A Goddess in Gold and Snow

Parents: Hr??vitnir x Shani
Name: Freyja Hr??vitnisdottir
Age: 2 Years

Appearance: I would change little to nothing about her appearance! This woman will be of golden and cream coloration, with a thick and luxurious pelt. The golden tones will melt and mottle into porcelain in several places, namely her stomach and chest, as well as a strip running from the base of her nose up onto her forehead. Her legs, shoulders, tail and hips will be mottled with white as if dappled by the sun. Her form will be fine and pleasing to the eye, possessing a beauty that she dares not deny, with long legs and a feminine set to her eyes and muzzle. Her hips will sway tantalizingly as she walks, drawing in the gaze of those around her. Freyja's eyes will be a vibrant sky blue, radiating light and often cold judgement.

Personality:
Noble: Freyja holds herself with a lofty sort of admiration, and requires that others do too. She takes great pride in her proud bloodline, and believes that it entitles her to the respect and adoration of the masses. Those her cross her path and do not in someway pay her proper homage are likely to be scorned, and at the very least she will question their improper teachings, labeling them 'mongrels.'
Proud: Freyja's honor, or perhaps her ego, is untarnished. She will go to great lengths to keep herself in top form, and is no stranger to showing that form off. Questioning her honor or even her opinions is likely to land you on the sharp side of her tongue, or possible with her teeth latched around your neck.
Warrior: While she does not fight mindlessly, heedlessly, or without reason she does revel in it. The feel of straining muscles and tendons, ligaments and the flash of claws in the sunlight fills the golden woman with a euphoria she cannot find elsewhere. Perhaps it is the blood in her veins, perhaps it is the color of her own soul, but battle calls to this fae.
Hopeless Romantic: While Freyja is not certain she desires love for herself just yet, one of her truest pleasures in life is seeing it in others. She will not commit to another easily, but she will gladly attempt to set another pair up. She see's pups as a product of love, and as such treasures them with a softness rarely exhibited in any other circumstance. She idolizes brutes who will fight for their fae, as well as fae's who would give anything for their beloved. Perhaps it is naive, but Freyja finds it pure and beautiful.
Fierce: This fae is the sort to latch her fangs into a matter and not let it go. When her anger is about her, you can expect an explosion of fiery passion and drive to follow. Her passions have the tendency to overtake all else in her mind, in her desires, and she will pursue her desired course with the tenacity and voraciousness of a wolverine.
Hot Headed: It is not hard to rile this volatile woman, to get under her skin and push her to the edge of conflict, perhaps even to the edge of sanity. Her rage kindles quickly, but it is slow to fade, and she has been known to hold her grudges for an unreasonably long time. She is of a mind that words can only go so far when met with opposition, whereas her own strength can be much better relied upon. Her passion is the fuel for her fighting spirit.
Somewhat Vain: Freyja is beautiful, and she knows it. Her lovely golden pelt is the envy of all faes who come upon her (if you ask her, anyways) and she is utterly irresistible to most brutes. She is not beyond using her feminine wiles to get her way. She takes excellent care of her luxurious pelt, and detests dirt and grime. She in obsessive about keeping herself in fine order.
Soft Side for flowers: A surefire way to melt this fierce woman's heart is to present her with flowers. She has taken pains to learn their lore, fascinated with their ability to heal and harm, with their scents and colors and how no two are precisely alike. When she has time, she likes to seek out new flower patches and see if she can't learn something new about them.

RP Sample: Freyja's jaws snapped closed just inches behind the rogue's hind leg, grasping at air where she'd hoped to feel fur or muscle or even bone. He streaked off into the night, leaving her panting and alone in the small clearing he found her in. She bore her fangs at the patch of woodland he'd disappeared into, wondering if perhaps she ought to give chase. Instead she looked over her should to where the carcass of the fawn lay, blank eyes staring up at a full moon. With the way it's light was reflected in them, she could almost imagine it was the spark of life. Good thing it's not, she thought as she moved back in. Or this would hurt. She resumed her meal, cursing the rogue male all the while. To ambush a woman while she was eating... How positively peasant-ish. And now the sweet young meat tasted like ash in her mouth, turning bitter by the adrenaline and strain coursing through her body. She would only stomach a few more mouthfuls before backing away and sitting down with a huff and beginning to clean the gore from her golden pelt. The clearing was bathed in silver and indigo hues, vibrant with spring life, even as the sun had set. The man had left a decent blood trail, she realized. Perhaps it would be worth her efforts tomorrow to track him down. She would hold him by the jugular, she fantasized, and force him to catch her a new fawn to replace the meal he had ruined.