Placid

Name:
Placid

Age:
Four Years

Gender
Femme


Personality:
Tranquil, sweet and timid, Placid seems to come off as unapproachable for the most part. She admits to giving the cold shoulder to most wolves for the first while, but when she does warm up, she's a real sweetheart that will be bold and a fighter if you prove to be worth it. She's usually very sneaky and submissive, careful not to set off flames. She isn't harassed easily, and can usually brush off the small stuff, due to experience as a young pup.



Appearance:
A sweet facade blends into a tiny bodice full of muscle, built perfectly for long runs and high climbs. Long, soft pelt ivory coat grown to a beautiful silk to keep warm in the hard winds. Her petite bodice is pact to hold solid on uneven grounds and in unnatural winds. Tiny mitts grasp at the earth and keep a solid hold, blue orbs seeing the long distance. Placid's facade is usually blank, emotionless, hiding her insides from the outsiders, to keep herself hidden and protected from those around her. Her plume is very rarely wagging, but instead hung low to signal her submission.



History:
Born into a litter of five, Placid was the fifth and the last. The runt. She was obviously the smallest, most fragile and the most intelligent. But she was also the most submissive, and let everyone do and say as they please. Her parents were disappointed in her, as they had been expecting her to be their heir. That's the way it always was. When the topic was brought up, she would brush away the opportunity. Although she would not mention it, she wanted to start her own pack. It was as simple as that. She was not interested in what they wanted.

At the age of a year, the dove was fatigued of the constant nagging on being the heir. She decided it was time to leave. Eager to go, she broke the news and said her farewells. Her parents were disappointed, but with minimal argument let her go.

Placid travelled all alone for two years, before she met a large male. He was very friendly, and the two became mates, having a litter that summer. It was a wonderful summer. She had five pups, but three were stillborn. That winter, there was a terrible storm. She thought it would be fine to go hunt for her small family while they slept, and left. Within the next hour, she heard three vaguely familiar howls, but they were difficult to hear in the storm. When she got back, her family was gone. After a week, she went searching and found only bodies. Scarred for life, she fled.

A year later, she came upon a huge, gorgeous mountain. She claimed it as hers, and decided that was where her pack was going to reside.


Family:
Forgotten

Mate:
Deceased

Pups:
Deceased



Example Post:
Petit mitts caressed the stone cold earth, tiny bodice gasping for air in the new atmosphere. The dove slowly let her facade become sad and full of grief, only for she was alone. Pain filled her optics, her audits pinning back as she lifted her dial to the heavens, letting loose a long howl that staked a claim on the mountain. Weaved inside the long howl was all of her emotions, all woven in, fear, pain, grief, and worry. Her life story coloured the call, only to make the song more wonderful and meaningful. She felt a warming breeze, even in the middle of winter, and felt her call dance away, pulling her past and emotions with it. She knew, it was time to restart.


Globes searching the empty terrain, excitement filled her empty abyss. This was what she always wanted! Here, right now. For her. And she was about to take it. For the first time in her life, she felt true excitement. Her plumage began to dance on her rump. Her pistons loosened instantly, and suddenly she was marking the terrain, knowing this was home.


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