Here's Your Once Chance, Fancy

[† Kadaver †]

Full Name: Facny
Nickname: Fance
Breed: Mexican Gray
Height: 28 Inches
Gender: Fae
Appearance: One of the most beautiful of females any brute has ever had the sheer pleasure and enjoyment to plant his sights on. Blanketed in long, silky fur so soft that even the tightest bound together burr can't cling to, Fancy carries herself with style and grace. As many have noted, she walks like a cat, her head held low, eyes set attentively on her destination. Her long, beautiful, tufted legs give her the appearance of a model, her shoulder blades move in a hypnotic rythem with each step she takes. Her dark, deep blue eyes captivate her soon-to-be victims of impurity, and are a large contrast against her spattered pelt.

Donned mostly in a foxy red, Fancy seems almost like an American flag, though with much less blue. Her chest and underbelly a soft off-white, along with the tips of her ears. She has a medium sized build, and although small she knows how to put up a fight when she needs to, but that rarely happens. She's quite quick on her feet, and because of her long, narrow snout is almost aero-dynamic.
Age: 3
Personality: Her lable: Sleeze. Fance will do just about anything to fall in love for a night (and the next night, and so on), but that's all she looks for in life. She can captivate just about any good male's heart with her beauty and 'expearence' and when you're with her, it's all or nothing. A favored user of sarcasm, Fance has quite the coky of attitudes. She respects only her master, and that has gotten her into a lot of trouble for she tends to easily snap at other slave females. She fights for the favorite. She barely fights, ever, and is a strong runner. Her endurance keeps her going on other things to aside from running, if you know what I mean.

Although she wastes and places the most degrating labels upon herself, Fancy is a very complex individual. She falls in love easily, but it's one of the truest loves that could ever be. She would never betray her partner in any way whatsoever, or a friend for that matter because it's hard for her to make them. Because of all the hatred slung her way, she has very low self-esteem which only makes her situation worse. It's all she knows, and she takes pride in what she does because it's pretty much all she can do right, or at least she thinks. Although very intellegent, clever, and bold she can't see that in the face that looks back at her in the still water.

It takes a long time for her to hate someone, no matter what they do to her. She "dislikes" many females for taking what she has, had, or wants, but usually never males. She can give quite the death glare, but throws up a false appearence of a perfect little angel in front of anybody she wants, but she can be quite sassy when they turn their backs. She seems more confident than she really is. Her self-esteem is truthfully below ground level.
History: Fancy was not born a slave, but she lived in about the same atmosphere. Abused by her father, Fance had a rough childhood. Her mother was treated the same way, but she was to afraid to go to someone for help in fear of getting hurt by him. Eventually Fancy childhood friend from another pack came into the picture when she was about a year old. She ran to him each night after her father was asleep, and he was always the one to succusfully quiet her sobs. They always stayed together in a small den they had found in a feild, and they would wake early and run home before anyone noticed they had dissapeared. James was a handsome brute, black as night, and even in his young age, noble, understanding, funny, and the best comfort and friend anyone could ask for. Inevitably as they grew older the two began to share more than a friendship, although her father still had yet to know he even existed. His scent on her became as natural as the grass and dirt beneath her paws. A year passed, and after a few nights of seemingly innocent fun, she became pregnant.

Her father still treated her the same and James fianally decided to put his paws down. He stepped up to the plate and took his position proudly as the father of the pups Fancy carried inside of her. He was done allowing her father to hurt her, and now there were now pups on the way. The only reason he hadn't gone to stop it earlier was that he was too physically young to face the brutal male. He followed her home that night, and calmed her shaking fears with his soothing voice. Fancy knew what her father could do, and she knew James was strong, but she doubted he could take him if things were to heat up. She knew they would. Before rounding the ben to the pack's den, James stopped her, fire in his golden eyes. He begged with dignaty for her to promise to take care of the pups if he didn't make it out of there. After a long struggle of encouriging him that he would win, she stourbournly won her fight and did not promise a word.

The fight went down as soon as her father saw them together. He could read it on their faces. It was quite the match, and in the end, both of the quarrelling males lost their lives, being struck in the throat. Her father was the first to go, and James simply bled out after calmly begging his trembeling, crying mate to make her promise. She did, and she meant it with all of her heart. Those pups were the only things she would have left of him, and it was what she dreamed of anyways. Having his children, although he was always in her fantasys helping her. He went out smileing in awe at the beautiful female. Fancy, grief stricken, stayed with him as long as his decaying body would let her. Her mother brought her food each day until she fianaly got to nerve to move (the stench shoving her subconsiously away also, although consiously he looked no different to her, just sleeping).

After months of serious depression, things slowly began to get better for Fance. She began to speak to the pups she held inside of her, knowing that hearing their mother's voice would help them when they came into the world, and she was singing again. Little did she know that her troubles were not over. She was talking to no one, for the pups inside of her had perished from her earlier depression. Her mother had gone off with some other male, and Fance checked in on them and stayed the night there a few times a month. Her mother noticed that she wasn't getting any bigger, though Fancy payed no mind to it. She was exastic to be getting closer to becomming the mother of James' pups. She began to stay at the den more often when she figured she'd be due, but she never went into labor. After a few months, she got the hint and left for good.

She wasn't stupid; she knew what had happened long ago. She just refused to belive it. Refused to belive that the only good thing that could be happening to her had faded away into the mist. And now she wanders, simply looking for any kind of joy in life she can, compairing it only to the deep, endless love she once shared with James. What a dissapointment...
Picture:
Master, Slave, or Free-Roaming? Slave

[[Vengeance]]

_{Accepted, very nice. ^^ And I love that song.}

[† Kadaver †]

Sweet!!!!