11-19-2018, 07:43 AM
[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Pan struggles with ambition and procrastination. It is awful thing to lack motivation, to struggle to do one simple task. Sometimes she simply fails to see any point in doing a simple job, easily bored by the events around her. She longs for inspiration, she longs to be entertained. Without ambition she is like algae, drifting at the bottom of the hierarchy, letting herself ferment her life away. It's likely her own fault. If she just stood up and looked for adventure, she would have likely found it by now. She wouldn't have to feel like time is slowly shifting forward, feel that day after day was identical to the rest. But this is where her procrastination comes in. All she has to do is start something the same way someone might strike a match to light a birthday candle. As long as she has ambition, she will move and do something. She will be someone for once. Truthfully, she doesn't see much for the future ahead of her. The black serval struggles to see anything worth trying for and yet she hesitates to end, let herself give up. She just lets herself sink into an imaginary ocean to drown and fossilise, disappear into history where she will never be heard of again.
The girl doesn't think of herself as undying. She is immortal but it manifests itself in a different form: eternal youth. She hasn't seemed to age past nine months but it certainly does not phase or disappoint her. The only thing that she is bitter about is her height, the fact that she had honestly thought she would grow taller but is now stunted to that of an older child. To her luck, looks can fool. Considering she isn't particularly talkative around strangers and groups she isn't familiar with, they will likely buy the idea that she is too young to be drawn into violence and torment. It was one of the reasons she joined The Pitt. Only a real asshole would go out of their way to give her a bad time and, while the aggressive group didn't seem to care about how they treated each other, she was more or less concerned by captures from other groups. She liked to think of herself as a little safe for now. While she is not particularly afraid of death, she doesn't want to die in pain and beg to be killed. As long as this group continued to be the enemy, the villains of the universe around them, she is convinced she will stay an observer, a watcher of the chaos that unfolds before her.
Droplets of water trickle down her ebony paws, shards of ice frequently forming only to melt in the humidity of the rainforest. She doesn't, however, feel hot. The lack of direct sunlight from the tall, over-arching trees were enough to keep the female comfortable. Pan is, honestly, quite hesitant to enter the desert again. It was a pain for her to trek through and she doesn't feel like trudging for hours, letting her ankles be consumed by sand and suddenly more attentive to the fibres in her legs. But, to her luck, she notices a bright figure in the distance who has passed the border, shouting words that cut the convenience silence she had welcomed. Pan lowers her ears, eyes wincing because she didn't think someone could be so announcing of their presence, so loud and lively. Energetic people have the tendency to exhaust her, as if they were leeches who sapped away at Pan's own. The serval bites her bottom lip, approaching without a hurry to see that a sand cat had beaten her to it. They...both had multiple tails. She wouldn't judge out loud but she doesn't see the point in them. Tails were an extension of the spine and she personally wonders if removing just one tail out of many will affect coordination and balance. Regardless it would definitely throw out the mythical appearance.
As she looks at the stranger, she does nothing more but offer a meek smile if they ever accidentally make eye-contact. She doesn't see a point in small talk or saying anything else to the other - simply lacking the social skills to do anything else but breathe air and consume space. Pan can't help but feel mildly uncomfortable by the fem's multiple eyes.
The girl doesn't think of herself as undying. She is immortal but it manifests itself in a different form: eternal youth. She hasn't seemed to age past nine months but it certainly does not phase or disappoint her. The only thing that she is bitter about is her height, the fact that she had honestly thought she would grow taller but is now stunted to that of an older child. To her luck, looks can fool. Considering she isn't particularly talkative around strangers and groups she isn't familiar with, they will likely buy the idea that she is too young to be drawn into violence and torment. It was one of the reasons she joined The Pitt. Only a real asshole would go out of their way to give her a bad time and, while the aggressive group didn't seem to care about how they treated each other, she was more or less concerned by captures from other groups. She liked to think of herself as a little safe for now. While she is not particularly afraid of death, she doesn't want to die in pain and beg to be killed. As long as this group continued to be the enemy, the villains of the universe around them, she is convinced she will stay an observer, a watcher of the chaos that unfolds before her.
Droplets of water trickle down her ebony paws, shards of ice frequently forming only to melt in the humidity of the rainforest. She doesn't, however, feel hot. The lack of direct sunlight from the tall, over-arching trees were enough to keep the female comfortable. Pan is, honestly, quite hesitant to enter the desert again. It was a pain for her to trek through and she doesn't feel like trudging for hours, letting her ankles be consumed by sand and suddenly more attentive to the fibres in her legs. But, to her luck, she notices a bright figure in the distance who has passed the border, shouting words that cut the convenience silence she had welcomed. Pan lowers her ears, eyes wincing because she didn't think someone could be so announcing of their presence, so loud and lively. Energetic people have the tendency to exhaust her, as if they were leeches who sapped away at Pan's own. The serval bites her bottom lip, approaching without a hurry to see that a sand cat had beaten her to it. They...both had multiple tails. She wouldn't judge out loud but she doesn't see the point in them. Tails were an extension of the spine and she personally wonders if removing just one tail out of many will affect coordination and balance. Regardless it would definitely throw out the mythical appearance.
As she looks at the stranger, she does nothing more but offer a meek smile if they ever accidentally make eye-contact. She doesn't see a point in small talk or saying anything else to the other - simply lacking the social skills to do anything else but breathe air and consume space. Pan can't help but feel mildly uncomfortable by the fem's multiple eyes.