THIS IS THE START OF SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL | Open

[fancypost bgcolor=#dbdbdb borderwidth=0px; width: 340pt;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 1pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 7.5pt; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #856363; width: 330pt;]I'd be cold as a stone and rich as a fool[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: -2.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 23px; text-align:center; margin-top:-10px; text-transform:uppercase; color: #856363; width: 330pt; margin-left: -7pt;]That turned all those good hearts away[/fancypost]
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Holston had wanted to be as great, noble, proud as his father. The charismatic ebony lion who had seemed to be able to sway any situation to meet his desires. He had died, once upon a time, and so Holston's initial aspirations. Dorian had succumbed to death only to save a clan that didn't seem to have cared at all whether their former leader lived or died. Who had acted to rescue the male, then? He and Feliks, a member who had not been so back then. Dorian died for ingratitude and Holston would not make the same mistake.

Narcissistic wasn't quite the word but self-preservation was definitely laced firmly into his persona. He would not pay for others' faults and flaws. Serenity was slightly different, however. They shared an identical plight which softened Holston towards the little tigress. An unknown force committed his protection to her, despite the lack of blood-relation.

His paws strode over to the alabaster tigris, though, there was no motive for her defence threaded in his intentions. Boredom had simply captured his thoughts and her company wouldn't presently be dismissed by him. Settling down on his side a little ways from Serenity, Holston watched her lazily. She was reading. Flowers? More so herbs; her marking stopping at infrequent occasions. She was a healer-hopeful, then. Lowering his head down onto his paws, Holston settled his gaze on the younger feline and her book.

[/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing: 0.5pt; font-family: georgia; font-size: 9pt; text-align:center; text-transform:uppercase; color: #856363; width: 330pt; margin-left: -7pt;]Throw your heart to me; let it fall and hit the ground[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[spoiler= notes]

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[fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; width:400px; margin-top: -10px;]Elizabeth never had any interest in healing. It wasn't something she was expected as the daughter of the Chief of Haerii, a group of peerless hunters and warriors that would track and kill monsters that lesser men would quiver at even mention of their prey. As such, it had been two things : how to be a lady and how to be a hunter. They clashed, but somehow intertwined to create Miss Blair. It was not as if she had been molded into whatever her mother wanted her to be.

It was nice to see that somebody cared about healing. Healing wasn't the kind of thing that was suitable for a soon to be advisor to Elizabeth's sister, Anima - the next in line for the throne, to learn. She would need to be the political and military advisor her sister would need. It all fell through, and Elizabeth found herself living like this.

Ah, how it was a fall.

"Good afternoon. I trust you're learning something useful?"

[spoiler]GENERAL ;
▸ haerii blair elizabeth [elizabeth blair]
▸ female
▸ physically 3 & ½ years, mentally 6 years
▸ npc xx npc [ marcus blair xx maria blair ]
▸ boneclan
▸ single
▸ has sworn that she will marry anyone who can best her in combat
▸ bisexual
▸ closested due to upbringing
▸ lady of the astral clocktower
▸ fourteenth of the hill
▸ hunter of beasts
▸ princess of haerii

APPEARANCE ;
▸ a serval with bright blue eyes and a small scar on her left ear.
▸ wears a feathered tricorn
▸ constantly carries rakuyo and has attached to her side with a belt.

PERSONALITY ;
▸ polite & well mannered & distant
▸ logical & honourable & opinionated
▸ ladylike & knightly & isolated
▸ speaks formally and addresses people according to rank etc.
▸ believes very strictly in her own code of honour
▸ doubtful but devout to her religion

POWERS ;
▸ no powers

INTERACTION ;
▸ nonviolent actions can be powerplayed
▸ physically hard, mentally medium to hard
▸ attack in violet
▸ no kill or maim
▸ pm for capture
▸ "speech"

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: constantia; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 125%; cursor: url(), auto;][size=9px]➤[/size] Cynthia had, for many moons now, been knowledge in healing. It was preferable to spending her time fighting, mainly in the Exiles, as she held little interest in something so trivial. Knowledge was power; why not know herbs? It had been useful before. The alabaster and white vixen trotted over, ear flicking, odd-colored optics dull as they zipped over what the cub was reading and she cleared her throat softly. Awkwardly. Quiet. She didn't why she bothered.

"I have journals, and notes... About herbs, and healing techniques, if you're interested."
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Feliks would never allow a healer anywhere near him nowadays, not unless he was in dire trouble or was too scared to suck up his caution. BoneClan weren't on his nice list at the moment, but who else was there to go to when he was hurt, the Exiles? Hah, yeah right. The Hyena was teaching himself to be self-sufficient, not having to rely on anyone for his needs unless he absolutely needed it. "You'll have to let me borrow that book when you're done with it," the male stated, trotting over in a bit of a tracking post.
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