Post by Frankie on Mar 4, 2006 16:03:18 GMT -5
Tremblez dans la crainte de l'esprit pathétique de Frankie. Voici ses caractères, en français, aucuns moins ! Quoiqu'elle pourrait l'avoir dactylographié vers le haut en anglais, mais elle est trop boiteux juste pour faire cela.*
Frankie (Cat-Wolf)
Chat-Loup. Le loup qui menace dans la folie.[/b][/color]
Drawn by the lovely Philophobia/Tonique/Abby. <3
****
*****
Frankie is a creature of a much-disputed past. She, for the most part, can not - or will not - speak of her past. Many creatures believe that because she refuses to speak of her past, she was some sort of serial killer. But the truth is much simpler. Frankie cannot remember what happened before her parents died.
What Frankie does know, however, is that she does not need to know her previous family to be loved. Her adopted family does that just find. And just who is this family? A pack of wolves, living deep in the wild arctic of Kin'tiac'la'nec. This pack has taught Frankie the ways of the wolf, their laws, their customs. And so, Frankie has considered herself a wolf from her earliest days. How? How can she possibly believe herself to be a canine, when her body is that of a feline? Because her parents, the alphas of her pack, the Antha Pack, told her she was. And Frankie, being the stubborn creature she is, will always believe the words of those who saved her from death.
The greatest day of her life, she attributes to her Mother and Father, Light Stream and Fang. They believed in her, and because of them, she found a way to give herself the body of a wolf, with wings, no less. She is able to shape shift between her cat and wolf forms, and has always looked upon the day an ancient sorceress granted her this ability.
Now, don't think that this little cat-wolf's life has been easy. Her life has been filled with so many obstacles, which would cause many creatures to just give up. But Frankie enjoys a challenge, if nothing more, but even the torments of the last few months have been enough to drive her into depression.
Her father, the brave leader of the Antha Pack, the glorious Fang, had been kidnapped by a former member of the pack, a wolf hybrid named Cartherian. He sought revenge for being cast out of the pack before Frankie was even born. What his plan was, Frankie didn't quite know. But she did know one thing - she was going to rescue her father.
Frankie went off to search for her father, but in the end, she met with only despair. Fang, her loving father, who had taught her everything she knew, had been murdered, right in front of her eyes. Somehow, Frankie blamed herself, and in that moment of blind fury and despair, she swore to kill Cartherian, if it was the last thing she did.
But then, of course, the horror sunk in. Her father was dead. She had watched him die. She had heard his last ragged breath, heard him speak to her for the last time. Temporarily mad with grief, she buried her father, stayed for the appropriate mourning period, and then began walking. She didn't know where she was going, she just walked. She continues to walk even now, ignoring the everyday care of her body. She is skinny, her fur is snarled and dirty, and her eyes have lost their sparkle. Of course, she has sense enough to at least appear slightly healthy in well-populated areas, if only so she is not murdered. But her life has been a living torture, and one that she fears she will never escape.
Current Role Plays: Memories.
Frankie (Human)
La fille des bois qui ne cherche aucune maison.
Picture drawn by the lovely Julie. <3
The girl of the woods, wandering, with no true home. Kind and respectful to those who have earned it, and scornful and rude to those who have not. All of these words describe Frankie.
She has been alone almost as long as she can remember. She does remember her younger days faintly, brought up by a lovely young lady whose name she does not know. When she was still very young, just barely learning to toddle around, the lady disappeared, and Frankie was given to a child's home. Once she was able to speak coherently and run and walk without falling over herself, Frankie left the child's home, determined to make a life for herself. She was either five or six years old.
For a while, she was a beggar on the streets. Some people were kind, and gave small amounts of gold and food to the child. Some even offered to treat her to a mug of hot cider. Others ignored her, or kicked at her. The drunkards were the worst. Smelly, rude and loud, they would often chase her, until she would hide away and cry herself to sleep. But one fateful day, that all changed.
Frankie could remember it clearly. She was sitting outside of a tavern/inn, hoping some kind, not too drunk soul would give her a coin to buy dinner. That night, there was a weathered man, who couldn't have been too terribly old - Frankie guessed he was around his late twenties or early thirties. This man, dressed almost completely in brown, who carried a bow and a quiver of arrows, and covered his head with a long cap, intrigued the young girl, who, although not yet seven, was quite thoughtful - she had to be, for someone who made a living entirely on her own.
This man stared at her as he stepped inside the tavern, then turned his attention fully to the pretty barmaids. Frankie snuck up to the window and peered in at the man, watching as a steaming plate of meat and greens was delivered to him, along with a large tankard of ale. He thanked the barmaid, and then glanced out the window - looking straight at Frankie, who squeaked and dropped down immediately, blushing a bright red. When the door of the tavern opened and the man stepped out, Frankie attempted to dissolve into the wall. The man looked at her, not unkindly, and said, "Come, child. You must be starving."
Shyly, Frankie had followed the man inside the tavern, where he ordered her a smaller, though still quite large, version of his meal.
After this meal, Frankie had been given a room of her own to sleep in, with a real bed! The man slept across the hallway, and the next morning he offered Frankie the chance to go with him to his home. Normally, Frankie would never have dreamed of accepting this offer - living with a slightly creepy older man just wasn't her thing. However, the thought of more hot meals and a bed made her nod happily.
The man had no horse, so they walked for many days together, and on these walks, the man would teach her about the plants and animals of the forests, how to protect oneself in a town full of pickpockets, and much more. These lessons became more detailed as they left the open road and began to trek through the forest itself. Frankie, having been confined in a small town for the majority of her life, knew nothing of this forest, but if she had known, if she had been taught to read maps, she would have realized they were entering the Forest of Karia. All she knew was that all this walking hurt her feet. She still liked the walks, as she enjoyed learning about the animals and plants - even if she missed questions all the time.
At long last, they reached a small cabin, which Frankie naturally assumed was were the man lived. When they stepped through the door, the first thing the man asked her was "What do you know of your letters?"
"L-letters, sir?" She had replied, her brow furrowed.
"Yes. Reading, writing, the like."
"I... I never did learn my letters, sir."
The man had sighed, grabbed a book, and sat down at his table. Frankie joined him, and learned her letters.
For several happy years her life continued like this, though she was still confused by many things about the man (whose name was Kuran, as she later learned, though she still called him sir more often than not). For one, why did he always wear a cap? If he was not wearing his long-eared cap, he wore a long nightcap. Frankie had pointed out to him once that it was rude to wear a hat indoors, and he had become so furious, to the point of hitting Frankie, that the girl had drawn back in fear and apologized repeatedly, even crying. Finally, Kuran had calmed himself enough, but refused to elaborate on the matter.
One day, however, Frankie discovered the true reason for his caps. They had been walking through the forest, she a now wiser girl of eleven, when Kuran had walked beneath a tree with low-hanging branches. His cap was caught by one of these and swooped right off. When Frankie saw what was beneath that cap, she gasped and stared. Two long, pointy ears took the place of rounded human ears.
"Kuran, sir! Y-you're an elf!"
Kuran had glared at her, then looked sad and nodded.
"But... Why would you hide your ears?"
"Because, Frankie. Elves aren't supposed to leave the Forest of Karia." He had explained.
"So?"
"Ugh, Frankie, you're so naïve. If I'm seen outside of the Forest, with my pointy ears in all their glory, I would draw undue attention to myself. As you might know, men have a deep jealousy against elves, bordering on a phobia."
"... No, I didn't know that." Frankie's brow had again furrowed. Kuran sighed.
"Okay, well, a lot of them do. And if some man got too jealous or scared of an elf, he might do something bad. He might try to hurt that elf, or kill him."
Frankie had nodded slowly. "Ohhh. I see." Then another question came to her. "But why do you wear your cap when you're in the Forest of Karia? And why don't you live in a tribe with other elves?"
"Because, Frankie of the Many Questions, you are young and innocent. If you ever did leave this Forest, I would not wish for you to tell everybody about your teacher and his appearance. And I don't live in a tribe because, well, I don't want to."
"... Oh. Okay."
"Now, may we please continue with our lesson?"
"Only if you stop wearing those caps around me." Frankie had said stubbornly. Again, Kuran shot daggers at her, then grinned, a slow spreading sensation.
"Of course. Agreed. Now, this plant here, you tell me what this is..."
Frankie had thought that she would spend her whole life in the forest, but one day, Kuran had fallen ill with a strange disease. He showed no symptoms up until the day he began a high fever. Then, he would stay in his bed and allow Frankie to tend to him - if she would only continue with her letters, which she was becoming quite good at.
After several weeks, Kuran had recovered from his strange illness, but after he was able to fully care for himself, he told Frankie that her time with him was up. Frankie had been twelve at this time. "But why?" She had cried. "Why?"
"You are smart Frankie, and a fast learner. All these years as my student, and you've picked up much more than I thought you would. I'm very proud of you, Frankie. You may still visit me, of course, or I will find you, but you cannot stay here any longer. Please, Frankie, pack your things and leave. Head for the nearest town, and then you may do as you wish from there. Here. I have been saving this for you." He got up and pulled out a bag of coins from under his bed. "This should be enough to keep you in good health for a while, if you spend it wisely. And if you do as I've taught you, then you should never be lacking for money."
Frankie had nodded silently, accepting Kuran's gift to her, and fighting back tears, she left Kuran's little cabin and the Forest of Karia. From there, she had wandered from place to place, never really belonging anywhere, and slowly coming to accept it. Four times a year, she would visit Kuran. That was her plan. And then, after that, who knew? But Frankie had taken care of herself before. She knows that, no matter what, she will never be lacking or hungry again, thanks to Kuran.
Current Role Plays: New Places.
Kianta Soulife (Human)
La beauté laide qui rêve de l'amour et de la chaleur d'une mère.
Picture drawn by the lovely Julie. <3
(Name is pronounced - Key-an-tah Soul-leaf ((Soul-leaf-a (((long a))) is acceptable.)).)
She was ugly. She knew that. But why would looks earn her mother's hatred? Kianta Soulife was certain that her mother did not love her. Sure, Mother, who was the wealthy and beautiful Lady Adryenna Soulife, had taught her daughter her sewing, her horseback riding, her letters, but she hadn't really cared about her daughter. At least, that's what Kianta believed.
She was Lady Soulife's only daughter, her father having died of the fever while Mother was pregnant. Mother often told Kianta of her birth, of the foggy, drizzly morning on which the old healer had left her town and come to the Soulife Estate to deliver Mother's baby girl, who had her father's eyes.
Kianta had loved this tale when she was younger, but when she was older she grew to resent it. Did Mother tell it so that her daughter would feel falsely loved? It had worked, but no longer.
As Kianta grew older, she began to spend more time alone, escaping from her nurses, and playing alone in the woods. She would build houses for herself, and pretend that she had her own little family, like most girls do. But Mother's story had always reminded Kianta of one thing - she was too ugly for anybody to love, and would never have a family of her own.
Kianta was pale all over, as though she had never in her life seen sunlight. If you looked carefully enough, you could see the blood veins beneath her skin. Her hair, which hung limp and drab, was an auburn color, though it had no bounce, no vitality.
Her eyes, however, were remarkable. While they were a light watery blue, the shone, they showed her true moods. With her eyes, Kianta could never lie. Her eyes shone like precious gems when she was feeling a strong emotion, particularly sadness or happiness. Guests who came to come a'courting Mother would always comment on Kianta's eyes, and nothing else about her, except perhaps her voice. Kianta's voice was angelic and sweet, calm and soothing, yet when she was passionate, it was passionate. She could sing like a bird, which was about the only thing she was proud of.
But eyes and voice weren't the things men looked for in wives, even if the said women had a considerable dowry. Kianta needed to be pretty, but even makeup did not help her sickly complexion.
Mother, of course, always said she was the most beautiful little girl a mother could ask for. Kianta knew Mother was lying. Mother lied about everything. Finally, when Mother was retelling Kianta's birth story, Kianta confronted her Mother, demanding to know why she lied to Kianta, why she claimed to love her, and who her father really was. Mother had been stunned, and attempted to explain the truth, but Kianta had claimed that Mother's truths were other's lies.
That night, while Kianta was supposedly asleep, she snuck out of her room, carrying barely anything with her but some coarse clothing, a little amount of money, and various other items.
If perhaps she had known that her Mother had watched her leave, had prayed that her daughter would return one day, when she was wiser, and then going out to stare at her daughter's final footstep in the mud. Lady Soulife had whispered blessings to her daughter, and then whispered, "Maybe you thought I was lying, Kianta my love, but you really are the most beautiful girl ever. It's not looks that matter, but spirit. And you have the spirit and personality of your grandmother. I can only hope that you realize this someday, and return to me."
But Kianta hadn't heard any of this, and had stubbornly continued on her journeys. Finally, she found work as a swordswoman, and trained constantly with her trusty blade, forged for her especially with the little money she had in her bags.
After Kianta had made plenty of money as a swordswoman, she decided that it was time to see the world, to find a place where she would fit in at last. Leaving her sword and armor in a small town, she had taken nothing but her gold coins, and went off, searching for a niche in the big wide world.
Current Role Plays: Sorrow.
*Tremble in fear of the pathetic spirit of Frankie. Here its characters, in French, aucuns less! Though it could have upwards typed it in English, but it is too lame right to do that.**
**Tremble in fear of Frankie's pathetic mind. Here are her characters, in French, no less! Even though she could have typed it up in English, but she's just too lame to do that.
***Picture drawn by the lovely Discord/Nemesis. <3
****Picture drawn by the lovely Julieboo. <3[/size]
Frankie (Cat-Wolf)
Chat-Loup. Le loup qui menace dans la folie.[/b][/color]
Drawn by the lovely Philophobia/Tonique/Abby. <3
****
*****
Frankie is a creature of a much-disputed past. She, for the most part, can not - or will not - speak of her past. Many creatures believe that because she refuses to speak of her past, she was some sort of serial killer. But the truth is much simpler. Frankie cannot remember what happened before her parents died.
What Frankie does know, however, is that she does not need to know her previous family to be loved. Her adopted family does that just find. And just who is this family? A pack of wolves, living deep in the wild arctic of Kin'tiac'la'nec. This pack has taught Frankie the ways of the wolf, their laws, their customs. And so, Frankie has considered herself a wolf from her earliest days. How? How can she possibly believe herself to be a canine, when her body is that of a feline? Because her parents, the alphas of her pack, the Antha Pack, told her she was. And Frankie, being the stubborn creature she is, will always believe the words of those who saved her from death.
The greatest day of her life, she attributes to her Mother and Father, Light Stream and Fang. They believed in her, and because of them, she found a way to give herself the body of a wolf, with wings, no less. She is able to shape shift between her cat and wolf forms, and has always looked upon the day an ancient sorceress granted her this ability.
Now, don't think that this little cat-wolf's life has been easy. Her life has been filled with so many obstacles, which would cause many creatures to just give up. But Frankie enjoys a challenge, if nothing more, but even the torments of the last few months have been enough to drive her into depression.
Her father, the brave leader of the Antha Pack, the glorious Fang, had been kidnapped by a former member of the pack, a wolf hybrid named Cartherian. He sought revenge for being cast out of the pack before Frankie was even born. What his plan was, Frankie didn't quite know. But she did know one thing - she was going to rescue her father.
Frankie went off to search for her father, but in the end, she met with only despair. Fang, her loving father, who had taught her everything she knew, had been murdered, right in front of her eyes. Somehow, Frankie blamed herself, and in that moment of blind fury and despair, she swore to kill Cartherian, if it was the last thing she did.
But then, of course, the horror sunk in. Her father was dead. She had watched him die. She had heard his last ragged breath, heard him speak to her for the last time. Temporarily mad with grief, she buried her father, stayed for the appropriate mourning period, and then began walking. She didn't know where she was going, she just walked. She continues to walk even now, ignoring the everyday care of her body. She is skinny, her fur is snarled and dirty, and her eyes have lost their sparkle. Of course, she has sense enough to at least appear slightly healthy in well-populated areas, if only so she is not murdered. But her life has been a living torture, and one that she fears she will never escape.
Current Role Plays: Memories.
Frankie (Human)
La fille des bois qui ne cherche aucune maison.
Picture drawn by the lovely Julie. <3
The girl of the woods, wandering, with no true home. Kind and respectful to those who have earned it, and scornful and rude to those who have not. All of these words describe Frankie.
She has been alone almost as long as she can remember. She does remember her younger days faintly, brought up by a lovely young lady whose name she does not know. When she was still very young, just barely learning to toddle around, the lady disappeared, and Frankie was given to a child's home. Once she was able to speak coherently and run and walk without falling over herself, Frankie left the child's home, determined to make a life for herself. She was either five or six years old.
For a while, she was a beggar on the streets. Some people were kind, and gave small amounts of gold and food to the child. Some even offered to treat her to a mug of hot cider. Others ignored her, or kicked at her. The drunkards were the worst. Smelly, rude and loud, they would often chase her, until she would hide away and cry herself to sleep. But one fateful day, that all changed.
Frankie could remember it clearly. She was sitting outside of a tavern/inn, hoping some kind, not too drunk soul would give her a coin to buy dinner. That night, there was a weathered man, who couldn't have been too terribly old - Frankie guessed he was around his late twenties or early thirties. This man, dressed almost completely in brown, who carried a bow and a quiver of arrows, and covered his head with a long cap, intrigued the young girl, who, although not yet seven, was quite thoughtful - she had to be, for someone who made a living entirely on her own.
This man stared at her as he stepped inside the tavern, then turned his attention fully to the pretty barmaids. Frankie snuck up to the window and peered in at the man, watching as a steaming plate of meat and greens was delivered to him, along with a large tankard of ale. He thanked the barmaid, and then glanced out the window - looking straight at Frankie, who squeaked and dropped down immediately, blushing a bright red. When the door of the tavern opened and the man stepped out, Frankie attempted to dissolve into the wall. The man looked at her, not unkindly, and said, "Come, child. You must be starving."
Shyly, Frankie had followed the man inside the tavern, where he ordered her a smaller, though still quite large, version of his meal.
After this meal, Frankie had been given a room of her own to sleep in, with a real bed! The man slept across the hallway, and the next morning he offered Frankie the chance to go with him to his home. Normally, Frankie would never have dreamed of accepting this offer - living with a slightly creepy older man just wasn't her thing. However, the thought of more hot meals and a bed made her nod happily.
The man had no horse, so they walked for many days together, and on these walks, the man would teach her about the plants and animals of the forests, how to protect oneself in a town full of pickpockets, and much more. These lessons became more detailed as they left the open road and began to trek through the forest itself. Frankie, having been confined in a small town for the majority of her life, knew nothing of this forest, but if she had known, if she had been taught to read maps, she would have realized they were entering the Forest of Karia. All she knew was that all this walking hurt her feet. She still liked the walks, as she enjoyed learning about the animals and plants - even if she missed questions all the time.
At long last, they reached a small cabin, which Frankie naturally assumed was were the man lived. When they stepped through the door, the first thing the man asked her was "What do you know of your letters?"
"L-letters, sir?" She had replied, her brow furrowed.
"Yes. Reading, writing, the like."
"I... I never did learn my letters, sir."
The man had sighed, grabbed a book, and sat down at his table. Frankie joined him, and learned her letters.
For several happy years her life continued like this, though she was still confused by many things about the man (whose name was Kuran, as she later learned, though she still called him sir more often than not). For one, why did he always wear a cap? If he was not wearing his long-eared cap, he wore a long nightcap. Frankie had pointed out to him once that it was rude to wear a hat indoors, and he had become so furious, to the point of hitting Frankie, that the girl had drawn back in fear and apologized repeatedly, even crying. Finally, Kuran had calmed himself enough, but refused to elaborate on the matter.
One day, however, Frankie discovered the true reason for his caps. They had been walking through the forest, she a now wiser girl of eleven, when Kuran had walked beneath a tree with low-hanging branches. His cap was caught by one of these and swooped right off. When Frankie saw what was beneath that cap, she gasped and stared. Two long, pointy ears took the place of rounded human ears.
"Kuran, sir! Y-you're an elf!"
Kuran had glared at her, then looked sad and nodded.
"But... Why would you hide your ears?"
"Because, Frankie. Elves aren't supposed to leave the Forest of Karia." He had explained.
"So?"
"Ugh, Frankie, you're so naïve. If I'm seen outside of the Forest, with my pointy ears in all their glory, I would draw undue attention to myself. As you might know, men have a deep jealousy against elves, bordering on a phobia."
"... No, I didn't know that." Frankie's brow had again furrowed. Kuran sighed.
"Okay, well, a lot of them do. And if some man got too jealous or scared of an elf, he might do something bad. He might try to hurt that elf, or kill him."
Frankie had nodded slowly. "Ohhh. I see." Then another question came to her. "But why do you wear your cap when you're in the Forest of Karia? And why don't you live in a tribe with other elves?"
"Because, Frankie of the Many Questions, you are young and innocent. If you ever did leave this Forest, I would not wish for you to tell everybody about your teacher and his appearance. And I don't live in a tribe because, well, I don't want to."
"... Oh. Okay."
"Now, may we please continue with our lesson?"
"Only if you stop wearing those caps around me." Frankie had said stubbornly. Again, Kuran shot daggers at her, then grinned, a slow spreading sensation.
"Of course. Agreed. Now, this plant here, you tell me what this is..."
Frankie had thought that she would spend her whole life in the forest, but one day, Kuran had fallen ill with a strange disease. He showed no symptoms up until the day he began a high fever. Then, he would stay in his bed and allow Frankie to tend to him - if she would only continue with her letters, which she was becoming quite good at.
After several weeks, Kuran had recovered from his strange illness, but after he was able to fully care for himself, he told Frankie that her time with him was up. Frankie had been twelve at this time. "But why?" She had cried. "Why?"
"You are smart Frankie, and a fast learner. All these years as my student, and you've picked up much more than I thought you would. I'm very proud of you, Frankie. You may still visit me, of course, or I will find you, but you cannot stay here any longer. Please, Frankie, pack your things and leave. Head for the nearest town, and then you may do as you wish from there. Here. I have been saving this for you." He got up and pulled out a bag of coins from under his bed. "This should be enough to keep you in good health for a while, if you spend it wisely. And if you do as I've taught you, then you should never be lacking for money."
Frankie had nodded silently, accepting Kuran's gift to her, and fighting back tears, she left Kuran's little cabin and the Forest of Karia. From there, she had wandered from place to place, never really belonging anywhere, and slowly coming to accept it. Four times a year, she would visit Kuran. That was her plan. And then, after that, who knew? But Frankie had taken care of herself before. She knows that, no matter what, she will never be lacking or hungry again, thanks to Kuran.
Current Role Plays: New Places.
Kianta Soulife (Human)
La beauté laide qui rêve de l'amour et de la chaleur d'une mère.
Picture drawn by the lovely Julie. <3
(Name is pronounced - Key-an-tah Soul-leaf ((Soul-leaf-a (((long a))) is acceptable.)).)
She was ugly. She knew that. But why would looks earn her mother's hatred? Kianta Soulife was certain that her mother did not love her. Sure, Mother, who was the wealthy and beautiful Lady Adryenna Soulife, had taught her daughter her sewing, her horseback riding, her letters, but she hadn't really cared about her daughter. At least, that's what Kianta believed.
She was Lady Soulife's only daughter, her father having died of the fever while Mother was pregnant. Mother often told Kianta of her birth, of the foggy, drizzly morning on which the old healer had left her town and come to the Soulife Estate to deliver Mother's baby girl, who had her father's eyes.
Kianta had loved this tale when she was younger, but when she was older she grew to resent it. Did Mother tell it so that her daughter would feel falsely loved? It had worked, but no longer.
As Kianta grew older, she began to spend more time alone, escaping from her nurses, and playing alone in the woods. She would build houses for herself, and pretend that she had her own little family, like most girls do. But Mother's story had always reminded Kianta of one thing - she was too ugly for anybody to love, and would never have a family of her own.
Kianta was pale all over, as though she had never in her life seen sunlight. If you looked carefully enough, you could see the blood veins beneath her skin. Her hair, which hung limp and drab, was an auburn color, though it had no bounce, no vitality.
Her eyes, however, were remarkable. While they were a light watery blue, the shone, they showed her true moods. With her eyes, Kianta could never lie. Her eyes shone like precious gems when she was feeling a strong emotion, particularly sadness or happiness. Guests who came to come a'courting Mother would always comment on Kianta's eyes, and nothing else about her, except perhaps her voice. Kianta's voice was angelic and sweet, calm and soothing, yet when she was passionate, it was passionate. She could sing like a bird, which was about the only thing she was proud of.
But eyes and voice weren't the things men looked for in wives, even if the said women had a considerable dowry. Kianta needed to be pretty, but even makeup did not help her sickly complexion.
Mother, of course, always said she was the most beautiful little girl a mother could ask for. Kianta knew Mother was lying. Mother lied about everything. Finally, when Mother was retelling Kianta's birth story, Kianta confronted her Mother, demanding to know why she lied to Kianta, why she claimed to love her, and who her father really was. Mother had been stunned, and attempted to explain the truth, but Kianta had claimed that Mother's truths were other's lies.
That night, while Kianta was supposedly asleep, she snuck out of her room, carrying barely anything with her but some coarse clothing, a little amount of money, and various other items.
If perhaps she had known that her Mother had watched her leave, had prayed that her daughter would return one day, when she was wiser, and then going out to stare at her daughter's final footstep in the mud. Lady Soulife had whispered blessings to her daughter, and then whispered, "Maybe you thought I was lying, Kianta my love, but you really are the most beautiful girl ever. It's not looks that matter, but spirit. And you have the spirit and personality of your grandmother. I can only hope that you realize this someday, and return to me."
But Kianta hadn't heard any of this, and had stubbornly continued on her journeys. Finally, she found work as a swordswoman, and trained constantly with her trusty blade, forged for her especially with the little money she had in her bags.
After Kianta had made plenty of money as a swordswoman, she decided that it was time to see the world, to find a place where she would fit in at last. Leaving her sword and armor in a small town, she had taken nothing but her gold coins, and went off, searching for a niche in the big wide world.
Current Role Plays: Sorrow.
*Tremble in fear of the pathetic spirit of Frankie. Here its characters, in French, aucuns less! Though it could have upwards typed it in English, but it is too lame right to do that.**
**Tremble in fear of Frankie's pathetic mind. Here are her characters, in French, no less! Even though she could have typed it up in English, but she's just too lame to do that.
***Picture drawn by the lovely Discord/Nemesis. <3
****Picture drawn by the lovely Julieboo. <3[/size]
