Post by Hannala on Jul 11, 2009 12:44:41 GMT -5
Note: I hope that you don't mind that I took some liberties in Nipo's story as background for Lindiwe. It's just that, when I saw that there was an offspring of Nipo available to play... I was automatically drawn in. That might have something to do with the fact that the Nipo/Msomeshaji TP was my brainchild back in the day, but... 
Let me know if this needs work.
Name: Lindiwe
Picture: As a cub (http://www.thewe.cc/thewei/&_/images7/valued_life/lioness.jpe), as an adult (http://i1.trekearth.com/photos/2920/white_lion.jpg)
Meaning: Zulu for "have waited"
Linage: Sizwe x Nipo: Lindiwe, Nkiru
Species: Lion.
Gender: Female.
Age: Adult
Personality/Traits:
Lindiwe. Have waited. The lioness whose name is her own personal paradox. Having recently crested from adolescence into adulthood, Lindewe has retained the willfulness of youth. Indeed, since the death of her mother and sister, she has become far more willful than she ever was as a cub. Unreasonable. Stubborn. Off-kilter. Each of these words has been cast at her behind her back, yet were they spoken to her face, it would make little difference. Paired with her seemingly adolescent persistence is a nearly equal level of detachment to her pridesisters. Her words are few, but her thoughts are many. At this time in her life, she has become an observer, one who wishes to understand. A self-fashioned seeker of truth.
This is not to say that she does not fulfill her duty as a lioness. She is a huntress, of course; what lioness is not? Indeed, she has grown into the same roles as the lionesses that came before, and those who will follow after. She hunts. She helps care for the cubs. And the day draws near that she, too, shall have the responsibility of carrying and birthing a litter. But if one were to observe her as closely as she seeks to observe others, they would see the truth that she so hypocritically misses. Her actions are those of duty, not calling. A new experience will harbor her interest for a time, only to be shelved in her mind once she feels she has properly analysed it. Her place in the hunt is fine-tuned, but she does not improve. Though she will watch over any cubs placed in her care, she often devises ways to amuse her own mind while at the same time playing with the minds of the cubs. When the duties of the moment are completed, however, Lindiwe can dedicate herself to her passions, her ponderances, her seeking of truth. The past, carried in her mind's eyes by the stories that fell from her mother Nipo's maw, is of great interest to Lindiwe, and the more she lives, the more she sees, the more the stories speak truth to her.
History:
Lindiwe is the daughter of the late king Sizwe, and the lioness known merely as Nipo. Those who knew Nipo would not be readily surprised by the personality of her one surviving offspring. After all, Nipo and her two lioness cubs, Lindiwe and Nkiru, bore a certain loyalty toward each other that Lindiwe continues to carry on even past the death of her mother and sister. Though Nipo had transformed from the quiet, somewhat-dazed cub that arrived in Mnara some time ago, she still clung to her secrets. She clung to her grandfather Msomeshaji until his death. She clung to what little memory of the past that she had, the past that had driven them to Mnara in the first place. She remained barren through much of her life, finally birthing Lindiwe and Nkiru, offspring of Sizwe, in that king's final season. She was devoted to her two cubs, in her own way. Though Nkiru would often take leave to play with the other cubs, Lindiwe would stay by her mother's side, waiting. Listening. And the stories would come. Often in pieces, often as riddles, but the frayed edges of her mother's past would fall on her ears. And only her ears.
When tragedy befell the pride at large, it didn't hesitate to mark Lindiwe's family in the bold spilling of blood. Nkiru, amongst others, was one of those crushed during the fall of Pride Rock. Neither Nipo nor Lindiwe were broken in body as Nkiru was, but from that day, Lindiwe's mother bore the wound of Nkiru's death deep within her. No more did her stories grace Lindiwe's ears. No more did she sit with one daughter while the other played. Did she carry a guilt, that she was with one daughter while the other died? Lindiwe didn't know, couldn't know, for her mother's words no longer came. Despite the moving of the pride to the south, Nipo continued to return to the fallen rocks. Lindiwe sought to follow; she sought to know, yet she often lost her mother's trail, and returned to the pride dejected. It was during these times that her stealth was honed. Little did she know that such a skill would come in handy past her adolescence, when she would use it to bring down prey in the pridal hunts. She only knew that she had to find where her mother was going; she only knew that somehow, she mustn't be seen.
The day came that she followed her mother's trail to the fallen rocks, only to find that her mother's body was, itself, fallen. Had old age claimed the lioness? Or was it the weight of a heart broken by the loss of her younger cub? Lindiwe did not know. Could not know. But she must know. And it drives her.
Description:
Lindiwe's littermate got the lion's share of their father's genetics, leaving this girl with only a strong resemblance to their mother. The baby fat of cubhood has long since fled from her frame, but upon first glance, many would mistake her for an adolescent. Indeed, she appears lithe, long in frame, almost... lanky. Further examination would lead one to notice that this frame does, indeed, have its fair share of muscle. She is built for quick movement, for stealth; certainly not for brawn.
The genes of her mother can be seen in more than just her frame, however. Her pelt is the same ashy shade of cream as Nipo's, the tip of her tail the same darkened coal. Beyond that, the similarities end, for where her mother's eyes were pale, Lindiwe's orbs are a darker, steelier grey. Where sparks of amber spirited through her mother's eyes, Lindiwe's are weighed down with livid green. They are darker and colder, yes, but full of yearning.
In the same way, Lindiwe has escaped the darker features of her mother's facial markings. Nipo's pelt darkened upon the bridge of her nose, spreading between her eyes, and ending in dark-tipped ears. Lindiwe, however, carries only the darkened tips as a further reminder of her mother. Indeed, the fringe-like ear markings would appear almost comical, were her face not weighted down by the steel of her eyes.
Post Sample:
The thrumming. The thrumming, buzzing noise. It was there, always there, in the back of her mind. But here? Here, it was stronger. It was always stronger. Was it their blood? The blood of her ancestors, of her kin, of that mother and daughter to whom she was still tied? Perhaps, perhaps it was.
Allowing her gaze to rake over the undead behemoths before her, she sullenly cursed them in her mind. "What are you, to take their blood? Lifeless forms, violent pieces, undead earth!" Each word spewed from her mouth as if to call out the broken rocks. Once a symbol of the majestic prides that made their home on this savanna, it had turned into the death of many. Of course she knew that they had no say in the matter, yet still she clung to the bitterness. Still she clung to the hope that she might know, that on one of the treks northward these rocks might spill forth their secrets, might tell her why the storyteller had been taken from her. Why the mother who loved her cubs in her own riddled fashion, had turned to dust on this very ground.
Her mind once again frayed by these thoughts, Lindiwe stood. She had no further purpose here today. Her legs carried her down the rock she had been seated upon, the nimble paws moved amongst the jagged edge with the familiarity of one who had traveled its length many times before. She leapt softly to the dust below, pausing for a moment in the great rock's shadow. She regarded the earth below her for a moment, tracing it with a paw. In a way, she welcomed the dry season. Indeed, in her mind, the rainy season itself seemed nearly as sinister as these rocks. It washed away the dirt. It cleansed the ground. Lindiwe had no use for the rain that brought about new life. No, she wished for the old. The ways of the past. The dust beneath her paws spoke to her of this past, and for that, she cherished it.
Heard About Mnara: Unz'. Well, actually, Mnara was my partial brainchild back in the day. Was it really 2003? I'm inclined to believe WikiFur, but that seems like such a long time ago. Regardless, I was Nala. And Nipo. "Hannala", as it were.
Let me know if this needs work.Name: Lindiwe
Picture: As a cub (http://www.thewe.cc/thewei/&_/images7/valued_life/lioness.jpe), as an adult (http://i1.trekearth.com/photos/2920/white_lion.jpg)
Meaning: Zulu for "have waited"
Linage: Sizwe x Nipo: Lindiwe, Nkiru
Species: Lion.
Gender: Female.
Age: Adult
Personality/Traits:
Lindiwe. Have waited. The lioness whose name is her own personal paradox. Having recently crested from adolescence into adulthood, Lindewe has retained the willfulness of youth. Indeed, since the death of her mother and sister, she has become far more willful than she ever was as a cub. Unreasonable. Stubborn. Off-kilter. Each of these words has been cast at her behind her back, yet were they spoken to her face, it would make little difference. Paired with her seemingly adolescent persistence is a nearly equal level of detachment to her pridesisters. Her words are few, but her thoughts are many. At this time in her life, she has become an observer, one who wishes to understand. A self-fashioned seeker of truth.
This is not to say that she does not fulfill her duty as a lioness. She is a huntress, of course; what lioness is not? Indeed, she has grown into the same roles as the lionesses that came before, and those who will follow after. She hunts. She helps care for the cubs. And the day draws near that she, too, shall have the responsibility of carrying and birthing a litter. But if one were to observe her as closely as she seeks to observe others, they would see the truth that she so hypocritically misses. Her actions are those of duty, not calling. A new experience will harbor her interest for a time, only to be shelved in her mind once she feels she has properly analysed it. Her place in the hunt is fine-tuned, but she does not improve. Though she will watch over any cubs placed in her care, she often devises ways to amuse her own mind while at the same time playing with the minds of the cubs. When the duties of the moment are completed, however, Lindiwe can dedicate herself to her passions, her ponderances, her seeking of truth. The past, carried in her mind's eyes by the stories that fell from her mother Nipo's maw, is of great interest to Lindiwe, and the more she lives, the more she sees, the more the stories speak truth to her.
History:
Lindiwe is the daughter of the late king Sizwe, and the lioness known merely as Nipo. Those who knew Nipo would not be readily surprised by the personality of her one surviving offspring. After all, Nipo and her two lioness cubs, Lindiwe and Nkiru, bore a certain loyalty toward each other that Lindiwe continues to carry on even past the death of her mother and sister. Though Nipo had transformed from the quiet, somewhat-dazed cub that arrived in Mnara some time ago, she still clung to her secrets. She clung to her grandfather Msomeshaji until his death. She clung to what little memory of the past that she had, the past that had driven them to Mnara in the first place. She remained barren through much of her life, finally birthing Lindiwe and Nkiru, offspring of Sizwe, in that king's final season. She was devoted to her two cubs, in her own way. Though Nkiru would often take leave to play with the other cubs, Lindiwe would stay by her mother's side, waiting. Listening. And the stories would come. Often in pieces, often as riddles, but the frayed edges of her mother's past would fall on her ears. And only her ears.
When tragedy befell the pride at large, it didn't hesitate to mark Lindiwe's family in the bold spilling of blood. Nkiru, amongst others, was one of those crushed during the fall of Pride Rock. Neither Nipo nor Lindiwe were broken in body as Nkiru was, but from that day, Lindiwe's mother bore the wound of Nkiru's death deep within her. No more did her stories grace Lindiwe's ears. No more did she sit with one daughter while the other played. Did she carry a guilt, that she was with one daughter while the other died? Lindiwe didn't know, couldn't know, for her mother's words no longer came. Despite the moving of the pride to the south, Nipo continued to return to the fallen rocks. Lindiwe sought to follow; she sought to know, yet she often lost her mother's trail, and returned to the pride dejected. It was during these times that her stealth was honed. Little did she know that such a skill would come in handy past her adolescence, when she would use it to bring down prey in the pridal hunts. She only knew that she had to find where her mother was going; she only knew that somehow, she mustn't be seen.
The day came that she followed her mother's trail to the fallen rocks, only to find that her mother's body was, itself, fallen. Had old age claimed the lioness? Or was it the weight of a heart broken by the loss of her younger cub? Lindiwe did not know. Could not know. But she must know. And it drives her.
Description:
Lindiwe's littermate got the lion's share of their father's genetics, leaving this girl with only a strong resemblance to their mother. The baby fat of cubhood has long since fled from her frame, but upon first glance, many would mistake her for an adolescent. Indeed, she appears lithe, long in frame, almost... lanky. Further examination would lead one to notice that this frame does, indeed, have its fair share of muscle. She is built for quick movement, for stealth; certainly not for brawn.
The genes of her mother can be seen in more than just her frame, however. Her pelt is the same ashy shade of cream as Nipo's, the tip of her tail the same darkened coal. Beyond that, the similarities end, for where her mother's eyes were pale, Lindiwe's orbs are a darker, steelier grey. Where sparks of amber spirited through her mother's eyes, Lindiwe's are weighed down with livid green. They are darker and colder, yes, but full of yearning.
In the same way, Lindiwe has escaped the darker features of her mother's facial markings. Nipo's pelt darkened upon the bridge of her nose, spreading between her eyes, and ending in dark-tipped ears. Lindiwe, however, carries only the darkened tips as a further reminder of her mother. Indeed, the fringe-like ear markings would appear almost comical, were her face not weighted down by the steel of her eyes.
Post Sample:
The thrumming. The thrumming, buzzing noise. It was there, always there, in the back of her mind. But here? Here, it was stronger. It was always stronger. Was it their blood? The blood of her ancestors, of her kin, of that mother and daughter to whom she was still tied? Perhaps, perhaps it was.
Allowing her gaze to rake over the undead behemoths before her, she sullenly cursed them in her mind. "What are you, to take their blood? Lifeless forms, violent pieces, undead earth!" Each word spewed from her mouth as if to call out the broken rocks. Once a symbol of the majestic prides that made their home on this savanna, it had turned into the death of many. Of course she knew that they had no say in the matter, yet still she clung to the bitterness. Still she clung to the hope that she might know, that on one of the treks northward these rocks might spill forth their secrets, might tell her why the storyteller had been taken from her. Why the mother who loved her cubs in her own riddled fashion, had turned to dust on this very ground.
Her mind once again frayed by these thoughts, Lindiwe stood. She had no further purpose here today. Her legs carried her down the rock she had been seated upon, the nimble paws moved amongst the jagged edge with the familiarity of one who had traveled its length many times before. She leapt softly to the dust below, pausing for a moment in the great rock's shadow. She regarded the earth below her for a moment, tracing it with a paw. In a way, she welcomed the dry season. Indeed, in her mind, the rainy season itself seemed nearly as sinister as these rocks. It washed away the dirt. It cleansed the ground. Lindiwe had no use for the rain that brought about new life. No, she wished for the old. The ways of the past. The dust beneath her paws spoke to her of this past, and for that, she cherished it.
Heard About Mnara: Unz'. Well, actually, Mnara was my partial brainchild back in the day. Was it really 2003? I'm inclined to believe WikiFur, but that seems like such a long time ago. Regardless, I was Nala. And Nipo. "Hannala", as it were.
