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 Posted: Mon Jan 10, 2011 10:30 am
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Posted: Mon Jan 10, 2011 10:34 am
 írчs αndєrsσnsearching for the rainbow[ ♪♪]  Name: Irys Anderson
Gender: Female
Birthdate: July 7
Age: 21
Patrol: New Eve
Rank: Private
Appearance: [x][x][x][x]
With rich, chocolate-coloured hair, dark blue-grey eyes, and the graceful, lithe body of a dancer, Irys is a traditional beauty. Unbound, her hair cascades in loose, fluid curls down to her waist and frames strong, yet soft features. Her eyes, by nature, bear a fiery intensity which defies the stormy grey that softens their blue shade, while her full lips dare any cosmetic artist to improve on them. A subtle, upturned perk at the tip of her nose, as though the artist's hand had twitched ever so slightly as he drew that otherwise fine line, gives her a somewhat girlish air that is more a charm than a flaw. Though she is somewhat short, her slender limbs and the restrained curve of her hips keep her form and proportions just right.
All this, however, is an extremely, extremely rare sight. This is not the Irys who bumbles around New Eve, who crashes into signposts, who fumbles her firearms during practice and trips on tails while they are still six feet ahead. The Irys known to her fort is an awkward, girlish creature with a slightly wild-eyed, scatterbrained expression wherever she goes. Her hair is almost always in a rapidly-disassembling braid, the wispy strands of her bangs constantly in her face. Her cheeks are almost always red, either from a tad too much sun or from dashing to and fro like an overworked, underpaid factory hand. Whether she is capable of moving gracefully or regally is anybody's guess, as she is rarely seen at any speed below a brisk, hurried trot.
Her clothing is very no-nonsense and, while well-fitting and flattering, almost identically follows the pattern of her uniform. From head to toe, she manages always to appear some mix of either controlled and responsible or completely overwhelmed.
Personality:
Quite in keeping with her wild-eyed, slightly distracted, barely-in-control appearance, Irys has a wild-eyed, slightly distracted, barely-in-control personality that can send nearly anyone's head spinning. Emotionally, she is somewhat akin to a gawky teenager; some aspects of her have developed far ahead of others and she constantly finds herself tripping over her own feelings. There is of course the Irys who was able to make it through the Academy's rigorous training and was deemed worthy to bond with a wolf pup at eighteen years of age. This Irys is punctual, responsible, trustworthy, dependable. She makes it a point to arrive precisely when she promises to, to keep both promises and secrets with an almost obsessive reliability, and generally to be a private worthy of recognition.
The other facets of her persona are where things begin to fall apart. Most significant among these is the Irys who is still a girl. She cares a bit too much what others think, not so much in terms of appearance as of personality, responsibility, and dependability. Rather than try to tailor her style or her makeup, she tries to tailor her self, to be the person she believes her captain, her friends, her acquaintances, and her family want and expect her to be. The perfect private, capable of surmounting any challenge but obedient to her superiors, the perfect friend, who always has an ear to lend and always has the right words to say, the perfect fellow soldier, who can be trusted to at one's back, who never cheats, the perfect mother and sister and daughter... which is probably the hardest of them all. She tries hard--perhaps too hard--at everything, and the resulting strain is what makes her so scattered and hurried.
Irys has a strong sense of rules, which means she will follow rules to the T, but she also has a keen desire for justice, which means if the rules seem unfair or biased, she will raise a ruckus to wake the dead. Between her mistakes and her misdemeanors, she has had herself and Silversoul demoted to Omega more times than she cares to count. The only thing she can really get credit for is her effort.
Silversoul is the love and obsession of her life. Ever since she won him over from his icy indifference she has adored him, doted on him, needed him. His tender, strong care for her has brought out a little more confidence in herself. He is the only one who expects absolutely nothing of her, who knows every facet of her being and still loves her. Her friendship with her bonded knows no bounds; all have learned not to mess with Silversoul in her presence, if only because she will scream so long and loud and hard, let alone everything else she will do. Despite the fact that he is many times her size, she is as fiercely protective over the wolf as he is over her.
There is one facet of Irys Anderson that is clouded and rough, that has never been cut or polished to reveal its sparkling finish and complement all other facets.
Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all...
History:
Irys' childhood was an uneventful one. Unbearably so. Not only was it free of any great pain and suffering, it was also free of joy and excitement.
Joseph and Erin Anderson were good parents in that they never hurt their children, never spoiled them, and never treated any different from another. Irys and her six adopted siblings were fosterlings, some from wolfriders who couldn't care for their children, some orphans. They were treated well, fed and sheltered and kept clean, educated, and generally raised decently. Not one of the children, however, was more than a charity to their parents.
The couple was not cruel by any means, but they had a strict sense of duty and set out to follow it, which in their case meant taking in needy children. Neither was very affectionate, and the two had married more out of convenience than out of any great love for one another, thus they couldn't fathom the idea of needing to love their children as well. Both were very driven, involved in their small community, and responsible.
Irys herself was but an infant when her wolfrider mother was killed and her father left the City, never to return. She was the first child adopted and was relatively spoiled, getting whatever she asked for and more attention than any other child in the family would ever receive. When she was three, two-year-old Jonathan Reynolds was adopted, as his parents had decided they could no longer balance child-rearing with their duties. Over the years he was followed by Liliana, an orphan, Hannah, taken from her parents because of their irresponsibility, Collin, a problem case, Breckin, an orphan, Serena, an orphan, and Emily, or Emmy, Irys' favorite little sister, a troubled child from an abusive home. Irys, as the eldest, became somewhat of a second mother to the younger children and became accustomed to mediating many of their problems.
The lack of affirmation, however, was frustrating. At sixteen she grew frustrated and problematic, though she wasn't really sure why she was so upset when she'd led a perfectly good life thus far. At seventeen she left for the Academy followed by the ever-rebellious Collin, then fourteen. For a year she was a stellar student but a problematic one, constantly driving herself to exhaustion and further than she could handle. She was seeking, but she didn't know what she sought.
At eighteen she was considered rather unstable and almost deemed unfit to try bonding with a wolf pup; however, her honest, sheer effort eventually won out. She was the first in the group to bond, chosen by a rather dull-looking, scrawny grey pup who claimed her with all the authority of a king. Silversoul, she named him, referring to the sterling royalty in his demeanor.
Colour: Stormy blue [#555987]
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Posted: Mon Jan 10, 2011 9:54 pm
ѕιℓνєяѕσυℓand they say chivalry is dead[ ♪♪]  Name: Silversoul
Gender: Male
Birthdate: January 10
Age: 3
Pack: New Eve
Rank: Gamma
Appearance: At 15 hh exactly. Silversoul is small for a wolf and very small for a male wolf. Built more for speed and agility than for power, he is decidedly slender and has been more than once taken for a female by human civilians. From the shape of his head to the length of his limbs, he is an aerodynamic creature accustomed to racing the wind.
At first glace his coat is quite unremarkable, a dark, blue-grey shade reminiscent of the sky just before or after a storm. Though sleek and glossy, it is a superbly uneventful colour. However, when the light hits it right, it brings out subtle, almost vaporous rainbows in his fur. The colours are almost indistinguishable from his coat, seeming almost in constant, swirling motion.
Personality:
History:
Colour:
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