[park.]

Ahhh I really like this babe. SO, that means I wanna see a good effort from whomever they go to. This is an unlimited impress me challenge. Prettying up is encouraged and art, however, if you want an extension then you have to have at least 300 words already in your forum to be granted the extension.

Viscet Name: Maya Roxanne Mardner
Gender for breeding purposes: female
Owner: memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&u=368585
Owned as of: 2/7/2018

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[url=http://www.chickensmoothie.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=53&t=3713080][img]http://www.chickensmoothie.com/oekaki/image/image.php?id=3045390&size=medium&format=png&rev=1516749512[/img][/url]

End Date:
February 1st @ 4:00 EST time
February 7th @ 4:00 EST time

Mutations:
Full Heterochromia [rare]

[finifugal ✨]

aaaaa mark ;w;

[T h e M a r t i a n]

this babe is absolutely stunning. ^.^
marking for sure!

[Corvuss]

Watching this pretty bab~

[fromage]

dropping, lost connection & muse ;_______;
and to watch a friend

[Lioashu]

lost motivation and don't have enough time to get it back - good luck to competitors <3

[mellow yellow.]

mmmaybe

[G1 Sunstreaker]

oh my goodness yes, i love <33

Libra
October 16

INFJ
Lawful Good

Username: G1 Sunstreaker
Viscet Name: Maya Roxanne Mardner
Gender for breeding purposes: Female

Keywords
Imaginative | Meticulous | Methodical | Compassionate | Steadfast

As someone with her high standing, it's essential that Maya possess certain qualities. Patience, humbleness, logical thinking--all were required to be a planetary ambassador. And yet what sets her apart is her create style of thought. In Maya's eyes, something unused is something wasted, and her incredible resourcefulness ensures such a thing never happens. Despite her seemingly soft demeanor, she's very cool and determined when her mind is set on something, and more often than not she's quite underestimated. Her somewhat small stature is entirely drowned out by her compassionate heart, and she is well beloved by her people.

Tʜᴇ ᴘᴏʟɪᴛɪᴄɪᴀɴ's Dᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ
∙ • ❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀ • ∙

Bɪᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ

Politics have never been easy. Still, they were relatively simple for the only daughter of none other than the esteemed Marx Richson Mardner. With a mother lost to illness at a young age and only her good friend for outside company, she found herself easily at a loss. After all, there is much to do and much to be done when you are training to become a planetary ambassador. This is the story of Maya Roxanna Mardner, as told for the first time from gathered accounts by eyewitnesses and friends of the Mardner family. Follow her tale of tragedy and heartbreak from beginning to end as we delve into the life of a politician's daughter, and how she became one of the most esteemed planetary ambassadors on the council.

With a frown she turns the book over to its front, studying the simplistic red-and-white design. The title, The Life of Maya Roxanna Mardner, is typed in large, smooth black lettering. The author's name is someone she's never heard of before, which only adds to her unhappiness from reading the summary on the back. Surely this had to be some kind of joke.

"What in the world...?" she murmurs to herself, eyes narrowing as her tail flicks irritably.

The door chimes as someone enters the spacious bookstore, their paws light on the carpeted flooring. Her ears shift minutely at the sound, and she glances briefly in their direction as she tucks the book under her arm. As she watches, she can hear the new customer beginning to speak with one of the employees behind the counter, seemingly searching for a specific author. Her mild interest fades, and she turns back around and starts for the little cafe tucked into the corner of the building.

The signs are simple and earth-toned. Its warm off-white tiles are illuminated by equally warm fluorescent lighting, spilling down from round, decorated bulbs strung across the ceiling. Every inch of the little establishment sings of generic, but she's been here often enough to know better, and she glides up to the counter with calm familiarity.

"Hello. I'd like a vanilla cappuccino, please, medium."

The worker behind the counter smiles as she takes the offered cash--an exact amount--and files the payment into the register, paws working the machine deftly. "You're here a little earlier than usual."

She shrugs one shoulder as the worker pulls a cup from the dispenser by the shiny silver machine. "I slept well. Wanted more time to hit the shelves."

"Find anything good?"

Her reaction is a snort. "I suppose you could say I've found...ah, a hidden gem."

The small tok of the now-full cup being set on the counter attracts her attention, and she tilts her gaze downwards to watch the colors swirl and steam in the cream-colored container. The worker raises an eyebrow at her as she shakes the can of brand whipped cream.

"Care to elaborate?"

Wordlessly she lifts the book and holds it for the barista to see.

A good-natured laugh leaves the other viscet as she tops off the warm drink with a small spurt of whipped cream. "I knew you'd find that sooner or later. It's a new shipment, just came in early last evening. It's already selling big."

"Even after I denied his request for an interview, he still publishes the thing, and without my permission. I don't know which is worse, the amateur summary on the back or the hyper-generic title."

"I find the preface to be particularly invigorating."

Her ears lift lightly as the worker seals the cup with a brown plastic lid. "You've read it?"

"That's as far as I could make it." The drink, finished, is slid across the counter towards her, and with red-tipped paws she takes hold of the warm cup and settles her grip on its smooth sides. "Well, enjoy, Maya. Hope you get a kick out of that book."

Maya's bright eyes catch those of her friend the barista, and she smiles pleasantly back. "I'm sure I will."

Pᴏʟɪᴛɪᴄs

Four minutes later finds her pooled into a soft, large chair in the corner of the store, her tail draping loosely over the edge of the cushion and onto the floor. Her coffee, still steaming hot in its container, is perched upon a tiny brown table adjacent to the plush chair, just close enough to be within arm's reach from her position. The windows are big and clean, and through them streams the light of a fall day at eight in the morning.

The setting is perfect. Time to read.

With a near-indiscernible exhale, she opens the book, gently sliding her paw across the inside of the cover as she studies the first page. Nothing special, just the usual publication info in its tiny text. She passes through the title page and table of contents with little interest; the chapter names are bland and direct, and the book is apparently dedicated to her father. A nice sentiment, she supposes, but it really doesn't mean anything coming from an overeager author.

The preface is equally faux (and far too flowery for her tastes), and the introduction even more so. Her nose wrinkling, Maya turns to the title page of the first chapter--A Fresh Start--and breathes out another mild sigh. Time to settle in for a long, generic read. How enjoyable.

Her eyes skim the first few sentences, and she finds herself almost instantly wishing she'd never found the book. Already a highly cliché hook has been used. What a way to start off her life story.

The year is 2038. Though the weather is cool, the temperature within the cabin is heated. The egg by the fireplace--

Immediately Maya flips the page. She really doesn't need to read about her birth. And she was born in a summer house, not a cabin. Did this guy have the idea that someone's life could be taken with "artistic license", or was he just that bad at research?

--healthy. Her parents were overjoyed by this bright-eyed little one; she was all they could have asked for and more.

A scowl mars her muzzle as she continues to scan the page. Despite the truth of the words, the unprofessional, almost personal tone is not suited for a biography. Biographies are intended to be factual retellings that document the life of an individual from birth to death. The fact that she is still alive while reading the book technically contradicts the very book's title of a biography. Hardly two pages in, and already she's disliking this book--and author--more with every sentence. That's awfully subjective.

--her sleep. Alas, it was the last she was to see of her mother, and the last her mother was to see of her. Weak and sickly from months of disease, her mother lasted only long enough to hold her daughter in her arms one first and last time and to see her child's eyes. The late Roxanne Colombe Mardner passed away on October Seventeenth, hours after the birth of her daughter.

The silence around her is suddenly much louder than it had been. Her mouth is dry as she slowly shifts her tail, an uncomfortable twist suddenly gripping her chest. A coffee mug clicks against its table some distance away.

"Well that's a bomb to drop," she murmurs, her ears low against her head. Only poor writers jar the reader by switching the tone of a passage that swiftly and with such little conjunctive language.

Left with a broken heart and an infant child, Marx was forced to resort to disappearing from the political scene for a year as he raised his daughter. With his mate gone, it became easy for him to idolize his new daughter, and his position was more than once threatened due to his extreme devotion to--

Page flip. She doesn't need to read about her father, she knows all about his devotion to her.

--decision, despite the many warnings he received. After all, his adoration was hardly misplaced. From the start, Maya was a bright and imaginative child, inventive and filled with boundless curiosity. Her father had difficulty keeping up with his young daughter, and though he took great joy in raising such a wonderful child, there were many moments that tried his patience. However, these moments were generally overshadowed by the many moments in which she managed to impress him.

Though the writing itself is incredibly amateur--honestly, a little fluidity wouldn't kill--the point, at least, is gotten across with little difficulty, and Maya can't help but feel a mild sense of intrigue as her eyes continue to skim the chapter. The next segment is a retelling of her childhood. There's nothing particularly unusual, and it's all quite familiar; thusly she finds herself breezing through the chapter with relative ease, despite the mild difficulties she encounters in the author's style and odd lack of sentence flow. The majority of the chapter is generic information about who she was and the sorts of trouble she managed to land herself in, but the few specific moments that are recorded stir up old memories easily. Thoughtfully, she glances up to the window, reaching for her coffee as she does so.

Training is important. She's aware of this. She's also fully accepting of the fact that being an ambassador of an entire planet is by no means fun and games, and it can be extremely difficult at times.

Still, nothing had prepared her for how utterly boring it could be.

Her ears hang low against her head, tickling against the fur of her neck as she adjusts her position in the oddly-shaped chair. The lighting is decent, but she's rather uncomfortable, and even if she could she wouldn't want to fall asleep. Not here, not in the middle of an important meeting and the first she'd ever been allowed to sit in on--even if the representative from Cardon is droning on and on with the voice of a drained university professor.

Her tail flicks mildly as she gazes with little interest around the room. It's clear that several of the other representatives are just as tired of this guy's seemingly meaningless drivel as she is. That, at least, brings her some small comfort in these trying times.

Quietly, she leans towards the seat very close to her right, resting a paw on the armrest carefully.

"Does he always speak like this?" she whispers, keeping her eyes trained on the monotonous speaker.

A quiet, deep-throated chuckle sounds from the viscet next to her. Maya looks up, and her eyes meet a warm pair of rich blues, sparkling with mirth and understanding. Though he's still larger than her, the tips of her ears come up to his forehead, and the deep red viscet smiles patiently down at her. The dimples in his cheeks are decorated with white lines of fur in the shape of leaves.

"Unfortunately. I'd likely prefer he pontificate than continue on like this, wouldn't you agree?" The viscet's voice is kept low, but she can hear the pleasant tone in the deep speech.

Maya giggles, and the red viscet covers her mouth with a soft shhh. Despite the motion, she can see him working at his lip to hide a laugh of his own.

"Can I at least go get some water, daddy? I'm thirsty."

The red viscet lifts his head to glance around the room. Very few of the other representatives are interested in their interaction, and the ones that happen to be looking are sporting an amused and understanding expression. One of them nods at him as his daughter drops her ears and puts on a well-practiced pout.

"Very well," he whispers back. "Just try to be quick."

With an excited grin, Maya worms out of her seat and darts for the great double doors at the end of the conference room. A couple representatives titter as she goes, but she doesn't hear them, and she doesn't see her father's big, sheepish smile when the speaker eyes him for a long moment.



Maya's tail swishes as she sips on the white paper cup, her footsteps slow and smooth as she approaches the double doors. Even if the respite was but a couple minutes long, any amount of time away from the bore of that speaker was a blessing.

At first she doesn't notice the muffled voices rising from the doors, but the moment she grips the handle and pulls, she can hear the acidity in every single tone. Immediately she's cautious, and her steps are light as she slips through the slimmest possible opening she can manage.

"...just going to leave them there?"

"If only you'd listen, you would realize that--"

"Realize? What is there to realize other than your complete and utter--"

"--need help! How dare you even suggest--"

The speaker, previously seated in his place across from her father, is now on his feet. So are multiple other representatives. All of them are nearly shouting, their speech quick and clear. Anger and indignance are prevalent in the previously dull atmosphere.

Quietly, Maya begins to slink towards the table, going unnoticed as she looks towards the red viscet. He is still seated, but his eyebrows are drawn and there is a frown on his face. She grips her paper cup as she comes to a stop just to the left and behind his chair.

One of the representatives slams a paw down onto the table. "You cannot expect us to take your proposal seriously! Your wish, Ronnifan, is for us to abandon the people of Veranin to their doom simply because your middle class is suffering a decrease in population? There is nothing that warrants such a drastic measure in the face of planet-wide drought!"

The speaker whips his tail furiously through the air, and one of his paws rise to adjust the glasses that perch stolidly on the bridge of his muzzle. "That is not my wish in the slightest! My desire is only that we retract some of the resources--of which the numbers are plentiful--and redirect a portion of them to those who need it! My belief is that--"

"Yes, that we all deserve a chance," interrupts a golden female from Maya's right. "But why should we redirect the efforts going to the people of Veranin simply because of a population decrease? You say it is not sickness, or crime, or traffic--so then what is the cause of this decrease? By your presentation of the numbers, the drop is hardly noticeable. The only negative effect such a change seems to have is a decrease in your worldwide average, Ronnifan. Surely you do not think that so terrible as to warrant taking from those who would die without."

There is a murmur of agreement across the table. Maya glances to her father, who is listening intently with perked ears.

The representative--Ronnifan--tosses his head, frustration evident in his movements. "Yes, well, that decrease in my worldwide average means less resources for my people!"

"And what does that matter?" another viscet demanded. "Your planet is rich with resources! You have plenty to spare, and yet you ask us to devote more to you? Absolutely not!"

Maya's ears snap upwards as she watches the speaker tense. She knows that expression.

"No, it is not that simple! I--"

"How could you?"

At once the room is silent. All eyes turn to the red viscling, partially hidden behind the chair of her father, clutching a crushed paper cup in her paws. Her eyes are blazing as she storms towards the table and draws herself to her full height.

"How could you?" she repeats, her tone furious as she glowers intently at the stunned speaker. "If you're the representative of Oroxis, you should know better than anyone how much your people have! You just sell the extra to make more money for your rich people! Why don't you just stop selling that and give it to your people instead? Veranin has been having a drought for years, and they'd all die without our help! How could you just abandon them like that?"

The silence is deafening. From where he stands wavering above his chair, Ronnifan flicks his ears. "That trade is our planet's only source of income. Without it, we--"

"Would just be a little less rich!" Maya shrieks. "You're already really rich, and you don't really do anything with your money, so why keeping making more? If you think that's okay, then you--you're--you're just a bad representative!"

From behind her, the red viscet snorts and places a paw over his muzzle.

"If you cared at all about the poor families on Veranin, you'd offer everything you could spare! So why don't you go do that instead of asking other planets for more, huh?"

Her piece said, the red viscling throws the wadded cup onto the center of the table, her ears flat as her tail whisks angrily through the air. With a final huff, she bares her small, blunt fangs at Ronnafin, spins on her heel, and storms back towards the double doors she came through.

No one speaks, even as the doors close with a resounding boom. Her father sits, amazed, in his uncomfortable chair, gazing at the paper cup on the center of the table.

"That daughter of yours," the golden female speaks up, "is going to be an excellent addition to this table one day."

From where he stands in total shock, Ronnafin begins to turn red.

Maya is smiling when she comes to. Not long after, viscling-her had realized what she'd done, and hidden away in the bathroom until her father came knocking gently on the door. A quiet conversation had coaxed her out of the door, and her father had taken her out for ice cream on their way home.

The door chimes. Looking up, Maya realizes the time. The sun is high overhead, and she's finding herself stiff.

Stretching, she closes the book, drains the rest of her coffee, and stands. She'd finish the book later.

Fɪʀᴇ

On August 2, two days after the Grand Continental Conference, Marx Richson Mardner was killed in an unfortunate fire that consumed his home late at night. The fire was reported by Maya Roxanna Mardner, and experts determined the fire was not accidental. Suspects are not yet released, but the people of Kerona send their love and sorrow to our new planetary ambassador.

A Sᴜɴᴅᴀʏ Sᴏɴɴᴇᴛ

You are lovely as a redbird in spring

Taking flight in soft song and feathered wing

Like a fire burning, with flames bright and sweet

Melting sharp wintry chill with soothing heat

A bright and quiet sunrise, golden-red

Its beauty, though rich, could not take your stead

From your tongue comes the softest voice of calm

Your words to me are like that of a psalm

With each passing day my love for you grows

Would I were brave, I'd present you a rose

When dark closes in, I seek out your light

In the green of your eyes, I do delight

For there is nothing more beautiful, see,

Than you, o cherry blossom, are to me.


[i]-from the journals of Marx Richson Mardner, found addressed to Roxanne Colombe Whittiker

artwork by Bettalong
dividers by mareep
all writing by G1 Sunstreaker

sincere thanks to both mareep and Betta, as well
as to those who encouraged me to finish this form <3
If I win this girl, her story will be expounded upon and continued

*edited at 1715 EST due to broken images, with permission from park

for later:
"The author, in his fast-paced and somewhat disjointed
manner, lets his personality shine through. While it may
be good for certain styles of academic writing and non-fiction
literature, this is neither," she insists.

█ FFFFFF white
█ F7EFD8 cream
█ F05C5C light red
█ CB3F3E medium red
█ 921E1E dark red
█ 580E0F darkest red
█ 3C7E1D green (outer eye ring 1)
█ 9DE872 light green (inner eye ring 1)
█ 1E8492 blue (outer eye ring 2)
█ 4AE4F0 light blue (inner eye ring 2)

[doge fruit]

Res!

[Unleashed Squiid]

I. NEED!

Username: Unleashed Squid
Viscet Name: Morana (winter, death)
Gender for breeding purposes: Female
Extra:

Why does death have such a pretty face?
—she is the daughter of death, created because he was lonely, and has a golden watch which shows the lifespan of whoever she wants it to show.
—has the powers of death
—feared though she is kind
—questions life and death and balance.

screech