Name: Kismet Soliel Chevalier
Age: 20
Breed: Lycan
Preferred Group: Loner
Scent: Petrichor - a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.
Birth Season: Winter
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (Hover over word, please)Human AppearanceHair: White with highlights of purple
Eyes: Ocean Blue
Skin: Pale skin; light dusting of freckles.
Height: 5 feet 5 inches.
Weight: 120 pounds
Voice:In-Human AppearenceKingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Class: Mammalia
Order: Carnivora
Family: Canidae
Subfamily: Caninae
Tribe: Canini
Genus: Canis
Species: Canis lupus lupus
Weight: 38.5 kg (85lb)
Height: 85 cm
Length: 160 cm
Fur: Mottled gray and white
Wolf Abilities/WeaknessesHeightened Sight
Heightened Smell
Night Vision
Agility
Abnormal Strength
Accelerated Regeneration
*Weak to Oak
*Prone to Mortality
*Decelerated Aging
*Requires Blood to trigger Regeneration
*Weakness against Silver and Iron items
Human AbilitiesCryokinetic Magical control over ice, frost and snow. Unleashed via her hands, and controlled by her emotions and a genetic inheritance from her mother.
Bloodhound tracking through blood, but only in a meditative state.
Ambidextrous it means she can wield a weapon effectively in both hands.
Fighting Class: Able
PersonalityIntroverted and quiet, she likes to find the highest place available and spend her time watching the world burn. She is fierce and loyal in combat, often times needing someone to reign her in.
Courageous Brave and adventuresome, Soleil has never been the type to back down from a challenge. She seeks to prevail against her adversaries and owns the courage like that of a tiger. A fierce audacity to chase after fate.
Hot-headed Soleil has a wicked temper. Whenever she sets her mind on something she becomes frightfully stubborn and determined, a good/bad thing.
Intelligent Although at age seventeen Soleil abandoned her studies, she is mentally capable of adapting quickly, her drive to learn skills quite raw and spontaneous. More than adequate IQ, and adores the feel of a book in her hands.
Honest Soleil has always been quite brash with her words, unfiltered with her opinions, rather bold with her remarks, and forever speaking her mind.
Impulsive Soleil is definitely a 'leap before you look' kind of girl, no doubt.
Rebellious The girl doesn't really fancy people in authority over her, and she acts out for the most part. Sometimes in small ways, other times significantly.
Compassion Soleil is a softy at heart. She often feels empathy and the relentless need to protect others, showing a kindness she doesn't often beam.
Possessive Don't fuck with her loved ones. They are hers, don't even try.
DossierFor as far as Kismet can remember-which started the moment she turned old enough to walk- it had always been katas, Tai Chi and what Dad called "The Basic Dirty Fightin" and "Six Great Ways to Bounce an Asshole" in the morning, school, conditioning, Hex practice, herbology, controlling The Touch and Tai’chi to settle the mind and let the body rest for the next round the coming day. The strange yet easy life ended when a band of Reavers-wolf hunters- broke into her home in the middle of the night. Her father Mikhail, had been out patrolling. A solo hunter whose silhouette was the only memory she had of him. A human married to lycan - who was hated by the Reavers. Cheyenne took her two children and ran upstairs into the master bedroom; a sleepy Kismet clung to her mother with her face buried in the soft curly hair and neck, while her brother Mikhail grumbled about it being the middle of the night. Running to the closet she placed both children in the compartment they hadn't known existed and told them to stay put until their father arrived. Neither of her parents ever came looking for them.
[Kismet looking into a mirror and seeing her Lycanthrope half]
Hungry and frightened Mikhail pushed open the trap door and crawled out the small space into the room. The house was eerily quiet and when he pulled Kismet out of the secret compartment she noticed that her mother’s weapons were rendered useless and scattered on the floor. Along the ground was a smear of something that had once been red, quickly turning a sickly shade of brown and greenish-yellow where its substance was less concentrated leading out of the room. Mikhail worried that his sister was too weak to survive another day lead Kismet into the kitchen and fed her as best he could. At the time he was only 11 years old, an orphan and charged with what could be one of the very last female lycan of their small pack, still alive in the losing battle against the Reavers. After they’d eaten and Kismet had watched Mikhail pack an emergency bag with plenty of ammo, wads of cash, a standard 9mm gun, a few changes of clothes they headed outside where they came upon the form of their mother’s corpse. No sign of their father save his abandoned old red truck.
A noose was draped like a necklace around Cheyenne’s neck, and what remained of her beaten, bloody and rotting torso swayed to and fro in the chilling breeze. She’d been torn to pieces, pieces which laid about the front yard. Slivers of flesh ripped right off the bone and left like silly string in the grass. Kismet spent years traveling with her brother Mikhail. He drove their rusty old red truck, across 16 states while she navigated. Everything was fine; they survived however they could, always together. Until Mikhail went missing. That's when everything changed.
