Valkyrie Syth

Valkyrie

• "We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."

• Basic Info

  • Name: Valkyrie Syth
  • Gender: Female
  • Played by: Valkyrie_xo
  • Nickname: Val
  • Age: 23
  • Height: 5'0
  • Species: Feline with human-like attributes
  • Body Type: Slender but curvaceous. Although she hides herself in baggy tom-boyish attire.
  • Hair Type: Redish Brown locks that flow to her midriff
  • Eyes: Bright metallic silver
  • Clothing: Usually sporting articles of clothing that do not compliment her figure (ie. baggy t-shirts, parachute pants, and a pair of ragged Converse)

• Description

  [Still a work in progress, please be patient!]
  
  
  Ever since she was a little girl, Valkyrie never really felt like she belonged. Some would call her the "black sheep." However, those who took the time to interact with her would come to the realization that she was no different than any other creature in their mid-twenties. She just never fully grew out of her "teen angst." Born in poverty, Val was forced to adapt to the lifestyle she was bred into. Providing for herself was the only thing she concentrated on. Living her life like a gypsy moving from place to place searching endlessly for what she could call "home." As the years of hardship took a toll on her (more mentally than physically) she developed quite the melancholic outlook on things. Always having a deep sense of doom weighing on her shoulders heavily. No living members of her family left, the ravishing 20-something year old was shipwrecked to a life of heartbreak and travesty. But when you peered into her scintillating eyes, it was almost as if you could see Val's brilliant and bubbly personality fighting it's way through in every thing she did. In the way she would take in a skyline, or find the utmost joy in the simplest gesture. It was effortless to tell that all she wanted was a little companionship...
  
  
  You could usually find her coiled up in a seat, knees to chest, at the Golden Tether. She would sit there for hours without uttering a single word. Most days she would perch herself on one of the many padded pillows, in the stifling corridors of the dream, awaiting someone to come along and strike up a conversation with her. An unshapely t-shirt sagging off her body, loose fitting jeans and a dirty pair of grime-colored Converse were her normal attire. On occasion, you could catch her in a pair of jeans that cupped her ass ever so gently, enticing anyone who noticed her. Creamy mocha fur covered her figure, inklike streaks marbled in, like a slice of rye bread. Crimson mane dancing around her, ricocheting with every movement.
  
  
  [To Be Continued]

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