Of a {Cynical} State of Mind

[sorrow]

(THE SMALLER FEATURES);

Character name: Cynical
Age: 5 years
Animal: Feline
Breed/s: Turkish Angora
Pack: Iris Pride

(I THINK I NEED A THERAPIST);

Personality: Cynical is the typical, sarcastic feline. She’s also dignified and refined, or at least on her definitions. Much the pampered princess, her strut is one with confidence and superiority. For her, wittiness arrives naturally, with snide comments rolling off her tongue like melted butter. Her purr drips with disdain sometimes, utilized in a persuasive fashion other times.

Oh a whole, she is very much mean spirited, delighting in others’ misfortunes. Though she may croon over such calamities in a falsetto tone, just to soothe them. Also, fawning over her beauty in a vain way is how she typically spends her time. And for protection from her enemies, her posse of admirers are there. Friendship, of course, is rarely bestowed on others, and when it is, it’s truly a gift.

Being of the Iris Pride, an exclusively feline pack, she possesses a natural, innate hatred for all canines. However, though reluctant to admit it, she does have an odd fascination about her fellow dog acquaintances. For some reason she cannot identify, she feels closer to dogs than cats. Meanwhile, putting on an indifferent façade towards these mutts does not lessen her stress. This trauma, she believes, is only natural for her to feel.

Three strengths: Cynical is expert at manipulating others’ to do what she wants (aka persuasive), has a beautiful frame, and has excellent reflexes.
Three weaknesses: However, she is slightly slower than most, is often plagued with stress, and is very much deathly afraid of water, a great disadvantage for her.

(LOOKIN' AT MY REFLECTION);

Height: 11 inches
Weight: 8 lbs
Appearance: Credits are on there and stock images only.

Cynical is a lustrous Turkish Angora with a creamy coat woven of silken threads. Her strands of fur are a delicate white, a plume of a tail curls from behind, weaving about in a state of perpetual motion. Ghostly white lashes frame fraternally twin eyes, one an iridescent sheen of sky blue and the other a hazy amber. A fine nose protrudes from her aristocratic body, dusted over with crushed rose blossoms. Wide ears perch on the top, unnerving in their large stature.

Her own size is not too impressive either. A somewhat small frame jauntily strutting is not one to amaze. However, she holds a fire to her that cannot be quenched. Slender legs take purposeful steps forward, flicking as though to spread the dust across whomever treads behind. Her body also curves much like a snake, with a personality to match. From her constantly curled upper lip, miniature but sharp fangs jut, sliding smoothly over her bottom lip without penetrating.

(REMINISCING LIKE HELL);

History: Perhaps the real reasoning for Cynical’s sarcastic temperament is because of her family. Many conclude she reflects her parents’ personalities. From day one she was mostly shunned, allowed only to hungrily drink a tiny portion of milk before being thrust away. For she was the runt of the litter of four, the tiniest bundle of skin and bones, the plainest patternwork of fur. The other three, Sadie, Lucille, and Demetrius, were of a cinnamon hue, with the odd patch of white splashing their backs.

In fact, she wasn’t even graciously granted a name, let alone a future. Often, it was a family tradition to name newborns on the spot, as well as predict what life had in store for them. But not for Cynical. She was self-named, after suffering through endless comments about her scornful way of speaking. And the future for her seemed bleak. So of course, much the melodramatist, she ran away from her family as was the inevitable. Knowing her family didn’t care, she abandoned all stealth and simply walked away, displaying her trademark strut of course. This was at the young age of a few months, after she had been weaned and after gaining some skills to aid her.

This treatment may also have affected her thoughts regarding dogs. Seeing as how it was felines, her own kin, who had mistreated her, then why not turn to dogs? Besides, she later learned that a small skirmish occurred at the den she had lived in, the one housing her discourteous family. Several dogs, it seemed, had taken assault upon the remaining cats. Cynical meanwhile, was safe miles away, not caring who survived, if any at all. And thus her hard heart closed inward, draining what little happiness and love she had left. Now she treads onward, facing the unavoidable to piece back together what’s left of her life.

Major turning points in life: At the age of a mere 5 months, Cynical abandoned her old home to start anew. Her family was attacked when she was 9 months old. She finally entered Hexasol City when she was 2 years old. She encountered her first domestic canine when she was 2 years old, and fought with one at the age of 2 ½. Also, she bumped into a member of her family, Demetrius, when she was 4, realizing that not all of her family didn’t care for her. And when she was almost 5 years old, he died at the hand of another male cat.

(ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU);

Roleplaying Sample: From another site, if that’s OK?

The day was just breaking. Radiant beams of light shot through the still air, pale with the newly borne sun. Puffs of clouds hung in the sky, which was washed of color. Thin trills split the silence, emitting from the dots of birds that nestled among the trees of the forest. But in the forest, none of that was known. Thin shafts of sunlight, mere pinpricks, filtered in among the showers of leaves that blackened the catacomb. All was dark and dreary here, under the thick canopy of emerald leaves, which would be burnt gold come autumn. But then, ‘dark and dreary’ was how Nightshade liked it.

Here in the semi-darkness, she was in her element. Slithering among the wisps of weeds, she was manning the forest that surrounded Lake Sedo. As sentry, she needed to keep alert, although there was a definite droop to her onyx black eyes. She had been up since midnight, prowling the passages forged by the vegetation that sprouted everywhere. Now, she was blazing a trail that led to the lake. She hoped that bathing in the lake would fully awaken her. Carefully, she sniffed the chilly, damp air. Her nostrils breathed in the scent of calmness… and something else. Sniffing again, she recognized this scent. It bore the trademark aroma of the wolves of her pack – Elite. Her thin belly hugging the smooth stones that littered the floor, she crept forward silently. Waving languidly among the sharp branches that snagged at her fur, she drew in the leather wings that unfolded from her shoulders.

As she began approaching the site of the lake, a fiery blur caught her gaze. Arching her neck over a particularly gargantuan boulder, she identified the scent to have originated from a fierce alpine called Demon. He was a dangerous warrior, displaying countless scars to prove his worth and bulging muscles to boast his strength. A slender tail hung behind, at the end of which flames licked merrily. Surrounding him were dry, dead foliage, singed burnt by his tail. And now, it was dangling precariously near the murky, muddied waters of the lake, in danger of being doused by the lake’s icy waters.

Gazing at the bundle of fire that burst from his tail, Nightshade deigned to notice a pile of twigs heaped unceremoniously on the path. She winced as her paws crushed them, causing a gunshot of a sound to reverberate through the empty, listless forest. Did he notice? she wondered almost fearfully. Again she allowed herself a momentary glimpse of him. For now, he was preoccupied with glaring at the fire that burnt his tail. She inhaled a few shuddering breaths of relief. If he had detected her presence, a huge blow to her pride and stealth it would be. Furious with her earlier mishap, she resolved to pay more attention to her whereabouts. So saying, she steadily trod on until she reached the water’s edge.

Your name/nickname: Sorrow
Age: [optional]
How long you've been roleplaying for: A year? Maybe longer.
A few interesting facts about you: There’s nothing really interesting about me. But for the sake of being accepted… I have no pets and no tablets. And I have my own sites as well.

[♥Picasso]