[Birkita]

[jackaleigh]

Birkita
The Vestiges of Rose Petals in the Breeze Female Aurata Panthera


Sure, she's got the demeanor of a house cat down-pat, but anyone with eyes could see that this Aurata had a past as so revealed from her numerous scars and missing patches of fur. If her appearance outright didn't do it for someone, then her more subtle stance and movements might be overlooked by them as well. She moves with a constant flow, her sense of balance extremely deft. There's a peaceful sort of rhythm in how she carries herself as well, each hip swinging from side to side, a gentle sort of sashay to her normal pace and gait. Her voice retains none of the hardness she must have absorbed in her short life so far, however, and lilts with musically pitched mews and purrs. Often it is hard to hear her at times, her tone is so quiet, the kind of extreme inside voice one uses when they're afraid of disturbing someone awake, let alone someone who's dozing in the corner of the room. It goes beyond a simple politeness, maybe, and more toward a fear of being recognized or targeted. It would be a simple case of neglect and troubled past if it weren't for her unwavering, crystal clear sky-blue gaze she holds with whomever has her current attentions, and that she never flinches or moves in a way that suggests she fears being struck. And with claws honed for a fight, pearly teeth gleaming just behind thin black lips, and a stout, well muscled body she really doesn't need to fear losing too many fights. In her fighting style it shows as well, that she might have lost a few key battles but in loss there is the sting of a lesson that is associated with it. She's quick to retaliate to a strike, and very rarely does she make the first move (read: mistake). Her coloration is pale, but with eye-catching splotches and splashes of vibrant reds and rich browns, mainly on her back and face. Her frill is otherwise plain, though with a deep rip along the left side of it. Despite her various criss-cross scars that litter her body, the place where they're lacking is her face. Case in point, her gaze remains unbroken.

She's one cool cat, unfazed by the most awful of acts of brutality and unmoved by the most endearing acts of kindness and love. Not missing a beat or batting an eye, she reacts cooly and calmly to almost any given situation, usually with the most straightforward response: destroy what's in the way. With a death sentence delivered on a honey-suckle petal of a voice, she reminds everyone who believes otherwise that she's a panthera with the sheer fact that she is not someone to mess with. By extension, her Bonded is not someone to mess with. Her true violence shines through when she, perchance, happens upon her Bonded having a bad day or being bullied by someone from the local gang. Most souls restrain subconsciously from killing, but not her. Everything in her supposed cross-hairs is prey, though they are admittedly narrow and thin cross-hairs. For all of her spirit and fire smoldering within, there's layers and layers of patience and sweet soft assurances to get through before her terrifying threshold is crossed. Granted, some things just slice through those layers faster than others can saw through them.

Mindvoice: Italic #495BDF