Name - Sunai
Age - 5
Gender - Female
Eye color - Coal black.
Appearance - 31” tall, 98 pounds. Light cream/white with no discernable markings other than her eyes, and a scar on her right shoulder where the fur doesn’t grow back in quite as thick. She’s comprised mostly of lean muscle with a medium-thick coat.
Personality - Quiet and reclusive; after a past plagued with tragedy and several years of surviving on her own, she’s lost touch with what is real and what is not. Believes herself to be a ‘grim’ of sorts. Though she doesn’t speak, she has been known to sing when she is alone, a tribute to her childhood.
Imprintability- Able.
OOC - sharpie
Have you read the rules? Yes.
What is our required word minimum? 200.
How did you find us? Bab.
Contacts - Discord: Sharpiexxo#4137
Sample Post -

It was simpler when she was younger. As a small pup, her mother would sing her songs to lull her to sleep, each cord strung together with love and tenderness to form the lullabies of her childhood. She’d been the only survivor in a litter of four; a miracle her mother called her, but she never believed in miracles. She entered the world surrounded by death, and it followed her like a second shadow. First, her siblings who never took a breath, then, her only friend - the one who did not mind her strange eyes or the way she hardly spoke, only sang the songs of her infancy.

Her mother was the hardest to bare; at just over a year old, she’d taken it like a knife to the heart. She’d carried the weight of that death like a yoke upon her shoulders, but she never spoke the words of mourning, at least not for other ears to hear. If one were to listen in the early hours of the morning before the dawn arrived, they might hear the haunting echo of the dirge she sang for her.

She lost her father last, and perhaps she should’ve lost herself that night, too. She can remember now the smell of smoke on the wind, a wildfire sparked from a lightning bolt that ravaged the forest, driving them out of their home and into the wild, untamed lands of the plains. Her father warned her to stay close - ”Don’t wander, Sunai, there are monsters hidden in the tall grass. Stay close.” She was a good daughter and listened, for all the good it did her. In the end, it was a rogue band of wolves - mangy creatures with too little meat clinging to their skeletal bones - that did them in. The first cry came from behind her; she can still hear the strangled, blood-choked gurgle if she tries hard enough.

Before long, the world was awash with screams and blood and gnashing teeth. Her cream and white fur was stained red and brown; a bite near her shoulder pulsed blood with each beat of her heart and unsteady step as she tore through the high grass, the sounds of fighting receding behind her.

She’d stayed in the fight long enough to see her father fall, and most of her pack as well. The hardest part to remember now was how she’d escaped at all.

A heavy sigh rushes out of her lungs now as the weight of survivor’s guilt drapes across her like a wet blanket, dragging her thoughts to dark places. Her mother had called her a miracle, but her memories tell another story. She is a curse, a blight upon the world born with eyes as black as coal from a womb filled with death. No, she didn’t die as her brothers and sister had but she brought the reaper with an old friend, sacrificing those that she loved the most to his ever-hungry scythe.

For years, she’d managed to survive alone, the black-eyed wraith with her heart bleeding out into the forest.

Alas, the years of solitude had left her wanting, craving.

When she finally leaves that cursed forest, she is not the same as she was before. There is a hollowness to the dark of her eyes, a lurking beast prowling behind the surface. She is death and death is her, for they have always been together.

As the moon settles high in the midnight sky, its pale glow painting the world in shades of blue, Sunai sings to it a song.

It is not a lullaby.