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Author Topic: descs? 1 gd <3  (Read 549 times)

Offline Thyme

descs? 1 gd <3
«: June 04, 2010, 04:47:16 PM»


Panther walked with a defined unabashed swagger. Coins clinked as her bare paws met the floor silently, a flask of something or other and a bag on her hips. Slightly ominious markings glowed against her black pelt, either tattooed or dyed into her fur from the looks of it. Bright yellow eyes gazed around with an air of disinterest that was almost frightening, and the grin on her lips stretched almost manically far. Everything about the woman screamed danger except the inviting way she looked at you and grinned.

Passing eyes might catch on the bright, oddly colored silver eyes the woman had. She stood at 5'2, but had too much of a frame to be a child. Curvy though it was, it lacked fat. Her frame was mostly muscle, sinew, and pale skin. Sunlight was blocked by a large woven hat that captured her crimson curls that spilled all to her hips, certain flowers braided into her hair. She walked with a distinct careful step, a cane in one hand tapping out the way infront of her. A beautifully velvet case was slung over one shoulder, guarded by the sightless woman as she moved along, a soft smile on her lips.

Lady Leopard stood at 5'3, her lithe form marked with black on the white fur coat. Her regalia was that of armor, a thin sheet of metal on her upper torso covered by a tight-fit shirt whose sleeves billowed freely. Trousers adorned her legs, and her paws were bare to the ground. A manner of shiny trinkets lay cinched around her belt, drawn together by a single metal chain that rattled when the female walked. A long sabre was attached to her left hip, and a sword was attached to her right. A long curved dagger and a bag of assorted goods and items swung at her side as she swayed. Her bright crimson hair was braided, and was sometimes covered by a flame-colored red, fur-lined cloak, as well as a beautiful white metal helmet with carved wings.

Gerudo carries Goddess-dust of the desert upon her skin, it's rich mocha color marking her a mile away to onlookers. The flame colored skirts licked her bare heels, adorned as they were with wringlets of fashioned gold, bells attached to them singing with her swayed movements. Her chest was covered by an intricate gold and crimson silk, and at her side sat a flame-handled cutlass, mimicked on the other side of her hip with a shorter version. A special flask was bound to her left hip, which was also the resting spot of the long braid of odd black hair. Bright feathers of the desert birds were intertwined with beads and bells in her hair, and a heart-thieving smile adorned her lips..

The agile young woman stood about 4'5, short cropped hair falling past her ears and tinted with a dark blue that matched the sky above on a stormy day. Curled tail swept out below a blue dress, wrapped around her leg most of the times. A white oak staff sat clenched in one hand, sometimes a long white cloak pinned to her shoulders, other times not. To the first glance, there seems to be nothing strange or abnormal about her. Then again, one does not  miss the large fluffy ears coming from beneath her soft silky hair easily. The ruffled dress does not reach her knees, rather short, with strange designs on the front. It varies from white on the bodice to a dark blue on the rest of the outfit. Her soft emerald eyes betray a gentle and beautiful admiration for life, all the good in the world in one gaze.

Shape-shifter avian radiated a pale blue aura, tiny blue orbs swirling around her head. Pale sea-hued feathers mixed with the pure snow white ones. A heavy rowan staff rested in one outstretched talon, a glowing malachite jewel set in the shape of a sphere. Her feathers had no end, floating off into seeming air to give her this mist-like appearance. Pale violet robes hang off her body, seemingly one of the only solid things on the phoenix's form. Two amethyst eyes seemed to gaze at the world as if not quite seeing it, always staring off into the distance as if dividing her attention. Alas, the smell of Belladonna wafted off of her like a simple, sweet sin.

(You see Byanca.)
> Miscreant's eyes are black with blasphemy, the pale skin mimicing soft, streaming moonlight in the darkness. Flame colored skirts are brilliant to behold, moving within their silky confines as fine dancer's legs appear beneath their folds, as the bells tinkle idly when the female happens to walk with that unabashed swagger. A forbiddenly sweet smile usually adorns blackberry stained lips, matching the color of the blackened scar that mars the side of her throat. Bags of trinkets sway cinched at her hips as ringlets of silver and gold clattered around her wrists. Most alluring were the flame colored curls, which spilled from her as surely as blood, but wisped into spirals beautifully.   

Ne'er tamed to mortal ken, striking deep blue gaze was coupled with a sultry voice of night stars. T'was the beast beneath fair fur; cloven hooves striking out fire and brimstone. Never was a lover as bold and sweet as she, dark and warm as winter wine, no fruits ever tasted so fine. Miscreant's pelt was black with blasphemy, as smooth as wet ice to the touch. Tribal markings were etched like tales into her fur, tattoos of times that had long since passed her by. Horns of soft, thick sable rose to dark skies; two wings were feathered as midnight as she. A prowling spirit on her own, all spice and fire to the bone, would ye dare mess with a daughter of the glade?

<b>Baby</b> was what some would call her, the darling little feline with her seductive golden gaze. Piercings lined her ears, and in the depth of her slim tummy, namely her belly button. Brown leather collar hung 'round her neck, initials DK embedded on the gold amulet hanging from it. Creme fur mixed with darker mocha markings, while her golden brown hair fell down her back.

Ever get that feeling you're being watched? The lady could make you feel like that all the time, with her sharp hazel eyes watching. Long, wind-swept blonde curls fell past a cherry brown corset woven with fine, durable material, pressed with falling cloth leaves. The cloak on her shoulders spoke of fur lining of some poor beast. The entire regalia spoke of a darker, rougher air than anything, as did the sword that hung ready at her right hip.