>>Shadows<< Within S H A D O W S

[fascination]

>>Shadows<< Within S H A D O W S

MALES

.X. Panda - American Shorthaired Cat - Iris Pride

FEMALES

.X. Key - Korean White Jindo Dog - Loner

YOUNG ONES

None.

THE DEAD

[fascination]

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[atrb=background,http://i725.photobucket.com/albums/ww252/DoubleSoul/K2.jpg] (THE SMALLER FEATURES); Character name: Key Age: 4 years, 8 months Gender: Female Animal: Canine Breed/s: Korean White Jindo Dog x Coyote Pack: Loner (I THINK I NEED A THERAPIST); Personality: Key is.. a strange dog. Which isn't uncommon in the city, considering the war and all that jazz. But there are many things which are odd about Key, if not life-threatening. First off: she's a cleptomaniac, someone who can't stop stealing. In her time locked in the dark room, the dog was literally driven crazy by all the keys which her father gave her and watched in amusement as she tried to open the the door. So instead of using them, she collected them, and this in turn turned into an obssession. Now that she's free, she knows very little of the world outside an office, and so has fallen back on old habits to comfort herself against the strange world. By those who don't know her, she is diagnosed as a cleptomaniac: someone who can't stop stealing things - or in her case, keys.. To her, she is simply lost as of what to do besides collect keys. She hasn't exactly had the chance to interact with other dogs and cats, and is usually intimidated by them. Instead of running, however, she may put up a brave front or simply try to blend in with the crowd. This is a huge problem, particularly, when she is talking with someone of a far higher rank in the pack or other packs. It often causes the specific other to become impatient with her, but she's simply shy - in that psychotic kind of way. Of course, there's something beneath that. Now, since Key hasn't generally been around her own kind for quite some kind, she reacts in.. odd ways. For example, if one were to say something sarcastically, she would take it literally. To be blunt, she has no social skills and isn't one for tough crowds. She's more likely to search out companionship one-on-one. Due to her father's mistreatment of her over the years, Key isn't particularly fond of the male species - and it just so happens that she finds females attractive, every now and again. Surprisingly, she doesn't find anything wrong with it and is rather open and honest about 'which way she swings'. Which is both. Key has been kept in a room for many years of her life - she doesn't know the meaning of the word 'run'. Or rather 'didn't', until she escaped from it. Now that she can fully express herself with others around, she finds it amusing to be energetic and boisterous at all times - perhaps to simply wipe out the dark memories with happier ones or from lack of exercise and such fun back then, not even she knows. Having had no puppyhood or her own, she's making up for lost time now, seeing life as a huge game to play with obstacles every now and again. Underneath the playing, though, is a calculating mind tinted with a hint of madness and a love of all things bad. Ya didn't see that one coming, did ya? Key is obssessive, to be plain. She doesn't usually stick to her obssessions for a long time - apart from the keys - but she's committed to them whole-heartedly. It can range from anything, from a particular dog breed to a certain place. Her reasoning for such things are strange - 'Because they have long fur!' ''Cause it's got this wicked tree shape!' - but never-the-less she's a die-hard obssessor. Three strengths: Three weaknesses: (LOOKIN' AT MY REFLECTION); Height: 48 cm Weight: 52 lbs Appearance: Key is a completely white dog: something which isn't odd among her breed canine breed, but strange for her other parentage. She doesn't really show a hint of the coyote blood in her veins, tricking most into believing that she's just a regular canine. This is not the case, though. One of the few things visible to her breeding is that she's got a slightly more muscled frame than a regular Korean White Jindo Dog, so she's a bit on the large side of the breed's scale. Her eyes are an unusual blue which would be considered odd compared to the many browns and hazels in the city. But this is simply due to her history: since she was kept in a room for many years of her life, her sight didn't have the proper, daily treatment of light and therefore did not change colour once she was born. Due to this, her vision is slightly unclear at times and this makes it hard for her to see when it's a very bright light. Mostly around midday. (REMINISCING LIKE HELL); History: BORN IN A >>BOX<<, LIVED IN A ROOM I was born in a box. Not many dogs are born in a box, so I guess that makes me.. special, in a way, ne? There's other kinds of special which I am, too, you know. But this is just the normal definition of special. The kind which makes you feel all happy inside - except, being born in a box was not a happy experience. So.. I guess it's not really that special after all. Damn. My mother and father, see, didn't want me. It was supposed to be one of those 'one-night stand' things where they spend a night for pleasure and forget the next day. If you ask me? It's pretty stupid. I mean, you can have mistakes like me if you do that all the time. And it's more common that it sounds. Trust me. Anyhow, somehow they got it into their heads that they actually had to be together if they were gonna raise their mistake. I'd have been perfectly happy raising myself thanks. Although, I probably would have died within a few days of birth so.. Maybe not. Ah well. Still, they could have left me to my wanderings sooner or later, when I was old enough to walk and talk by myself. But no, that didn't happen. See, my father has problems. And when I say problems I mean mental problems. The kind which scare humans to death and make you swerve to avoid the dog in question when you see them. He was a sadistic old guy, my dad. And when he had me, he wasn't too pleased that he was going to be forced to stick around with the luggage of a female and a pup. So, having been restrained from his regular sadistic activities, he found a key and a room built by the humans in an apartment - and locked me in there once I was old enough to live without my mother. Smart, eh? And so, I spent my life in that room. Four, long years waiting in the darkness. And outside, he would taunt me. That I would never see the light of day again. TEASE ME, BUT NEVER PLEASE ME It's weird, but I never really hated my parents, despite what they did to me. After all, it's kinda my fault, in some twisted way. If I didn't exist, this never would have happened. Dad would be off, screwing females and wreaking havoc, my mother would happily be making a life off the fat rats in the garbage cans and I would be an oblivious, tiny thing somewhere within her - without the conscious to feel pain or emotions. Scratch that, I wouldn't even be able to think. Which is kind of preferable to what happened when I was locked in that dark room. First off, was the loss of direction. I couldn't tell which was east or west. The blinds in the office were drawn tightly: so much so that I could not bite or claw them open to see the daylight. Gradually, I started to find it hard to walk. I was cursed to sit in the dark, I had thought back then. Although, it was kinda fun, for the first few days. I spent my time in the darkness - for about a week - playing with the extremely faint shadows. It was amusing, sometimes, to pretend my shadow was an other dog. I could talk to her, and she would never argue back. She always agreed with me, and never questioned or berated me when I did wrong. But over time, the room smelled revolting, since I had to make dirt in there and eat what was pushed beneath the door, squashed as it came under. My sense of smell dulled, my muscles weakened, and within the first month I became a boneless bag of fur. I couldn’t speak, though whining through the door wouldn’t do anything. Most of the time, I lacked the energy to move, so I lay by the door all the time, hungrily awaiting my daily rations. Sometimes, I had a kind of vague hope that there was someone else out there, from the tiny shadows which passed through the daylight under the door. But it never was: just the rats, going about their business in the building. In brief moments of starved madness, I used to wonder what they did. My days - or nights, but if you count them that way, it was always nights - were spent waiting for two things to occur: the time of feeding and the time of keys. You're probably wondering what the time of keys is - since it's rather obvious what the former was. Well, as I said before, my father wasn't happy being tied down by a family. He got a kick out of seeing others lose hope. And although he couldn't see me, he could hear me, so he got to work and managed to create a way to torture me: through the keys. His many ramblings, through the wooden obstacle of the door, were of how he was the only one with the key to unlock me and if I was good and did what he said, he'd push it under the door and let me come out. So I did what he said, though sometimes, it was hard. He told me to throw myself at the walls, to yelp in pain, to scream to the skies to try and kill myself. And I did it all, in the half-mad haze which was slowly starting to cloud my vision. Some of his orders weren't half-bad, really. I enjoyed some of them. When I was asked to howl at the skies, it helped release some of the tension in my body. So I did it without without needing to be asked, a lot of the time. Some of the other orders were more horrible, such as the bloody one. Once, he pushed a mouse under the door - alive - and ordered me to catch it. In my weak, confused state with little or no knowledge of hunting, I limped around the room in the darkness for hours without luck, eventually just sitting down and waiting for it to die, nursing my wounds in the process. And whenever I completed such a task, I would be rewarded with a key: a different one for every time. Some were big and rusting, some were tiny and well-kept. Others didn't fit into the key hole when I tried them, where as some fit perfectly but wouldn't twist. Over time, I became obssessed with these keys; simply laying them in a pile in one corner of the office instead of trying them in the lock when I was given one. When I was rescued, a dog I met somewhere in the Lexis Tribe said I had some kind of mental obssession with them. Something called cleptomania, I think? It didn't matter then, because the keys were something my father couldn't touch: something which was mine which he couldn't taint. As a result? I named myself Key, for the beloved metal objects I collected so carefully. OPEN THE CURTAINS, TURN UP THE LIGHTS I'm actually kinda.. annoyed at the Tempest. They ruined it all. I could deal with Dad - I really could. As long as the door was between us, there was nothing to fear. He couldn't get to me and I was safe. What was that old saying? Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me. I didn't care what he said to me: they were just meaningless words. But the fun never lasts, and it all must come to an end. The Tempest had had a nasty run in with my father, apparently, and wanted to take him down. So they stormed the place and took out my parents, breaking down my door in the process. Seeing light for the first time in years was.. blinding. Literally, it hurt my eyes and I spent a few minutes shrinking into the shadows as they investigated. Eventually, they found me, but I managed to run before I was pressed into their ranks. I don't want to be around other dogs: they give me the creeps. At least cats are understandable. And so here I am today: a short sighted dog with slightly sharpened hearing, a loss of direction, a total loss at hunting with the ocassional relapse into my dark past. The only good thing is, I can still collect my keys. Major turning points in life: When she got out of the room - Saw light for the first time Had no parents Official freedom (ALL ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU); Roleplaying Sample: Starting Post for a thread between a cowardly female named Symphony and a friendly male named Behemoth. The Lovely Bones. The trains all ran away, so I've been told. Gone as fast as the humans did, seventy-five years ago. They were big steaming monsters, apparently. Not dis-similar to the cars you can find abandoned all over the city. Fire-breathing monsters with their loud, chugging voices and noisy passengers. How on earth could humans ride in the belly of a beast is beyond me. It's strange. Scattered paw-prints of mud and slushy water cover the platform as I wade through it dis-tastefully, the cold mixture providing a chilling surface for my paws to walk upon. The falling leaves of Autumn mixed with it, adding a myriad of reds and oranges to the strange resulting pile up. With a grunt, I avoided the next puddle of mush, opting to jump on the benches which provided both a watch point and a safe place to sit. Kings Station was a sorry place, with its messy platforms strewn carelessly with long-torn newspapers and unwanted plastic cups. The railway line was wearing at the edges, the mtal scratched and brittle even under my gaze. It wasn't fit for any kind of dog to live in, so that was one thing for sure, at least. My deep brown eyes stared sightlessly at the wall over the other side of the railway line for a moment, before I shook it briefly and jumped down - a tiny thrill of adrenalin running through my veins when I jumped onto the once busy rail tracks. Perhaps it was my childish nature which got a tiny kick at being able to stand on a monster's path and not be struck down by it. Perhaps it was my rebellious side which made me disobey my parents warnings. Or maybe, it was another thing entirely. Dog. It came on a strong, chilly wind towards me like an ominous warning. I sniffed hesitantly, again, but it still tasted fresh to the tongue. There was someone around. Someone I didn't want to meet. Some part of me wanted to bound forward and meet the dog head on, but I was a coward at heart, no matter what I tried to tell myself. So instead of picking a fight as I had promised myself, I ran in the opposite direction of the scent: eager to get away. Your name/nickname: Uh.. Many nicknames. Rekkie, Kiki, Fanta and WW being a few. Most who know me well call me Vixxyen. ;3 Age: 13 =3 How long you've been roleplaying for: Two, three years? Give or take some time. A few interesting facts about you: Uh.. Interesting. Right, euhm. I have two guinea-pigs, a dog and a fish. We're currently getting our house renovated. I'm a book and computer geek and I like.. strawberry jam? A lot. I'm not all that interesting. ._. FATHER:

[/font][/color] Takai
MOTHER:[/font][/color] Nami
SIBLINGS:[/font][/color] None
*BLOOD SIBLING:[/font][/color] None
OTHER KIN:[/font][/color] Red - Distant Cousin
LOVE:[/font][/color] None
CHILDREN:[/font][/color] None

LOVE:[/font][/color] ---
CRUSH:[/font][/color] ---
*BLOOD SIBLING:[/font][/color] ---
FRIEND:[/font][/color] ---
NEUTRAL:[/font][/color] ---
FOE:[/font][/color] ---

* - Blood Siblings are somewhat 'adopted' siblings to Key. Really, it's just another version of a best friend to her, though you exchange blood in the process. It's no big vampiric scene. You just cut paws and press them together. It's just another one of Key's odd quirks. ;3

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[fascination]

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[atrb=background,http://i725.photobucket.com/albums/ww252/DoubleSoul/Panda2.jpg] -- COMING SOON