REAL WEREWOLVES. Bipedal, upright, slobbery. Werewolves are different from shifters, mmmmkay?!
Lots of activity even if mine can be sporadic at times.
Profiles required !
Real life photo face claims !
Lots of OOC!!!
Novella style play !!
Third person writing.
Character Biography (Optional)
The Uses of Sorrow|Mary Oliver
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.
✘An alpha who was never meant to lead. ✘All female. ✘Thirty Three. ✘Two Hundred and Five. [Werewolf Standards.] ✘Rogue and angry at the world. ✘Has an acquired apatite for human flesh over all. ✘Generally prefers the company of vampires. [Flexible/Can Change] ✘Has worked as a 'hell hound' of sorts for them. ✘Often has a hard time controlling the beast within. Can usually be described as a bit unstable.
A picture of her dead lover. An old Chinese style sword dipped in poison. Two Berettas ( 92 series ). A freezer full of raw meat. Limited edition Under Ageredlipstick. A large aquarium stocked with goldfish.
A china doll by appearance. Porcelain skin, titian colored eyes. Petite build, lithe form, long raven locks. In other words, completely deceiving.
✘Personality: Even if the she-wolf keeps an illusive consistency, she is not one who simply shows her belly when told to. A strong will and an impetuous nature are what contribute to the very make-up of this woman and she finds it all too easy to rebel against the natural order of things. She also feels that 'traditions' and old belief systems should at once be tossed aside, in return making room for new ideals.
Lien's bite is far worse than her bark and if crossed, she will find every which way to bring her opponent or enemy down without so much as shred of dignity.
She is loyal to those who show her loyalty, and is a smart ally to keep in the on going war around. ✘Lien usually keeps to herself unless dealing with unwanted guests, or enemies. However, she has been known to surface out into the city to explore what it must have been like to be a human, to jog old memories, to get some fresh air.
[Special Note ]: Tends to hang around cemeteries and sleep in them. When the rain pours and there is mud to be found , she will instinctively roll around within it.
[Flashback: Her Mind.] Year: 1839 I remember quite vividly, the weather that Shanghai had produced the night I became something more than a calloused human in a frail body. Rain had chanced upon the streets like a steady drum to further my decent into a destructive life. You see, the guilo were very much fixated on forcing trade with China,and therefore had flooded our country with a drug by the name of Opium. Naturally, Opium had become my very favorite addiction as I frequented less than reputable dens all through the streets of my birthplace. It had started with just a small taste, and sky rocketed into an even greater need. It was an excuse, a pain reliever and my dilemma.
I had met a man who would inevitably become the one who bit me . He was of British descent, my alpha, and I frequently recall his name on lonely nights. We did much together. We laughed, we made love, we cherished what was not our’s to take. We knew it had been short lived when he did not escape the first opium war,and our secret had been unraveled by locals with cheap superstitions and his conniving pack of wolves. I had never come face to face with a hunter, nor had I any knowledge of what they were about, until they had ripped my lover's grasp from my own, exacting a hell I had only read about in books. From then on, I was forced to wander the world alone, and make my own destiny as a creature of lore. My change was as painful as any, and as uncontrollable as most. I was frightened at first, but reeled myself back in when I realized there was much power to behold…