Icarus

Icarus

Werecanine, borzoi varient

Female

reclusive, melancholy, paranoid, irritable

Icarus' tale is one of sorrow, one that does not have a happy ending. Such is the mythos and birth of an urban legend.

Coming from a long line of werecanines, Icarus grew up in a nowhere town, aiding in her family's business. She had aspirations of going to the city and going to college, but her family advised that fae folk like them should remain in the rural cracks where they could more easily hide, more easily live in peace. Icarus however does not want this. She wants to leave this dead end town and chase her asperations. Her friend, Chance, who was vaugely aware of her werewolf side, also wished to leave the town, and said he would raise money for the both of them to get out of there. Icarus did not know that Chance was involved in selling drugs to get those funds. Local authorities catch them both during one of Chance's transactions, and an unfortunate mix of miscommunication and tension from both sides lead to Chance being shot.

Icarus losses it right there and then, and transforms into her were-form, and slaughters all the cops at the scene. She does not look to see if Chance is alive, the weight of her actions bear down on her in that instant, and she flees. While it could've been very possible for her to run off to the city right there and then, the guilt and disillusionment of blood on her hands convinced her that she was better off in the woods and fields like the rest of her kind. She leaves town, and finds herself a trailer to live in in the middle of nowhere, and mostly just wants to be left alone. She does however start to inspire myth and legend as she has the occasional run in with a farmer or hunter while looking for a cow or goat to sate her hunger. As they are very quick to turn guns on her, she is very quick to spill their blood. She has accepted, to her discredit, that she is a mankiller, and not meant to coexist with humans. On the very rare occasion she will roam as a human in-town, usually at gas stations or otherwise worn down parts of town. If she must blend in, she prefers to opt for a glamour form, a borzoi with pale eyes and small horns.

She is just as apprehensive of other fae as she is of humans. She has no desire to consort with her kind or be drawn into their squabbles. She simply wishes to run away from what she did, and yet her past continues to chase her...