|| Since Lakota and Nessie never did get to RP together, I shall be joining with my boy as a fighter, if that is alright with you. Anddd... another fighter, female. I just love my fighters. xD Love this idea, by the way. <3 ||
credit for the form - Silversky- , along with a few tweaks that I made.
credit for charries - me. c:
вяʋтɛ || тнɛ "тяʋƨтɛ∂" σиɛ || ғιɢнтɛя••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
▶ Ｎａｍｅ: ◀ "My name is Lakota." Yes, he knows it - Lakota sounds an awful lot like a girl's name. It kills him. This must be the reason in which he prefers to go by Kota or Loki. Though still it may seem as though it were a female's, it greater resembles a male's. He was named this by his mother because the word Lakota means friend in a long lost language that had been spoken hundreds of years ago, yet still lived on within the hearts wolf wolves. Moki, Lakota's mother, had seen something kind kindling within her son when he was born. She could see that kindness in his eyes - one that is hardly found in a pup of that age. Instead of mischief or even broken innocence, all that rang throughout his body was an aura in which you would want to approach. And because of this, Moki knew him to be a friend. Her friend. Her little Lakota.
▶ Ｇｅｎｄｅｒ: ◀ "Yes, I'm a male. Why do I constantly get asked this question?" Even though Lakota is most definitely a male, he is constantly asked. Be it his name or gentle nature, something about him is just undeterminable. But he is a brute. And sure acts like one when he can. Lakota, though mostly calm and friendly, can be rambunctious and flamboyant, jumping around while having fun, mud splattered through his fur. He isn't afraid to get down and dirty, wrestling with the rest of the pack, snarling with a young expression. Seeing this, everybody is quickly aware. He is a brute. His pelt does look as though it is rather masculine, for it is a deep grey with tints of brown flecks, showing off to the others that he isn't afraid and proud to say - Lakota can be as much of a male as he wants to.
▶ Ａｇｅ: ◀ "I am four years young." Born four years and eight months ago, Lakota acts his age, for the most part. He is usually active and constantly moving, as most wolves his age are, but sometimes, he can be a bit more childish than you would expect, going out and doing crazy things that he missed out on as a pup. As said before, he'll get rough and tough and dirty, running around on senseless hunts, bothering all of the faes with the silly pups, doing things that any young wolf should. This is just how he is at heart, though. In his mind, Loki is a lot older than he seems. He is wise and watchful, taking in the world with a curious expression, always stopping to sniff the roses, despite his wild personality. He can be a bit confusing because of this, but it is just who he is. Young at heart, wise at mind - he is Lakota.
▶ Ｆａｍｉｌｙ: ◀ Bodi;; Father - Nobody knows whatever happened to Bodi, Lakota's father. He was said to once be a loner, though not a rouge, for he never killed. Bodi had been seen on several occasions by some pack members, saying that he had kindly introduced himself and moved through the territory without any trouble. Lakota really wishes that he could meet his father and really get to know him - besides, he is the only thing that he has left, and he has never even met him.
Mala;; Mother - It is almost certain that Mala died the day that Lakota was born, during the storm. Loki really wishes that he had gotten to know his mother. She could have helped him out through life, given him a friend in his times of need, always looking out for him on the days that he had fallen. But it is all too late now. Because of him and his tough birth, Mala is dead, and he will never be able to see his mother and her shining eyes again.
▶ Ｒａｎｋ: ◀ "I am a hunter."
▶ Ｃｒｕｓｈ: ◀ "No, I currently have no crush."
▶ Ｍａｔｅ: ◀ "I haven't taken a mate."
▶ Ｐｕｐｓ: ◀ "Me? Pups?" Lakota doesn't want pups. At all. Hah, he still sees himself at one! Can you imagine what he would do with little bundles of energy? WIP
▶ Ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ: ◀ A gentleness rolls behind his eyes, echoing throughout his body. Each movement, each pawstep, all etched with a sort of grace that can't be found in any other. The ripples through his mind work wonders on all, casting out that certain aura that just catches your attention whenever you may grow near. Certainly can you tell by just a mere look in Lakota's eyes that he is one to be a friend. And true is this. Never would Lakota hurt one that he care's for, no matter the price that had been paid to get to that point. He has that big, rolling heart that never seems to stop beating, but never forget - every creature has their pride. That seems like such a strong word to use to describe Lakota, but it is true. He can have his days in which pride has gotten the best of him. He'll have held his head too high, worn his skin to thin, going about doing things he shouldn't be doing. And then there are the times in which none of this is present - only a hollowed shell of a wolf left in his place. But all of this will be put into further detail later.
You must've already picked up the slightest of a clue from the smoothed remarks and gentle statements that Lakota is obviously not the most hardheaded of characters. If anything, he is quite the opposite. When this brute speaks, you can see the wisdom flowing through his eyes, the will that forms the layer of sage that edges at his wide orbs. You can see the slight upturn of a whisker when even the slightest of things is off - he could untangle a web of deceit with a mere glance, smooth the ripples of a down headed conversation with the flick of the tail. At times, some come to be so confused by his aura that they grow fearful. His mere presence is overwhelming - as if you don't have control when he is near. Nay, this is not a bad thing, rather something that upsets others, for they like knowing that they can have uncertainty and drama in their lives. When Lakota takes it away, they have nothing to thrive off of, no matter how much they complain of it eating away at their souls. Lakota sees deeper than this. He just... knows.
Of course, with even the slightest of glances you can see the many sides to this quick-witted wolf. Only a single look at him, in fact, would never give you the impression that he was truly a wise soul at heart. All you would see would be a hardened wolf, a chest held out from years of falling an a high held head as he struggles to breath above the waves of the crowds. What could this trait even be, though? Certainly grace is etched into the definition of this one, single word that could be used to describe the first layer of Lakota, but that is not quite it. It is not valiance, no, not even courage. Pride, perhaps, but that is too strong of a word. As you can already see by this endless ranting of words, Lakota is no walk in the park. Even just deciphering the first thing you see when you approach this brute can be a challenge. He obviously sees more, no doubt, so perhaps you should watch your tongue. But is he the humorous type? His eyes seem to give away. Then again... Basically, that is all a wolf that has the natural instinct to read another will come across. You would, after much contemplating, eventually come up with the sense that this wolf can surely be guileful. The smug look etched across his face, sly twitching tail, unreadable eyes - who wouldn't see that look of deception? But no, rather this is just Lakota's smooth side. He is sleek and well trimmed on the outside, seemingly put together with narrowed eyes and a flicking tail. You can see by the calming gesture of the way that he moves that Lakota is rather alluring, but with the snap of a hip that he throws to his step, you automatically know that this is one wolf to look out for.
Lakota has really, though, built up so much beneath this layer of complete calmness that if you were to take one glance in his mind, forever would you be confused. Hah, just look at you now! Reading this, not a clue in your mind what this character is like. There is even more, though, that endless, twisting maze that is deep inside of him, winding around in circles as it guards his heart with sharp barbs that keep others calm - that keep others away. Those who look at him know not to enter his heart - perhaps just why he has done this. But Lakota can't help it. If he has to look calm and collected on the outside for her pack, all of the pain that any other wolf would be dragging around is dumped onto his shoulders. Deep inside, Lakota hurts. He walks around with a strong expression, but inside, she feels like a kit. He knows so little about himself, which is most likely the main cause for the pain that ever so slowly grows inside of him - an edging crack that threatens to shatter his heart. Lakota has built up so much pain, so much stubbornness and valiance around his heart that it is nearly impossible to imagine. Heavy guards fight off any words that may fly his way, dissolving pain into a pit of darkness. This wall, though, has some weak spots. You must be able to seek out these spots, these holes in his armor, to be able to get to the true Lakota - if you ever really want to. And despite common belief, the real Lakota is actually... not that bad. He's extremely creative, wild, and free. He can dig deep into anything that he wants, creating crazy things with her amazing mind. He has wide eyes that are open to the world, taking in much more than others see. This, overall, forms a rather unusual trait that you would never expect from him - wisdom. Lakota is extremely wise, for he sees so much more than others. When he looks into somebody's eyes, he can read them like an open book, picking up the small things that no other notices, but never pointing them out. He keeps to himself, holding his head high in times of torture, knowing when to talk and when to stay silent. Of course, every person can have a hothead and blindly talk, but this only happens when he is extremely mad. It is easy to anger him, but very hard to get to his heart. Nothing really shakes his core. Maybe he just knows how to handle himself after so long of being without control.
Lakota is without control, though. That's just the thing. He is so torn up inside, so ruined, he doesn't know what to do with himself. All that strong wall is protecting is a hollow cavern, filled to the brim with darkness and confusion, winding, twisting mazes that drag you in and trap you forever. He has long fallen into the hole - perhaps the reason why he has so much guarding the outside. Maybe he doesn't want any other to join him, no matter how alone he feels. Maybe he doesn't want to drag any other into that endless torture that lives within his soul. This is just how he is - he can't help it. Yet, he doesn't know how to warn others of the mighty abyss they will encounter when meeting him, so he works. He hunts and runs and frantically helps until his paws are bleeding and sweat is stained across her face. He'll lock himself away in his den at night, trying to find himself, eyes searching every corner as he curls up and drags his tail across an empty floor, listening for answers that might come to help him heal himself, rather than others.. Too bad he never gets any results.
Even though he hides this side of himself, there are days where you will see the broken side of Lakota. Some days, he'll be so sad and so confused that he won't speak. He'll hide himself away and sit alone for most of the day, only coming out when he is needed. He'll watch the stars at night, begging them to lead him to a simpler place. But how does he get there? How does he rid of this pain? Exactly. He doesn't know. So, on the days you just so happen to catch Lakota in his bad mood, he'll have let his walls down, calling off the guard dogs. You can really drive knives into him, and he won't care. He'll just look at you with those somber eyes, and automatically, you'll know that it's time to leave him alone. In reality, though, he doesn't want to be alone. He want's to be held, to be told he'll be okay someday. He wants to believe it, to close his eyes and pretend he's somewhere else. He wants to forgive and forget, shed all of the worries left inside of him, waiting out his feelings, pouring all of those bad emotions into that gaping hole that eats away at his soul, rebuild his barriers, and then, continue on with his broken little life, pretending to be strong as he smooths every other ruffled feather in the pack.
But remember - these bad days are only once in every blue moon. Lakota doesn't constantly go around, dragging his paws and closing his eyes. He'll have those days where the sun shines a little bit brighter, where his step is just a little longer, head held up just a little higher. Lakota will talk with his pack mates, showing that he can truly be a bit gentler than most think he is. In reality, the sagely wise side of his personality can rather smooth out the rough edges. Sure, he is a diamond in the rough, but that doesn't mean that he can't have days where he is polished and shined. Here, you will find him basking in the sun, not constantly staying quiet, watching the world with wide-open eyes. He always has that great sense of humor, taking things just the way they should be handled. Some may notice this change, but they know it's for the better, and welcome their pack-mate in with open arms. Lakota will shine and show off his happy side, covering up his walls for a few days just to bask in the glory of some unknown upbringing. Those are the days you want to watch out for, though, because these are the days he is most dangerous. Why? Well, let's find out.
When having one of his days with a clear mind, Lakota knows how to handle things. He can grasp any situation and turn it around in virtually any direction that he pleases. This is just what makes him so deadly. Any conversation that seems to be faring in another's direction, he can slowly twist, turning the words to grow towards his own sun. Remember - this is just what he has the potential to do. Lakota would never turn on another one of his own pack-mates. He would only use her little techniques of playing on words when he must protect his fortress. If he feels as though his pack is being threatened, he will stand by his leader's side, loyally watching over every other with an even expression. This is what I had mentioned earlier - his ability to handle things. Not only does he have that caring heart that is open to the wounded, but he knows how to stay calm and carry on in these times of torture. Hating to see others in pain may apply to this trait of his, but it also builds upon the natural foundation he already has of solicitousness. This might be the main reason he had turned away from killing others. Of course, hardly ever does a wolf kill in a fight, but he refuses to ever get near that point. He knows that once a wolf has had a taste of another's blood, it can all go downhill from there. Trust him - he knows from experience.
▶ Ｈｉｓｔｏｒｙ: ◀ The even, crackle of lightning split the night overhead. Somewhere far in the distance, a lone call of a wolf sounded. Blood tainted the air as rain poured down, spilling liquid static over the contents of a seemingly empty clearing. But nay, it wasn't empty. Not at all. There, in the middle of that clearing, a mother and her pup writhed in pain on the ground, blood pooling around the mother from an unseen scar. The pup had no idea what was happening, so he waited there in the freezing cold, attempting to find his mother through blind eyes. But there was nothing. No warmth had radiated through the air for quite some time, and even when it did, it was faint and discomforting, filling the air with a feeling that was if something had set his body afire. Little did he know, a storm was raging about them. As the pup attempted to find his mother, plea's for help going unanswered, a slender figure slid into the clearing. It was another wolf. Not one of the pack, for his scent was unfamiliar to both pup and mother, but neither had any time to react. So, sliding up, the slender wolf had taken up the pup in his jaws, and sprinted through the forest. Nobody had known what had happened to the mother after that, for the pup was taken far away to another pack, run by a wolf of the name of Rhodi. He did grow up here, oblivious to the pain behind his name, to the dark path that had already been laid for him.
Lakota grew up strong within Rhodi's pack, muscles filling out as he became sturdier with each passing day. He had been known for his strength in battle, his swiftness during a hunt. Whoever his parents were must have been very proud, for he was a nice young wolf... so far. He had many friends in the pack, always knowing his way around a good meal, charming others with his heavy aura. Nothing had ever seemed to go wrong in his lifetime, for he didn't know of how he had been born- surrounded by blood, lightning filling his veins with every strike. And even though he had the seemingly perfect life, that one day had come, finally, in which his perfect reputation would be ruined. It was thick in battle, rain spilling over every one of the wolves, washing blood all across the grassy floor. Creatures scattered with screams of wolves and flashes of lightning, sending the whole forest silent, despite the crashing, spitting, screaming sounds of fighting animals. Lakota had reared back, anger striking his eyes as he stood over a black wolf, eyes dark with hatred. The two wolves had rolled away from all of the rest, deep in the woods. They were alone. This was their game, now, and pure madness was setting in. The darker wolf was strong and not ready to flee, but Lakota had never lost a battle, so he wasn't about to give up then. Both were growing weaker and weaker as the moments passed, draining their energy in the fading light of the night. Out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning had hurtled down towards the fighting wolves, sending a tree ablaze with a bright inferno. Yelping, the other wolf stumbled back, and for some reason, Lakota just felt as though it was his duty to do something terrible. This wolf had tormented his pack, along with the other rouges, so what harm could one more gone do? More than he knows, in fact.
Lakota had lunged forward, despite the quickly growing heat, and blind with rage, grasped the scruff of his opponent in his teeth. With all of his strength, the large grey wolf spun in a circle, letting go of the rouge just as he passed by the fire, and watched him fly. Into the flames he disappeared, yelps quickly silenced as sparks and ashes defied gravity, rising high above the trees. And all Lakota could do was sit. He had just killed a wolf. Ended their life. Never again would they walk this earth, never again would they see their loved ones. Horrified by what he had just done, Lakota tore off in the opposite direction of his pack, not even glancing over his shoulder. He would run and run until he hit the next pack, throw away his past and pray to be forgiven. If only he could forgive himself.
▶ Ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌ Ｄｅｓｃｒｉｐｔｉｏｎ: ◀ x
▶ Ｏｔｈｅｒ: ◀ None to my concern. c:
▶ Ｕｓｅｒｎａｍｅ: ◀ MoonBeamz - please call me anything that you want, though. I usually go my Moonz, Beamz, Beezey, or Meebzey, but you can create another nickname for me if you'd like. c;
▶ Ｌｅｖｅｌ ｏｆ Ａｃｔｉｖｉｔｙ: ◀ I am very active on CS, and get on whenever I can. You will see me posting everyday, unless something comes up. I am currently apart of one other role play, so I evenly space out my timing between the two. Overall, yes, I am very active.
▶ Ｒｏｌｅｐｌａｙ Ｓａｍｐｌｅ: ◀ Icelus looks at her sister. Really looks. She digs her eyes deep, staring at her as she talks of the bank, of their father, of Africa in general. What was she thinking? Taking money from the bank that was supposed to keep them alive. Hah. She'd rather walk to Africa. Okay, maybe not, but you get the point. How could Cal think like this? Stealing from their bank account? Not stealing, but it still felt as if it were to Icy. It was their own account. But to use it on something that their parents didn't approve of, and is half way across the world just didn't seem right. Her mind churns as she thinks and thinks, wondering how she ever dug herself into this mess. Maybe it's best they don't go to Africa. Besides, they don't have the money, years, reverence, nor divinity. The lack of all of this made them extremely venerable to anything that may come their way. Be it hatred or loss, they could collapse at the push of a button by themselves in Africa. But, they wouldn't be alone, would they? Her uncle, though creepy, would be there. Sure, he'd be off at his own job most of the time, but at least family would be in close quarters. If that's a good thing. Sleeping every night knowing Uncle Robert is just a door away? No thanks. She thinks, glancing down at her cup of coffee. She takes a thoughtful sip, mind twirling furiously as she fights for an answer. They must go to Africa. No matter how much she tries to talk herself out of it, she knows that all of the sleepless nights, crazy loss of money, separation from her parents, and living with her uncle will pay off. The rolling hills of golden grass, mountains rising high in the distance, animals roaming wild and free, not a care in the world as they rear and snort, run and call at the top of their lungs, shouting their freedom for all to hear. How can she not go there, knowing that all of this calls to her, awaits her, and it's just over the ocean?
And then, Icelus is looking back up at her little sister. That queen she is. Perfect body. Ugh! Everything Icy isn't. Everything Icy wishes she was. How could she stand being so far from home with somebody so different from her. But how could I not? She thinks, knowing this to be true in her heart. Her and her sister have been through it all, never letting go of one another, even when the path seemed rough. They were there, together, through everything. This would be so hard to let go of. Yes. Icy would definitely want Cal in Africa with her, even if it means standing through all of the compliments without ever receiving a single one. But then, there is a different matter. Cal is the opposite of Icy. She rolls with the crowd, brushing off her worries as if there was nothing to them. She see's different than Icy, through more constrained eyes. She only sees what she wants, and when she wants it, she gets it. There is more, though. Ice sees this. Cal is not all 'popular' or 'one of the crowd'. Somewhere, deep inside, all of those worries that she has brushed off land. There is a different side to Cal, there, one with many years stacked onto wisdom. This girl sees with wider eyes. She's there, of course she is. The bad thing, the downside, though - Cal has allowed herself to be changed. Everything that Icy prayed wouldn't happen to her little sister. She wanted her to stay little, too. Icy surely hasn't grown up. But Cal seems to have thrown away her innocence. Everyday, Icy prays that she will see her little sister again, the one that laughed, had no insecurities, worried of nothing, didn't pray and beg of getting out of the house. Icy struggles to hold onto this as it is, but without anybody by her side, she is being crushed under the weight she has been given.
Don't get Icy wrong, though. This is just what she thinks of Cal. Of course, her little sister has a lot more to her, but Icy can't see everything that a person has. Icy takes herself away from her thoughts, focusing once more at the problem at hand. Africa. Oh, if only she didn't have to worry about this now. Taking a long, drawn out sip of coffee, pretending to be deep in thought about the subject at hand, Icy hesitates to speak. Finally, though, she gathers her tongue and spits out her words. "You're not the only one dreaming about this, Cal. But there is still so much we have to go over." She closes her eyes and shakes her head, wondering if Callie was kidding about her sleeping on the bed, or not. "I guess, if we're there long enough, we can make enough money to repay dad. If we even manage to get the money out of him in the first place." Although the beautiful and oh-so-brilliant Cal had many good ideas, there was somebody who has to have an even, logical head in this situation. Just selling her bed and whipping out a few bucks from their savings would get them nowhere. "I mean, c'mon. Stealing money from our own savings account will bite us in the butt someday." She says, taking another one of those thoughtful sips, though this time, she was actually thinking. Maybe mooching some money off of Myron wouldn't be such a bad idea... I mean, just look at the situation. They really need to get there. The girls entire futures depended on this! "I bet we can talk dad out of a few bucks, though." She muses, looking to her sister. Then, a thought strikes her. Price. How much money do they need, anyways? There is flight costs, food costs, rent for their uncle's place, and so much more. Besides, knowing the two girls, some shopping will have to be done. Can't you just see it? The fresh markets, silky, handwoven dresses, baskets made from scratch... oh, how much fun! "We'll need a lot of money, even if we're getting paid with our jobs. Besides, how much do these flights even cost? We haven't really looked into it..." Crap. Another thought strikes her. She nearly spits out her coffee as she shoots Cal an alarmed look."We don't have much time, do we? We've been procrastinating.. Oh, God Cal. Doesn't Uncle Rob want us there in a few weeks?"
A few weeks is not a lot of time. At all. Besides, she may be mistaken. What if all of this time had gone by so fast that they had wasted their months and turned them into days? They could only have hours left if they want to get good tickets. Ah, who is she kidding. They'll have such bad plane tickets that they may as well walk. Yeah, across the ocean. Trust me, it would be a lot easier than dragging Cal and Icy onto some foreign, bumpy air craft that is driven by a "Me-no-speaky". It might be worth it. Maybe. That is just a thought, though. They really need to get to Africa. And soon. And fast. If they don't, they'll miss out on an opportunity of a lifetime. Literally. Their uncle had warned them that this is the only offer that he would give them. He really seemed like he wanted them to come, which to Icy, was very creepy. Then again, she never trusted her uncle. He always said weird things, did strange things. Sleeping under the same roof as him might be uncomfortable, but of well. She needs to get out of the US, out of the clog of interstate systems and straight shoots to a boring life and a painful death. She doesn't want to settle down, find that 'guy', live a simple life with simple things. She wants to be outrageous, spontaneous, forever young. Icy, though, has no clue just what she will encounter in Africa. Maybe it's the same there. Maybe their uncle doesn't live in the rolling hills like they had imagined. Maybe all of this is just one, big mistake. No! She immediately thinks, noticing that she is just chasing herself in circles with her thoughts. Not getting anywhere, except for nowhere, if that makes any sense at all. Then again, when does Icy make sense?
Suddenly, Cal is swiping away her coffee. She looks up in alarm as the black liquid sloshes to the floor, splattering on her newly cleaned tile. Yes, she said it, her. Icy is tired of thinking that everything belongs to Cal. This is just how she gets treated! Though taking her coffee was just a little thing, it leads up to big things. Huge things. Eventually, there will be all of those emotions tied it - hatred, annoyance, insecurities - and everything else there is to come of it. Cal taking that coffee wasn't just something annoying to Icy, but something much, much deeper. Did she think she could do that? Just come up to her older sister after basically demanding that she give up all she has, including her pride, to ask her father for money to go somewhere with her? After she does something like this? How could she ever earn Icy's respect? Something much, much deeper churns inside of Icy. A ravens wing slices the edge of the darkness, sending up a churn of murky fog in her stomach. Somewhere, a lone cry inside of her head makes her stand up. She looks at Cal, eyes dark, fists clenched. "Cal, give it back, or you'll be the one sleeping on the couch, not going to Africa." She stares at her, hand outstretched as she waits for Cal to swallow her pride and hand the cup back. This will take a lot. This small gesture could decide who is Alpha in this family, who calls the shots and who is the one to make the rules. This very simple exchange could change both of them. Cal could lose some pride, and Icy could gain some. Or, Icy could wind up utterly humiliated that her bluff was called and Cal would be taking a one-way ticket to Africa. Alone. Of course, this just had to happen. Why had Icy even stood up? She should'a just let Cal keep the coffee. No. She thinks to herself, forcing her position back into something more forceful. I will not falter. She can't keep knocking me down like this.
ғɛмαℓɛ || тнɛ "вιттɛя" σиɛ || ғιɢнтɛя••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
▶ Ｎａｍｅ: ◀ "Leigh. Not that you have any business knowing."
▶ Ｇｅｎｄｅｒ: ◀ "Check your eyes, mutt."
▶ Ａｇｅ: ◀ "Rather rude question. Watch your maw."
▶ Ｆａｍｉｌｙ: ◀ [Info about Family goes here.]
▶ Ｒａｎｋ: ◀ "I am a fighter."
▶ Ｃｒｕｓｈ: ◀ "Hah! That is the most comical thing I've heard all day."
▶ Ｍａｔｅ: ◀ "Wow, you're funny."
▶ Ｐｕｐｓ: ◀ "The vermin's, they are."
▶ Ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ: ◀ [Be detailed please!]
▶ Ｈｉｓｔｏｒｙ: ◀ [History here. Please, Please be detailed!]
▶ Ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌ Ｄｅｓｃｒｉｐｔｉｏｎ: ◀ [Doesn't need to be as detailed as the Personality/History, 3 sentence minimum.]
▶ Ｏｔｈｅｒ: ◀ [Any other info you think we need to know? Put it here!]
▶ Ｕｓｅｒｎａｍｅ: ◀ [Please put your username here.]
▶ Ｌｅｖｅｌ ｏｆ Ａｃｔｉｖｉｔｙ: ◀ [Please describe your level of activity.]
▶ Ｒｏｌｅｐｌａｙ Ｓａｍｐｌｅ: ◀ Icelus looks at her sister. Really looks. She digs her eyes deep, staring at her as she talks of the bank, of their father, of Africa in general. What was she thinking? Taking money from the bank that was supposed to keep them alive. Hah. She'd rather walk to Africa. Okay, maybe not, but you get the point. How could Cal think like this? Stealing from their bank account? Not stealing, but it still felt as if it were to Icy. It was their own account. But to use it on something that their parents didn't approve of, and is half way across the world just didn't seem right. Her mind churns as she thinks and thinks, wondering how she ever dug herself into this mess. Maybe it's best they don't go to Africa. Besides, they don't have the money, years, reverence, nor divinity. The lack of all of this made them extremely venerable to anything that may come their way. Be it hatred or loss, they could collapse at the push of a button by themselves in Africa. But, they wouldn't be alone, would they? Her uncle, though creepy, would be there. Sure, he'd be off at his own job most of the time, but at least family would be in close quarters. If that's a good thing. Sleeping every night knowing Uncle Robert is just a door away? No thanks. She thinks, glancing down at her cup of coffee. She takes a thoughtful sip, mind twirling furiously as she fights for an answer. They must go to Africa. No matter how much she tries to talk herself out of it, she knows that all of the sleepless nights, crazy loss of money, separation from her parents, and living with her uncle will pay off. The rolling hills of golden grass, mountains rising high in the distance, animals roaming wild and free, not a care in the world as they rear and snort, run and call at the top of their lungs, shouting their freedom for all to hear. How can she not go there, knowing that all of this calls to her, awaits her, and it's just over the ocean?
And then, Icelus is looking back up at her little sister. That queen she is. Perfect body. Ugh! Everything Icy isn't. Everything Icy wishes she was. How could she stand being so far from home with somebody so different from her. But how could I not? She thinks, knowing this to be true in her heart. Her and her sister have been through it all, never letting go of one another, even when the path seemed rough. They were there, together, through everything. This would be so hard to let go of. Yes. Icy would definitely want Cal in Africa with her, even if it means standing through all of the compliments without ever receiving a single one. But then, there is a different matter. Cal is the opposite of Icy. She rolls with the crowd, brushing off her worries as if there was nothing to them. She see's different than Icy, through more constrained eyes. She only sees what she wants, and when she wants it, she gets it. There is more, though. Ice sees this. Cal is not all 'popular' or 'one of the crowd'. Somewhere, deep inside, all of those worries that she has brushed off land. There is a different side to Cal, there, one with many years stacked onto wisdom. This girl sees with wider eyes. She's there, of course she is. The bad thing, the downside, though - Cal has allowed herself to be changed. Everything that Icy prayed wouldn't happen to her little sister. She wanted her to stay little, too. Icy surely hasn't grown up. But Cal seems to have thrown away her innocence. Everyday, Icy prays that she will see her little sister again, the one that laughed, had no insecurities, worried of nothing, didn't pray and beg of getting out of the house. Icy struggles to hold onto this as it is, but without anybody by her side, she is being crushed under the weight she has been given.
Don't get Icy wrong, though. This is just what she thinks of Cal. Of course, her little sister has a lot more to her, but Icy can't see everything that a person has. Icy takes herself away from her thoughts, focusing once more at the problem at hand. Africa. Oh, if only she didn't have to worry about this now. Taking a long, drawn out sip of coffee, pretending to be deep in thought about the subject at hand, Icy hesitates to speak. Finally, though, she gathers her tongue and spits out her words. "You're not the only one dreaming about this, Cal. But there is still so much we have to go over." She closes her eyes and shakes her head, wondering if Callie was kidding about her sleeping on the bed, or not. "I guess, if we're there long enough, we can make enough money to repay dad. If we even manage to get the money out of him in the first place." Although the beautiful and oh-so-brilliant Cal had many good ideas, there was somebody who has to have an even, logical head in this situation. Just selling her bed and whipping out a few bucks from their savings would get them nowhere. "I mean, c'mon. Stealing money from our own savings account will bite us in the butt someday." She says, taking another one of those thoughtful sips, though this time, she was actually thinking. Maybe mooching some money off of Myron wouldn't be such a bad idea... I mean, just look at the situation. They really need to get there. The girls entire futures depended on this! "I bet we can talk dad out of a few bucks, though." She muses, looking to her sister. Then, a thought strikes her. Price. How much money do they need, anyways? There is flight costs, food costs, rent for their uncle's place, and so much more. Besides, knowing the two girls, some shopping will have to be done. Can't you just see it? The fresh markets, silky, handwoven dresses, baskets made from scratch... oh, how much fun! "We'll need a lot of money, even if we're getting paid with our jobs. Besides, how much do these flights even cost? We haven't really looked into it..." Crap. Another thought strikes her. She nearly spits out her coffee as she shoots Cal an alarmed look."We don't have much time, do we? We've been procrastinating.. Oh, God Cal. Doesn't Uncle Rob want us there in a few weeks?"
A few weeks is not a lot of time. At all. Besides, she may be mistaken. What if all of this time had gone by so fast that they had wasted their months and turned them into days? They could only have hours left if they want to get good tickets. Ah, who is she kidding. They'll have such bad plane tickets that they may as well walk. Yeah, across the ocean. Trust me, it would be a lot easier than dragging Cal and Icy onto some foreign, bumpy air craft that is driven by a "Me-no-speaky". It might be worth it. Maybe. That is just a thought, though. They really need to get to Africa. And soon. And fast. If they don't, they'll miss out on an opportunity of a lifetime. Literally. Their uncle had warned them that this is the only offer that he would give them. He really seemed like he wanted them to come, which to Icy, was very creepy. Then again, she never trusted her uncle. He always said weird things, did strange things. Sleeping under the same roof as him might be uncomfortable, but of well. She needs to get out of the US, out of the clog of interstate systems and straight shoots to a boring life and a painful death. She doesn't want to settle down, find that 'guy', live a simple life with simple things. She wants to be outrageous, spontaneous, forever young. Icy, though, has no clue just what she will encounter in Africa. Maybe it's the same there. Maybe their uncle doesn't live in the rolling hills like they had imagined. Maybe all of this is just one, big mistake. No! She immediately thinks, noticing that she is just chasing herself in circles with her thoughts. Not getting anywhere, except for nowhere, if that makes any sense at all. Then again, when does Icy make sense?
Suddenly, Cal is swiping away her coffee. She looks up in alarm as the black liquid sloshes to the floor, splattering on her newly cleaned tile. Yes, she said it, her. Icy is tired of thinking that everything belongs to Cal. This is just how she gets treated! Though taking her coffee was just a little thing, it leads up to big things. Huge things. Eventually, there will be all of those emotions tied it - hatred, annoyance, insecurities - and everything else there is to come of it. Cal taking that coffee wasn't just something annoying to Icy, but something much, much deeper. Did she think she could do that? Just come up to her older sister after basically demanding that she give up all she has, including her pride, to ask her father for money to go somewhere with her? After she does something like this? How could she ever earn Icy's respect? Something much, much deeper churns inside of Icy. A ravens wing slices the edge of the darkness, sending up a churn of murky fog in her stomach. Somewhere, a lone cry inside of her head makes her stand up. She looks at Cal, eyes dark, fists clenched. "Cal, give it back, or you'll be the one sleeping on the couch, not going to Africa." She stares at her, hand outstretched as she waits for Cal to swallow her pride and hand the cup back. This will take a lot. This small gesture could decide who is Alpha in this family, who calls the shots and who is the one to make the rules. This very simple exchange could change both of them. Cal could lose some pride, and Icy could gain some. Or, Icy could wind up utterly humiliated that her bluff was called and Cal would be taking a one-way ticket to Africa. Alone. Of course, this just had to happen. Why had Icy even stood up? She should'a just let Cal keep the coffee. No. She thinks to herself, forcing her position back into something more forceful. I will not falter. She can't keep knocking me down like this.
