Name: Pristola
Pen: 6
What will you use it for: Making lots of colorful and fluffy art, and as a friend for my
Ahzenai character.
Why do you want it: Hnnngh <3 Where to begin? There is so much I love about this design. Her rainbow colored crystals, her grey and orange color scheme. I prefer dark backs and light bellies, and dark points on the limbs are always a plus in my book. The stripes on her tail are adorable. [She has 17 of them in case anyone was wondering. X3] I love radial designs, like the one she has on her forehead. It's even more stunning when you see her from the front. And those pink eyes were really quite a surprise, but in the best way.
Personality: Incredibly sweet-tempered and optimistic. Her patience is endless, and she is often the glue between a group of friends. She has a very maternal demeanor, which can be annoying to independent characters, but somehow endearing at the same time. She wears her heart on her sleeve and will let you know when you've crossed a line, but she isn't easily offended.
History: Pristola's parents were tracked and hunted by poachers seeking their shiny crystals and thick fur, leaving Pristola and her littermates to die of cold and hunger in their rocky den. One day a forager in the woods heard her final pitiful cries echoing out of the cave, and ran to her, finding her clinging to what little and fragile life she had left. The person tried to take her into his home, and did so for a short amount of time, nursing her back to health. He thought he had found a companion, but he let her out to play one afternoon and she never returned. For some time she survived by feeding off scraps of other kills and carrion. She was always cautious in the territory of another crystinalian, and became an excellent stalker by observing them from afar. She learned from watching others what her parents hadn't been able to teach her. Soon she was hunting like a real crystinalian, and eating much better because of it. She grew rapidly and was soon mature and healthy, living like nothing had ever happened to her.
She happened upon her old den one day, and smelled a familiar scent. Hiding in the brush, she spotted none other than her mother, limping badly out of the cave. It seemed that she had survived the poacher's trap and managed to return to her life, even if she was wounded. Pristola waited for her in the undergrowth, planning to surprise her mother who thought all her cubs had been lost. But a shot rang out through the snowy woods, paired with a roar of terror and pain. Pristola remembered these sounds and knew that her mother did not survive the second trap set by the poachers. Going into the cave, she saw three young cubs, still no bigger than her paw. She grieved for the mother she never knew and that these cubs would never know. But what she did know was that the cubs were not alone this time. They had a sister.
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