Post by &&..anumoir,, on Jul 1, 2008 2:04:36 GMT -5
Name: Abby Brooke Terris
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Loyalty: Human
Position: Messenger
Referance: click.
Short Description: | very pale | ash blond | navy blue eyes | female | equine |
Physical Description:
Personality:
History:
Relations:
Shift:
Shift Description:
Roleplay Sample:
Other:
Is your form done?: Yes
Just tell us the snazzy little codeword:
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Loyalty: Human
Position: Messenger
Referance: click.
Short Description: | very pale | ash blond | navy blue eyes | female | equine |
Physical Description:
The first thing you notice when you see Abby is that she is strikingly attractive. Her body is slim and neat, only slightly curved. She is about 5"4, not terribly short nor terribly tall. Her skin is unusually pale -- this takes a way slightly from her looks -- almost ashen white but touched with a hint of peach coloring that keeps her looking at least like alive.
Abby's hair is ash blond, a faint shade whiter than her skin, and almost completely white itself but for the hint of cream. It is strait and thin, reaching just past her shoulders. Strait but messy bangs fall over her forehead, ending just above her eyes.
Her features are large and finely drawn, though distinctive all the same. Her lips are naturally faded pink, not red, though she never bothers to touch them up with makeup, or wear any make up at all for that matter.
Her eyes are the center of emotion; all gazes are drawn from her porcelain features to her eyes. They are a bit to large for her face; making her appear childlike in innocence, and a navy blue color that contrasts sharply with her fair complexion. Her lashes are faintly dark against her pale skin, though not dark enough to appear they have eyeliner; simply natural.
Abby wears normal clothes most of the time as to not draw attention to herself; though her looks are striking by themselves. She usually wears jeans, often ripped and frayed, and tank tops. She normally wears whites, blues, and other light, clean-looking colors that seem to match her fair skin and hair. She is often found barefoot.
She speaks with a distinct British accent.
Personality:
Abby is a quiet one. She is not one to talk at parties, nor even attend to them if she has a choice. She's not entirely anti-social -- just introverted. Though when she does speak, her harsh personality is revealed. Abby is not one to sympathize. She is often judgmental and biased, taking pride in her ruthlessness, opinionated, pessimistic, and cynical. All this is hidden behind a veneer of quiet loveliness; those who don't know her would think of her only as shy and sweet. Oh, she is shy. But with people she know she'll let her true personality lash out. She is lethal, and she loves that. She's not proud; she's not arrogant, but she does take pride in her pessimism. Despite this, she still appears high-spirited and bright, almost as if she enjoys being overly critical and mistrusting. Her humor is stingingly sarcastic or playful, depending on her mood.
Abby is definitely one for thrills. She'll do anything to get her adrenaline rushing, and doesn't appear to be afraid of a great many things. Her greatest fear -- which no one but her knows -- is death. All other things fall short, so in that case she is not afraid of a little thrill, a little pain.
She can still be foolish, and often acts amoral. She has not much loyalty to anyone in particular, preferring to roam free, and not much disturbs her. She could [quite literally] kill someone and not lose sleep over it. She can be fairly apathetic with people she doesn't know or doesn't know well -- though it's completely the opposite with people she does know. For them she shows a rare light of compassion and empathy.
She is certainly an interesting person to get to know. Quiet. Introverted. Cynical. Amoral. Reckless. And no one is quite like Abby Brooke Terris.
History:
Abby was born in a small town on the coast, where the beaches were white pebbles and the water was crystal clear. Her parents were poor -- and their only profit came from the lighthouse her father worked in, and the family lived in. Her parents were both human; and when as a young child Abby began displaying odd abilities, her religious parents grew fearful of their child, declaring her a witch.
She was kept away from other children and not allowed to leave the house, though when her parents were gone she would escape from the lighthouse to wander down to the beach and practice her magnificent abilities. Each day she grew more and more frustrated with her ignorant parents, who stayed far from her and even bled her, convinced that it would draw out the witchcraft in her blood.
When Abby was fourteen, she was fed up with being isolated and treated like some kind of freak by her own parents. She ran away from home; by this time having nearly mastered her extraordinary ability. She traveled sometimes by horse, sometimes in her human form, looking for some sign that she belonged somewhere.
Then she met Darcia, who opened her eyes to the world of the shifters. She finally had a place.
Relations:
mother//leigh
father//james
friend//darcia?
Shift:
equine
Shift Description:
Abby's shifted form is that of a horse. Her form is a smaller breed; slender, long-legged, and very fast. Her fur is short and sleek, hugging her slim, muscular form easily. Pale gray fur sports white dapples along her back and down her legs rather unevenly, in some areas the dapples no more than dust and in some they appear quite large. Her main and tail are silky and cream color, elegant gray legs ending in small gray hooves.
When she shifts it is as if she is there one second, and a horse there the next. It happens to fast for the eye to register, her shifting more nothing more than a blink, a subtle flicker of shadow. And before you realize it, standing her Abby's place is magnificent gray steed with a creamy main and tail. As if when you blink, the split second of closed eyes is enough for her to shift. Yet it does not appear bizarre or freakish, for your eyes seem to slide right over her flickered shift without being glued to the spot by the sudden change.
Roleplay Sample:
The russet-furred tom had pulled himself together just in time to notice, with a quickly accelerating heart-beat, that Foxstar was finishing up their ceremony. He stared up at the leader for what seemed like ages, though it had to only be a few seconds, his mind going temporarily blank. What was he supposed to do? Touch noses with Tidegaze!, a voice in his head hissed. His he felt his skin immediately flush hot beneath his ragged pelt, and the tom bounded forward hastily, almost tripping over his own paws as he stumbled up to his new mentor. He stared into Tidegaze's eyes and found only a sea of deep blue-green, warm and kind. "You'll do great, I know it." His new mentor murmured. The russet tabby relaxed ever so slightly, this stiffness of his tail easing as he stretched his neck out and gingerly touched noses with his new mentor.
Then, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, he sat back on his paws and curled his tail around them. Now it was Gorsepaw's turn to touch noses with Skydapple, he realized. A part of him squirmed with pity for Gorsepaw; pity that she had to have been given Skydapple of all cats as a mentor. True, he was one of the few warriors besides Pealstone who had yet to train an apprentice, but that was for good reason. The tom was bitter and dark; and never pleasant to be around. He seemed to resent anyone unlike himself; intelligent yet moody. Very moody, in fact he didn't think he had ever seen the black-and-gray patched tom in a good mood in his life, or pay anyone a compliment.
He was a real piece of work. And Raggedpaw just hoped Gorsepaw could handle him; the long-furred warrior was surely not destined to have an apprentice. Grimly, Raggedpaw wondered if he even believed in StarClan.
Other:
none
Is your form done?: Yes
Just tell us the snazzy little codeword:
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