Mercy

Mercy is a vision... or a nightmare. Probably a nightmare, actually. Her mother's long legs, though she carries herself with a rather predatory gait. Horrifying, maybe a bit janky, head on a swivel. Something about the girl always looking over her shoulder. Matching her mother as well, a pair of color changing eyes-- amber gold in the summer, blue in the winter, and flickering somewhere between the rest of the time.

Rusty, ruddy coat and mostly merle markings (thanks ma), though that's not all. Bleeding chaos to look at, just how she likes it. Gifts from her father, Mercy has a crust of thick, crystalline fur that protects the back of her neck and snakes down her shoulders. She's an imposing girl, despite her lithe figure. Commanding presence, and a bit of a weirdo. Intense all round, with a serious case of resting bitch face to match. Too intense for a child, but she'll grow into it. Probably. Maybe. appearance

Why be loved when you can be feared? Mercy's intent is to be the most fearsome, the most offputting, and to go down in infamy. Making her mark on the world? Call it destiny, call it the dirt under her nails, call it the blood in her veins. Call it what you want, but Mercy is a piece of work.

Work. A hard worker, but for all the wrong reasons. She's dilligent, and she's going to throw that in your face. Maybe it's a superiority complex-- better call it that, instead of looking deeper. Nope, no shred of insecurity here, don't fucking look at me like that.

Vain, self absorbed, and a bad bitch. There are few shreds of softness in Mercy, and that's the way she prefers things. Perhaps a desire to bet on losing dogs and turn them into something beyond themselves, but other than that? Well, other than that, get fucked.
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