[whim]

fell ill and was unable to complete my form, so I have to drop!
Good luck to everyone else c:

[parker;]

res

[The Twins]

dude mark

[kittykore]

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[recherché.]

recherché.

[redhorizon]

Username: Bailey-Boo
Name: Arietta
Gender: Female
Brief Personality + History: (800 words)
Are they in control of their powers and how do they use them? What are their feelings toward their abilities?:
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Res!!!

-afraid of her powers
-can control them but doesn’t think she can
-certain things trigger her powers (outside forces)
-fearful and skittish
-lacks confidence
-very smart but doesn’t know it
-really just needs to apply herself
-great jokes/puns
-really sweet and caring
-can be overprotective and harsh at times
-quick to make assumptions

[the fool.]

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mark !!

[gouache]

Username: Fawnfriend
Name: Piloĸutínguaĸ - Greenlandic name meaning 'sweet little berry', but
interestingly also means 'Climate change' in Maori.
Gender: Female - well: she is 'part Reindeer' ! Only females retain their antlers in the Winter.




Brief Personality + History: (800 words maximum)

"Clouds. We begin with clouds: the soft-swept deer pelt which is hung up into the sky."

"Like the tiniest of snowflakes, the white fawn spots dotted upon the sky's fur, we are cast down from the Earth. We drift with no direction from the warmth and safety of our blanket up there. Our frail little legs meet the snowy grounds- yet we are expected to rise and stand. I was born of reindeer, though I bore only the front two hooves of my kin, with my back two replaced by the paws belonging to that of a stranger. Mismatched, was what I am."

Piloĸutínguaĸ's memory of her early years is now a distant fog against the blizzarding backdrop of the arctic, but pieces of her remember the fond nostalgia of being raised alongside the ever-moving caribou herd.

"The haven of this chilly North is where I call 'home'. The frost-laced mountain-tops would glisten alike to the finest of crystal quartz, painted against the sea of lights- borealis- twisting and pirouetting north to the heavens. Snow is plentiful, like comfy duvets spread for miles, with a dusting of shimmer. Ice was sturdy, reliable, and a shoulder to lean on. Tides of avalanche in a fascinating ocean of ice."

Regarded as simply a rather strange reindeer fawn, it had not occurred to the herd that this 'fawn' was a 'kalon in deer's clothing'. But due to their kindness and respect, Piloĸutínguaĸ happily assumed that she was a fellow cervidae, placing her fears as a young 'fawn' at bay.

"Even though I certainly strayed away from what a regular caribou should look like, the herd treated me just as any other child of theirs. It was a comfort to me that despite my oddities, such as long whiskers, and my wispy tail with those odd iridescent streaks, I was regarded as a equal."

As a early youth, Piloĸutínguaĸ was inquisitive, gentle and courteous. Albeit a little frail. She had a fascination for shiny curiosities, similar to the distinctive streaks that would glisten and shine on her tail. Collecting just about anything that captured her bright-eyed interest was her pride and joy, be it: abalones, sea glass, pearls, and little bells especially. Like a magpie she would stash them away, stringing them around her pelt, making her jingle with every step. A content and happy child, Piloĸutínguaĸ was.

She did, however, develop at a slower rate, often taking alternative paths, and learning in a much different way compared to the rest of the fawns- such as foraging for food, for example. It was a odd sight to see a 'fawn' favour nuts, fruits and fish over the typical grazing of grass. Climbing trees was... also a unusual ability for this deer.

"It was just in skill I hindered. Significantly. "

"My fawn siblings would leap at great heights, the elder deer running at grand lengths, yet I'd lag behind. Even with my best and most dedicated efforts, those strange back limbs of mine simply wouldn't cooperate. Deep down, even then, I knew there was something very wrong. I wasn't quite...'correct'. Paws weren't built or shaped like hooves."

It was during the events of one Winter evening, that the clockwork in Piloĸutínguaĸ's mind steered to a halt, and begun to rotate backwards. Annually, all reindeer take a migration towards the South of the arctic, when the North's cold offers too little warmth and space for food to grow through the snow-sheets. Two months it would take, a trip that felt more like a treacherous expedition, covering hundreds of miles, through tundra to tundra. The globe's largest migration. 1,200 miles around.

It was where a climate change in her spirit manifested.

With such shaky limbs, Piloĸutínguaĸ found difficulty in the voyage, battling against a fortress of biting winds, cruel shards of ice spinning wildy at her small frame, pieces of rough glass with bladed edges. Even though the herd kept eagerly striding onwards, she could feel her once-steady plodding drawing slower, her head a hazy blur of fast-moving flurries, her paws struggling with ache. The hooves of her front legs would buckle, causing her back legs to stumble and quake, both from the cold and exhaustion. Her deer family moved further, lost to the horizon's fog, and little did they know, they had left little Piloĸutínguaĸ behind.

After that, all she knew was the bleak numbness that was betrayal. Piloĸutínguaĸ had been lying to herself- though it stung like frost-bite, she deeply and truly felt like a burden. The inferior offspring, abandoned by the ones who had always been there. Just a game piece in a roulette, in a game named 'survival of the fittest'.

This new, negative meaning of life consumed her. It spread to her lungs, her eyes, her mind - even her heart.






Are they in control of their powers and how do they use them? What are their feelings toward their abilities?:
(2000 words maximum)

"I've been trailing along for, what I feel, centuries. Whilst my bones may be young, my heavy spirit is as old as time."

Antlers branched wide and free, ice hanging from each and every point, a finely woven tail, tall, teeth that belonged to no deer, strong legs complete with hooves- and a haunting, iced-over stare. One wouldn't recognise Piloĸutínguaĸ at first, if it weren't for those little bells she wore as a child. After all those years, she kept them. Or perhaps, were they just another part of her, fixed and frozen on by the blizzards she had faced?

There was something strangely different, that went above and beyond her new, striking appearance. The cold seemed to come from her, rather than the frosty surroundings. With each steady inhale of breath, she exhaled gusts of howling polar winds, and with each step forward, more snow would be left in her tracks. Upon leaping, she could hover in the air, a rather disturbing, ghostly sight- with no wings, was there some kind of black magic going on with her now? Was she in fact some kind of sorcerer?

It was neither. Certainly not magic she had learned or imposed upon herself.

'Oivitoqq', so she was told, is what she was. The others- the gulls, the bears, the seals, the whales- whisper of it. The Qivitoqq was a myth across the arctic, of a aimless, wandering individual alienated and left by their peers. They would hide away up in the mountains, with a bitter tongue and unpleasant intentions, sentencing themselves to a lifetime of loneliness, often out of guilt, shame, and self insecurities. The locals imagined Qivitoqqs, due to being alone for so many years, developed animalistic traits, supernatural powers, and desire to do evil. They were described as apparitions, merely there, empty shells of their former selves.

It didn't take her too long to figure out that those foxes, with claims of fleeting sightings of this Qivitoqq, were actually referring to her.

In self-doubt, a distraught, self-loathing Piloĸutínguaĸ hid away. She hadn't realised just how terrible her insides had become, to ignoring others, and spitting blunt words.

Piloĸutínguaĸ strongly believes that the strange phenomena of her spells, which rained hailstones upon the land, which dressed her fur and adorned her antlers in thick snow, was a curse from the Gods above, a punishment for her broken morals, lack of care and absence of her kindness to those around her.


Yet, she cannot exert full control over these ice abilities- for it depends on the state of the Earth's temperature. The warmer the Northern hemisphere becomes, the more extravagant and freezing her great power is.

She soon realises that perhaps her fate is to balance out the demise that is global warming, that is harming her home, the arctic circle. Fears that the weight of the melted arctic ice may soon collapse, drowning the Earth, the humble being that gave so much to her: such as the grand mapped out canvas of the star-splashed skies of the Northern Celestial Hemisphere, washed upon the milky-way. Such as the dusty mist that cuddled her fur each morning and every night. Such as the waters, the pines, the solstices. All were wonderful gifts granted to her by this planet. Gifts that she had never thanked for, simply took for granted, devoid of appreciation.

Remembering the faces of the starving polar bear cubs beside her, as she refused to share the food she so luckily found. Or, the seals who she had pushed back into the deep sea, as they begged to be allowed space to rest their weary bodies on the ice platform she occupied. Everyone's arctic habitat was shrinking, and the competition was ruthless.

Guilt had washed over her like a tide.

Over the many years wandering alone, like a lonely little floe, how others felt truly never occurred to her. To finally understand that now, after so long, ached her chest. Being bitter and forcing harshness was, to her, the only way to survive out there among the icecaps. That ignorance after so long had forged her heart into thick frost, to believe solitude was the way to cope, and to reject others' friendly gestures of hospitality out of fear that they would take the only shelter of ice sheets she had salvaged from the sea, or use her to their advantage. Piloĸutínguaĸ felt living like this was just a game of 'survival of the fittest', and to trust no one as they were just competing with her in the end.

But she had realised this was only because they wanted to live too. They were afraid of dying, just like her.



Whispering unwritten apologies, her plethora of regret, was when the pieces suddenly clicked together: instead of just muttering 'sorry' into the wind, she in fact spoke with frosty words, a shower of icy breath escaped her cold lungs. By admitting and apologising for the cold within her, she could then expel and exhale literal cold from her body.

Perhaps there was more she could do then a confession of 'sorries'. Perhaps she could help breath life into and restore the home of those she had wronged-- there wouldn't be competition to survive if she could stop the ice from melting away.

The cataclysmic impending fate of this global warming motivates her to use her newfound abilities to atone for her selfishness, by galloping through the thinnest of ice sheets, restoring them into outstretched miles of solid snow, mounds of glaciers, with just the touch of her misty hooves, leaving grand icicle peaks and pillars in her tracks. She breathed snowflakes, a gentle powdering of little constellations of a fog, with each heartbeat. Away she thundered across the arctic, repairing the damaged, melty mess which was once her home, with blizzards chasing her tail and a air of dignity upon her raised chin.

[starshine,]

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Are they in control of their powers and how do they use them? What are their feelings toward their abilities?:
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C:

[yinsum]

res