SURA,

Personality:

Gentle by nature and forceful by necessity - Sura is made for the softer aspects of life: for laughter and grinning and kisses in the sun. Her heart is jovial and kind and easily teased from its familiar little nook in her chest, she loves easily and with abandon, her eyes ever alight with the excitement of new opportunity and secret delights. Yet she is a flower that cannot bloom in such hard times, with enemies at her back and friends that will just as soon throw her to the dogs - literally. Her sweet nature has become hidden underneath layers of protective wit and distance, an island paradise surrounded by eager sharks - it has become hard for her to believe that someone is pure and kind without hidden motives, and while she adores the idea of true love, her heart has been broken one too many times to embark on another open endeavour with yet another man. Her abandon remains, and she loves secretly, a shadow of what former times could have created. When it comes to making friends she is distant and cold, often coming off as condescending and arrogant, while the truth is simply that she fears becoming too attached, lest she get hurt once more. Occasionally she will spend a night in a mans bed, purely for the feeling of warm arms wrapped around her soul, happy, in that singular moment, knowing that somebody wants her to be by their side.

As she grows, Sura could go one of two ways:

The first; bitter. While loneliness nips at her heels now, it will consume and devour her until she has nothing more to offer - a husk of the pretty feline she once was. Even now, she struggles with the presence of too many others, and often longs for the silence of solitude.

The second; accepted. While Sura is quick to abandon any likely romances, she isn't so quick to rid herself of their memories - finding pleasure in the idea of a happily ever after or even a one night stand. She doesn't allow many encounters these days, but perhaps one might slip through - and what follows will be a warmer, kinder soul.


Appearance:

Sura is made of crimson silk and daggers, the first, her skin and her hair. Soft to the touch and just as lovely to look at, fiery in the morning sunlight and as pale as cream in the darkness or the moonlight. Her body is all grace and fluidity, without a drop of clumsy or uncoordinated - with slender legs and dainty feet, borne to dance or flee or both. And while her body is beautiful and delicate and sublime, her eyes swim with nightmares of past days, of multiple heartbreaks and insubordinate abuses. They burn with some inner trauma, and while they stand gentle and framed with a swash of creamy lashes, its hard to escape the experience that lurks underneath her gaze.



History:

Born to a distant father and a carefree mother, Sura found herself immediately conflicted - her mother behaved strangely, bringing men into her bed with a grin and a dismissive blink of her brilliantly blue eyes. Her father cared not, or at least pretended he didn't (and perhaps this was why her mother behaved so), and Sura could not comprehend whether this was normal or irregular. She had no friends to speak of, but made her own games out of grace and kindness, often attempting to draw her parents in, though she was never to succeed. When her father began returning home more than normal, she was overjoyed, ecstatic, until the beatings began. It was her mother first, and then when her mother was absent, they turned to Sura in punishment. It was not a hard family to leave. Indeed, Sura became almost as carefree as her mother, enjoying the attention of men and boys alike, though she was careful not to lead all to her bed - only the sweet boys, the ugly ones that nobody cared to look at. She loved and lost and through a blur of days she began to lose herself, withdrawing into a tempest of confusion and indistinguishable enemies. Though she has sorted herself into a halfway haze of right and wrong, Sura remains just as lost as she was when she first grew to know the anguish of a broken family.

Season born: Summer.

RP Sample:

And all the gods and all the worlds
Began colliding on a backdrop of blue

Winter had come and passed in a blur of wild storms and huddled children, the fierce snow as pale and weak as his ruined heart. And yet, with the passing of winter came a redemption unseen and unexpected, formed in the very recesses of his blackened and withered heart - tentatively blossoming within the gentlest of spring breezes. How tongues had wagged, how people had talked - the wolf broken by his very moon, struggling to survive without the rays of and strokes of that woman, the woman that danced and swayed and sashayed her way into hearts... and out of them. It was these sorts of people, those that whispered and chuckled behind their hands, that thought that heartbreak could be the end of a man. That he would fade away into nothingness without the sun to photosynthesise his blue skin - these sort of people that assumed that one love was all a man such as he could endure. Foolish people. True, he had faded, he had been broken, had even wept on occasion - for he and Lola had been a love that only few could share, the kind of love that had been doomed from the very beginning. For he was a man not meant to be in love, and she, a woman not meant to be held. While they may have thrived on one anothers' sins and awfulness, on the others' beauty and gunshot grins, they could not last when pressed against one another. No, Paradisum, with his scarred skin and wolf eyes, could not sustain such a racket in his heart. It had been a slow, drawn out end - quickened by Riptide and his sly manoeuvring, but an end it had been - and one that now relinquished the blue stallion from the grip of that wonderful, awful, selfish heartbreak.

Make no mistake, he adored Lola still, loved her with what he could, but it was no love to destroy cities or create wars - this was the love he shared with an old friend, an old lover, someone who knew his deepest and darkest of secrets. He could not look upon her with hatred - she was the mother of his child, and hatred was too vast an emotion to place upon her dainty shoulders. Love could destroy, and perhaps one day it could yet be his downfall - and yet, not today, not this year, not by her. The only slight he felt in the means of Lola was that she was not being treated respectably - being thrown from man to man as if she were nothing but a pretty doll... and yet, if he knew anything of Lola and her whims, he knew that she would have enjoyed the attention, the man to man to man, for it was only now when they were no longer in that deepest trench of a bond that he realised that she had never been made to stay by his side. The latest news was a slight irritation - that Charlie had stolen her for his own desires could have been considered the greatest of insults in the past. Now, it served only as a reminder that the dunskin still had much to learn in the ways of politics and alliance - he had just gained a very dangerous toy, and one that could have turned one of his only friends against him. Indeed, the dunskin had been acting childish and unaware these pasts months, not even stopping to mention that he had abandoned his beta position (given freely, for the sake of friendship) and gained his own land. It was yet another irritation, and one that he chose simply to pay no mind to - Charlie was a hot headed youth, and no matter what age or experience he gained, that did not seem to change. 

It was Spring, a new beginning, and Paradisum felt no desire toward drama. It was for this reason that he had chosen to leave his Jungle paradise, enjoying the sight of his women stretching out on the sandy shores, soaking in the sunlight and parading some already rotund bellies. His eyes had lingered momentarily on Liesel and Druid as they laughed and splashed, inseparable as always, children to carry on his name, both so beautiful against their ocean backdrop - blue, blue, blue, a sapphire generation. A wry smile had slipped neatly onto his blackened lips before he had turned toward the mainland, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his broad shoulders. It filtered lazily downward now, broken by the tall trees of the Misty Forest, striking him in stripes of brilliant azure and shadowy navy, his ebony mane swaying as he slipped ever forward. Even at the age of ten, he maintained his grace and delicacy, moving as if made of water, his muscles so at ease within the roll of his skin that he seemed almost to be floating above the ground rather than stepping upon it. He beheld much beauty, and was known for it - despite the scars that littered his once flawless coat. These days, however, he chose only the sweetest and most delectable mares for his herd, happy to spend his days smothered in beautiful women and warm sunlight. His ambition stopped at that. Women, women, women. He cared not for being the most powerful or the most well known, only desiring a place to call his own and many glorious women to fill it with. He was well aware that Charlie's ambitions did not stop at such, therefore it was no surprise when a glint of sleek dun coat was seen through the trees. 

The Misty Forest was well known for it attributes - mares rarely escaped, making it prime hunting ground for those that wanted to find more girls and women to take home... whether it be forced or voluntary. Paradisum felt no warmth toward the idea of forcing women - there was no grace in it, no beauty, no power. He had always felt that if a mare did not want to leave with him, then it was a fault of his own. Luckily he'd never experienced such a thing. He approached amicably, slipping from between the trees like he'd been there all along, voice rolling deeply from his throat, sensual and slippery as it had always been;

"Charlie."

Link to image of character: Here