Name: Amariela Windsong
Age: 24 and appears as such
Gender:Female
Requested Rank: Warrior
Pack:Venantium
Human Photo:
Wolf Photo:
Joining Keys: -Keys have been removed... blah blah blah.... ~Ze Doctor
Summary: The Beginning: How do you regal the tale of an orphan? How does one capture the emotions that batter upon a young girls’ heart? How do you transcend the borders of simple retelling to singing an odyssey? It is complicated yet the beginning, as she knows it, was shockingly simple. She was abandoned upon the steps of a church swaddled in blood stained sheets; left with not even a name, nor gifted note. A lady of God found her and with pity within her heart chose to raise the girl as her own. That is what was told to her, whether true of naught she has no idea. A lot of things from her childhood remains blank, a blurry slate harried with scribbling but hardly intelligible save the glimpses of incredible strength and speed. However, it matters naught, nothing does nor did upon the dawn of her fourteenth birthday. It was a harrowing ordeal, one that she shall never forget.
The pain was sudden and intense, an inferno blossoming from the depths of her soul. She could feel the tiny fluttering upon her skin as if alit with thousands of winged insects as her bones creaked and moaned within her. She watched in horror as her flesh protruded with the rearrangement, her throat quickly growing raw with her shrieks. Wails that soon die to whimpering cries as soft luxurious fur sprouts across what used to be golden brown skin and pointed ears emerge from her scalp. Her own hair recedes and her tail bone lengthens until a tail lies limply behind her. Yet, it is not until the bones of her face move that her mind catches up with her and she opens her mouth to scream yet again, but what comes out is only a yip. The change was complete; she was whole, yet alone deep within the woods that border her home.
She does not move for several hours, the only movement the gentle rise and fall of her chest as her wolf rejoices…as feelings of freedom wash over her. It feels natural, like it was meant to be and she cannot help but to acquaint herself with her other half. Then she tries out her paws, the earlier pain forgotten as she takes an awkward step, nearly stumbling as her human part attempts to orchestrate. Let me.It is but a whisper within her mind, a gentle urging as she steps back, allowing her wolf free reign to do as it sees fit while she stays alert in the peripheral background. As soon as her wolf owns the controls she is off, the wind whipping through her fur. That night she hunted. That night she discovered that she was different and that she was not the same as her mother. That night she left home to roam the streets, a petty thief, and once again an orphan.
The Girl: Cloaked with sepia she stands at 5’8 while weighing in at 176lbs. She has long shapely legs that give her the look of a model, or gazelle. Long, chocolate hair falls in soft rolling waves to kiss her mid back; tresses that are intermingled with umber. Her exquisitely painted hazel with cinnamon toned eyes are lined with long lashes and crowned with delicately natural arched eyebrows. Full lips round out her face, concealing pearly straight teeth within. Her bust is full yet not very big, enough for a handful, however it gives her enough curve to accentuate the smallness of her waist and the wide expanse of her hips. Striking she is, however nothing can hide the scars that crisscross her forearms. A testament to the hardships she endured at the hands of others. They; saturated with the hue of khaki, rise gently from the otherwise smooth surface.
The Wolf: Standing at a mere 8’6 she resembles her human half in makeup. She stands upon long slender legs, legs that give her an edge when it comes to speed. She is bathed in cream as base, ivory peaks out beneath her muzzle, chest, belly, and undersides of legs. Cinnamon also makes an appearance coating her ears and forehead, as well as sprinkled throughout her haunches and sides. Blacks and grays play throughout her fur as well but more so on the top half of her back and within her ruff. Her tail is a mismatch of cream, cinnamon, and kisses of gray. Her fur is longer than most and very thick to the touch despite the silken image. With her large ears and delicately tapering snout she slightly gives the appearance of a fox. Then to top it all off she has a scattering of black on her front legs, as if to mock the scars that dance upon her human form.
The Mirror: As a child she has suffered harassment, her mother was loving yet distant and she has learned that she is alone in this world. Depression flirted with her was her only companion for years so it was only a matter of time before she found the blade. Cutting was her outlet until she first turned and she will bear the scars until she passes. An awkward, self conscious child she has very little social skills, yet she craves acceptance. She wants to belong, to actually be a part of the crowd she watches every day. An anger resides deep within her however and as she matures will manifest itself. As a young adult she has managed to keep to herself and is usually of few words. That however does not mean she does not have much to say, she just does not know how. Besides it is much easier hiding behind a wall of silence. Quite efficient in whatever she does, she practices like a maniac behind closed doors, she never sets out to broadcast what little skill she does posses. They typically range from cooking, got to love working in a restaurant, to sewing. When she does frequent the library she finds that she is quite fascinated with computers and knows how to remove viruses and twiddle with code. However, the most shocking and hidden gift she has is song. To hear her sing would be to witness her grief for that is the lone coping skill she possess, sides the wolf, to keep the dark clouds of her past at bay.
Example Post: Each building becomes a blur as she flees, her hair whipping behind her, and her heart pounding upon the cage of bone that holds it. Sweat glistens upon her flesh, sparkling diamonds, as they cry in rivulets. She wants to look back to chance a peak yet she knows not to, is warned not to if the growling in her mind is any indication. Harsh cries of stop are uttered behind her, the bass of the voice and proximity causing a ragged gasp to escape Mari’s cracked lips. He is close. Run faster. She takes a quick moment to release an inner scream at her wolf. What do you think I am doing?!?! Her voice is curt and breathless to her wolf but she has neither the time nor the pleasure for niceties. Pain blossoms within her harden muscles, sinew won by the rigors of street living and refined by the daily sprints of freedom. Spotting an alley, she pushes more energy into her frazzled muscles, pumping her legs to run faster as she clutches her prize to her chest. The bundle is worth more than one could imagine, more precious than gold: a shirt. Not just any shirt but one that would cover her entire upper body and actually fit. A black fitted thermal it was and one she had just lifted from a clothing store. Little wonder she was spotted right away with her ill fitting jogging pants, old sneakers and tattered t-shirt, but hey what did you expect from a street urchin?
Eyes begin to narrow as her gaze sweeps the expanse before her, careful to avoid the bottles and whatever else lingered in the dingy space. Already the sound of footfalls were growing distant, the storekeeper either giving up are falling behind. Either or she would gladly accept but for right now she forged on, her lungs heaving with the effort. You have come a long way.Head jerks up at the silken voice, to discover that she was indeed headed toward the bridge and beach area. Safety. With a sigh she begins to slow her run until she was merely plodding along, the back of her hand becoming a less than efficient wipe for her weeping face. This side of town she typically did not venture far in, nor did she travel to far the other way, something in the air kept her wolf wary. Others like her lurked her and she was not sure if she would be welcomed. So far she had kept to herself if that was even possible.
Drifting toward the bridge she skimmed the water, knowing that the salt content would ruin her if she dared a sip. Instead she found a little place near the giant structure where as the day waned she would not be readily visible to the naked eye. Here, sheltered by the bridge but not quite beneath it, she settles down. Lazily she runs her fingers over the fabric of her thermal before lifting her torn blue shirt up and over her head. Just turning sixteen she was starting to develop breasts, and so far was finding them quite distracting beneath her shirts. She knew she would have to find a bra soon but had no idea on how to go about securing one. For now though she worried not as she pulled on the black thermal, admiring the way the cotton felt against her dirty skin before shifting into her wolf. Ears quiver atop slender head as inquisitive eyes, the same color as her human eyes, sweep the land. Different odors assault her senses, some old but many more new, but none terribly close to her. Satisfied she curls into a tight ball, burying her nose into her fluff of a tail for the remainder of the evening and night. The last thing on her mind before slumber, the insane amount of sizes bras out there.
This is her wolf
This is human inner voice
This is spoken speech
Age: 24 and appears as such
Gender:Female
Requested Rank: Warrior
Pack:Venantium
Human Photo:
Wolf Photo:
Joining Keys: -Keys have been removed... blah blah blah.... ~Ze Doctor
Summary: The Beginning: How do you regal the tale of an orphan? How does one capture the emotions that batter upon a young girls’ heart? How do you transcend the borders of simple retelling to singing an odyssey? It is complicated yet the beginning, as she knows it, was shockingly simple. She was abandoned upon the steps of a church swaddled in blood stained sheets; left with not even a name, nor gifted note. A lady of God found her and with pity within her heart chose to raise the girl as her own. That is what was told to her, whether true of naught she has no idea. A lot of things from her childhood remains blank, a blurry slate harried with scribbling but hardly intelligible save the glimpses of incredible strength and speed. However, it matters naught, nothing does nor did upon the dawn of her fourteenth birthday. It was a harrowing ordeal, one that she shall never forget.
The pain was sudden and intense, an inferno blossoming from the depths of her soul. She could feel the tiny fluttering upon her skin as if alit with thousands of winged insects as her bones creaked and moaned within her. She watched in horror as her flesh protruded with the rearrangement, her throat quickly growing raw with her shrieks. Wails that soon die to whimpering cries as soft luxurious fur sprouts across what used to be golden brown skin and pointed ears emerge from her scalp. Her own hair recedes and her tail bone lengthens until a tail lies limply behind her. Yet, it is not until the bones of her face move that her mind catches up with her and she opens her mouth to scream yet again, but what comes out is only a yip. The change was complete; she was whole, yet alone deep within the woods that border her home.
She does not move for several hours, the only movement the gentle rise and fall of her chest as her wolf rejoices…as feelings of freedom wash over her. It feels natural, like it was meant to be and she cannot help but to acquaint herself with her other half. Then she tries out her paws, the earlier pain forgotten as she takes an awkward step, nearly stumbling as her human part attempts to orchestrate. Let me.It is but a whisper within her mind, a gentle urging as she steps back, allowing her wolf free reign to do as it sees fit while she stays alert in the peripheral background. As soon as her wolf owns the controls she is off, the wind whipping through her fur. That night she hunted. That night she discovered that she was different and that she was not the same as her mother. That night she left home to roam the streets, a petty thief, and once again an orphan.
The Girl: Cloaked with sepia she stands at 5’8 while weighing in at 176lbs. She has long shapely legs that give her the look of a model, or gazelle. Long, chocolate hair falls in soft rolling waves to kiss her mid back; tresses that are intermingled with umber. Her exquisitely painted hazel with cinnamon toned eyes are lined with long lashes and crowned with delicately natural arched eyebrows. Full lips round out her face, concealing pearly straight teeth within. Her bust is full yet not very big, enough for a handful, however it gives her enough curve to accentuate the smallness of her waist and the wide expanse of her hips. Striking she is, however nothing can hide the scars that crisscross her forearms. A testament to the hardships she endured at the hands of others. They; saturated with the hue of khaki, rise gently from the otherwise smooth surface.
The Wolf: Standing at a mere 8’6 she resembles her human half in makeup. She stands upon long slender legs, legs that give her an edge when it comes to speed. She is bathed in cream as base, ivory peaks out beneath her muzzle, chest, belly, and undersides of legs. Cinnamon also makes an appearance coating her ears and forehead, as well as sprinkled throughout her haunches and sides. Blacks and grays play throughout her fur as well but more so on the top half of her back and within her ruff. Her tail is a mismatch of cream, cinnamon, and kisses of gray. Her fur is longer than most and very thick to the touch despite the silken image. With her large ears and delicately tapering snout she slightly gives the appearance of a fox. Then to top it all off she has a scattering of black on her front legs, as if to mock the scars that dance upon her human form.
The Mirror: As a child she has suffered harassment, her mother was loving yet distant and she has learned that she is alone in this world. Depression flirted with her was her only companion for years so it was only a matter of time before she found the blade. Cutting was her outlet until she first turned and she will bear the scars until she passes. An awkward, self conscious child she has very little social skills, yet she craves acceptance. She wants to belong, to actually be a part of the crowd she watches every day. An anger resides deep within her however and as she matures will manifest itself. As a young adult she has managed to keep to herself and is usually of few words. That however does not mean she does not have much to say, she just does not know how. Besides it is much easier hiding behind a wall of silence. Quite efficient in whatever she does, she practices like a maniac behind closed doors, she never sets out to broadcast what little skill she does posses. They typically range from cooking, got to love working in a restaurant, to sewing. When she does frequent the library she finds that she is quite fascinated with computers and knows how to remove viruses and twiddle with code. However, the most shocking and hidden gift she has is song. To hear her sing would be to witness her grief for that is the lone coping skill she possess, sides the wolf, to keep the dark clouds of her past at bay.
Example Post: Each building becomes a blur as she flees, her hair whipping behind her, and her heart pounding upon the cage of bone that holds it. Sweat glistens upon her flesh, sparkling diamonds, as they cry in rivulets. She wants to look back to chance a peak yet she knows not to, is warned not to if the growling in her mind is any indication. Harsh cries of stop are uttered behind her, the bass of the voice and proximity causing a ragged gasp to escape Mari’s cracked lips. He is close. Run faster. She takes a quick moment to release an inner scream at her wolf. What do you think I am doing?!?! Her voice is curt and breathless to her wolf but she has neither the time nor the pleasure for niceties. Pain blossoms within her harden muscles, sinew won by the rigors of street living and refined by the daily sprints of freedom. Spotting an alley, she pushes more energy into her frazzled muscles, pumping her legs to run faster as she clutches her prize to her chest. The bundle is worth more than one could imagine, more precious than gold: a shirt. Not just any shirt but one that would cover her entire upper body and actually fit. A black fitted thermal it was and one she had just lifted from a clothing store. Little wonder she was spotted right away with her ill fitting jogging pants, old sneakers and tattered t-shirt, but hey what did you expect from a street urchin?
Eyes begin to narrow as her gaze sweeps the expanse before her, careful to avoid the bottles and whatever else lingered in the dingy space. Already the sound of footfalls were growing distant, the storekeeper either giving up are falling behind. Either or she would gladly accept but for right now she forged on, her lungs heaving with the effort. You have come a long way.Head jerks up at the silken voice, to discover that she was indeed headed toward the bridge and beach area. Safety. With a sigh she begins to slow her run until she was merely plodding along, the back of her hand becoming a less than efficient wipe for her weeping face. This side of town she typically did not venture far in, nor did she travel to far the other way, something in the air kept her wolf wary. Others like her lurked her and she was not sure if she would be welcomed. So far she had kept to herself if that was even possible.
Drifting toward the bridge she skimmed the water, knowing that the salt content would ruin her if she dared a sip. Instead she found a little place near the giant structure where as the day waned she would not be readily visible to the naked eye. Here, sheltered by the bridge but not quite beneath it, she settles down. Lazily she runs her fingers over the fabric of her thermal before lifting her torn blue shirt up and over her head. Just turning sixteen she was starting to develop breasts, and so far was finding them quite distracting beneath her shirts. She knew she would have to find a bra soon but had no idea on how to go about securing one. For now though she worried not as she pulled on the black thermal, admiring the way the cotton felt against her dirty skin before shifting into her wolf. Ears quiver atop slender head as inquisitive eyes, the same color as her human eyes, sweep the land. Different odors assault her senses, some old but many more new, but none terribly close to her. Satisfied she curls into a tight ball, burying her nose into her fluff of a tail for the remainder of the evening and night. The last thing on her mind before slumber, the insane amount of sizes bras out there.
This is her wolf
This is human inner voice
This is spoken speech
Last edited by Amariela on Thu Jan 23, 2014 6:23 pm; edited 6 times in total (Reason for editing : Had to fix some errors.)
Tue Mar 14, 2017 2:09 am by 
