Selene Bela-Darva Volcov ~~Done!~~

[alicenmalice]

001. NAME• Selene Bela-Darva Volcov
002. NICKNAME• Bela (B-lah). She only lets those very close to her use this, as it was considered an insult not to call her by full name or first two names in her old pack.
003. AGE•19
004. BIRTHDATE• November 11
005. WHERE YOU LIVE?• Nowhere in particular. She was born in Russia, but travels constantly.

001. YOUR FACE• Gillian Cofsky?
002. HAIR• Auburn/brown. It is long and curly; she loathes to put it up.
003. EYES• Round, dark brown eyes that are very expressive.
004. HIEGHT• Average height- about 164 cm.
005. WEIGHT• 65.9 kg
006. BODY MODS• She has several tribal tattoos on her thighs. They are the same on each side, only with slight variations. They represent her family’s history.
007. FASHION/STYLE• She wears her belly-dancing garb around camp, these outfits mostly consisting of bright colors. She generally wears the same hip scarf in all her dances, adorned with countless silver trinkets and charms. The scarf and charms occasionally change when the purpose of the dance changes, such as for specific rituals. When in public city areas, she usually wears ‘bohemian’ or ‘coffee-house’ clothing, with long neck scarves and floral prints. Most would consider her public style old fashioned.

001. LIKES• Books/Libraries, Story Telling, Dancing, Traveling, Meeting People, Forests, History, Legends, Astronomy, Pulsating Music, Ghosts.
002. DISLIKES• Vampires, Weaklings, Cities, Dead Things, People Who Purposely Drop/Forget Their Ancestry, Computers, Most Technology.
003. FEARS• Being Bitten by a Vampire, Illness, Becoming Amnesic, Responsibility, Guns, Computers.
004. STRENGTHS• Battle Trained (close/mid-range), Near Photographic Memory, Cache of Information on Lore, Speaks Many Languages, Strong Spiritual Connection/Prowess.
005. WEAKNESSES• ‘Spiritually Sensitive’, Little Connection to Modern World, Bribes, No Idea as to How Politics Work Outside of the Pack, Raised in a Closed Environment.
006. ODDITIES• Old Fashioned, Has Never Used a Mechanical Pencil (Let Alone Touched a Computer Mouse),
007. ORIENTATION• Undecided
008. SPECIFIC MORALS• “The Dead are supposed to be dead, not walking around and creating more of Them!” She believes that cities are disgusting places, becoming more like cages with imaginary bars. She believes the laws of a country don’t apply to her (as most others in her group do), but rather abides by the pack’s laws. She doesn’t drink for fun.
009. PERSONALITY OVERVIEW•
Bela is a very proud person, eager to tell the story of her ancestors should someone ask. In fact, she is eager to tell any story she knows. At first glance, she can seem the calm, cool, intellectual pack leader she tries to be. Truthfully, she is the exact opposite. If someone were to question her pack, she’d lose whatever composure she had. She is very determined and willful, but this doesn’t mean that she doesn’t change her mind at the drop of a hat. Her world is ruled by passions and spirits. She loves the paranormal, the world that is hidden and buried by humans. However, she keeps her best secrets to herself. The very world the humans helped to create. Bela also loves the human concept of ‘family’, where most werewolves see it as ‘pack’. She wants to recreate the Old Volkov pack under a different name for this purpose. She is a very charming person, making friends left and right. People are attracted to her, like magnets, and this makes building her pack so much easier. Unfortunately, it will take a lot more than her charms to keep them loyal. Luckily she has her heredited Volkov strength on her side.

001. PARENT ONE• Volkov, Volkov Pack Leader/Alpha
002. PARENT TWO• Darva Volkov. Volkv pack Alpha Female
003. SIBLINGS• Ivan Volkov (34), Dahlia Volkov (deceased)
004. PETS• n/a
005. HISTORY OVERVIEW•

Bela grew to be very proud. She was raised by a group of nomadic werewolves, traveling through the European countryside. Her two older siblings, both human, would watch over her when the full moon came to make sure that she wasn't injured by the others. At a very young age, she was taught the way of the spirits. She had always been in tune with them through nature, spending her time in the forests learning things.

She grew up away from most of the other werewolf children, them finding her 'gift' strange. She would often get into fights with them, her losing due to their werewolf strength. But rather than give up, she would learn from the more battle-ready adults. Her father thought she should do something more feminine as well, an so she picked up belly dancing at about the same time. They thought that guns were a cowardly thing, and so they taught her how to fight with knives and without weapons at all.

For a while, Bela seemed to calm down. She would spend more time by herself, thinking. And when other children came to talk to her, she would suddenly explode and say irrational things. They began to ignore her, and she would go back about on her business. She envied how they would spend their time together, playing without her. She clung onto and became a burden to her brother and sister, arguing with them about the smallest things. Eventually, her relationship with her brother became so damaged that he ran off. It wasn't solely her fault, though she felt it was.

The next full moon, her sister wasn't able to fend off one of the Wolves off by herself and died beneath its heavy, feral paws. Bela was about to be killed herself, arm locked in its jaw, when a vampire killed the Wolf. By sunrise, which was not long after the Wolf attacked her, every one of the Volkovs were dead except her. She continued on from there as a nomadic lone werewolf.

Yo', my name is Rhianna, and I've been the walking dead for 15 years, and I've been grave robbing for 7 years, I dug up lovely Crimson Kiss by means of GOOGLE and adore it.

001. ANYTHING ELSE?• Not Really.
002. ROLE PLAY SAMPLE•

Rain soaked into her hair, pooling down and around the smooth river stones. The stream rushed furiously, it's previous grace given into anger and tears that would nourish the land around it. The sheltering trees would create new homes for the animals this coming spring, and then the sky would smile before giving into the cycle all over again. It was the cycle of this area, and not too much further down was the bog where the water would run together, supporting the thousands of tiny lifelings.

She looked above at the canopy, setting her feet on the pebbles so that the archs of her her feet were no longer pained by the uneven stance. She started with slight, supple movements, the backs of her feet slowly rising as she got the feel of the stones. Deep. Earthy. Natural. Home.

The earth seemed to envelop her, filling her with warmth as her heart rate slowly rose. The movements became grander, more fluid, faster. The coins clattered together, sound battling out and yet in tune with that of the rain. A symphony of stardust and rain filled her head, clearing out all the unnecessary information the day had brought her. Fluff. Clouds. It made way for the clear mosaic of memories, a few painted glass images of wonder and metal bars that were the foundation, the frame, of her upbringing.

She felt her psyche mold and form, pulling velveteen curtains away from the curled sleeping form. There she slept in the brush, barbs and coils tangled into her sweet and rank, soft and coarse, fur. Brown, like the patches of earth that showed between the patches of grass and brush. Its breath came out if soft puffs as it breathed, its slight snores shaking the whittle-bush. Green dried leaves fell, and the Wolf's yellow eyes opened. It had intelligence, human-like, and the same emotions, too, maybe. It's eyes creased as it's jaws slipped to a wolfish smile, grinning at the person behind her.

She crept back into her original state of consciousness, her body still moving (though slower than before). It was an odd thing. It happened occasionally, those visions, when she was in that state of mind. Curious that it happened to warn her of her sudden visitor. Perhaps they didn't want to be known. She stopped dancing and set her right foot up at a 90 degree angle, grabbing it with her hand, stretching. Slight, feminine muscles rippled beneath her skin, suggesting something predatory if they knew how to look. Now that she thought about it, not that many people looked any more. At least, not with feeling. It was all using your eyes to see, now, wasn't it?

Selene smiled to herself, remembering those golden eyes. Hers, of course, when she wasn't lazing about in human form. Speaking of which, she was sort of hungry. She rolled her shoulders and turned about to face her visitor. If he was edible, well...

[*sombra delgadillo]

Just one thing;

• Werewolves can't be born so I'd like to see something in her history about how she was turned.
  

Thanks, Ray

[alicenmalice]

Ah, I guess I didn't make that bit very clear. It's fixed now.