Post by spitfire on Dec 31, 2012 2:03:49 GMT
Sariah
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4 years • female • cat • caracal • iris pride • warrior
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PERSONALITY |[/font]
adaptable, courageous, independent, honest, reliable, callous, temper, unforgiving, manipulative
Sariah is one tough cookie, even if her size might give others an entirely different impression. She's a talkative cat, not one to shy away from conversation if offered it, but that does not always make her the nicest feline out there. She does have some positives though, even if some aren't exactly 'good'. When it comes to adaptability, Sariah does not mind change. In fact, she embraces it. Life is always known to throw curve balls--as proven with the death of the humans--and pitching a fit every time it alters is a waste of time. She changes with whatever is going on at the time, and tries to change pace as the seasons change. It is certainly beneficial in a fight, and being a warrior of the Iris pride it's not only an asset but a necessity. She's a fighter, courageous, and does not like to back down from any fight both verbal and physical. It's not even that she's stubborn (well, it is partially that) but the fact that she enjoys confrontations. Spending most of her time in the pride as a warrior, and time before that learning that the world is unkind and relentless, Sariah built herself a hard shell. She tends to be incredibly indifferent and ignorant to the problems of others, and if she does take notice it's difficult for her to ask after what is wrong. Her ability to console others is not exactly above par, if ever an opportunity arose.
Despite the calloused persona she seems to carry with her, Sariah is a reliable cat. Well, to those she trusts, like her fellow cats in the pride. If someone needs help in a fight, she's there. Or protection. She's not good for emotional support but she'll try her best for those she actually does care for. Because of her need to do things for herself it's difficult for her to accept the same things in return, which can often times upset others but it's not meant to be an insult. She merely doesn't like to rely on the support of others. Now when it comes to her reliability, it only goes so far. If you stab her in the back or turn against her, you can be sure that forgiveness will not exist. She tends to be quite vindictive and holds grudges for long periods of time, sometimes permanently. It's hard for her to accept apologies, especially if the wrong was something more than merely stepping on her paws. And if you do piss her off, then it's best to walk on eggshells because this feline can have a temper. Most of the time it is justified but if weariness or hunger comes into play she can tend to be a bit less aware about what makes her angry. She's an honest creature though and will tell you straight up what's on her mind, both good and bad. It can be beneficial to those she cares about, but it can be poison to those she hates. It's both good and bad.
Now even though she's not emotionally aware of many things and has the brutal honesty of one without a filter, Sariah is a decent manipulator. She's sly and witty, quick to think on her paws if necessary. She does not try and work things over in her favor unless absolutely necessary, because she would rather convince others using her claws and teeth than by fluttering her eyelashes and whisking her tail back and forth. She's not very feminine in that aspect. Not currently, at least. No one has really tried to get past her attitude to see if it exists.• likes | fighting, the pride, hot weather, evenings/nighttime, hunting, kittens
• dislikes | losing, injuries, loud noises, canines, winter, water (lakes, ponds, etc.)
• goals | to continue to be a benefit to the pride.
• fears | drowning
• strengths | cunning, adaptable, brave
• weaknesses | temper, emotionally inept, her size
• mental disorders | none
APPEARANCE |[/font]
The caracal cat has a naturally lithe body, though her muscles are taught and well formed after numerous fights. She has typical black tufts on her ears, which are fairly stiff and--unlike some of the other caracals--do not droop or flop. Her fur is a rustic brown-red color. Her underbelly and insides of her legs are a gray-white color with very faint spotting right below the chest, and the ears are the typical black back. The smaller frame does help Sariah to be light on her feet (even though most cats are) and makes her quick. Easy to maneuver. Her paw pads are a deep black, though some areas are a dark gray from the callouses built up from walking the streets of the city.• height | 16 inches at shoulder
• weight | 20 lbs.
• fur colour | red-brown
• eye colour | gray
• scars | one tear in her left ear, one running over the bridge of her nose, and many along her body (hidden by fur)
• noticeable features | the scar on her nose.
• physical disorders | none
HISTORY | [/font]
Most would say her past was full of trauma, but most of it actually occurred before her birth. Her mother Yalei was brought over from Africa by a wealthy man who thought attempting to keep caracal cats for pets would be fun, and had the funds to give them what they needed to function at his home. A few years into owning Yalei, the man was so thrilled with her that he decided to breed her. However, shortly after the man bought her a new mate, Shaman, the illness hit the humans and the two caracals were left to their own devices. Losing her owner was a hard hit on Yalei but she managed to cope with Shaman at her side.
Yalei and Shaman lived in the enclosure for as long as she could, finding whatever food possible. The food did not last for too terribly long, and the pair was eventually forced to leave their home to find a means of living. They would soon find out that the world was cruel and relentless, and they were completely unprepared for surviving away from the aid of their owner.
Scouting for food was not too difficult at the start, but when other cats and even canines began to roam the streets it became difficult for Yalei to scavenge what she could, her companion helping out in whatever way possible. They made quite the dynamic duo. A year into their time on the streets, Yalei became pregnant. They were frightened but excited at the same time, hoping that they would have the chance to grow up and be safe. The kittens, unfortunately, miscarried and the caracal was beside herself with grief. Shaman tried his best to console her but it was no easy road. They left their little shelter afterwards in attempts to find somewhere safer and with 'fewer memories', which was when they ran into a dog pack. Shaman was killed protecting his mate, allowing her time to escape. Yalei was once again grief stricken. While wandering the streets alone, she ran into some members from the Iris Pride. Her unfathomable hatred for the dogs was enough to win her over, not to mention it was a safe place to live. She avoided relationships for a long while, probably a good two years, but she eventually fell for a fellow caracal in the pride, who disappeared about two weeks into the pregnancy.
Within a few months the kittens were born. Three little bundles of fur, Sariah, Junta, and Parkour, were nestled into their mothers' side. Most of Sariah's early life was a blur, most memories brief flashes of play fights with her siblings and little hunting sessions with Yalei, but they were still happy memories she clung to. At about a year old the litter lost their mother to a dog attack. Sariah, though the same age as her siblings, took charge over their protection and became a quiet, brooding soul that did not talk much about who she was. She was angry about her mother's death. In this, she used her frustrations to work hard to become a warrior for the pride, something she's proud to be to this day. Her siblings still live with her in the pride, their bond decently strong despite Sariah's attempts to pull away in the first year after losing Yalei.
• season born | Summer
• place of birth | Hexasol
• family | Yalei (mother), Junta (sister), Parkour (brother)
• memorable events | her mother being killed by dogs, nearly drowning
SAMPLE | [/font]
The event passed by in somewhat of a blur; as soon as the cars with flashing lights squealed to a halt in front of the old hotel, and the men exited in uniforms, a loud noise sounded from behind the dog. In a split second a flash of pain coursed through her body before it went weak and fell to the ground in a heap, leaving her completely and utterly helpless. Kova lifted her head to try and assess the situation as best as possible, but it was not possible to see the wound without inflicting more pain upon herself. Resigning the endeavor, she turned her head to watch as a rather large dog took off across the street and jumped a man standing in the doorway of her home; clearly he was the intruder, but Kova was too focused on the scene to process the information. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment or two, her brain screaming to get up and flee the scene before any of the men or the other dog saw her and try to approach. That was the last thing Kova needed was publicity and sympathy. Feebly, the female made an attempt to stand but failed, the cold cement of the sidewalk meeting her again. How impeccable her timing had been. If she had been a few minutes earlier, then she would have been safe and sound inside of the building.
With a loud grunt, Kova ground her teeth to keep hold of the pain in her shoulder. As her gaze drifted about the scene of flashing lights and yelling and barking, she noticed that some of the men in uniform had rushed the man at the hotel and were restraining him while the dog stood there with a rather satisfied but wild expression on his face. It took that human to settle him down; she scoffed. How pathetic, unable to keep rein on yourself. Who needed humans anyway? Worthless. As the female exhaled to relieve the tension in the wound, a voice reached her ears. The ear closest to the voice swiveled to catch what was being said, and instantly her fur was standing on end. However Kova did not move—he did not seem intent to hurt, even if his voice was rather irritating. Then again, everything irritated her. It did not take much to do so. As he assessed her wound, Kova immediately flinched; it was not an everyday occurrence for her to have any sort of physical contact with another dog or any human being. Either way the dog forced her fur to lie flat and did not say a word; instead, she merely placed her head on the cement and stared off into the distance, wondering what she should do now. Take off and let the wound heal itself? Or let this dog help? If the dog helped, then surely the humans would too. That would mean going to the pound afterwards, and there was no way in hell she was going to go there. Maybe it’ll be a chance for free food and a roof over my head for a while. I can always manage an escape. It was an odd way to look at the situation, but it worked for one like Kova.
"You need treatment, a clean wound to the shoulder. Luckily it went all the way through, but the wound will become infected unless it's treated."
Kova felt her fur prickle again; was this dog telling her what to do? Did he honestly think that she could not take care of herself? How ignorant and foolish. Instead of lashing out, however, she merely grumbled and turned her gaze to focus on his. “And what do you think I will benefit of this? I’m a stray. I will wind up in a place that I don’t want to be.” Her voice was level and emotionless, as though trying to hide the fear that she felt welling up in her heart. Did the pound offer what she needed? Yes. But that also meant being at the mercy of a human hand and Kova was not quite ready to relent just yet. Of course she was in quite the sticky situation; stay untreated and possibly die or put up with humans and find a chance to escape later. Kova sighed and lifted her head a little, her ears flat against her skull. “But very well. I’m not quite ready to die yet nor am I foolish enough to run off on my own.” Although her gaze appeared soft, there was hardness evident in her piercing blue eyes that spoke more than words could express. “If your humans had not arrived, this wouldn’t have happened.” And she felt that to be true, even if in reality it was not. Had the men in uniform stayed put, the man would not have fired his gun and Kova would not be at the mercy of some house pet and his master.
• link to image of character | HERE.
• where did you find CR? | Had you bookmarked a looooong time ago. c:
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