HOME | DD

Description

Name: Jet Marrow [ Jet ]

Age: 2 Years [ Young Adult ]

Gender: Female

Breed: Sokoke Cat [ [link] ]

Chaw: Elite

Magic: [link]

Job: Dancer

Accessories:
| Bronze Earing | Jet's earing is always worn on her left ear, and she never takes it off. It's the only accessory she owns that she wears absolutely full-time, and she hangs on to it because it was the only thing her parent gave her when they sent her off. She used to have two, but she lost the right one when she fell out of a tree quite a while back. She's had her earings since her childhood when she received them as a gift from her mother.
| Bell Belt | One of her favorite moves when dancing is moving her hips. Jet enjoyes the flowing movement, and her large plume-like tail makes it seem more graceful than her moves really are. After finally earning enough schillings to commission some equipment after moving out from her home with her family, one of the first things she got was a belt with three bells attached. She now wears it around her hip, giving a nice jingly sound when she dances. She had it custom made, and she is very protective of it. You rarely see her without it; to her, it symbolizes who she is as a dancer. Without something this unique, she would simply feel like a wanna-be, and it would crush her spirits in a heartbeat if she were ever to loose it.
Faction: None currently, but Jet secretly aspires to join the Flame Dagger Thugs to put her cunning ability to lie and sneak to good use. For now she tends to stick to the side-lines, avoiding guild drama and waiting for an opportunity to try slipping in.

Home #: East Quarter , House F15

Schillings: [link]

Talents:
| Singing | Although quite shy and exclusive about it, Jet has a very sweet voice when she wants to. She enjoys singing whenever she can get alone and sometimes when summoning her magic, signing a soft lullaby is the easiest way for her to perform her arts. If asked about her softer-side, the she-cat is quick to deny it, finding it a bit girly as if her love for music could hurt her reputation.
| Climbing | When she’s not dancing, there’s usually a pretty good chance she’s up in a tree somewhere. Jet somehow developed her love for climbing way back when she was a small kit, and the she-cat has always felt safe and at ease up in trees. She’s also known to have a bit of a habit of staying up there for hours.

Personality:
| Kind-Hearted | Cunning | Headstrong | Graceful | Naïve | Flirtatious |
---
| Kind-Hearted | Although she may try to hide it occasionally behind her macho façade, Jet genuinely cares for others and wouldn’t want to physically harm another cat if she didn’t have to. She will and can steal and lie from them, but to hurt them emotionally or physically tugs at her own heartstrings as well, and she avoids it at all costs. Being a dancer, her goal is to entertain. At first she loathed her career path, but to stay optimistic she looks at it as a way to make others smile and feel joyous rather than the haunting thought that she’s merely selling her body and soul.
| Cunning | Lying, cheating, stealing. All things Jet can do if needed. Sometimes the guilt weighs her down, but when she’s on a personal mission to obtain something, she can certainly be very cunning. The dancer uses this to her advantage, and after growing up in a poor family, she learned at a young age how to fend for herself, sometimes causing her to be untrusting of others. She’s quick to make small friends and acquaintances, but it’s rare that she bonds with anyone well enough to really let them in on all her little secrets she tries to hide.
| Headstrong | This trait almost always gets her into trouble. Sometimes the she-cat just can’t get still when something is going on; she feels the curious need to always stick her nose in places it doesn’t belong. What makes her headstrong, however, is once she finds out she doesn’t belong somewhere, she’s even MORE compelled to mess around. When frustrated, she won’t take no for an answer, which has gotten Jet stuck in a sticky situation countless times before. Some say she gets this from her father, but one thing is for sure: It will probably never change.
| Graceful | Although she can sometimes act tough, she is still feminine and graceful. She needs to be, being a dancer and all. Even though Jet can be quite anti-social, when she’s dancing everything simply flows and clicks into place, and suddenly she just doesn’t care anymore and goes with what she’s doing. She moves and flows with her music, batting her eyelashes and acting like more of a she-cat than anytime else. She can be a bit shallow sometimes and see herself as beautiful, but really this only enhances her effort towards moving with move graceful steps than most.
| Naïve | She’s still very young, and because of this, Jet rarely passes up on a friendly game of something as long as it doesn’t involve hurting her ego. She’s a terrible team-player, and likes to fly solo, but she still enjoys the concept of fun when she’s not in a snappy mood. Jet doesn’t always compose herself very well in social situations, either. Sometimes she’ll make inappropriate comments or not fully understand the gravity of some situations. Combined with her headstrong trait, the sokoke dancer can sometimes be a real hassle and very skilled at getting into all kinds of trouble.
| Flirtatious | With feminine charm at her disposal, Jet can often act more provacative than she realizes. She feels no shame in getting up in other cats' faces, but only while she is dancing. She can sometimes be a bit of a diva outside of her career as well, but for the most part, her flirtateouse side is only shown while on the dance floor. After her moves have ended, she reverts back to her self-reserved self. Flirty or not however, Jet dreams of only true love, no flirting required.

-------------------------------------

History
“Ugh, no no no! You’re doing it all wrong, you have to move like this.” The dark tabby she-cat swayed her hips gracefully in a simple move, her tail sweeping across the ground behind her in a graceful movement. The smaller feline beside her attempted to mimic the small phrase, but it was sloppy and about as elegant as a beetle. The kit threw her paws up in exasperation. “This isn’t working, I stink at dancing!” She whined. The mother stepped over, placing a paw on the young child’s shoulder. She leaned down, her green eyes meeting Jet’s round blue ones. “Come on, sweety. You’ll get it if you keep practicing! Now come no, let’s try it again.” But they had been practicing for hours. Jet was one to exaggerate, but saying her paws were sore was an understatement. The kitten’s paw pads were cracked and bruised from constant jumps and tumbles and falls and slips. Her pretty fur was a tangled mess, and she felt emotionally drained as she glanced up at her mother in despair. Jet’s mother, Shyla, was one of the prettiest dancers in the village as far as the kit was concerned. And yet nothing disgusted her more then the thought of becoming just like mommy. “B-But, I don’t want to be a dancer,” Jet shuffled her paws uncomfortably with a sniffle. Maybe if she acted extra sad, she would get a different reaction this time. But she would have no such luck, for out of her mother’s mouth flowed the same response she would always receive: “Psh! Don’t be silly Jetta, of course you want to be a dancer! You look just like your mother, you’re beautiful, and I’m going to teach you to move beautifully too, I promise!” And with that Shyla ushered the smaller she-cat off to practice more until dusk.

As Jet grew older, her father passed away. Without anyone else to supply for her and her daughter, Shyla was forced to work the streets again, and at last Jet found herself alone at the household. She would rub her paw-pads ruefully, constantly double-checking just to make sure they weren’t still aching from practices weeks ago. With this sudden independence and gaps in her sessions came something else. A prickle of need for something….else. The brown she-cat figured it out, and her jowls slipped back into a grin. Rebellion. She needed to do something that she knew would drive her mother crazy. Why not? It wasn’t like she was here to stop her and direct her to her room to dance more. The young feline rushed to the window, pulling up the glass and slipping outside into the midday sun. The door was unlocked, but going through doors ruined the effect of sneaking out. She moved through the streets, avoiding the main squares because she knew somewhere her mother would be performing. Jet paused in front of the Tavern. Hmm, she wasn’t allowed in there. A little peek couldn’t hurt…right? She pushed her way inside, blinking up at all the taller cats she had never seen before, bustling about, laughing, chatting. It was overwhelming, and suddenly she felt like a little kit again. A little kit who was terribly out of place here. She halted in horror as a few toms hushed and glanced her way, one of them letting out a guffaw. “What are you doing here? Don’t you kits know where you don’t belong?” the scruffy tom cat chortled. Looking back on it, Jet knows the cat probably meant her no harm and was simply curious, but nevertheless, that night Jet had dashed out of the Tavern so quickly, she wasn’t even looking where she was going until she was stopped brutally by a wall of fur. Fur just like hers. Crap, she raised her sapphire gaze to see her mother. There was no way out of this mess. Jet simply bit her lip and hung her head quietly, trying not to think of the vigorous dance routines she would be forced to run tonight.

After her mother passed, Dancing was the only thing Jet knew how to do. She needed nobody but herself and her moves, scrapping by with her well-callused paws and swift feathery tail. Her moves were ven smoother then Shyla’s, but her blue gaze lost a lot of it’s warmth. She was self reserved, sometimes catching herself rubbing her paws when she zoned out, getting lost in thought. Jet felt like she had sold her soul and her body for the entertainment of other cats, and as optimistic as she tried to be, it was hard to look at dancing like some twisted form of art. She wasn’t doing a service to help cats like the guards and such, she was simply just another pretty face. She could be the stupidest she-cat in the catacombs and it wouldn’t matter with the job she had. But Jet was never a quitter. Every day she would put on that pretty face, and every day she would make well-earned schillings to help her get by. Who knows, maybe she’ll even start having a little fun. After all, there’s still a few taverns she hasn’t peeked into yet.

Family:
Mother - Shyla [ Deceased ]
Father - ??? [ Deceased ]

Additional Info:
Jet's pattern is perfectly symmetrical on either side of her body.
This dancer is terribly afraid of long coats and confined spaces.
If she had her way, Jet would eat fish very single day.
Jet's whiskers are always completly white.
She secretly enjoys squishing bugs.

Roleplay Sample:
It was oddly surreal, how with ever graceful movement of the fox he felt closer to his element. His affinity, smoke. Teigan often didn’t know what to think of it. Should he be glad? Should he be ashamed? He recalled how he used to practice it, working on his breathing, cloaking himself in the ashy, strong smelling whisps of air until he melted into the shadows. It used up a lot of his energy, his kros, but in a way, smoke served him well. It was the cover of thieves, allowing him to get around undetected. Well, to anyone who didn’t have a nose. He guessed it was probably more effective to use the element after he had been detected. And the gods knew how much trouble he got in, using his smoke or not. It probably didn’t help his case that the other day him and Nyoku had been exploring and discovered a Red Kros bead each. With it, he felt a strange sense of power, as if he could do whatever he wanted and still had a get out of jail free card. He smirked crookedly at the very thought. Aah, kros beads. He kept it a bit of a secret, however. It was partially because of his selfish greed and love of mysteries, but also because he didn’t like the idea of others asking him where he found it. Teigan knew if he would tell the curious aeniama, they would most likely go searching around there too. And with more foxes constantly exploring, there would be less potential places for Teigan to go and hang out or simply be alone, causing problems. He wondered absentmindedly if the cinnamon coloured spirit had told anybody about her bead. It didn’t really matter to him what she did, but come to think of it, she could’ve told all the level nine kitsunes by now. He shrugged to himself; Nyoku didn’t exactly strike him as a blabbermouth. His lilac gaze flickered back to the fox with the chicken skull. There was something about him that was both fascinating and almost… irritating? Teigan narrowed his eyes; that chicken skull was kinda creepy. It was so strange, the way the other aeniama would speak with it. Was it actually talking back? He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this crazy brute was on to something. He contemplated trying to swipe his totem, but quickly rules that out. This fox was already batshit crazy with his skull. Who knew what kinds of hells would break loose without it? Besides, what would a fox like Teigan want with a smelly old chicken skull? His interests seemed to usually range around more shiny objects, like silvery of golden kitchenware and different forms of human jewellery they seemed to have lost down their drains. The smell of the humans often made the aeniama gag, but after sitting on things long enough they seem to mysteriously gain the scent of smoke. Like his dice and his pelt, for an example. Some foxes even seemed bothered by it, but he appreciated those that didn’t. Well, to be honest, half the time he felt an odd glimmer of rueful pride at getting an irritated glance or comment about the state of his scent. That’s right, get a good long whiff. Smoke if my affinity and I’m proud, he would huff mentally.
[ Taken from an Rp for KrosFox with *Captain-Clover and ~kate0808 ]

----------------------------------------

Art / Character © *KitsaniCat
The Grimalkin Oath © *Kelvali And ~Fates-Exile

Description

Name: Jet Marrow [ Jet ]

Age: 2 Years [ Young Adult ]

Gender: Female

Breed: Sokoke Cat [ [link] ]

Chaw: Elite

Magic: [link]

Job: Dancer

Accessories:
| Bronze Earing | Jet's earing is always worn on her left ear, and she never takes it off. It's the only accessory she owns that she wears absolutely full-time, and she hangs on to it because it was the only thing her parent gave her when they sent her off. She used to have two, but she lost the right one when she fell out of a tree quite a while back. She's had her earings since her childhood when she received them as a gift from her mother.
| Bell Belt | One of her favorite moves when dancing is moving her hips. Jet enjoyes the flowing movement, and her large plume-like tail makes it seem more graceful than her moves really are. After finally earning enough schillings to commission some equipment after moving out from her home with her family, one of the first things she got was a belt with three bells attached. She now wears it around her hip, giving a nice jingly sound when she dances. She had it custom made, and she is very protective of it. You rarely see her without it; to her, it symbolizes who she is as a dancer. Without something this unique, she would simply feel like a wanna-be, and it would crush her spirits in a heartbeat if she were ever to loose it.
Faction: None currently, but Jet secretly aspires to join the Flame Dagger Thugs to put her cunning ability to lie and sneak to good use. For now she tends to stick to the side-lines, avoiding guild drama and waiting for an opportunity to try slipping in.

Home #: East Quarter , House F15

Schillings: [link]

Talents:
| Singing | Although quite shy and exclusive about it, Jet has a very sweet voice when she wants to. She enjoys singing whenever she can get alone and sometimes when summoning her magic, signing a soft lullaby is the easiest way for her to perform her arts. If asked about her softer-side, the she-cat is quick to deny it, finding it a bit girly as if her love for music could hurt her reputation.
| Climbing | When she’s not dancing, there’s usually a pretty good chance she’s up in a tree somewhere. Jet somehow developed her love for climbing way back when she was a small kit, and the she-cat has always felt safe and at ease up in trees. She’s also known to have a bit of a habit of staying up there for hours.

Personality:
| Kind-Hearted | Cunning | Headstrong | Graceful | Naïve | Flirtatious |
---
| Kind-Hearted | Although she may try to hide it occasionally behind her macho façade, Jet genuinely cares for others and wouldn’t want to physically harm another cat if she didn’t have to. She will and can steal and lie from them, but to hurt them emotionally or physically tugs at her own heartstrings as well, and she avoids it at all costs. Being a dancer, her goal is to entertain. At first she loathed her career path, but to stay optimistic she looks at it as a way to make others smile and feel joyous rather than the haunting thought that she’s merely selling her body and soul.
| Cunning | Lying, cheating, stealing. All things Jet can do if needed. Sometimes the guilt weighs her down, but when she’s on a personal mission to obtain something, she can certainly be very cunning. The dancer uses this to her advantage, and after growing up in a poor family, she learned at a young age how to fend for herself, sometimes causing her to be untrusting of others. She’s quick to make small friends and acquaintances, but it’s rare that she bonds with anyone well enough to really let them in on all her little secrets she tries to hide.
| Headstrong | This trait almost always gets her into trouble. Sometimes the she-cat just can’t get still when something is going on; she feels the curious need to always stick her nose in places it doesn’t belong. What makes her headstrong, however, is once she finds out she doesn’t belong somewhere, she’s even MORE compelled to mess around. When frustrated, she won’t take no for an answer, which has gotten Jet stuck in a sticky situation countless times before. Some say she gets this from her father, but one thing is for sure: It will probably never change.
| Graceful | Although she can sometimes act tough, she is still feminine and graceful. She needs to be, being a dancer and all. Even though Jet can be quite anti-social, when she’s dancing everything simply flows and clicks into place, and suddenly she just doesn’t care anymore and goes with what she’s doing. She moves and flows with her music, batting her eyelashes and acting like more of a she-cat than anytime else. She can be a bit shallow sometimes and see herself as beautiful, but really this only enhances her effort towards moving with move graceful steps than most.
| Naïve | She’s still very young, and because of this, Jet rarely passes up on a friendly game of something as long as it doesn’t involve hurting her ego. She’s a terrible team-player, and likes to fly solo, but she still enjoys the concept of fun when she’s not in a snappy mood. Jet doesn’t always compose herself very well in social situations, either. Sometimes she’ll make inappropriate comments or not fully understand the gravity of some situations. Combined with her headstrong trait, the sokoke dancer can sometimes be a real hassle and very skilled at getting into all kinds of trouble.
| Flirtatious | With feminine charm at her disposal, Jet can often act more provacative than she realizes. She feels no shame in getting up in other cats' faces, but only while she is dancing. She can sometimes be a bit of a diva outside of her career as well, but for the most part, her flirtateouse side is only shown while on the dance floor. After her moves have ended, she reverts back to her self-reserved self. Flirty or not however, Jet dreams of only true love, no flirting required.

-------------------------------------

History
“Ugh, no no no! You’re doing it all wrong, you have to move like this.” The dark tabby she-cat swayed her hips gracefully in a simple move, her tail sweeping across the ground behind her in a graceful movement. The smaller feline beside her attempted to mimic the small phrase, but it was sloppy and about as elegant as a beetle. The kit threw her paws up in exasperation. “This isn’t working, I stink at dancing!” She whined. The mother stepped over, placing a paw on the young child’s shoulder. She leaned down, her green eyes meeting Jet’s round blue ones. “Come on, sweety. You’ll get it if you keep practicing! Now come no, let’s try it again.” But they had been practicing for hours. Jet was one to exaggerate, but saying her paws were sore was an understatement. The kitten’s paw pads were cracked and bruised from constant jumps and tumbles and falls and slips. Her pretty fur was a tangled mess, and she felt emotionally drained as she glanced up at her mother in despair. Jet’s mother, Shyla, was one of the prettiest dancers in the village as far as the kit was concerned. And yet nothing disgusted her more then the thought of becoming just like mommy. “B-But, I don’t want to be a dancer,” Jet shuffled her paws uncomfortably with a sniffle. Maybe if she acted extra sad, she would get a different reaction this time. But she would have no such luck, for out of her mother’s mouth flowed the same response she would always receive: “Psh! Don’t be silly Jetta, of course you want to be a dancer! You look just like your mother, you’re beautiful, and I’m going to teach you to move beautifully too, I promise!” And with that Shyla ushered the smaller she-cat off to practice more until dusk.

As Jet grew older, her father passed away. Without anyone else to supply for her and her daughter, Shyla was forced to work the streets again, and at last Jet found herself alone at the household. She would rub her paw-pads ruefully, constantly double-checking just to make sure they weren’t still aching from practices weeks ago. With this sudden independence and gaps in her sessions came something else. A prickle of need for something….else. The brown she-cat figured it out, and her jowls slipped back into a grin. Rebellion. She needed to do something that she knew would drive her mother crazy. Why not? It wasn’t like she was here to stop her and direct her to her room to dance more. The young feline rushed to the window, pulling up the glass and slipping outside into the midday sun. The door was unlocked, but going through doors ruined the effect of sneaking out. She moved through the streets, avoiding the main squares because she knew somewhere her mother would be performing. Jet paused in front of the Tavern. Hmm, she wasn’t allowed in there. A little peek couldn’t hurt…right? She pushed her way inside, blinking up at all the taller cats she had never seen before, bustling about, laughing, chatting. It was overwhelming, and suddenly she felt like a little kit again. A little kit who was terribly out of place here. She halted in horror as a few toms hushed and glanced her way, one of them letting out a guffaw. “What are you doing here? Don’t you kits know where you don’t belong?” the scruffy tom cat chortled. Looking back on it, Jet knows the cat probably meant her no harm and was simply curious, but nevertheless, that night Jet had dashed out of the Tavern so quickly, she wasn’t even looking where she was going until she was stopped brutally by a wall of fur. Fur just like hers. Crap, she raised her sapphire gaze to see her mother. There was no way out of this mess. Jet simply bit her lip and hung her head quietly, trying not to think of the vigorous dance routines she would be forced to run tonight.

After her mother passed, Dancing was the only thing Jet knew how to do. She needed nobody but herself and her moves, scrapping by with her well-callused paws and swift feathery tail. Her moves were ven smoother then Shyla’s, but her blue gaze lost a lot of it’s warmth. She was self reserved, sometimes catching herself rubbing her paws when she zoned out, getting lost in thought. Jet felt like she had sold her soul and her body for the entertainment of other cats, and as optimistic as she tried to be, it was hard to look at dancing like some twisted form of art. She wasn’t doing a service to help cats like the guards and such, she was simply just another pretty face. She could be the stupidest she-cat in the catacombs and it wouldn’t matter with the job she had. But Jet was never a quitter. Every day she would put on that pretty face, and every day she would make well-earned schillings to help her get by. Who knows, maybe she’ll even start having a little fun. After all, there’s still a few taverns she hasn’t peeked into yet.

Family:
Mother - Shyla [ Deceased ]
Father - ??? [ Deceased ]

Additional Info:
Jet's pattern is perfectly symmetrical on either side of her body.
This dancer is terribly afraid of long coats and confined spaces.
If she had her way, Jet would eat fish very single day.
Jet's whiskers are always completly white.
She secretly enjoys squishing bugs.

Roleplay Sample:
It was oddly surreal, how with ever graceful movement of the fox he felt closer to his element. His affinity, smoke. Teigan often didn’t know what to think of it. Should he be glad? Should he be ashamed? He recalled how he used to practice it, working on his breathing, cloaking himself in the ashy, strong smelling whisps of air until he melted into the shadows. It used up a lot of his energy, his kros, but in a way, smoke served him well. It was the cover of thieves, allowing him to get around undetected. Well, to anyone who didn’t have a nose. He guessed it was probably more effective to use the element after he had been detected. And the gods knew how much trouble he got in, using his smoke or not. It probably didn’t help his case that the other day him and Nyoku had been exploring and discovered a Red Kros bead each. With it, he felt a strange sense of power, as if he could do whatever he wanted and still had a get out of jail free card. He smirked crookedly at the very thought. Aah, kros beads. He kept it a bit of a secret, however. It was partially because of his selfish greed and love of mysteries, but also because he didn’t like the idea of others asking him where he found it. Teigan knew if he would tell the curious aeniama, they would most likely go searching around there too. And with more foxes constantly exploring, there would be less potential places for Teigan to go and hang out or simply be alone, causing problems. He wondered absentmindedly if the cinnamon coloured spirit had told anybody about her bead. It didn’t really matter to him what she did, but come to think of it, she could’ve told all the level nine kitsunes by now. He shrugged to himself; Nyoku didn’t exactly strike him as a blabbermouth. His lilac gaze flickered back to the fox with the chicken skull. There was something about him that was both fascinating and almost… irritating? Teigan narrowed his eyes; that chicken skull was kinda creepy. It was so strange, the way the other aeniama would speak with it. Was it actually talking back? He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this crazy brute was on to something. He contemplated trying to swipe his totem, but quickly rules that out. This fox was already batshit crazy with his skull. Who knew what kinds of hells would break loose without it? Besides, what would a fox like Teigan want with a smelly old chicken skull? His interests seemed to usually range around more shiny objects, like silvery of golden kitchenware and different forms of human jewellery they seemed to have lost down their drains. The smell of the humans often made the aeniama gag, but after sitting on things long enough they seem to mysteriously gain the scent of smoke. Like his dice and his pelt, for an example. Some foxes even seemed bothered by it, but he appreciated those that didn’t. Well, to be honest, half the time he felt an odd glimmer of rueful pride at getting an irritated glance or comment about the state of his scent. That’s right, get a good long whiff. Smoke if my affinity and I’m proud, he would huff mentally.
[ Taken from an Rp for KrosFox with *Captain-Clover and ~kate0808 ]

----------------------------------------

Art / Character © *KitsaniCat
The Grimalkin Oath © *Kelvali And ~Fates-Exile