Post by clove on May 16, 2012 3:06:33 GMT -5
CLOVE
NAME. Clove
NICKNAME(S). Just Clove. She will not tolerate any nicknames.
AGE. Two.
SPECIES. Wolf.
BREED. Arctic Wolf.
GENDER. Female.
HEIGHT. 29inches.
WEIGHT. 100lbs.
COAT. A shockingly snowy white.
EYE COLOUR. Bright green.
NOTABLE MARKINGS. Clove's left front paw is a light gray, the only color on her pelt aside from white.
PHYSICAL. Slim. That is the most appropriate word to describe the overall look of Clove, from her muzzle to her legs and chest. Being an Artic Wolf, she is naturally smaller than other breeds, but that seems to have taken an extreme in her case. Her bones are small and dainty beneath her snowy pelt, long legs accentuating her frame. Her chest is thin, and her stomach tapers into her flanks - although her thick coat makes her appear bulkier than she actually is, often working to her advantage when she is challenged. Clove's slight weight of 100lbs makes her quick on her feet, and what she lacks in brute strength she makes up in speed, able to take down prey that is often too fast for her peers. Her gait is fluid, whether or not she is running or walking, and she has the appearance of floating across the snow. When she is on more hard-packed earth, her gait takes on a bouncier aspect, her steps quick and high strung as she makes her way across the land.
Her muzzle is long and thin, matching her frame, and her eyes are large and equally spaced. Clove has quite unusual eyes for a wolf, as they are a bright green color, as if the leaves on the trees were responsible for forming them. Her pelt is not quite as unusual as her eyes, although it is a sight in and of itself. It is a pale white color, looking almost like snow has blanketed itself around her regally. It shines in the sunlight (despite how much she avoids it) and flows down her sides and tail in a puff of powder. One of the only distinguishing marks on her is her left paw, which is gloved in light gray and blends expertly with the rest of her pelt. In Clove's mind, this is an imperfection in her appearance, breaking the flow of her white pelt.
FEARS.
+ Large bodies of water; as a wee pup, Clove nearly drowned in a lake after chasing a butterfly too close to the edge. The fear has stuck with her throughout her life.
+ Strangers; Clove is a solitary creature, only adapting to pack life when necessary. When she encounters a stranger, she puts on a brave face, but deep down she is terrified.
+ The Disease; it's unnatural - and thus it it to be feared. It has claimed former allies and pack mates, and if she were to contract it, Clove has no idea what she would do with herself. The mutations alone are enough to ruffle her fur.
+ Loss of control; as independent as Clove is, she fears losing her power over herself to another, or falling ill and requiring help to stay alive.
VICES.
+ Devious; she will do most anything to get her way, including betrayl if she absolutely must.
+ Outspoken; despite her fear of strangers, and other of her breed in general, Clove will make her opinion known, and she almost never shies away from a fight - even one she knows will be detrimental to her health and well-being.
+ Overly analytical; she will examine relationships and situations to a fault - and occasionally, failure - even the ones that are beneficial to her, such as allies and pack mates.
+ Cruel; not a facet of her personality that comes out as often as others, but if pressed or vexed, Clove can be as cruel as a bear missing her young.
STRENGTHS.
+ Cunning; having grown up with speed rather than strength as her main weapon, Clove has had to be cunning to make her way in the world when it comes to feeding herself and managing the unwanted attention of others.
+ Speed; as mentioned above, a physical strength for Clove is speed. Her wiry, thin body makes her aerodynamic and quick on her feet.
+ Fierce; Clove can hold her own in a fight, and is incredibly strong-willed.
+ Intuitive; she has always had a keen understand of others, and the world around her, without quite being able to understand how she knows what she does. This is not to say she is prophetic in the least; Clove's intuition is more a vague feeling of knowing, without even having any experience in whatever matter is at hand.
PET PEEVES.
+ The heat; as an Artic wolf, this is only natural. Her thick pelt makes cooler climates more desirable for Clove, and when it is hot, she finds herself lazing around in the shade of a cave.
+ Pups; she simply cannot tolerate them. While still young enough to mother her own, she knows that if she were to have a litter of her own, it would be a struggle to put up with the precocious little beasts.
+ Incessant chatter; wolves and she-wolves who have nothing to say but a lot of words to bark out are never in favor with her. Not one to mince words, Clove only wants to hear your voice if you have something legitimate to say.
+ The Equine; although she keeps this bit of bigotry to herself, Clove does not trust the horses that the wolves are allied with, and she sees them as inferior beings.
+ Rashness; always one to look before she leaps, those who are rash in the behavior and decisions put Clove on edge. She distrusts rash wolves, there is too much room for error in their ways.
LIKES.
+ The cold; she loves the feeling of a cold wind blowing through her pelt - it brings back memories of her mother, and her litter-mates.
+ Those that have gained her trust; this should seem obvious, but with Clove, nothing is ever quite as it seems. It takes a lot to earn her trust, and once it has been gained, she does her very best to be loyal to a select few.
+ Darkness; she is far more comfortable traveling by night than in the bright light of day, with the sun beating uncomfortably down on her snowy pelt.
+ The elderly; in contrast to her dislike of pups, Clove appreciates conversation with elders she has come to know and trust. The she-wolf feels that they have much wisdom to share, having braved the elements and survived long enough to share their tale with her.
+ Beauty; put simply, Clove appreciates the beauty of things. Fiery-orange sunsets, the glimmer of freshly fallen snow, the smell of the earth after it has rained - these are all things she will stop to appreciate.
PERSONALITY. Clove's personality was greatly dependent upon the tragedy she faced as a young wolf. Of course, it didn't completely form her mind and the way she developed, but her bloody history had a hand in making her so distrustful and fierce. She is fairly shy by nature, and does not normally approach strangers, preferring to stay on her own and leech off of any land that she can. Only when she is pressed will Clove approach a pack or another wolf on her own, and even then it is with baited breath (and occasionally bared teeth). It is only when she spends quite a bit of time and effort to get to know another that she can begin to trust; receiving Clove's loyalty is a quest of its own, and not many have braved the waters of her psyche.
Cold and aloof are good ways to describe the pale-pelted wolf, who only opens her mouth to speak when she has something of merit to say. Spending most of her time alone, she does not get much chance to exercise her voice - or her opinions, for that matter, and she has plenty of them. She has a tendency to be outspoken at best, pushy and judgemental at worst, and she is not afraid to get into a fight for what she believes in. However, Clove is never rash. On the contrary, one of her downfalls is her overly-analytical mind. She despises rashness in others, and avoids it at all costs, even though she recognizes that she can often put too much thought into trivial things herself. It can put a strain on relatipnships, when she has them, as she is always looking for something to pick at; something that could possibly be wrong with the relationship, or the situation as a whole. Clove's over-active mind is not something she is particularly fond of, but it is something she knows to be true about herself.
Having spent the majority of her two years defending herself against others on her own, Clove can also be fierce and cruel when she is put in a bad situation. She is wiley with words, and can also be manipulative, spreading posion with her tongue as needed. She is haunted by her past, and is in part ruled by her fears, always worried that Cephas will find her. If he is still alive. Clove has also never given up hope that Erida is alive and well, albeit it rather blind hope, and the she-wolf always checks whatever area she happens to be in for signs of her one remaining tie to her family. Independent and strong, she is able to put all of these things to the back of her mind when needed. Clove is a survivor, and has been since she fled her home.
MOTHER. Nasya; deceased.
FATHER. Cephas; alive.
SIBLINGS.
Nyobi; deceased.
Deyus; deceased.
Erida; unknown.
HISTORY. Clove's history is steeped in bloodshed. However, before any tragedy struck, she was born in the North by the birth name of Zarya, in the middle of a snowstorm. Clove believed that this is what made her tougher than any of the other young wolves she ran into as a pup, and able to sustain herself despite what her future held for her. She grew up with much fable, told to her in intricately woven tales by her mother, as her and her siblings would sit around the older she-wolf at night fall. The pure white color of her pelt was explained away by her mother Nasya's grand stories, once again alluding to her birth, the she-wolf telling her that her unique pelt formed from the brisk flakes of fallen snow that settled upon her shivering body before she had even opened her eyes. Clove had the brightest coat out of all her siblings, all of whom had a fair amount of gray in their fur, much to their dismay. Despite their differences, Clove, her two brothers, and one sister got along famously, spending their days rolling and rough-housing in the rocks surrounding their home.
That was, until their mother was murdered, by none other than their father, Cephas. Having never been a large presence in their life, Cephas was little more than a shadow in their family, showing himself at meal times and for occasional play. Despite all of that, all four pups knew that their mother was madly in love with him, even though the wolf had glaring faults and a burning temper that bubbled below the surface at any given time. It was this temper that would end life as Clove knew it, and shattered her reality into pieces she would never begin to reconcile.
It was in the bright light of day that Cephas struck, wild with rage, his teeth bared and paws planted wide on the earth below him. Nasya, though afraid, kept her calm demeanor in front of her still young pups, trying to talk sense into her mate - but it was no use. Cephas had gotten it into his mind that Nasya was leaving him, heading for the South in the morning and taking his pups with her.
Thinking back on it, Clove is almost sure that Cephas' sudden break with reality had something to do with the Disease - not that it made any difference in the long run. She was forced to watch as her father attacked Nasya, growling and spitting as he landed on her more delicate body, ripping out her throat as easily as he took down prey. Everything was red; Nasya's pale pelt, the rocks, the snow around them, bathed in blood that shimmered in the sunlight. Crying out, Deyus lept to their mother's aide, against warnings from Clove and Nyobi. As his mother lay gasping her last breath on the ground, Deyus was pinned, his own life quickly stolen from him in Cephas' all-consuming rage. More blood, more death, and Clove was howling, begging her father to stop as he shook her brother's lifeless body in his jaws.
It was more than the three remaining pups could bear, and they scattered in fear, their paws thundering against the ground as they tried to escape their father. Clove could hear her father's growl close at her heels, and she could see the long pelt of her sister Nyobi at her side. All she could see in her mind's eye was blood, and she barely paused to look back as she heard her litter mate trip and stumble, howling as Cephas' jaws sunk into her flank, and Clove knew a painful death was close on the horizon for Nyobi.
Using her sister's mistake to her advantage (something she will regret until the day she dies), Clove rushed away, not stopping until she reached the dense inner forest on the border of the only lands she had ever known. Taking shelter in a hollow, fallen tree, she hid, thinking of nothing but blood and the pleading whines her mother had made in the last moments of her life. The memories plagued her until she fell into a fitful sleep.
She was awoken at first light by the sound of cracking twigs, and she peered out of her hiding spot, keeping her muzzle concealed and hoping against all hope that it was her sister Erida come to find her. To her horror, what Clove saw was the dark gray gloves of Cephas padding up the hill from her slowly, nose to the ground. She crept back against the back of the trunk, thankful that she had chosen a spot downwide of that hill in her confusion yesterday. Otherwise, her father would be staining the ground with her blood right now.
Luckily, Cephas passed quickly, and the smell and sound of him faded away with the cool air. Clove allowed herself to breathe freely once more, and made her way out into the forest, hoping to find her remaining litter mate as she crossed the land. The she-wolf had no real idea if Erida was even alive, but she held out hope. The thought of her only family left being gone was too much to bare.
Months passed, and Clove remained alone, traveling only briefly with two other young wolves before breaking away from the small pack they had formed. Being around others was too taxing for her - she was best on her own. She experienced more hardships than she thought was possible, surviving a cold winter and a shortage of food as she made her way aimlessly across the land, never giving up the search for Erida as she grew larger, wiser, and more able to take care of herself.
It was her first fight that defined how her personality would form without the cultivation of her mother and litter mates. As she stood over the wolf she had defended her prey against and won, the snow white wolf bared her teeth, having come into her own and triumphed. No longer was she Zarya, a defenseless pup, running from her father into the forest. No, she was Clove, and she was a warrior.
NAME. Pepper.
AGE. Twenty.
EXPERIENCE. 10+ years.
OTHER CHARACTERS. None.
HOW’D YOU FIND US. An advertisement on my own site, Smoke in Mirrors.
PREFERED CONTACT METHOD. PMs, or aim (message me for my screenname).
