Dhalia Finchwing

[zagger]

Name:Dhalia Finchwing. Gender: Female. Date of Birth: Febuary 14, 2008. Height: 17cm. Sexual Preference: Straight. Status: Not spayed. Coat Color: Grey. Coat Pattern: Tabby with white splotch. Eye Color: Purple. Fur Length: Medium-Long. Appearance Extra: Various small scars hidden on her face, unseen because her fur covers them. History: Paris, France, December 24, 2007. Helplessly in love, the two cats passionately professed their love to one another that fateful night. The dam, a rich cat in the possession of a rich French man and his wife, both in the elite social circles of the world, was a classy and elegant cat, who was looking for a wild tale of romance. The sire, a simple alley cat who could charm his way into anywhere had fallen for the lovely miss. As their tails intertwined after, they over looked from a park hill the silhouette of the city, overcast by moonlight. 'J'aime toi,' they murmured at the same time. Their love was strong, nothing could possibly break them apart. But something did break them apart. The dam's owners decided to move, to travel across the world. So the lovers were filled with heartache. They nuzzled one another good-bye, unaware that the dam, well, she was going to be a dam! ------------- Unknown, Unknown, Febuary 14, 2008. On Valentine's day, the dam gave birth to a fine litter of six kittens. They were immediately sought after, as the dam was a famous cat. She was a show cat, and people thought the kittens would end up like her, unaware of the sire. A week later, there was one remaining kitten left. "Oh, my little Dhalia. So unknown to the world. You must free yourself from this tainted life. Although it is a good one, it is not filled with surprise. Live young, my freedom kitten, and you will live free.", the insane and depressed French cat sighed in peace as she took her last breath. She had died of heartache, but only after sharing her wise words. Dhalia decided that she would indeed free herself. When some party or another was happening at the mansion, she bolted out the cat door. Nobody noticed her disappearance, and that was for the better. The young kitten ran far. She ran past mountains and hills, farms and cities, forests and meadows. Dhalia slept during the day and ran at night, when food was easier to hunt. Finally, the kitten was exhausted. She fell asleep in a calm meadow accidentally, in plain sight. She'd been discovered. The Human that had found her was named Melony Chestwood. She was a simple woman, plain you could say. But she was kind. She was not married, had no children, but had a plump tomcat in her home. He paid no attention to Dhalia's remarkable beauty. "I don't know who's kitty you are, but you were drop-dead exhausted when I found you. I'm guessing you have some miles on you already, you little precious. Darlin', I'm tryin' to find you a home. Jeffrey Willburrow has offered to take you for his girl Kady. A righteous girl, a little bit shy that one is. He lives out in Nembrook, though. A half hour drive that is. Some hoity toity apartment." Melony smiled as she told her thoughts. Dhalia knew she had to escape from this Jeffrey Human. She would jump out of the car. Her mother would be proud of such a Bonnie and Clyde action. But for now, Dhalia slept peacefully on the wicker bench on Melony's porch. -------- Half-way to Nembrook, Melony's House Area, April 3, 2008. What a strange sight a car was. Even more strange was the inside. Watching the world around her fly by, Dhalia was amazed and slightly petrified of the car. It's roaring hum was frightening. The Radio, as the Child called it, produced music. Dhalia liked music. It was peaceful, a joyous hum. She heard it often in her past life. "Father, I'd like to stop at the loo, please!" Kady politely asked. Jeffrey pulled over at a service station. He opened his door, stepped out, and opened Kady's door. He closed his door, only after he rolled down the window. Now or never, Dhalia thought. She leaped out of the window, and continued running. She didn't stop to think. Dhalia ran onto a busy road connected to the highway. The cars frightened her, so she discreetly stepped into an alleyway. There was a homeless woman, grimy, with a clean baby pressed close to her heart. She was praying lightly and quietly. There was another kitten, around Dhalia's age of two months. A boy, she could tell. "You're new?" he purred; half a statement, half a question. Catching her breath, Dhalia nodded. "Very well. I'm-- well, you don't need to know my name. Let me show you around," he winked. Dhalia noticed the green and blue pigments in his eyes. "Deal!" she smiled. Personality: Dhalia is a very complex kitten. Observant and intelligent, Dhalia learned many things from various social occasions held at the Mansion. She could tell whose husband was cheating on them, which guests thought the decor was awful but lied, and who was filing for a divorce. She could tell from their gestures, the way they looked at things and people. Dhalia made sure to observe one, and only one person at a time. Otherwise, she could miss something. Missing something meant imperfect perfection. She hated that. Dhalia has much lingo, but often she talks about imperfection. She adores imperfect imperfection. It's right. It's free. Perfect imperfection is just like perfection. It's wrong. It's guilty. Imperfect perfection is disappointing. It's like, being so close to the top of the mountain, and then you fall. Dhalia avoids this at all costs. Adding to her complexity, Dhalia is very flirtatious, but she refuses to fall in love. A temptress, you could say. She enjoys the company and attention of boy kittens, but she would never think of them as anything more than just a toy. They were as good to her as yesterday's news. She lived in the present, she didn't need a taunting past. An imperfect perfection filled past. Worse than boy kittens were the girl ones. They were too sweet. Unlike herself, of course. Dhalia was mature. She'd learned from her wise mother. Back to the kittens. The other kittens at her obedience class(which was a Tree, according to Dhalia) listened like robots. No rebellion. They were fools, imbeciles. Programmed to be obedient. Dhalia hated her classes. When they told her to go left, she wanted to go right. It was the imperfectly imperfectioned thing to do. But she'd get tazored. Which was a Twig, found on a Branch, found on a Tree. There had to be more Bushes. Bushes were easy, they didn't stem or grow out. They grew a certain way and were happy with it. No issues. Dhalia hadn't found her Bush, yet, though. She was waiting for it to come. Adding to the poor kitten's misery was that she was beautiful. It made her perfect. It disgusted her. She scratched at her face, hoping to cover it with blood and scars. But inflicting pain on herself was hard, and the scars left on her face were minimal, covered with her long wispy fur. Dhalia is kind, though. Throughout all of her issues, she makes sure to be kind. She doesn't catch flies or other insects or animals. In fact, one of her best friend's is the house mice. Oddly enough, they live in her room in the Mansion. There is Pepper, Rosemary, and Wine. All three sisters, who happened to be residents in an all-cat house. Dhalia feeds them with leftover foods of the Humans, and in turn the three mice are kind and talk to Dhalia, but mostly just listen. Who needs a therapist when you've got mice. Dhalia has learned alot from the mice, and she has shaped herself into a better cat with the guidance of Pepper, Rosemary, and Wine. Ironically, they are French mice. And so, readers, you have learned about Dhalia. Now she sets upon her new life, leaving behind all her perfect imperfections, but taking with her her mother's wisdom and the friendship of the mice. Au revoir! Image: none as of now. Your OOC Name: zagger Other Characters On the Site: n/a