[Coyote] Calantha

[Calantha]

OOC
Name: Evie
Years RPing: Foreverrrr
Other: This will be using my raffle prize from the posting contest (non-wolf slot)
How You Found Us: ~

General
Name: Calantha (Cal-an-thuh)
Birthday: February 1st, 2013
Gender: Female
Species: Coyote

Physical
Height: 23 inches
Length: 32 inches
Weight: 40 lbs
Coat Color: Red, white, gray, brown
Eye Color: Yellow
Health Issues: N/A
Other Information: N/A

Mental
Mental Stability: Sane
History:

Far to the east, beyond the shores of Anikira, nestled upon a small island, rumors have told for centuries that a powerful tribe resides in the craters and crags of Lok’Mahr, most notable for being a long inactive volcano. The pack are rumored to be fara, traveling gypsies of old, great story-tellers and shamans – and, in the case of old tales meant to frighten pups, spiritual beings who dabble in dark magic. For many years the pack had thrived, feeding off of the prey that flourished at the base of the volcano, most notable of which were known to be cougars. The faras warriors were said to be only the largest and strongest males, their hunters the quickest and fiercest, their shamans deft and skilled. It was to this pack of fara that Calantha was born, sucking in her first breath on a cool morning where she lay nestled beside one brother and one sister. However, not long after their birth, a sickness took Calantha's sister, and she weakened alongside her brother. The pack was grave, for they had seen the sickness in the young before, and never had a pup taken with it survived. Calantha's brother passed next and her mother grieved, expecting to find Calantha dead as well any day.

And yet she recovered. From the moment that Calantha's eyes opened and her strength renewed, the pack – the tribe, as they called themselves – were wary. Her mother, High Priestess Eydis, was convinced that it was a sign from the Gods themselves that her daughter was blessed, the only known survivor of the sickness that preyed upon the young. She had mated with Halvor, Second-in-Command to the Warchief himself, and one of the only males who had been given a high enough position to mate with the revered High Priestess. Surely, she said on more than one occasion, her daughter was blessed. And so it was in the recesses of a den that Calantha grew, the rock pleasantly warm beneath her tiny paws as she spent many nights laying in contentment by her mother’s side, listening to the beautiful hearth-songs of the fara.

For many moons Eydis could be heard adamantly insisting that Calantha was special, gifted with the laeti – the ability to communicate with spirits, gifted by her near-brush with death. As a pup, this did not particularly bother Calantha despite that it was untrue; in fact, she found herself reveling in the attention that she was granted as the pack eventually came to see her as an asset, a blessing.

As Calantha grew, however, she found that the attention and expectations placed upon her shoulders required her to mature far faster than she would have liked. She became solemn with age, constantly repressing her true wishes and desires for the good of the tribe. She swore that she would come to accept her position with dignity and severity, training under both her mother and the oldest Shaman of the tribe. As she began to mature, Calantha proved to be a beautiful, talented she-wolf by her first year of age. Although she was not of the breeding age, many of the warriors jostled for a place in her favor, quarreling and sparring upon themselves on many occasions. One particular warrior caught Calantha's eye, but she never advanced past shy smiles and quick glances before Eydis corrected her – she would not be allowed to reproduce, her mother informed her sternly. She was too valuable. She had to remain pure.

By this time, Calantha was expected to be able to communicate with the spirits. However, which each passing day her belly filled with dread- she did not, could not know how despite her lessons, and the tribe began to suspect that she was not blessed to begin with. Which each failed attempt to enter the spirit world, Calantha’s tribe shunned her further and further until even her closest friends would not greet her. One early morning, before the rest of the tribe had risen, Eydis woke Calantha and demanded that she flee. The Warchief had decided that it was Calantha’s fault that she could not contact the spirits, suggesting that she had angered the Gods and that he could not risk letting her remain within the tribe in case she should bring ruin upon them all. He had planned to have her executed the following afternoon with her blood and soul serving as a sacrifice for the Gods. It was only through the defiance and the love of her mother, the overwhelming love Calantha had always been given, that she was able to escape with her life. Young, terrified, and confused, Calantha fled.

She did not make it far before the hunters were on her trail. Day and night they hounded her, often times with Calantha narrowly escaping from their jaws with the slip of a light paw. Relentlessly they followed her across the entire continent, never giving up until finally Calantha knew: she could not remain on her homeland any longer. They were closer than they'd ever been as the Coyote femme fled for the shores, their cackles and howls hot on her heels as she darted towards the water. She plunged into the ocean without looking back, and they did not follow her there, calling from the shores that she would be shark bait by the end of the night. With a fervent prayer whispered to Ulnia, Godess of Life and Death, Calantha began to swim.

It was, unquestionably, the most difficult thing that the femme ever encountered. Her lungs screamed their protest with each gulp of salt water mistakenly inhaled, and her legs cried for relief. On and on she went, the sun slowly falling lower in the sky, her diminutive form exhausted, and still she swam. It was her swim, ultimately, that changed her. Calantha spent the entirety of the journey praying to every deity that she could imagine, relentless in her worship; she asked Ordon, God of the Ocean, for gentle waves. She asked She asked Jozhena, Goddess of Miracles, to assist her in her struggles. She prayed to them all, each and every one of them, and when she could pray no more, Calantha sung the songs of her people to strength her.

She swam.

It was when the sun was just beginning to dip beyond the horizon that she saw it on the distance; a shape, small at first, but swiftly growing larger as she paddled towards it. Relief burst through her as the realization that it was an island hit her, and laughter so violent it was nearly mad burst from her muzzle when her paws brushed sand. Soaking wet and exhausted beyond measure, Calantha pulled herself onto the shore of Anikira. Singing praises to her deities, a fierceness she had never felt before surged through her. She had lived - and now, she would never stop.

Personality:

Golden glimpses, fleeting smiles. Always running.

Calantha is an interesting mix of qualities, all wrapped up in one neat little bundle. From the beginning she was a complex mix of features, sometimes contradictive, never predicted. She lets no specific trait define her explicitly; she is masculine in the regards that she is tough and resilient, fierce and determined; feminine in the regards that she is dainty and slender, proud and regal, passionate and shameless in her beauty. She is deceptively delicate, like a diamond; lovely and stunning on the outside, flawless one might even think, but hard and tough within. She laughs easily, a sense of carefree liberty hanging upon her slender shoulders.

Sometimes quick to jump to conclusions, Calantha has a strong sense of justice, deciding very carefully what is right and what is wrong, and then standing steadfast by her decisions. She can be intimidating at the worst of times, and thoroughly enjoys it when one perceives her to be “innocent” or “weak” due to her gender or appearance – and she enjoys proving them wrong even more. She walks with the elegant step of a queen, but with the ferocity of a soldier shining in her yellow orbs. She is unabashedly herself, and refuses to conform to what some might think is the ideal version of a femme. Despite being a foreigner upon Anikira, Calantha clings steadfastly to her Gods and culture, never willing to undermine her beliefs.

She was not always flighty, but now Calantha finds that her paws itch to move, to run after the events of her past. Always moving, always running, always. It would not be impossible for her to settle into pack life, and yet it must always be understood that Calantha will wander – but no matter how far, she will always return home.

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