Nevan

[synchronicity]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/2rfq8aq.jpg] NAME; nevan pronunciation; NEH-vahn nickname; n/a meaning; saintly, little saint, little holy one origin; Irish GENDER; female AGE; four and a half BIRTH SEASON; summer SPECIES; arctic wolf PACK PREFERENCE; dynsay RANK; scout FUR COLOR; magenta and cyan EYE COLOR; turquoise BODY BUILD; lithe UNUSUAL MARKINGS; Nevan's markings are bold swathes of cyan curling around her frame. Her forepaws are halfway colored in the brilliant blue shade before returning to the dominant magenta coloration. Her chest, underbelly and the inner portions of her thighs are all one continues stroke of vivid blue fur and her ears are no different from them. Extending along her sides to curl up into an arch over her back and just above her hips, are two stripes that mirror one another on either side of her body. Cyan can be found on her face, a smear of it located above either eye and another edge of the contrasting color right below them. Her tails are mostly blue-cyan and have wedges of magenta-pink fur lining them to the base. PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION; It is hard to explain what about this female is worth discussing, what aspects of her features are more prominent than others and which can be saved for later. But if one is to be wholly honest with themselves the level of difficulty in putting the wolf's appearance into words is oddly high since there’s so much of her that is set apart from her species to go through. Nevan is a petite, delicate looking creature whose shadow when cast can bring about a conflicting sense of foreboding as well as calm. Muscles are pulled taut and fine, solid mass that promises pain when provokes as well as amazing gentleness when the need for violence is not necessary. Graceful, her stride like an endless dance on spindly limbs, her gait is long and proud; there is no two ways about it. It is clear in how she moves her pride and her power, carefully leashed by a sharp mind that is often reflected in her pale turquoise eyes. Mesmeric and haunting eyes, regard everything with a strange detachment and impartiality as if she were living on the outside of everything regardless of her involvement. However, hidden in her right eye and only eclipsed by her pupil, Nevan bears the sign of the touch from a God, the white etchings of a pentagram shaped into the vivid blue iris. Wispy and quick she looks lean, body enduring and riddled with strength she is quite the formidable beauty, though chances are that the sentiment won't be the same when she is bearing down on you with the intent to harm. The sides muzzle is decorated with an interesting stroke of fur that begins from the corner of either eye and travels downward to loop at the edges of her lips. They do serve an interesting function, the stripe around her eyes reduces the glare of the sun, allowing her to look directly to spot enemies from above. It is unclear as to which color on her body is more predominant, each vying for space and seemingly matched evenly but she and many others choose to believe the vivid magenta/pink color is the foremost hue. Thus the cyan strands are her markings. Her throat, chest,underbelly are one long strong downward, decorating her thighs and tail and creating bands around her sides and tail. Her cheeks are colored the same way, just above her eyes and around her ears. She has not one, but four banded tails that are possibly slightly longer than the norm. AFFILIATION; chaotic nuetral SEXUAL ORIENTATION; heterosexual LIKES!; cold temperatures / winter swimming those of strong character the chance to oversleep DISLIKES!; thunderstorms waking up early those who usurp power and create unnecessary chaos individuals who are too submissive to express themselves PERSONALITY!; Nevan, while not yet aware, is a creature of dual natures to which she will later find herself fighting or control over the single body that houses two not entirely different personas. As it stands the female has yet to recover the very crucial details that will amount to her adult life and instead is enjoying the gentle mercies of being young and untroubled by a promise she isn’t aware of having been made. When such a time arises she will, by no choice of her own, follow the path previously decided but both entities harbored in the sleek format of her stature will be adamantly searching for the loophole where they can escape from the bindings placed on them both. For the moment though none of this matters, her mind too occupied on learning to be a pack contributor. While her youth warrants her exuberances and vitality Nevan is quite the mischievous little miscreant with a penchant for finding new and inventive methods to not only get what she wants, but to effect those around her in either a negative or positive manner. As it stands she doesn’t mean anything by her boisterous actions and all of which can be attributed to her still infantile modem of operation – not that she will grow out of it two or five years down the line. It’s an almost contagious sort of giddiness that she displays, hyperactive and in constant need of stimulation to the point where sitting still is not an option one can mention to the little she-wolf because its probability of achievement are equitable to the sun falling from the sky. It simply will not happen - or at least not in this lifetime. Childishly inquisitive, brimming with forthrightness if there is something she wishes to know one would be hard pressed to keep it from her long. She is a remarkably bullheaded individual whose needs override the contexts of consideration and privacy alike and is all too willing to invade any social propriety if it means uncovering that elusive tidbit of information. The kernel doesn’t even have to be the truth because unless she knows otherwise Nevan is very likely to believe what is told to her. She will convey blatant suspicion initially but by the time she has sauntered off she has already passed the bit of gossip off as the truth and will relay it thinking that she is right. Because Nevan is always right. Even when she’s wrong, she is right. Drawing attention to a mistake is the swiftest way to become greatly disliked, ignored or the target of vicious prying into personal matters involving the one to correct her. Hostility is something that she is well versed in. Sheer muscle memory functions on an uncanny level of familiarity that make it so the small female is capable of making all such displays of animosity, including glares of death and promises of torture even without the means to enforce her actions. Truly a little spitfire whose sense of self has yet to be questioned by the other half that slumbers in wait for the proper time to manifest. Both personalities too strong to conceive to the other will leave her in a constant struggle with the persona trying to override her and while they do not always work well together they are in for their best interests and will cooperate if the prize is worth the galling notion of mutual aid. Interestingly enough the bubbly and chatty female has no qualms with helping others, strangely philanthropic if one can believe it of the trouble-making, god-denouncing heretic in the making. She is easy to get along with but harder to maintain due to her moments (which are all too frequent) of capriciousness and while not flighty from fear, has the tendency to abandon anything that proves too much of a hassle without an equivalent payout. The similarities between the present and past Nevan's are more apparent with their habits - personality wise they are often like the sea and land. Nevan's slightly demented other half will surface eventually and she is no less craving of blood than the day she died. Coquetting and impish she is sure to be nothing short of an unholy terror, exploiting the weak and strong alike without care for crime or consequence of her actions. Defiant to even the Gods and believing that she can manipulate everyone to step to her tune. As she ages, even with contending with her vicious alter ego, Nevan sheds small pearls of wisdom, bringing frankness into an endearing light and displaying affection without reservation. In truth she is a somewhat kinder soul than the one she held before but she is by no means a good wolf who moves purposefully for the benefit of all. Her aims are ambitious and orbit around her, everyone else is an element she has yet it put in proper alignment. HISTORY!; `MOTHER: Kiske `FATHER: bartolome `SIBLINGS: verdanzi & rudra `MATE: n/a `PUPS: n/a Karmic justice, above all else, is an element proven inescapable during the throes of life and redemption is not easily found. Only in death does the offender find freedom, cheating their punishment. But there are but a handful of those who die, whether from wicked exploits or a chance encounter, who come back. Depending on how they lived their lives and who they praise in their final hours, occasionally their God will answer them and offer them a chance to do it all over again. She was not born to the traditional lands known to her species. A splinter group of the original pack had chosen to travel a great distance away due to differences in their social etiquettes and had since never been back to their homeland. They discovered a new territory to make their home and operated as they please but somewhere down the lines they began to thirst for more things than they had. More territory, more power, the mindset was shared throughout and Nevan was born among it, a child of war and famine. Many of the wolves of her pack specialized in the dark arts, voodoo and shamanism were rampant among them and they were swift, cunning creatures. She was no different but robbed too soon of her adolescence and urged to fight for the glory of their name. She broke somewhere along the battlefields, her mind shifted forcibly by the destructive powers until she could not function without inflicting some form of harm upon others. When their wars were over she was the only one who still kept slaves to torture, the only one among them to leave the pack and mutilate bodies for her enjoyment. It became a problem for soon there were no prisoners and nothing large enough for her to sate her bloodthirsty ways and she began to harm pack members. Stealing pups from mothers while they weren’t looking and denying any attempt to do so when caught. She was a menace and cast out of her tribe. Not that this stopped the derelict from going about as she always had, carving up bodies and leaving a path of death in her wake. However she was not allowed to continue her reign of terror for very long before she met her end by those who she had wronged, who felt justified in taking her life to avenge those she had stolen prematurely. She had laughed until her dying breath but barking out before the last of her life bled away for the God's to hear her call and grant her an audience. None answered her calls directly but she was not completely forsaken. She was reborn to a small pack of wandering wolves, their races too diverse to specify any singular one as the dominant species. Her birth brought on quite the uproar with her colorful coat and its vivid pattern, her extra tails too received quite a lot of attention. Her mother enjoyed the attention even if it was not directly on her and would draw the eyes of others to her daughter for all others to see. At the same time as her litter her sister had also given birth to two normal and all but forgotten pups who simply couldn't measure up to the little Nevan. Her dislike of her was only just hidden, veiled but always having an acerbic note whenever speaking to or of her niece. It was when one of her own pups was stolen by a fox due to the babysitters neglect, too busy entertaining Nevan, that the jealous aunt coaxed her sisters pup away from the pack under the guise that they were going to play hide and seek. Nevan, none the wiser, followed her aunt and was told to run and hide. That was the last she heard from her. She did not grow up alone. She had been abandoned on the lands belonging to the Dynsay and upon finding the pup took her into their care and has been living there since But her soul still bears the taint of her former self, lingering, waiting until her body is older to become the dominant persona. She has begun to have nightmares that hound her thoughts and not simply at night but day terrors follow her as well. She isn't yet aware that the horrific scenes she is witnessing are those of her past life. THEME SONG(S)!; "NOTHING CAN BE EXPLAINED", BY Shiro SAGISU. "waiting for the world to fall", BY jars of clay. MEMBER NAME; synchronicity RP EXAMPLE; Making an audit of the territory should have been a simple enough chore to complete. A quick lap around the southern border to then veer east, following the river northeast to arrive at the communal den. It had not been so. The expedition was damnably difficult, unfathomably so really and the poor conditions that Nevan found herself facing had hindered her progress to an irritating degree. Had she not been gifted with an iron will – or perhaps it was her obstinacy solely responsible – the female would have succumbed to the harrowing compulsion to return to the vale, areas far kinder than what she was traipsing through at present. With every step there was a new challenge to overcome. A tornado ripped across their lands and had spared them no luxuries. The northwestern edge of the Accolade territory had suffered before nature’s proclivity for destruction and the devastation that made their reality was neither pretty nor easy to maneuver around. While key roads taken by the pack were not obstructed by the encroachment of floodwater and carelessly discarded debris, other paths were now lost or dauntingly difficult to access. Namely the ones used to pass through the river of Pectus being the worst affected by the storm that had sounded a terrifying death rattle some days ago. This was her first look at the remainder, or it would be assuming she would be able to pull herself out of this mire. Well churned earth had absorbed the abundant deluge leaving the northwest topography swamp-esque and unstable. Nevan, heavier than some but not quite large per se, was discovering just how unstable the soupy soil was as she all but waded through the muck. Her every step was punctuated by a grunt as she wretched herself out of the mud that had now risen halfway up her limbs and collecting against her belly. The Alpha was more than capable of wielding her own weight efficiently enough but the accumulating mud was staggering her balance and the influences of the brown sludge would probably only worsen the farther she traveled. She was fighting an uphill battle – quite literally. The river was located on the other side of a small ridge, the climb made virtually impossible thanks to the slick road ahead. “What a mess this is.” Her murmurs lost to the silence as her sharp eyes beheld the torn landscape critically. There would be no prey here, of that anyone would know without needing to investigate as the she-wolf had, however more than that their routes were impeded upon now. Some may not think these back roads to be quite so significant when the remaining territory was lush and thriving from the press of summer, but any proper strategist would see the negative aspects of this. Escape routes would be downsized to a sparse amount of niches and paths with the hindrances from harsh weather conditions. True that there was little need for them at present but it was no less true that danger was a fickle mistress. There was simply no telling who might thirst for more than what they had. “This is absolutely ridiculous; we might as well not even attempt to make use of these routes anymore. Nobody will be able to get through here.” The words were flushed with irritation, both from the futility of her journey thus far and the encumbering disadvantages with these changes in geography. The only things that might find way to crawl through the muck might be a Soul-eater, like cockroaches undeterred by the foulest of circumstances. With a long-suffering sigh the wolf managed to peel herself onto a patch of semi-firm earth that squelched noisily beneath her mud-slicked paws and with careful work she was once more fighting her way back to the safety of solid ground. By the time she reached the salvageable ruins left by the tornado her body was one miserable ache. Where one pain ended another began and her breathing came in short, hollow gusts of fatigue as she slapped her hackles to the ground, grateful that she wasn’t sinking anymore. She’d never thought of it as a fear before but she decidedly did not relish the sensation of being sucked down to unknown depths. With a few more quiet huffs of air she turned her attention to her bedraggled form, appraising it with no lost feeling of disdain. Far be it from her to be the vain sort but even she had a measure of narcissism that regarded her mud-spiked fur with displeasure, an emotion abundant these days sadly. There wasn’t much she could do for herself here though; any sources of water that had existed had been reduced to sloshing rapids of sludge-tinted water. Had she been so inclined Nevan might have tried to find a basin somewhere closer to the Enchant but as it was her muscles throbbed enough to alter her destination toward the hot springs instead. A soak in one of the heated pools would be a godsend right about now and while it took the magenta-hued wolf a few tremulous steps before she could reset her sense of balance, she was swiftly on her way toward her desired location with a somber grin splayed over her mud-splashed visage, eyes occupied in other things than the road ahead of her and nose so thick with the scent of the earth that she was oblivious to the scent of animosity brewing in the direction she carried herself. It was only when the snarls erupted, fierce and territorial, did was her attention back to her present environment, ears snapping forward and straining to listen to the undulations of a fight. And not simply any ho-hum brawls between males of her pack but a border feud. WHERE DID YOU HEAR OF OUR SITE FROM;

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were the world mine[/b]
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ORIGINAL LAYOUT BY CHAY AT `LONG WAY FROM HOME!
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[Nahani]