FennecFox wrote:╔═════════════════════════════════╗
FennecFox
Ivory
Female
The peculiar earring that she wears is a symbol of a secret from a past history that not many people know about. It is a symbol of a wandering tribe of artists that she traveled with for many years. While at first she was merely a servant to them, mixing paints and creating blank canvases, she soon became an influential figure for their artwork. She became an inspiration to them and soon she was featured in their artwork, no matter the genre. Though her name is Ivory for the creamy white of both her base color and her eyes, she has splashes of color that became more vibrant with age and eventually couldn't be ignored by the tribe.
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○█“Tch, lazy servant child,” one of the tribe members spat at me as I sat on the ground. My creamy white fur was covered in dust and grime, the day’s work clinging to me like paint on a canvas. It was dried and crusted and made my fur appear brown and lifeless. I ignored the comment that had been harshly spat at me, having learned to hold my tongue if I wanted to stay in their midst. Looking down, I continued the tedious task of mixing the rich red dye into the yellow paint in order to create the perfect shade of sunset. Satisfied, I stood and delivered it to a lone man leaning against a tree near where we had settled for the night. He held a small canvas and began to use what I had provided before giving an appreciative nod. I knew that the gratitude was merely dependent the proper color, but it still made me slightly giddy. It soon became a valuable lesson to enjoy the small victories in an uphill battle.
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“Hey, you! These colors are dull!”
“This paint is too thin.”
None of my efforts seemed to please them. The lack of appreciation and the threat of being out on the streets had followed me as closely as my own shadow. I had to hide every scowl, bite my tongue over every curse word, and follow orders if I wanted to stay in the only place I could call home. One day, I had a real home and family. The next, I was brought to this odd group and was told that they would watch over me if I remained obedient. The sudden separation had closed me off to anything that felt like ‘family’ now that my own was nonexistent.
When I was nearly eleven years in age, the tribe had begun to call itself the Wayra, which meant ‘wind’ in Quechua. Always moving, sometimes strong and sometimes weak, sometimes cold and sometimes warm. The Wayra.
Some of the men would speak in foreign dialect and make me appear stupid for not understanding what they were asking; it was yet another flaw. I was gangly and sickly-looking; my fur had been nearly brown from the dirt of the ground and taking last priority in the bathing schedule. The few clothes they had given me were stained with the ugly colors of paint I had poorly mixed. And my eyes, a dull whitish-gray that I could never learn to appreciate.
For many years, I didn’t know where I belonged. I often found myself wondering ‘Why am I still here?’ Then I remembered that a young girl wouldn’t be able to survive on her own without any prospects. So I continued to travel with them, my feet aching with callouses that told a story of the journey, and my hands seemingly stained with dried paint.
As we ventured into new territory every few months, I began to see changes in myself. My dark hair had grown longer and contained a bit more shine. I had become taller, filling out evenly. My face, once a scrunched up, ill-looking face of a child, had become elongated and attractive. The largest change, however, was the creamy white of my fur. It had gained splashes of color lining my frame. What had once been under the fur was now surfacing in vibrant colors. As I aged, they only became more prominent, until, at seventeen, they were my defining features.
The men who would spit at me for being a dirty servant were now gawking at me in bewilderment. Not only had I bloomed physically, I also was able to hone my trained skills. Some of the members had even begun to view me as an equal, often watching my process of blending the correct hues that they required.
One day, the chief of the Wayra gathered everyone together and I could feel my heart racing. The chief rarely ever addressed the whole tribe, and when he did, it was for dire circumstances. I was occupied remembering the time when I was first brought to them as a scrawny seven year old. My parents’ faces were now a blur to me, but the moment was clear. I was shivering and my hair was a short, ruffled mess….
Suddenly, my thought process was halted as I heard my name. The chief was gesturing to come forward and stand beside him. I reluctantly did so and within moments, an arm was around my fragile shoulders and he was announcing “Young Ivory came to us at the tender age of seven. Now, she has blossomed,” he gestured to my entirety, “and she will become an inspiration to us.”
For two years, I had become their muse. Abstract, realism, surrealism, caricature, I saw my face and the lines of colors emanating brightly. Where my eyes had once seemed dull and boring, they were now full of life. Then, at the tentative age of nineteen, I decided that it was time to move on.
On the day of my goodbye, the chief gathered everyone once more. I stood beside him, tall and silent, as I had practiced for many years. He presented me with an earring that had been carved, painted and polished masterfully. As it was placed in my ear, the chief spoke with the wisdom of many as he announced “May you take this trinket and remember where you are from. May you forever remember your value to us and may your colors always inspire.” A small prayer was said in Quechua and I was sent on to my own journey.
My life as a servant will always remain a secret, for I was only equal with dirt and insects. I was unskilled, untrained, and reckless. Even my time as an inspiration remains with myself and only myself, for no amount of attention would feel as deserved as the attention of the tribe. The earring, the last remaining symbol, will forever hold my secret.
{1000 words}
Short Personality
Due to having lived with the tribe for many years of her life, she doesn't know very much about the way the modern world works. She has ventured on her own and makes a living selling art supplies, but what she didn't have while she was with the Wayra is foreign to her.
Ivory often speaks with a lack of contractions such as 'I'm' or 'don't' or 'haven't' since she is used to a Quechua dialect. She also gets very flustered with compliments since she had only received them from the tribe when she was their muse and she feels that she doesn't deserve admiration from others unlike how she felt she earned her way within the tribe.
Her past as a dirty servant embarrasses her greatly, which is why her whole life within the Wayra is something she keeps a secret. And the last reminder of that life is the violet earring she wears.
Due to the fact that she always had to hold her tongue against the bitter remarks she faced, now, when angered, she tends to have a foul mouth. When she first began adjusting to a life without constantly traveling, being looked down upon, and hearing Quechua, the curse words in society became well-known to her and she found them as an outlet to express what she couldn't say for so long.
When she ends up getting too angry/upset and uses foul language, she often gets very flustered and apologizes for her rude nature.
Swearing is only one of the few bad habits she picked up from society. To deal with her nerves, she took up smoking, no matter how bad she had heard that it was for a person. She limits herself to only smoking twice a day and is actively trying to quit, but on occasion, if her nerves get the better of her, it isn't odd to see her light a cigarette.
Her obliviousness to the workings of the world are humorous on occasion and if others laugh at her for it, it is one of the triggers to her speaking her mind, foul language and all. However, in a calm setting, she tends to come off as being timid.
Sexuality
Ivory doesn't really define her sexuality. She is the type that would earnestly 'go with the flow' and could develop romantic feelings for whomever she could possibly trust with her largest secret. She is slightly wary toward men since most of the tribe members that treated her poorly were male, but she has seen good and bad in both genders.
Family
Enitan- Cousin
Due to having lived with the tribe for many years of her life, she doesn't know very much about the way the modern world works. She has ventured on her own and makes a living selling art supplies, but what she didn't have while she was with the Wayra is foreign to her.
Ivory often speaks with a lack of contractions such as 'I'm' or 'don't' or 'haven't' since she is used to a Quechua dialect. She also gets very flustered with compliments since she had only received them from the tribe when she was their muse and she feels that she doesn't deserve admiration from others unlike how she felt she earned her way within the tribe.
Her past as a dirty servant embarrasses her greatly, which is why her whole life within the Wayra is something she keeps a secret. And the last reminder of that life is the violet earring she wears.
Due to the fact that she always had to hold her tongue against the bitter remarks she faced, now, when angered, she tends to have a foul mouth. When she first began adjusting to a life without constantly traveling, being looked down upon, and hearing Quechua, the curse words in society became well-known to her and she found them as an outlet to express what she couldn't say for so long.
When she ends up getting too angry/upset and uses foul language, she often gets very flustered and apologizes for her rude nature.
Swearing is only one of the few bad habits she picked up from society. To deal with her nerves, she took up smoking, no matter how bad she had heard that it was for a person. She limits herself to only smoking twice a day and is actively trying to quit, but on occasion, if her nerves get the better of her, it isn't odd to see her light a cigarette.
Her obliviousness to the workings of the world are humorous on occasion and if others laugh at her for it, it is one of the triggers to her speaking her mind, foul language and all. However, in a calm setting, she tends to come off as being timid.
Sexuality
Ivory doesn't really define her sexuality. She is the type that would earnestly 'go with the flow' and could develop romantic feelings for whomever she could possibly trust with her largest secret. She is slightly wary toward men since most of the tribe members that treated her poorly were male, but she has seen good and bad in both genders.
Family
Enitan- Cousin
