Post by ⋆Ravɛn on Apr 5, 2015 22:39:13 GMT -5
BASICS
AGE: 2 years
GENDER: Female
BREED: Arctic x grey x mexican
HEIGHT: 24 inches
APPEARANCE: Lilac eyes purchased from shop (unnatural eye color)
Vashti is a diminutive she-wolf whose characteristics can be attributed to her interesting mix of breeds. Despite the slender frame, her pelt is thick and plush, with her ruff and the area just beneath her ears being the thickest. Her coat is a pale cream in coloration throughout her body, save for on her face. A charcoal muzzle sweeps upwards in two thick lines to form gray markings around her eyes, dotted by several white “freckles” on the left side. Her nose is ebony in coloration, but most prominent of all features is her wide eyes, which are a soft shade of lilac in coloration. Vashti carries herself with a proud but dainty air, usually moving very briskly. When she speaks, a light lilting accent can be heard, which is a habit that she cannot break. Her ears are wide set and triangular with gently curved tops, and her paws are quite small with clear nails.
PERSONALITY
Despite the hardships and trials that Vashti has endured during her life, the diminutive she-wolf has clung hard to her beliefs. This is the most prominent feature of Vashti’s personality – her unwavering loyalty to her culture, her beliefs, and her Gods. For over half of her life Vashti has traveled, and it is this – along with her habit of bartering her “medium” or “clairvoyant” skills in exchange for shelter or meals, despite the fact that her tellings are entirely made up – that had earned her the title of gypsy. Vashti is a mysterious, mischievous femme who does what is pleasing to her: nothing more and nothing less. She is passionate about the things that she cares about, and her day to day activities revolve around one sole factor: survival. She has never been afraid to do what she must to live. She is not overly wary of strangers; quite the opposite, she will willingly strike up conversation with anyone who will talk to her, and she very much enjoys stories and tales, specifically of travel and places she has not been. Vashti is completely ignorant in the matters of love, as she has never harbored affection for anyone who was not a member of her tribe or family.
FATHER: Halvor
MOTHER: Eydis
SIBLINGS: Vidar, Alva
HISTORY
As far to the east as one can wander, far beyond the land of Ravensbruck and past the greatest mountains, rumors have told for centuries that a powerful pack resides in the craters and crags of Lok’Mahr, most notable for being a long inactive volcano. The pack are rumored to be fara, traveling gypsies of old, great story-tellers and shamans – and, in the case of old tales meant to frighten pups, spiritual beings who dabble in dark magic. For many years the pack had thrived, feeding off of the prey that flourished at the base of the volcano, most notable of which were known to be cougars. The faras warriors were said to be only the largest and strongest males, their hunters the quickest and fiercest, their shamans deft and skilled. It was to this pack of fara that Vashti was born, sucking in her first breath on a cool spring morning where she lay nestled beside one brother and one sister. It was in the recesses of a den that she grew, the rock pleasantly warm beneath her tiny paws as she spent many nights laying in contentment by her mother’s side, listening to the beautiful hearth-songs of the fara. From the moment that Vashti’s eyes opened, the pack – the tribe, as they called themselves – were wary. Her mother, High Priestess Eydis, was convinced that it was a sign from the Gods themselves that her daughter was blessed. She had mated with Halvor, Second-in-Command to the Warchief himself, and one of the only males who had been given a high enough position to mate with the revered High Priestess. For many moons Eydis could be heard adamantly insisting that Vashti was special, gifted with the laeti – the ability to communicate with spirits. As a pup, this did not particularly bother Vashti; in fact, she found herself reveling in the attention that she was granted as the pack eventually came to see her as an asset, a blessing.
As Vashti grew, however, she found that the attention and expectations placed upon her shoulders required her to mature far faster than she would have liked. She became solemn with age, constantly repressing her true wishes and desires for the good of the tribe. She swore that she would come to accept her position with dignity and severity, training under both her mother and the oldest Shaman of the tribe. As she began to mature, Vashti proved to be a beautiful, talented she-wolf by her first year of age. Although she was not of the breeding age, many of the warriors jostled for a place in her favor, quarreling and sparring upon themselves on many occasions. One particular warrior caught Vashti’s eye, but she never advanced past shy smiles and quick glances before Eydis corrected her – she would not be allowed to reproduce, her mother informed her sternly. She was too valuable. She had to remain pure.
By this time, Vashti was expected to be able to communicate with the spirits. However, which each passing day her belly filled with dread- she could not, did not know how despite her lessons, and the tribe began to suspect that she was not blessed to begin with. Which each failed attempt to enter the spirit world, Vashti’s tribe shunned her further and further until even her own siblings would not greet her. One early morning, before the rest of the tribe had risen, Eydis woke Vashti and demanded that she flee. The Warchief had decided that it was Vashti’s fault that she could not contact the spirits, suggesting that she had angered the Gods and that he could not risk letting her remain within the tribe in case she should bring ruin upon them all. He had planned to have her executed the following afternoon with her blood and soul serving as a sacrifice for the Gods. Young, terrified, and heartbroken, Vashti fled.
For a year she wandered blindly, fending for herself, praying to her Gods. She never lost faith despite her niggling suspicion that she had never been blessed to begin with; she never turned from her chosen path. It was shortly after the mark of her second year that her tired paws lead her to Ravensbruck, a land so different from her home, ruled by foreign Gods and plagued with slavery. She could wander no further; she was home.