Post by Amara on Jul 17, 2009 21:18:55 GMT -5
Name: Amara
Meaning: "grace" in Igbo
Linage: Dumisani x Chike: Chi, Idowu, Kgosi, Atieno
Species: Spotted hyena
Gender: Female
Age: Adolescent
Personality/Traits: Grace is, generally, not a term used with the young but powerful female, first daughter of Dumisani and the late Chike. She is greedy, loud, brash, unkind, and a bully; a perfect candidate to potentially oust her mother one day. Her siblings mean as little to her as the ants underneath her paws, though she seems to enjoy their company only when they are part of the hunt; once it's over, however, she will be the first to attack anyone in an attempt to take her bigger portion of the meal to be had... after Dumisani, of course. Perhaps her best, or worst, personality trait is her manipulative nature... always spreading little lies, or deceitful untruths about others in order to spark scuffles among those beneath her. In truth, no one is really beneath Amara at all, though she'd like to think that much of the clan, particularly the males, should bend to her every whim.
Often, she will attack other creatures outright if they use her full name. The beauty that her name carries is seen as a burden to her, as well as the beauty that seems to follow her everywhere she goes in the form of her illustrious pelt of sandy-gold. The female tends to go by 'Mara,' or 'Mar,' and puts on a good show of bravado and toughness in front of her clan. Mar is a spitfire, quick to react and even quicker to punish.
History: Mar grew like any other pup. Any other female pup, that is. She jostled for the best place at meals, often winning, and wrestled her siblings in seemingly endless games where she would come out on top more often than not. If she happened to lose, she would exact her revenge upon her unsuspecting victim... usually while their back was turned. When she was old enough to know what it meant, she would use her first born status as leverage above her litter mates, forcing decisions on her own choosing upon them and, if things were to go wrong, placing the blame on someone else. Mar quickly learned how to dodge the responsibility of her actions, and how to still reap the benefits after the fact. As a young adolescent she would very often skip out on the hunt, then bully her way to the center of the kill where she would fight ferociously against her more tired clan mates for the choice pieces left after her mother had taken her share. It would be easy to see Mar as the dominant one in her mother's wake, yet the girl's pride has often been a barrier to that elusive title.
As a younger pup, she would often spend time with Kunto, listening to his conniving stories about his twisted little deeds, which quickly earned her scorn from her elders. No one in their right mind talked to that walking ball of insanity and filth. But she listened anyway, spiteful of the older generation. Another time when she came across a poisonous snake, she taunted the creature, facing almost instant death were she to be bitten... yet managed to drive the serpent away without a scratch. Bravado, bullying, elitist arrogance; perfect qualities for a young female, surely.
Description:
... black heart and a hammer come and sing to me
... black heart and a hammer come and dance for me
... standing where she lay, dancing on her grave
... there's no life to save oh, they killed 'em yesterday
Mar, jewel of the desert. Or. Something. A dusty gold pelt, tips dipped in a deliciously dark amber color covers the female's entire body, hiding underneath a supple yet seductively strong body of pure muscle. She is square, solid, and perfectly built. Her body is long, perched on long legs, themselves peppered with ruddy spots that counter the brilliance of her fur. Paws are black as midnight, adorned with dull claws, and at the other end her neck extends in a graceful arch up and away from her shoulders, rounded head perched neatly at its peak. The female's ears are tall and oblong, free of nicks and cuts, and her muzzle is long and wide, filled with a row of ivory teeth that have become well-used and well-adjusted to fighting for her cause.
Her eyes are dark. Endless amber pools that seem to absorb any trace of light that hits them, and seem to capture any creature that falls into their trap. They are framed by soft, velvety tan fur, and small, difficult to see tear stains of the same amber run little rivulets down her cheeks and frame her muzzle, like a foul cheetah marked her in the womb as something to be toyed with; she was not beautiful.
She is Mar.
... all this makes no sense, it dies but it comes again
... i just want to win and never say your name again
Post Sample:
Nightfall. A time of quiet, of solitude, of looking up at the distant and warmly glowing stars, to reminisce on days of old. Pfft. The night is the time for mischief, and Mar is becoming a young Queen of the darkness and of the tricks played there. The clan is off, elsewhere. Hunting, probably, and when they kill she will be there to take her share. But she dropped out of the pack, moved opposite their direction and away from the herds, finding herself deep in the valley of Uchawi and underneath one of the low, scraggly trees that dot the landscape. In the dim, in the shrubs, she is hardly noticeable. The adolescent, with a strange (perhaps even crazed) look behind her eyes begins to feverishly mark the flora with her scent; a mixture of a young female approaching that time of... readiness... and a mixture of a dirty little cub with too much mud and muck in her pelt. Her color may have been pretty, but tonight Mar didn't care what she looked like; no one could see, anyway.
She laughed. A high pitched chortle that rose high into the air and faded off in the breeze. And when the dust settled from her activity, she followed up the noise with a happy sneeze. This bush, this tree, this dirt. It was all hers. Dumisani had nothing on it, now. The lower valley was hers tonight. Dark eyes drink in the little light that spills down from the moon above, and with a primal, hoarse grunt she kicks up her paws and begins to shamble back toward the clan, her figure cutting through the darkness without fear. The valley was hers, tonight.
Heard About Mnara: Melisizwe