Statistics & History
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Lush mane of silky midnight interwoven with pearls stood in a stark contrast to immaculate white fur. Inviting blue eyes were framed by black lashes which grazed pale cheeks whenever eyes were averted. Features were endearing, set at times with the hardened determination of experience and at other with a tenuous demureness, walking the knife's-edge between her past and her future. Slender neck gave way to petite shoulders, and an unassuming bust clad in black silk emboirdered with a pattern of golden teardrops. Creamy, taut midriff flared into slender hips, about which were wrapped another silken garment to match her top. Lithe legs led down to feet unshod, betraying low status and offering explanation for this scoundrel made pretty.
Name: Chandra Winters (Kitten).
Gender: Undoubtedly female.
Species: Feline, unknown.
Status: Slave (untrained).
Age: Still young; Twenty-Two.
Height: Passable 5'6" tall.
Body-Type: Lithe, but toned.
Sexual Orientation: Lesbian.Fur: Soft and rather dense fur, white as snow.
Hair: Sable hair, almost reaching her midriff.
Eyes: Colored in a clear and deep sea-blue.
Dislikes: Bullies, sailors and arrogant people.
Likes: Fish, ale, and satisfying her curiosity.
Personality: Cheerfully sarcastic, but witty.
Mannerisms: Charming, kind and caring.
Scars: None, just welts from the shackles.
The Sprouting of a Young Flower
This young kitten was the only daughter of a burlesque dancer named Victoria Winters, who worked in a rather run-down gentleman's club in the lower class part of London, barely making ends meet for herself, and having to seek shelter with the other over-worked performers in what passed off as a dormitory and lodging for those working there. Giving birth to a daughter out of wedlock only made things worse, especially after the father of that fateful union left immediately after helping create her, most likely never even knowing there was a child made from his seed. A daughter, named Chandra Winters.
Despite having to now work for an extra mouth to feed, and not being able to afford proper schooling for the new child in her life, Victoria did what she could for the girl. Despite the harsh living and working conditions, the woman of the Hall were still kind and sweet to the lively ball of white fur and energy, all treating her like their own daughter. And despite having no paid teacher or tutor, the girl proved herself quite intelligent and clever, learning to read with minimal help from the more literate dancers. She was also quite energetic and curious, able to find secret hiding spots and crevices in the poorly maintained Hall, and easily able to learn and observe much from the corners no one noticed.
But, all good things must end, and the childish innocence of the nine-year old was soon torn from her, starting with the death of her mother. While daughter and mother were out getting groceries to feed the patrons of the Hall, a horse drawn carriage came rushing by at speeds that did not seem possible for equines. Chandra was merely knocked back, mere inches from the rapidly moving spokes, but her mother was not that lucky. Her body was crushed, marked with the heavy hooves of horses, and the wheel tracks of an uncaring buggy. The only thing the newly orphaned girl saw of her mother's killer was gold and silver trimmings, the signs of someone born from nobility.
Things got worse for the girl when she returned, crying all the way to the building she called home. But, even in her mourning, and the sadness that filled her young heart, a part of her knew something was wrong. The other dancers, while definitely saddened at her plight, seemed to peel away from her, like there was something wrong with the child. Maintaining enough presence of mind to get suspicious, Chandra quickly retreated to one of her discovered hiding spots, and tried to find out what was up. Shortly afterwards, a man looking way over-dressed for the typical clientele that frequented the Hall, approached the owner. Several papers were pulled out, and the two men started discussing a debt that bound her mother to the Hall, one consisting of several thousand pounds. And since Chandra was the sole heir, all the debt was considered her responsibility. Of course, it was obvious to everyone that a child could not pay off such a high price, so the girl was to be shipped off to a debtor's colony, and made to work in a rock quarry.
Despite the tragedy of the day, the young girl knew that this would not bode well for her. If the labor demanded upon her youthful body did not kill her, it would be one of the other debtors that would most likely do the deed. Chandra did the only thing she could think of to avoid this fate. She ran, out of the closest thing to home she knew, and away from the closest thing to family she had. She ran for hours, until the current day ended to allow for the new one, and only when she was out of breath, and unable to run no more.
Feeling herself safe for now, and allowing the reality of her situation to hit her young, childish mind, Chandra started to panic, wondering how she could eat, live, find shelter. The lost, lonely girl wondered the rough streets of London, wondering what to do... until she spied a couple of boys her age, and dressed in clothes that seemed ill-cared for. She gazed in wonder as they effortlessly approached a fat, balding merchant, sneaking up behind him, and skillfully took his wallet, before running off like nothing happened. Intrigued and desperate, Chandra followed them, and ended her ways of innocence, joining up with a gang of street orphans, learning the ways of a pickpocket, in exchange for her knowledge of all the secret hiding spots in the Hall she once called home. Chandra proved herself a quick learner, and was soon able to care for herself, living off the misfortune of others, as a pickpocket.
The Flower Starts to Wilt
When she turned sixteen, the meager pickings on merchants and the wealthy started to bore her, and she looked for more promising careers. Unable to find honest work, thanks to her criminal childhood, she finally found her calling not in the taking of goods, but the transporting. Her quick feet and cunning mind helped her avoid trouble and the authorities, and soon, she was able to expand her routes between cities, improving her acts of deception, and her ability to hide goods on her person. Eventually, she was able to expand her operation. Moving goods out of London, and not just in it. Then, other villages in the country of England. Soon, she was able to afford her own cart, modified with secret panels and loose floorboards. After that, the island nation was too small for the teenager. She bought a one-way ticket across the Channel, and left her homeland for good, not even looking back, her deep blue eyes on the far coast, and her future.
And for Chandra, it was a damn good future. It wasn't luxurious, it wasn't easy, but it was a time of wonder, a time of adventure. She saw far-away lands and nations she only read about, and learned about customs and superstitions she never thought possible. She traveled all over Europe, calling herself a high-risk courier, and moved goods all across the continent. And even though she had trouble learning foreign languages, she found it easy to speak her way past guards and patrols, using her gender and basic acting skills to convince the other-wise strict guards she was just a harmless traveler. And while money never stayed in her purse for long, life was grand, and Chandra found happiness in smuggling.
The Flower Dies, Another One Sprouts
However, that all ended shortly after her twenty-second birthday. She was transporting a sealed case of mysterious goods, when a very driven border patrol happened to accost her. The case was broken, and inside were several valuable gems, all belonging to a local baroness who reported the theft a week ago. The thieves were never identified or found, so the blame fell on her shoulders. It was the royal woman, full of wrath and hatred, that passed sentence on her. She was condemned to eternal slavery, and locked in heavy chains, with no promise of mercy.
Marched away to the nearest market, the next chapter of her tale awaits creation.
Will it be the freedom she holds in her heart, or will fate push her on to the road of the slave?
Only time will tell ...
Credit for the layout goes to Jane, who made it for me, and Eyadi for the character description