nothing to swept off her paws and into the depths of her first love. Nothing to blind her to his true nature. In secret they would met out in the wild forests, or near the Gnarled Pass. It didn't take long before the truth came to light.
The night she 'thought' she talked him into joining her Tribe. Never did she consider he had dark motives, never did she think he would cause the bloodbath that claimed many lives in those unstable times. The warriors killed the tom that night, but not before he took five lives, her mothers included. The wild eyed look of hatred, the Tribe turned their attention to the one who'd brought that horror into their midst.
In fear she ran, like a coward, from all she'd ever known, into the wilds she had hunted everyday of her life. Past the Gnarled Pass and deep into the country she'd never even thought about crossing into back before everything. To this day she carries the guilt, both for the deaths and for her cowardice refusal to face her rightful punishment.
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