|Date of Birth||November 17, 2003|
|Age||> 6 years|
|Joining date||June 18, 2007|
Luz Cresceno is a wolf-woman, a devotee to sensorial wonder, an astronomer, an addict of small villainies, a love-lorn homosexual best suited to starlight trysts, a predator, a mother, a slave to small indulgences of spirit and flesh, a moral-barren beast, a silver-shaded thing that pocks Clouded Tears’s more idyllic evenings with hedonist laughter. These things are twined in every step she takes; they are pooled in both irises as scintilla and thought-spark. She is subject to the warp-speed twists of caprice. Her faults are numerous; her strengths are far fewer and less apparent to unloving eyes. Although prone to pretty turns of speech, she herself scoffs at the starlight fancies of poetry, as well as lovers’ sea-like yearning and the lineless faces of children.
Sordid, unsorted, unspoken except for fits of wine-watered conversation. It involves a tribe of superstitious wolves, the daughter of healer and astronomer, and an ill-advised mateship that results in a infant being deserted by his mother.
Minor herbal familiarity, mostly related to the olfactory impacts of selected plant specimens, but also owns a modicum of healing knowledge. Her talents lie mostly with astronomy, being both familiar with the legends and a more scientific education regarding navigation and precise timing.
A father likely dead, a mother long inanimate, a love excised and a son abandoned. Cresceno blood, it seems, is ever so much thinner than water.
Few, and far between. The greatest among them would probably be considered Poe D'Angelo, but that particular creature is many things to Luz and a recent betrayal leaves the name with a bitter aftertaste. Among those whose company has so far been proven pleasurable include: Rio, the sassy bohemien that the astronomer flirted with in her European excursion; Laruku Tears, whose lone conversation left the she-dog with a distinct sense of like; and Zaets Russo, who healed her after an ungainly moment. More currently, there's been a budding friendship betwixt her and the warrior-wolf, Skoll, who she regards with equal parts curiosity and amicability.
Ah, this category is reserved for but one beast only: Hybrid Holocaust, who inflicted injury without any apparent provocation. So far they've had only one meeting, but surely the gyre of circumstance will inspire a second. She suspects her son, if they do cross paths again, may make himself a comfortable place here; yet so far, fate has proven close-mouthed on that count.
Androgyne charm, wry-line mouth, half-lidded eyes, with cunning pinches all about the face. Symmetrical, and generally pleasing to the eye. Small breasts. Long eyelashes. Delicate fingers capable of near inhuman dexterity. A shoal of silvers for coloration, save the dull lavender of her irises. Indolent footsteps. A few smatters of scar tissue. Nearly nocturnal, and quite alluring after dusk; after dawn, a certain haggard quality reveals itself from below the kindness of moonlight and starshine. Unusually tall for her sex. Quick enough. Lovely, if you’re generous.
- Eyes - Low-lidded and secretive, the color of hard amethyst. Variances are caused by the flux of emotion.
- Laughter - Soft, low, chuckling rather than a bark or bray of amusement. Often of questionable cause, but most seem to stem from circumstances rather than direct statements.
- Facial Features - Symmetrical and pleasing to the right pair of eyes. Androgynous, with sharp angles tempered by feminine softness. It waxes endearing with time.
- Figure - Willowy, with a smooth transition of proportions rather than the radically dainty ankles and plump thighs of curvier creatures.
- Hide Colors - A shoal of silvers, a chaos of monochrome colors with flashes of white and dreary brown and more furtive black streaks hewn in among the riot. By day it is drab and unseemly; night adds an as of yet unidentified polish, a sort of shadowy loveliness.
- Hands - Long-fingered and capable of moments with near inhuman dexterity.
- Scent - Not readily identifiable. At first it is only the vaguest of musks, accompanied by a not-unpleasant sourness and traces of rosemary and thyme. Close proximity reveals the dominant scent to be the lulling odor of lavender.