ABOUT YOU
Name: Lou Lou
Age: 24 [Next month that is.]
Contact Info: H.eartsong@yahoo.com
How you found us: I already play here as Katie.

CHARACTER INFO
Character name: Isra Chereshova
Nicknames: To be chosen by Gerard Anlui.
Character age: 27
Birthdate: January 1st.
Gender: Female
Lycan Species: Snow Leopard
Level: Appears to be Submissive, but is actually a switch when she wants to be.
Strengths: A mind quicker than it should be, she can apply her quick mind in tight situations and get herself out of most any dangerous quarrel.. if she so chooses. She's never been known to back down from a quarrel, but when she absolutely KNOWS she cannot win it.. She backs off, thus.. saving her hide until she can devise a scheme to get back at the perpetrator. She is fluent in several languages, often playing on her quiet side to gain knowledge from those who think she cannot speak their language.
Weaknesses Silver [Typical], She has a heightened fear of anything silver. When heavily provoked, she is prone to snapping and losing her temper.. thus becoming rather violent.
Weapons carried on person: A switchblade dagger, ornamental.. it appears as if it is a large piece of jewelry. It usually rests between her breasts, beneath her bodice.

Tell me about yourself
Hair colour/style: Dark, like that of a Raven's wing. Or like that of Anlui's soul, or so she's been told. It lays in rippling waves to her supple hips, often straightened to perfection.
Eye colour: Dove grey, the iris outlined by a line of onyx. The pupil a near slit, due to a lengthy stay in her feline form. When she shifts to her feline form, the irises turn nearly white and are ringed in a pale ice blue. Making her appear blind.
Portrayal: Megan Fox.
Picture:

Physical description: With many years behind being a feline lycanthrope, she knows just how well to utilize those extra muscles that make her gait irresistible. Those hips that help that strut are well rounded, curving into an hourglass type of waist.. The smoothness of her belly tapers up to a mass of scarring from her old Master, furrows had been dug beneath each rib with silver tipped fingernails. [His of course]. Beneath each bountiful creamy breast are a set of tattoos, Scripted words that read beneath each one. "Memento Mori" and "Carpe Diem". Why? Because she wanted it, and she got it. Around the backside of her ribs are a set of wings tattooed there in darkened gray ink with a smattering of red for dramatic influence.

Along with the several tattoos, are many more scars.. Lacerations from silver tipped whips, a scar that swirls beneath the tattoo under her right breast to her navel from a silver blade.. See why she fears Silver so much?

Isra can usually be found lounging around in a pair of baggy slacks, fitted at the hips and flared down through the thigh to the feet. The tops she wears usually vary between corsets and graphic tee's. Her taste is always changing, and more often than not.. she can be found barefoot, hair down. Her body screams "Woman", "Sensuality" and "Supple", because she's not quite thin.. but voluptuous in the way a woman should be built.

Likes: Thai Food, [Really anything spicy], Photography, Pain, Sex, Quiet, Danger, Vampires.
Dislikes: Mostly other Lycanthropes, she has never been one built to live within a Pard or Pride. While she doesn't openly dislike other lycanthropes, she tends to avoid them as often as possible.
Fears: Silver, to an extreme point that she will become irrational and violent at the sight or scent of it.
Nervous habits: None that she is aware of.

Personality description: Having been at the hands of a cruel Master before, it really hasn't shaped her personality too much. Isra has always been the quiet type, soft spoken until violently riled. She has been known to become a hell cat, in the sense that she will literally try to kill someone that is opposing her. It is like she is TNT in all that soft flesh, only the smallest things can trigger it.. and she will explode; often times.. the warning comes too late for the perpetrator.

On the other hand, she has been known to be quite lovable, as she does enjoy being a sensual creature. At the service as a blood doll, she has come to thoroughly enjoy the bite whether or not it brings pleasure or pain. Isra does Not do well in new surroundings, often rebelling against anything too terribly new. All in all, she keeps to herself or the Vampire she is charged with to sustain. She knows her place.. when she wants to.

Take me home to meet mom and dad:
Parents: Father: Antonin Chereshovo [Alive] || Mother: Raina [Deceased]
Siblings: If she has siblings, she is unaware of them as she was sold into a Vampire household for money and ensured safety at a young age.
Children: Nay.

History: Childhood? Yeah, what she could remember of it in the cold streets of Moscow.. those memories were bitter and buried deep in place of newer memories. Sold into a Vampire house at a tender age, she was brought up in the knowledge of how to properly satisfy any.. male or female vampire. Whether it would be with blood or body, or simply with fear to feed upon.. Isra learned quickly, even came to enjoy it all.. Though with the later years, she had learned that the Master of the House had taken a keen interest in her, and had taken her as his own.

At first, the S&M games were thrilling. But when the silver began to come out.. It all went downhill, her behavior became erratic every time she could smell it near him. After a hedonistic night, she'd nearly bled to death before being treated reluctantly.. Pawned off on a lesser of the Master's household, she was nursed back to health both physically and mentally. She withdrew into herself, and was finally pawned off as literal food for the other House lycanthropes. She still doesn't know what it is that made Him change his mind on saving her pathetic life, [as he called it]..

Apparently she was to be shipped to the United States as a "Gift" to the powerful Gerard Anlui, an enemy of the House of Moscow. She is unaware as to why they are enemies, but she is resistant to the very core. Wanting to go about as much as the old Master wants her to stay, she was bodily forced by two other Guards on plain en route to Miami. It is with a grim resolve that she has found herself upon the doorstep of a hated enemy, her old Master thinking he has gotten the better laugh out of it.. Little does she know that she will find a better time in the US than back in her home country.

Writing Sample: She pulled at those restraints, frantically writhing and pulling at the silver cuffs that held her suspended in the middle of the show room. Her heart raced, shaking as she flipped her legs up to tug fiercely at the chains until they dug deep into her wrists. Screaming out her frustration, she sagged back down. Only the tips of her toes touched the plush carpet on the floor.. She could hear their laughter, the audience of her Master. She had dared disobey a direct order, much to His chagrin. It only took one small disobedient gesture for Him to have His games at her expense.

Spinning on the suspended chain, the room swirled as someone slapped at her hip to spin her towards Him. Wide dove gray eyes gaze upon her Master sitting on his throne, clapping and grinning. His fangs dazzle in the lights of the large room. He leaned over, conversing with his guests of honor. He Nodded, signaling to one of his many servants to bring him his bull whip. Isra struggled anew, tucking her face against her suspended arm as the whip sung out for her. It cracked audibly against her left hip, drawing a large amount of blood that flew to the crowd and spattered her body. She bit down hard, keeping the cry to herself as pain blossomed. She knew it would scar, even as the first burning sensations trilled through her veins from the silver tipped blade on the whip.

Completely naked, it allowed everyone in the room to get a view of her lush body. Isra cringed as her Master cursed her for not crying, bringing an uproar from his guests to make her cry for them. The whip sung again, cracking this time along her shoulder blades. Isra screamed, tossing her head back as the whip sung again and again, each time opening up a new wound that sprayed her blood to the crowd. It washed their faces, fangs lengthening as they craved another taste of her body. Grinding her own lengthened canines together, she struggled again at the cuffs until the dug and burned at the spots she was worrying over and over. The silver burned, and the whip cracked her again. Her blood coated her black hair with each strike of that angry whip. The laughter ceased however, as her Master's hand was suddenly detained.

Dazed, ridden with pain and lacerations that just were not healing fast enough.. She spun on those chains, her head lolling backwards as the room spun and spun. Isra gasped at the immense pain, and the silence was deafening. One had stood up to her defense, and as she continued to slowly spin.. her dazed eyes lit upon him. He had a hand on His whip, defying the Master of Moscow. The buzz of everyone's words was like static in her ears and head. Blood dripped and drained down her body, spattering the white carpet beneath her dangling toes. The stranger stalked down the dais from where he'd sat at the Master's side as guest of honor.

Struggling despite the infinite pain, yet his touch was gentle as he took hold of her face and gazed into her wide eyes. Whatever he saw in her eyes was enough to turn him to the Master, demanding he release her unto him. The Master laughed long and loud, making a mockery of the Stranger's words. Isra cringed at that laughter, she knew it for the cruel tone it was all meant to imply. His words to the Stranger, whose name that came from her Masters lips was that of "Alistair". The man was bargaining for her freedom, and her Master would have none of it. He picked up one of many blades from the wall that had contained the whip. He, with grace that belied his cruelty.. sauntered to Isra where she hung still.

The blade carved beneath her right breast, and she screamed again as the blade circled down and away from her body. Before darkness claimed her weary mind, she watched as her Master pinioned Alistair to the wall with the very blade he'd used on her, digging up beneath his ribs with ease until that kind heart was nothing more than dust in His hands. Death, thought she, would come swiftly now. And the memory would haunt her for eons.


And the rest:
Anything else? Hecky naw.

Did you read the rules? ADMIN EDIT

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