Prophecy -- female

Age: One year, Seven months.
Gender: Female.
Breed: Tundra.
Pack: Hell.
Rank: Assassin.

Personality:
selfish. silent. blunt. short temper. aggressive. introvert. distant. fearless. intelligent. dependent. masochist. dishonest. perverted. immature. rebellious.

She looks out for herself, and solely herself. She has no responsibilities, nor does she want any and she'd like to keep it that way as long as possible. As for her being selfish, Prophecy could never see herself bearing children. She believes they take up too much time and effort. This opinion of hers could surely change in the future, as she is still a child herself. With that, Prophecy isn't as mature as she wants others to perceive her to be. Any sexual innuendo or harsh insult to another could surely bring a small smile to this recluse's face and possibly a light chuckle. Being the adolescent she is, she has this uncanny need to be rebellious, and defy orders from others, just because.

Prophecy sticks to herself simply because she doesn't want the company of others. She enjoys being alone and delving into thoughts, contemplating her surroundings, which often lead to unwanted conversation with herself. She doesn't want to be one of those mentally unstable that talk to themselves for enjoyment. When encountering another, she usually doesn't speak unless spoken to. The young lady believes actions speaks louder than words and would seemingly be a self proclaimed mute. But, that's not the case. She's very observant, and takes a while to gather her thoughts before speaking- which are usually short and choppy sentences. But, when amused, or entertained, she uses more elaborate words she's picked up from others' dialogue. When engaging in conversation, she can seem distant, and not entirely present mentally. Staring off into the distance, not making eye contact are common things this one does when speaking, and usually interpreted that she's annoyed.

Unfortunately, Prophecy can get easily irritated by simple things. Unnecessary conversations, unintelligent wolves, and sharing her food are a few to name. A real pet peeve of hers; getting her coat dirty. No, she's not conceited and thinks looks are everything-it's something she's developed from her past. Thus, Prophecy is careful where she steps, and sleeps, and can constantly be seen cleaning her coat. Prophecy has a very sharp, selective tongue when speaking. She thinks over her words carefully before spewing them out. The time taken to speak seems to dampen the venom on her words, but it's there nevertheless. Prophecy doesn't like to beat around the bush, she says what she has on her mind-if she decides to talk. Her stinging tongue ties hand and hand with her short temper. It takes only a few insults before she skips firing them back and just simply attacks. Her aggressiveness and short temper aren't the most compatible, at least on the receiving end.

Being a fairly young lupine, with no parental guidance, Prophecy lacks most necessary training to care for herself. Leaving her to be fairly dependent upon others. Maybe not directly, but her traits-or lack of- have left her a scavenger, her life merely a thread mother nature chooses to string along. On another note, Prophecy has learned many things her time alone. She soaks up knowledge and uses it for her benefit. There's no such thing as being 'afraid', but then again, being courageous and 'fearless' can easily be defined as stupidity. She's not afraid. She shows no fear simply because she's blocked out that emotion-or at least she thinks she has. Being afraid is second guessing yourself, and Prophecy isn't one to second guess herself. In fact, with everything she does, she's almost always sure of herself. Almost.

There's no such thing as pleasure without pain. For, if one did not exist neither would the other. Like there could be no dark without light. They make each other. Polar opposites, but so similar in a twisted way. And Prophecy happens to be the few that have found pleasure in pain. Blood. She enjoys it; the sight, smell, taste, and possibly the way it feels. Prophecy would probably be even more in love with it if it didn't get her lovely hide so dirty and tangled. There is no known reason as to why Prophecy is suddenly a masochist. Perhaps by choice. Maybe there was too much pain to handle in herself and she chose to feel...good about it?

To be honest, Prophecy doesn't really know what trust is. It's just something she's never been taught, or recognized in her young life. Thus, she's a very disloyal person, even if she doesn't know it. There's just no way for her to put all of her trust into anyone, after doing so and being betrayed. But, then again, there's no use for it. Although, what could she have to lose to trust someone? Accompanied with all of her wonderful traits, Prophecy is also a lovely little liar. She can't help it, the lies just easily flow through her. Almost like the delusional blood flowing through her brain. It's just natural to lie, for anyone really. She has a perverted, twisted mind. She perceives and reacts to some things different than most 'normal' wolves would. For example; if given a compliment, Prophecy would be the one to over think the simple gesture and twist it into an insult, and become offended.

Likes:

Being alone. Pain. The darkness.

Dislikes:

Intellectually challenged individuals. Conversations about nonsense. Being 'manhandled'.

Fears:

Dying without accomplishing anything worthwhile.

Dreams Of:

Finding closure within herself about her parents.

Body Type:

Prophecy has a rather large, masculine build. She doesn't hold those feminine 'curves' that are prominent to most females. She's actually quite lanky, with long legs, lean muscles, and broad bones. It's actually easy for Prophecy to be mistaken as a male by her gait; quick and with purpose, rather than the 'slow, fluid, and melodic' grace most females step to. Her coat is thick, and long, wispy streamers of fur. Prophecy's tail is rather short, the tip of it barely reaching her hocks. Her narrow muzzle and soft eyes are seemingly the only feminine thing about her.

Fur Color:

The girl's hide holds swirls of tans, creams, and mostly hues of blondes.

Eye Color:

Her eyes are a bright, alluring golden color.

Family:
Fietre-Mother [Deceased]
Abaddon-Father [Deceased]
Rulasei-Sister [Unknown]
Maekine-Brother [Unknown]

History:

Rain poured down in heavy bursts, whilst the wind whipped the droplets around in short, powerful gusts. It wasn't the best conditions to birth a litter, but it would have to do. The alabaster hued female slumped down the side of a hard, cold tree trunk, belly protruding with life, ready to be introduced to the world. An intimidating form lingered in the shadows, causing the woman to whine helplessly. There was nothing she could do in the state she was in if attacked. Instead of there being heavy snarls, and a rushing form barreling towards her, the wolf eased its way out of the darkness and closer towards the birthing female. The sight of the striding wolf actually eased the female's tension, as the male in front of her was the father to her unborn pups.

. . .

Four pups were born that day, although one faithfully died within hours of its birth. The upbringing of Prophecy and her siblings was nothing special, yet nothing too terrible either. The young family lived on the outskirts of a pack territory, far enough to not get attacked, yet close enough to sneak close to their boundaries and steal disposed carcasses to keep themselves alive. It was as easy as life could get. Prophecy has always been silent, and not the one to talk very much. She stayed glued to her mother's side, where ever she went, Prophecy was trailing behind. Her mother, Fietre, encouraged her daughter to play and romp around as her other children did, but her stubborn daughter stayed put, at ease with her mother's presence.

There were times when her mother and father would bicker, and occasionally 'tussle' with one another. Prophecy figured it was nothing to worry about, as long as no blood was shed. At the ripe age of one, she and her siblings were being taught how to hunt, and every so often a fighting 'tip' would be given to the trio. Several times, while their mother and father were off on hunting escapades, Prophecy's siblings would lope off into the territory-supposedly following their parents- with Prophecy tagging along. Eventually, the three would get back before the parents without them knowing off their whereabouts. Little did they know they were foolishly leaving their trail behind for the pack's members to follow the foreign scent.

The following evening, the small family of lupines were visited by a few wolves owned by the pack they had been neighboring since the birth of the three yearlings. Instantly, Prophecy's parents went defensive, guarding their precious offspring, with bared canines. It didn't take long for the siblings to realize what was happening, and Rulasei and Maekine took off in the opposite direction, leaving Prophecy gazing after their retreating forms. The remaining child watched as saliva spewed from open jaws aiming for a throat in its vicinity. Not a minute into the battle, the husband and wife untangled themselves from their opponents, yanked up their daughter and fled.

Prophecy stumbled, but caught herself as her father practically dragged her across the ground as he galloped from the scene alongside the mother of his children. They had run until dawn, before they stopped by a small stream. Prophecy had strode ahead to gather her fill, oblivious to the argument arising behind her. The fur under her chin dripping with water as she turned around, her mouth instantly hanging agape. Her mother had turned away-dismissing the argument between her and Abaddon. But she couldn't see him spring himself towards her back, his claws clenching around her rib cage, immediately crumbling under his weight. She had bucked, but it was no use, his jaws clamped around the back of her neck and twisted.

Her father stood over the lifeless body, turned swiftly around, and walked down the bank of the stream. Prophecy's head turned back to her mother after she gazed at the silhouette of her father. She hurriedly ambled towards the body of her mother, and collapsed next to her, draping a fore around her torso. She wondered what happened to make her father so angry to even think about killing her. ..Her mother was dead. Prophecy gingerly flicked her tongue across her mother's jaw, before heavy paw steps thudded her way. She raised her shaking head to look up towards him, questioningly. "She put your lives in danger." He thought she was the reason the pack's wolves had caught onto them.

After a moment, he stepped over her and her mother, walking off into the woods. Prophecy stood to follow him, but she stopped and trembled, looking down at her coat, covered in her mother's blood. She made attempts to clean it, spending longer than necessary brushing her tongue over her hide before rising once more to follow the path of her father. Prophecy loped after his scent, eventually, she found him, sprawled across the ground. She took slow steps towards his sleeping form, and fell onto her haunches, sitting so she was looking down upon him. At that moment she realized the hate for him that bubbled to the surface. She watched the easy rise and fall of his side, suddenly wishing it would stop as her mother's did. That's when she decided. Prophecy bent down, parting her jaws around the neck of her father, her eyes darting up to his as he stirred lightly. With no hesitation, she bit down as hard as she could, her canines slicing through the tender flesh of his neck.

She held that position, not letting go as he writhed slightly, giving off a gurgling noise. His breathing had increased before drastically lowering into soft nothings. Prophecy kept her gaze locked on his face as she inched back, and began to hastily clean her chin of his blood. The fact that she had killed her own father hadn't sunk in until she twisted around, and walked in no general direction. Prophecy hadn't looked back that day. She doesn't regret what she did, in fact, she feels good about it.