Post by Astarael on Aug 2, 2006 20:13:37 GMT -5
Surname
Astarael
Maturity
Four Winters
Façade
Her appearance is nothing more then the typical lupine. Her coat ranges in a variation of color. Her spine and cranium consist of a tinge of tawny; her chest and underside are extremely light sienna, almost ivory in certain areas. Shades of grey and marble are seen all through out her fur, weaving its darkest hues upon her vertebrae and the lightest on her belly. She has a small figure, only twenty-seven inches at the shoulder with a narrow chest. Astarael’s chassis is built for speed, her powerful haunches and limbs helping her to meet a dazzling forty miles per hour in a sprint. She is about sixty inches from her nose to the very tip of her tail.
The Past
A sea of ivory rested upon the slopes of the colossal mount, it had no beginning and it had no ending. It went on for miles and miles, pure and untainted. Tiny flecks were kicked up in a lone creature’s wake. The miniscule bits rose sharply, pausing for a second in the air and then descending with a sickening speed. Even though their abrupt change, they made no sound. The air was still tense and silent, speaking of no past, no future and no present. Her breathing filled her lobes, every inhale sounding like the pulsing of a drum, every exhale the crack of thunder. Her shrews churned beneath her, rushing forward to some unknown fate. The thrill of adrenaline flowed through her veins, pushing her harder, faster.
Do you ever question your life?
Fangs were bared; a flash of sharpened ivory caught her eye. She was being circled slowly and circling in return. One paw in front of the other, around and around. A vibration began at the back of her throat, coming forth in a threatening growl. Her features were alight with an aggressive snarl, the fur upon her spine bristled. Her tail rose, becoming parallel to the lithosphere beneath her. One. They paused. Two. Their eyes met. Three. They lunged, interlocked with a mass of limbs. Her claws searching for skin, her cranium lowered over her throat while her incisors sought precious blood from her enemy.
Do you ever wonder why?
She had slowed to a soft trot, the pristine snow no longer present. Large vertical trunks flanked her right and her left, slowly reaching towards the heavens. Her muzzle was at work, searching out a particular scent against the rest of the melodrama surrounding her. Finally she was able to single out one smell against the others. Her path altered, her steps slowed, moving much more stealthy. Her figure dropped, moving lower to the ground. She saw it before her, a fleck of grey against the confusion of mahogany and emeralds. She hesitated, waiting for the creature to relax and finally her moment had come. She dove forward, catching the hare off guard. After a short run and an even shorter fight her teeth sunk into freshly caught meat.
Do you ever see in your dreams,
Tension was rising within the pack, anyone could tell that. He was a year older then her, a position higher then her. She had spent the entire season keeping all others away from him. She had led him on; making it seem like their connection was unique, true, and genuine. She was one of the exceptions to the scientific books. Those things meant nothing to her. Love was just a word she had not heard of, it was not true to her, it was meaningless. And yet the time had come when all the work she had done would be paid off. Another male stood before the both of them. The silence growing, the anxiety rising and with a flick of his tail and the turn of his body, she was an outcast. They dove at her, desiring the fresh blood within her but he stood in the way, he leapt to her side. His fangs bared, he glanced over his shoulder, telling her to run. They attacked him, intent upon their prey of her. But she ran, she hardly even looked back. She was faster then them and it would take them some time to take him down.
All the castles in the sky?
Astarael had found herself a minute grotto just outside the reach of this new territory. The smell of wolf lingered in the air, soon she would be within another land; infecting it with the essence of her. Bright cerulean orbs gazed out from her hiding place. Mirth could be seen within those depths. A kind of joy that, once grazed her features, brought on fear by those who knew anything about her, not that anyone did.
Qualities
Astarael is more of the reserved type; the words ‘social butterfly’ hardly fit her. She is often quiet manipulative, using other’s desires and wants to make things go in the way she likes it to. She is unflappable, cold and unyielding. She has never fallen in love, never felt the warmth of raw emotion graze her heart or bodice. Astarael isn’t easily angered but when she is the phrase ‘hell hath no fury like a woman’s wrath’ really comes to life. She is protective of the little things she has and or desires and doesn’t take too keenly to unknown personas present in her plans. She is use to being seductive, using males for her causes only to drop them like a rock or betray them later.
Others
Application for the Alpha contest, and of course into this "evil" pack.
To clear things up on the "past" part. Italics are flashbacks, navy blue is...well just kind of a saying. And the black part is what is going on right now.