MICHAELS, Vivian Rose

[Vivian Rose Michaels]

* Vivian Rose Michaels !

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PB: Emilia Clarke
But you'd save the best for last like I'm the one for you[/center]

name;; Vivian Rose Michaels
nickname/s;; Vi, Viv, Vivi
age;; 130ish (looks 18) (She doesn’t remember her exact age)
sexuality;; Heterosexual
race;; Werewolf- Bitten
affiliation;; Stray
Likes;;

• Being alone
  
• The forest
  
• Hunting
  
• Being in wolf form
  
• Deer (tasty)
  

Dislikes;;

• Packs
  
• Other werewolves
  
• Humans
  
• Loud noises
  
• Towns/Cities
  

Fears;;

• Always being alone.
  
• Being in a pack. (She contradicts herself.)
  

Goals;;

• To eventually overcome her fear of others and maybe even join a pack.
  

Anything else;;

• She rarely speaks, and tends to forget her name.
  
• When she does go into town, she usually has to steal clothes. She wears deer-hide clothing and doesn’t like normal clothes much.
  
• When she does speak, it’s hesitant and almost forced.
  
• She is very in tune with her wolf, seeming almost to talk silently to her at times. She has more wolfish reactions than most other werewolves, a trait of her living alone for so long.
  
• Vivian likes, and often collects, small shiny objects. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as its shiny.
  

You should know that you're just a temporary fix
This isn't a routine with you it don't mean that much to me

appearance;; Vivian has long, white-blond hair that she lets flow free unless she’s hunting. If she’s not hunting in wolf form, she usually carries a bow and a quiver of arrows she made herself with pointed sticks and feathers for fletching she gained from birds she kills. The bow was a gift from her father, and is over two hundred years old. Her hair used to be more blond than white, but over the years of being outside and in the sun, her hair was bleached nearly white. Her eyes are a vivid blue, startling against her pale hair and look nearly purple. She stands at five feet, three inches, and is slender. Despite that, she is very muscular, her body toned from years of living outdoors and hunting for her food. She wears deer-skin clothing that she made herself, and usually runs around barefoot except for in winter, when she wears a pair of boots she made from deer-skin and rabbit fur she lined the inside with.

Her wolf form is almost pure white, with striking blue eyes. It stands about four-foot tall, and is as muscular as she is in human form. Her undercoat is a slightly darker gray, giving her fur almost a silvery look. The tip of her tail is slightly darker gray than her undercoat.

personality;; Vivian is the epitome of a recluse. She rarely goes out into towns, and when she does she usually has to steal clothing as she knows she would raise curious looks for wearing her deer-skins. She feels no remorse for stealing things she needs. The way she sees it, if someone leaves it out where it’s easily obtained, they didn’t need it anyway. She never goes into someone’s home to steal things, usually she just takes them off laundry lines.

Vivian rarely speaks. She has a hard time remembering she can speak, and is nearly the next thing to a wild animal, except she only kills for food and never attacks anyone unless she believes they stray too close to her territory. Even then, she never kills whoever comes into her territory, only works to scare them off. She doesn’t want to hurt people, has no reason to. She just wants to be left alone. She’s not had a friend since she was human, and has given up on speaking aloud as it startles whatever prey she may be hunting.

family;; Ella Michaels- Mother- Human/deceased
Gavin Michaels- Father- Human/deceased
Jacob Michaels- Older brother- Human/deceased
Sarah Michaels- Younger sister- Human/deceased


history;; Vivian remembers very little from her human life. She was fifteen when she was changed in an attack that killed the rest of her family. Only a few days before, her father Gavin had made a long bow for Vivian to use. It was made of a solid wood, sturdy and strong. It wouldn’t easily break. Jacob, her older brother, had died the year before and Gavin had no one to go hunting with, and had roped his eldest daughter into it. Jacob had died after getting bitten by a rattle snake. They hadn’t been able to get the poison out in time. Vivian had been very close to her brother, and she was still heartsick over it even a full year later.

Vivian had gone out the day of the attack, trying to find a deer to bring down with her new bow. She had been practicing, trying to get the feel of the new bow. She’d been used to a smaller one, but she quickly grew adept at using the new gift. She loved it dearly, and used it well. While she was hunting, she shot a few rabbits, enough to feed the whole family and enough for some nice hide from their skins. Winter was coming soon, and the fur would be used for lining for their boots and clothing to help keep them warm. Vivian had lived in the forest all her life, her mother having been banished from town when they believed her mother was a witch because she used herbs to help cure people.

Gavin and Ella had been promised to each other, but when they had claimed Ella to be a witch, he kidnapped her and whisked her into the forest, building her a cottage there. Gavin had been a sort of mason, helping to build houses in town, so it was difficult with just him and Ella, but he had managed it well. The house was beautiful, and he even added more rooms onto it when his children were born. Vivian had always thought it a sweet, romantic tale. She had loved it dearly, it being one of her favorite stories as a child.

Vivian came back home to her cottage to find the front door fallen open. It was dark by then, and the moon was just starting to rise, huge and full. She had always been able to find her way out in the forest in the day or night, so it was nothing new to her. She had bathed in the stream not far from their home before she had come back. The quick bath had saved her life.

When she approached the cottage, she heard her father screaming inside, the scream suddenly cut short. Vivian ran forward, an arrow knocked and ready. She wasn’t prepared to see a huge wolf, though, standing over her dead family. Her father too had come back late, and found his family dead and a huge wolf eating the corpses. He had tried to kill it, had wounded it badly, but it had gotten him before he had gotten it. Vivian screamed and let the arrow fly, but not before the wolf had lunged at her. The arrow had lodged in its side, and had bitten Vivian badly along her left side. Blood was pouring out of her wounds, but she ignored what pain she could and pulled out her skinning knife as the wolf tried to latch its jaws on her throat. She stabbed it hard in the side of the throat, its hot blood coating her arm and splattering on her face.

She didn’t care.

The pain was intense in her side as the wolf howled and thrashed, kicking it as it tried to get away. But the damage was done. The wolf barely made it a few steps from the cottage when it, too, succumbed to its wounds and died.

Vivian lay on the floor, crying softy. Her family was dead. And she was dying, but she wasn’t scared of dying. She wanted badly to crawl over to them, to curl up with her family and die with them. Her wish wasn’t granted.

Vivian had passed out, feverish and ill. Every movement brought bolts of pain from every joint, every muscle and bone in her body. She cried in her fever dreams, cried for her lost family, for herself. In her fever dreams, she saw again and again how the wolf killed her family, and left her to die alone. She kept wondering why it was taking so long for her to die. Surely if she was going to die, it wouldn’t hurt this badly. Death didn’t hurt, right? That was what she was always told. “Don’t be afraid of death. It is the peace we can rarely find in life.” That was what her father had said to her once when she had killed her first rabbit and had cried over the loss. She had felt so bad over the kill, but her father’s words had helped her get over the grief.

So death didn’t hurt. It couldn’t hurt. So why was she in so much pain?

It was days before Vivian woke up again. The bodies of her family and the wolf were beginning to rot, the only way she knew time had passed. When she had gotten slowly to her feet, dizzy and weak from her fever sickness and blood loss, she had found the wound on her side was closed and a line of silvery scars. She had panicked, and had run to the stream that she had bathed in only a few days before. She had washed the dried blood away, but the truth of her discovery was only more pronounced now, with her body clean. The wound was gone except for scars. And her family was dead.

She collapsed at the edge of the stream, weeping into the water as the sun beamed warmly down on her. Her golden blond hair was wet from the stream, and clung to her face as she cried. After she had cried herself spent on the edge of the stream, Vivian had gathered herself, and had gone to bury her family. She had a large job ahead of her, and she couldn’t waste any more of the daylight.

Her heart ached with her task, but she refused to let it stop her until after the last of her family was buried, and a flower placed on each grave. Still, she didn’t stop. She refused to weep again, and went over to the wolf. It was very dead, and a deep hatred had filled her when she stood over it. She wanted to stab it again, over and over until it was so much meat laying at her feet.

Instead, she did the gravest insult she could think of. She took it deep into the forest, and left it unburied. She had no idea where her sudden strength came from, the energy to bury her family in individual graves and drag a wolf fully twice her weight far from her home. She never stopped to question it though, as she started to clean the cabin free of the blood and death smells. Where else could she go? This was her home. It had been since she was born.

The weeks passed, and Vivian was beginning to worry about her strange new temper. She’d never been temperamental before the attack, and figured it was part of her grief she just had to work through. But when the first full moon came after the attack, Vivian quickly realized that her temper had little to do with her grief.

It took months before she admitted to herself that what had happened had happened to her for a reason. What the reason was she couldn’t have said. She was in a depression filled rage that nearly killed her when her attempts at suicide had failed. Finally, she had simply given up on giving up on her life, and had decided to make the best of what she could.

During one of her rage filled nights, she had destroyed her family’s cabin. She had left there, living in caves or in her wolf form when she needed to. Very few other predators in the woods had tried to challenge her when she was in her wolf shape. She spent years in the forests of her home, but she never once went back to her family’s home after she had destroyed it.

Eventually, she left the country entirely. Vivian doesn’t even remember where it was they had lived after she came to America to hide in the forests there. She knew it was an English speaking land, though, as she knew no other languages.

For years, Vivian roamed the lands of North America, staying to thicker forests and wooded areas as much as possible. She rarely went into human towns, but when she did she would always get new clothing, usually by stealing it. She never wore it unless she needed to go into a town for some reason; sticking to the deer-skin and furs she grew up with as a child in the wilderness. Little happened to her over the years. Hunters of werewolves tried to kill her on several occasions, but Vivian had grown quite tricky over her years and had either outmaneuvered them, or had killed them. If Vivian thought nothing of stealing clothing to blend into the crowds of humans, she thought less of killing hunters who had attempted to kill her first.

Part of Vivian was drawn to a small town called Converse, according to the sign she had passed on the way past the town. She could smell werewolves surrounding the area, and the wolf inside her refused to leave the area. While her human half wanted nothing to do with anyone, humans or werewolves alike, her wolf yearned to be a part of something larger than just herself, and Vivian had no idea what to do about it. So instead of running like her human instincts told her to do, she decided to settle down deep in the forest surrounding Converse, and bide her time until she knew what exactly it was her wolf craved.

You're just a filler in the space that happened to be free
How dare you think you'd get away with trying to play me

your alias

[/b];; Kat
contact/s[/b];; PM
how you found us[/b];;O.o

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[Cayden Thomas Murphy]

Accepted!

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