by jayus » Sun Apr 14, 2013 11:13 am
Name;
This young miss will be named September.
Gender;
Female
Personality;
September is a lot like her name; She can be warm, or cold. I kind of imagine her as Luna Lovegood- floaty, wispy and in her own world, but always able to help you.
.: Arbitrary :.
September can change her mind a lot, and for no apparent reason. She's kind of drifty, and doesn't really heed attention to the world around her.
.: Funny :.
September is always saying things that make people laugh, but she doesn't always mean to.
.: Serene :.
September is very smooth and calm. She loves reflecting upon herself and other topics, and doesn't fuss or make scenes.
.: Firm :.
September doesn't let herself be swayed by others, and never changes her mind according to their will.
Traditions she follows;
September has a couple traditions:
~ She grows all sorts of berries, and on the 4th of July every year, she takes berries to the orphans in a nearby orphanage. They call it "Berry Day", and they love eating the berries all summer.
~ May 1st, she always goes and gets her winter coat cut. It lets her stay cool enough during the spring, and then it thins way out for the summer, making her nice and cool.
Nickname;
September's nickname is Berry. She gets called this because of her berries that she loves to grow, and how sweet she can be.
Here's a little story, a story about me. Take a little listen, you'll soon see.
I felt my fur rustle in the deliciously cool breeze, and I drank it in, savouring it. I padded across the forest fur, feeling the leaves left over from the winter skip beneath my feet. I followed a path known only to myself, and soon found myself facing a huge collection of berries. Along the ground in one section, strawberries grew wildly, over growing their area. In the far right corner, a huge blackberry bush towered, shadowing the blueberries underneath. Raspberries climbed up trellises, the leaves straining towards the sunlight. I found myself transfixed by the scene.
Shaking myself free of the hypnosis, I set about to picking the ripe berries. My mouth watered at the succulent scents, but my will was more firm than a steel trap. I would not eat the berries.
A few hours later, I surveyed my work. I had picked many berries, leaving only a few ripe ones, and many that were underripe. At long last, I allowed myself to sample one ripe berry of each type, grinning as the juices rolled across my tongue.
