Post by castaway on May 19, 2011 11:53:34 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i56.tinypic.com/2v1ndpe.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 200px; height: 500px;] [style=width: 400px; height: 200px; background: #c49ca9 url(http://i55.tinypic.com/8vt6o3.png); border: solid #ffffff 4px;] [/style] [style=text-align: justify; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 6px; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 10px; color: #252525; background: #fafafa; opacity: 0.8;]but it's like you don't care no more for these moments we shared so true and dear [/style][style=text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase; line-height: 6px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8px; font-style: italic; color: #252525; background: #fafafa; opacity: 0.8;]just me and you and the peace of the quiet but now you seem faceless, oh when the lark last sung - - - - - - - - -[/style][style=color: #B0C4DE; font-size: 25px; text-align: center; font-family: arial black; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 1px; width: 400px; text-transform: uppercase;]► LARK [/style] [style=overflow: auto; width: 400px; height: 200px; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; padding-right: 5px; padding-left: 5px; color: #252525; line-height: 100%; background: #fafafa; opacity: 0.5; text-align: justify;] Why do you shun me for who I am? FOR I AM LARK of the great twoleg city Age Two years // Twenty-four moons Gender Female // She-cat How can I hide in the shadows of the unknown? WHEN MY PELT IS CALICO and my eyes are moss Scars Across her left flank, jagged line Appearance Just because she looks pretty, has sweet looking eyes that capture your heart, and a dainty frame that's hard to resist. It's not all this she-cat is. In fact, she can be quite the opposite. Her soft toned looks can change to fierce insanity, her first appearance to others a whirl of discomfort and annoyance. Lark isn't just the pretty cat you'd like to know and love. The paint that decorates her being is coloured in a wide variety of bright orange, with white smearing and black patches. Looking at her, for the colouring of her pelt, you would notice she was mainly white. It covered her paws, her torso, and even her hindlegs, reaching up to her neck. Although her tail carries an assortment of dark brown and black, giving her the appearance of a tabby, it stretches over her back, mainly dotting it with a black saddle and ginger patches. Creeping over her face is a mask of ginger and black. Though the left side of her face is a pure ivory white, the right shields her eye with a eerie black colouring, detailing her with an evil, or insane presense. Something that gives most others the creeps, or cheers them up on a gloomy day, Larkeas is a very pretty she-cat. Although her slim frame appeals her to being more of a fast, lithe and skilled hunter, she is just as good at fighting, maybe even better. Her slight mental disorder allows her the ability to be unusually good at picking fights, rough-housing, and losing her valuable concentration on important topics. Because of this, many scars line her waist and face, even marking her down around her chest and paws. If you ever really took a look at her paws, you would notice a considerably painful scar across them, as if some nasty cat raked up her pads. They healed, but not enough to make her happy. They still hurt from time to time, and memories flood her already troubled moss-green eyes. Why do you judge me for what I’ll become? JUST BECAUSE I’M INSANE AND UNCONTROLLABLE Personality If you ever really paid attention to Lark's inner emotions, you might actually notice deep down shes not such a bad cat. She can be funny, rude, obnoxious, full of herself, or friendly. All these things mark a cats life, but they seem to matter more to her. Although her mind does not always process important things as fast, or as skillfully as others, she still has feelings, and a life goal to look up to. Though maybe not as important to her as her living and surviving, but it's still something she looks up to. On the inside, she is troubled. No one pays much attention to her, not many really care what she thinks. Because of her bad memory, she doesn't remember anything from her kithood, and only bits and peices of her traveling time without her family. Even the word family troubled her when others spoke of their own. When they asked her about it, she would stare at them blankly, not quite understanding what it meant to have a family. Frankly, she isn't the nicest cat when something around the words of her past come up. Her heart aches for someone to understand her, even though she knows no one won't. On the outside, however she can be anything. Ranging from angry to upset to happy to confused, it just matters the topic. If it's something to do with playing, shes up for it. The fact that someone knows something she doesn't she puts up a challenge to learn it. Easily one of the most knowledgable she-cats can get with hunting and surviving alone without anothers comfort experiance, she's not prone to telling her secrets. In fact, she'd rather have you be regretfully hurt before saving you, or proving she was better. It's her brain at work, if you will. Although she wants to be loved, and wants to learn more about family, friends, and the thing called love, she finds it hard. No one seems to understand the feeling she do desperiately wants to understand, nor do they care. Larkeas hides her feelings, often not allowing them to show underneath the stone wall she puts up around her. So it is rare to find her mind at ease enough to display her feelings around others. But when she is angry, it's not far from being upset or scared. Her eyes will be wide, her fur on end, and her mind awash with emotions that she can no longer contain. Happiness, on the other hand is something hard to understand, or even administer as that specific emotion. It's not been seen before that she was ever happy. Preferences Lark likes to have competition, for anything from winning a kill or gaining the most power over something. Not to mention, she enjoys a challenge. Set something up in her path that she needs to manuever around, she'll find out a way. She isn't as stupid as she looks. But, just as much as she likes things, she also has many dislikes, from storms to enclosed areas to even being in a life or death situation. Lark mostly dislikes being under higher authority, or in other words being told to do things, rather the opposite of what she likes. She also doesn't like kittens, the way they twine around her toes and mess up her good looks. However the most important thing that she absolutely hates, is being vulnerable under any circumstances. Whether shes crippled, or not being able to do something. Secret Ambitions Becoming the most powerful Strengths/Weaknesses All of Lark's strengths include her slim frame, which allows her to move at increasing speed and have a lot of agility, along with her ambition, which sets her on a journey all it's own. Her force-fullness is sometimes a strength, because of the strength in her voice. Her weaknesses are something she hates. Three weaknesses are her vulnerability and anger, along with her bright fur. Her anger gets away from her when her temper flares. She is unusually dangerous and murderous when it happens. Her bright fur makes for little camoflauge as well. How am I punished for what my kin has done? EVEN IF MY PARENTS ARE UNKNOWN AND UNKNOWN Family Unknown History The fact that Lark cannot remember her kithood, or even the fact she ever had parents, her history starts from what she remembers. It is told from her point of view, another version of a role play sample, if you would. Larkeas woke to the sound of water rushing. It eventually eased into rhythmic drops on the cold cement floor. Blood slid from the cat's chest, colouring the floor of the enclosure crimson. The scent was metalic and left a hard tang in her nostrils. Her head pounded, and she had never felt so much pain. Her legs ached, her chest heaved, and her breath came in short, quick bursts that left her panting. Just thinking made her hurt more. Footfalls echoed off the damp walls, and the scent of cat food mixed with a dead rabbit made her wake. Drool dripped slowly from the edge of her mouth, and at that minute she realised just how hungry she was. As she struggled to get to her paws, a searing pain reached from her paws to her shoulders. More blood was smeared across the floor. Panting, she laid down, staring suspiciously at the two-leg drawing nearer to her side, moving the bowl of food closer. Lark hissed in fear when the naked pink paws clamped around her sides and lifted her, high enough that her own paws did not touch the ground. It was rather nice, and the cat had the ability to each easier. Though each mouthful was delicious, the pain in her throat kept her from wolfing it down. Something had happened to her, and she had little idea what. The state she was in looked like she had been mauled by something. Perhaps a dog. Perhapy another cat, or badger. Whatever it was, she was in no state to leave. Yet. As her mind blanked out once again, she was settled into a cozier nest of blankets and leaves.. Lark woke again, but only to find herself cold, alone and without any blankets around her. Her mind fluttered with anxiety. Where was she? How long had she'd been here? Her mind had little memory of anything other than being picked up and fed. Something boggled her memory, and her emotions where surprisingly adept. Though, she seemed older, and though there was still an ache in her paws, the gash that had been on her chest was healed, her hindlegs were patched and clean. Her eyes held a glow of rejuvination and her frame was pretty and clean. Something wasn't right. She had little idea where she was, and how long she had been here. Larkeas also wondered why she couldn't remember as much as she should. Thinking of the past made her head hurt, enough to make her collapse and mewl in pain. Something clicked inside the she-cats head. She wasn't meant to stay here any longer. Wariness spread over her as she realised. She had been here far too long. Lark crept around the edges of her enclosure, looking out for some ways of escape. She had spent little over an hour, but nothing turned her fancy. There was no way around the cage, or under it. Only the cool light of the barred window, much like that of a jail cell made her interest. Lark dedicated herself to learning the distance to jump to it, and spent many days bruising her paws in her attempt to get to it. However. She did manage to escape. It looked like something out of a dream. Lights were flashing, people were walking down the street without a care in the world, and Lark herself was stuck in the midst of it. Someone was chasing her, and she suspected it was the two-leg that had taken the nerve of helping her. She knew nothing about it, just the fact it was an ugly beast with sweaty paws, and fed her revolting scraps that made her sick. She wanted nothing to do with it. But it was following her. As she ran, desprate to get away, she pounded across the sidewalk, racing for the only thing she knew a two-leg wouldn't follow her. The bramble bush that lines the outskirts of the forest. Larkeas dove over it, the prickles snagging her pelt and scratching her tender belly. Wincing under the pain, but still refusing to stop moving, she ran until her lungs were ready to burst, her mind in such a whirl she didn't know who she was, how she had gotten there, and why she was running. Eventually, it all came back to her. But, her mind often did forget important things from time to time. She never seemed able to concentrate hard enough, and she rarely got caught with other cats. Even if she did, she'd leave as soon as she was able. A loner at heart, Larkeas was someone who would never be at ease. Sample RP It was the sound of dogs barking, trash cans slicing the air, and the terrified shrieks of cats that woke her. She was alone, dignified, and now, annoyed. Yes, she had gotten a full sleep, and her stomach had been growling despite her ignoring it, but the nerve of someone to wake her. It troubled her mightily. But that wasn't the real reason she was annoyed. She had gone two days now without food. It was obvious she wasn't doing as well as she should. Her concentration was loose, her focus lame, and sometimes she lost herself within her own thoughts, unsure of what to do. Now, however her mind fixated on the rows of garbage cans lining the dim street. She had seen a white figure steer clear of the angry dog chasing him, which was fine. The dog ran down the street, still mouthing off in its harsh voice. She didn't really notice. All she seemed to see was the garbage can she was about to tear open. The aroma of a half-eatenn roast drew her senses. She was starving, there was little water anywhere, and no one cared one bit. It made her angry, but that was so be expected. If it wasn't someone elses business, they weren't interested. Lark strode up the street, her pale figure having a eerie glow about them. One of the street lights flickered and died, in turn popping and exploding, snapping and melting the wires that kept the others on. With that, the she-cat looked like a ghost, unnatural and terrifying. Her eyes held a glow that often made others stand, fear chilling their blood. It was all they could do to not run away in terror. Her mottled body was sleek and long, covered mainly in a glowing white pattern. The left side of her face was black, making her look like a broken skeleton. She wasn't normal, and everyone knew it. Most knew exactly who she was as soon as they looked at her. Others didn't want to know, instead ran off with their tails between their legs like dogs. Hindlegs retracting and allowing her the movement to lift her onto the garbage can, she easily knocked it over and popped off the lid, sending it clattering on the cold cement road she now stood on. Not even bothering to look for danger, the unsheathed her claws and slashed the shiny black bag open, digging out the scraps of food out of the bag and onto the ground. She sniffed disdainfully at the slop, but she wolfed down the meat, the leftover applesauce, and the crunchy flakes that left a sour taste in her mouth. Her ears pricked at the sound of something coming towards her. An echo of heavy breathing came to her ears, and she realised the mongrel that had chased the cat was back, probably because of the warm aroma of the meat Larkeas had eaten. She let out a low growl and stepped to the side, her long silky tail growing to twice its size, her spine arched self-consiously, and her eyes turned wild. A look of pure insanity overcame her, and in spite of herself, and without realising it, she lunged at the dog, strength, anger and confusion filling her claws as she raked them down the dogs shoulder, leaving thin lines of blood. Landing on the floor with a soft thump, and snarled, waiting for the dog to snap. Of course, it did. But Lark was ready. She retracted her paw back, sinking her claws into the mongrels eye. Without hesitation she sank her teeth into the dogs nose. She knew it was over when the dog pulled away, howling like a cornered pig, tearing off down the street to its master. Just like a dog would do. Larkeas had no one to run too. And she liked it that way. You call me by the name I’ve lied I meet in secret with those who’ve died Though life is not’ but treachery This life is all the life in me [/style][style=color: #B0C4DE; font-size: 18px; text-align: center; font-family: arial black; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 1px; width: 400px; text-transform: uppercase;]a life we can only wish [/style] [style=text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 6px; font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; color: #252525; opacity: 0.8;]BIO: (DONE), AWESOMENESS: (EIGHT), LYRICS: FEFE DOBSON'S STUTTERING template made by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 [/style] |