Waterford, Cookie

by Cookie Waterford Thu May 10, 2012 11:07 pm

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CASE FILE: Chimerae
Waterford, Cookie 2nixn42

”If you can't catch a wave, then you're never gonna ride it!”
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FULL NAME:
→ Cookie Waterford

AGE:
→ 26

SEX:
→ Female

BIRTH PLACE:
→ Devon, Creta

RACE/SPECIES:
→ Cretan/ Drachman blue fox

GENERATION:
→ Generation 3

DATE OF BIRTH:
→ August 12, 1985

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HEIGHT:
→ 5'6”

WEIGHT:
→ 140lbs.

PICTURE:
→

Spoiler:

DESCRIPTION:
→ Cookie stands at about an average height and seems to fill in the slightly thicker end of healthy, very moderate amounts of pudge lining thick quadriceps, glutes and hips. Cookie is and always will be an athlete at heart, so constantly working out and doing something physical is usually on the back burner; as such, it shows in her very active body. Her thick thighs only have minor definition, but are thick from very strong muscle gained both from constant swimming, skateboarding, running, and blading, as well as surfing when she's coastal. Though thick, Cookie is proportionate and evenly distributed, and so she carries the extra weight rather well. Cookie isn't ashamed of her body at all, and enjoys sunbathing nude (or at least topless) both in her human and fox form.

Her cheeks and nose are both slightly wider, her lips thick and her bright cerulean eyes spaced just slightly wider apart than noticeably normal. Cookie's vulpine features show only slightly in her human form, changing her features just enough to make you look twice. Her eyes always seem to be lined in thick black liner, however, this is natural and just part of her eyelid due to the fox in her; she will simply state that she had her eyeliner permanently tattooed on. A small mole dots her left cheek beneath her eye, and her slightly longer ears are pierced three times; twice at the bottom, and one up in the cartilage.

Cookie has always been a natural blonde, but since merging with the fox her hair has moved to a light shade of platinum blonde that changes slightly with the seasons; in the summertime her hair takes a honeyed tint to it that almost travels into shades of brown. As winter approaches her hair gets lighter, starting from the tops and working their way inward, even if she is not near cold places. Over the years she has noticed that white tips to her hair early in the fall serve as natural indications for winter's early approach, much like how many animals will instinctively know and adjust their food gathering earlier than usual. She has no control over it, and thinks the effect makes her unique, and so won't dye her hair. Given her active lifestyle, Cookie keeps her hair somewhat short and styled in a way that screams to everyone that the late 80's hit and never left her. Her bangs are short but thick and somewhat large, teased and spiked with gels and sprays, forming a messy mop that just seems to sit on top of her head. The rest of her hair is just as teased and choppy, tapering in the back to just past the base of her neck at the longest point. She has it feathered and layered every quarter, and won't leave the house without it looking right, even though that usually only entails scrunching gel through her hair and then shaking it like a wet dog.

Cookie despises uniforms, and unless she's swimming in cold water won't wear a wetsuit to surf in, preferring a bikini. Because her work is casual, she refuses to dress like someone in the stuffy lifestyle clothing her parents wanted her to stay in. Button up shirts and slacks don't exist in her closet; a proper dress with lace may signify the four horsemen riding across the sky at the end of the world. Instead, Cookie is often seen sporting black crop-top t-shirts and rather short denim shorts that hug her hips and thighs and are almost indecently short with denim jackets. On occasions you'll see her in comfy sweaters and jeans, and a black hoodie with a tan plaid lining that is almost five times too big for her. It's huge, comfy, and her favourite. She is casual through and through, but no matter what the occasion, the black, pyramid-studded collar does not leave her neck, except for showering and occasionally for sleeping. She's not really into jewelry, and not much of a material girl, but like hell she'll part with that collar.

Because Cookie's transformation wasn't designed with the intention of her living long enough to complain significantly, or even be able to shift back to a human form, there are several flaws and imperfections with her merging that affect both forms. Unlike most arctic foxes whose fur changes colour with the seasons and climates, Cookie's only does to very slight degrees; nearly all year round her fur is a blondeish-white, but during summer and in warmer areas it will take on a few varied brown tints. Her ears are covered with a soft light black fur and will swivel about. Cookie's hands and feet frustrate her the most, as her digits become thicker and have rough pads on her palms, fingertips, the heels, balls of her feet and her toes. It's taken several years to master penmanship with her hands like that, and in her fox form she's given up on shoes entirely except for flip-flops. There area few features this body grants her, however, that Cookie is quite proud of; Cookie's tail, namely, is very thick, bushy, and soft, and Cookie will spend quite a while grooming it to keep it nice. Her muzzle isn't as long as most wild foxes' are, and so works well with her slightly-rounded face and fluffy cheeks. The bright blue eyes remain the same, and even in this form usually have a healthy coat of eyeliner and mascara on the top lids.

While her fox form is granted certain special enhancements due to her species, they do affect her human form as well in lesser amounts. Cookie's enhanced senses of hearing, smell and sight, as well as tapeta ludida when in dim light, all can be used to small extents in her human form. Cookie is also more prone to being in pain to some degree; because the fusion was made to be killed, few scientific “tweaks” were made to it to perfect the form, usually leaving Cookie's joints sore in cold weather and finding discomfort in transforming.

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PERSONALITY:
→ Imagine for a moment the ideal sunny beach; nice clean sand, bright water, mid-tide waves with decent crests. There's a small concrete path winding through near the boardwalk for rollerbladers, and a good breeze for frisbee. The air smells salty and vaguely like fish tacos and Xingese cha siu bao. Best of all, it's not tourist season. Now, fill that setting with exactly the type of person you typically expect to be at that beach and boardwalk from sunup to sundown. Perky, bubbly, somewhat aloof and more interested in the now of the moment than the long term of tomorrow. A person who appears lazy by the downward gazes of people not from the area, finding the completely relaxed and nonchalant attitudes off-putting as they stand mesmerized by the perfect harmony of the waves. The rushed urbanites could never understand that perfect Zen unless they became one with it. That is the first impression most people will have of Cookie upon meeting her; she is wild and free-spirited, and more interested in having a good time than doing anything “productive” with her life. Her careless, laid-back nature give the impression of being lazy, while her speech habits will lead people to assume she's brainless. In reality, these are far from the truth.

Scratching beneath the guard hairs, Cookie is a complicated hot-pot. When she was younger, she was aggressive, bitter and became violent in order to try and attract her parents' attention. She had no problem beating the stuffing out of some kid “who had it coming” or letting her mouth run to goad someone else into throwing the first punch so she could justify “defending herself” and finishing the fights she so seldom lost. For those years, the only thing that mattered were what she'd felt and wanted, and she'd fight to be heard and seen as herself if it killed her, until it did. Looking back on those days Cookie is surprised at herself at the drastic changes and how much she's grown up in just a few years. Under the fur, some things will never change about her. Cookie will always be competitive and loud, somewhat brazen and a little unhappy with herself if she's not seen as the best or at least among them. This isn't to say she's an outright bitch or stuck-up; Cookie merely has high expectations of herself, and therefore has them of others as well. Being pushed away and looked over so often only made her more competitive physically, finding the more subdued intellectual outlets too slow-paced to keep her interested.

Despite her speech patterns, Cookie refuses to play the part of damsel in distress or dumb blonde, even if she's trying to get someone off her trail. She isn't stupid in the slightest, and would rather opponents face her head-on and for her full value rather than be underestimated; goading and insulting her to try to get her to try harder will not succeed at anything but pissing her off. Cookie has a great sense of humour and loves a good prank just to get a reaction out of someone as long as it's pretty harmless, and really does try to see the bright side of things because it's too easy to get down about life. She's mellow and peppy all at once, and her competitive nature doesn't usually get in the way of her moral standings. She will not cheat at a contest and will actually congratulate whoever beats her, as she expects others to do; she will not stand for people cheating or taking advantage of others, and seeing someone getting harassed will get Cookie to step in whether it's her problem or not.

Cookie does tend to talk to herself a lot, though, especially when she has to force the smile to stay on to keep from getting sad. Her first automatic response to a lot of things is “Because I'm AWESOME!” and a lot of her diary entries start off with complimenting herself. Because she was pushed aside and overlooked so often, Cookie's self-esteem tends to swing up and down easily and entirely on the opinions of those around her; by telling herself she's the best, she knows at least one person believes in her. For the most part, Cookie is generally satisfied with herself and with her freedom, and for the most part has come to accept her fox form enough that she'll joke about it with people she's comfortable around, or even shift to that form and stay in it for a while. She can't change what she became years ago, so learning to accept it has helped to give her peace.

There are parts, however, that Cookie has had a harder time accepting, even with the time that's passed. Her fusion with the fox wasn't made with standards meant for making a perfect chimera; they were made with making a perfect, larger fox. Given the closeness, there are certain feral traits Cookie has a hard time hiding or denying, especially in her fox form. She will actively stalk and hunt in the dark, and struggles with her own instincts to not eat her prey (or dinner) raw. Her senses aren't as sharp in her human form, but they are still enhanced and there are moments where it becomes apparent that her mind has shifted gears from her natural human one to her more instinctive one. On occasions Cookie will howl, especially after nighttime hunts. She does try to resist these urges as much as she can, and if possible, will remove herself from whatever's triggering or tempting her.

Despite everything, when it comes to her job, Cookie is very sharp and doesn't mess around. As much as she loves to appear lazy, she is very hard-working and clever, and has a knack for finding the right sources to tip her off to a good story and let her in on juicy tidbits, or help her get the skills she needs to get them on her own. Cookie tries to stay legal about getting her story, but she can be tenacious and has a knack for knowing when people are lying or hiding something, which is both a blessing and a curse. It's said that being a great journalist is knowing how to be a writer, smooth-talker and detective all in one, so Cookie has learned how to use the instinctive skills and intuition brought on by her new form to help her as much as possible and has learned to trust her gut-feeling on a lot of things. Generally she writes travel and sports articles, and hates yellow journalism with a passion, but when a big story comes into her sights Cookie will chase it down to be the first to get the goods, no matter the danger or the dangerous people she may piss off. If it means exposing the truth of things to the people (and upping her “Awesome rep”) it's fair game.

LOVE:
→ Fish Tacos, sushi, sunny days, anywhere the surfing is good, friendly competition, sports, loud music, raves, herself, peanut butter, nuts and high energy-food, photography, bright colours, healthy food, rollerblading, skateboarding, surfing, 80's and (early to mid) 90's pop music, chili cheese fries as a treat, the X Games, her job, and secretly loves Xingese soap operas (her fave being Meteor Garden) and an old Cretan one called Beauty and the Beast

HATE:
→ Anything lame, boring nerd stuff, fur coats and furriers, people who can't take a joke, gloom-cookies and eternal pessimists, popcorn (the hulls get stuck in her teeth), game shows, doctors, hounds and hunting dogs, mild distrust of alchemists, monster movies where the monster is no real threat to society and is killed because it's a monster, being too hot, milk and chocolate milk, fighting with her instincts, the cold

DEEPEST SECRET:
→ Her name and ID are both fake, as she gave up being Krystal Woodrow in her teens after going home only to find that not only had her parents given her up for dead and given her a grave, but they also now had other children. Rather than upset how happy they all looked, she opted to just keep going and gave herself a new name.

IDOL:
→ Bethany Hamilton. She survived a shark attack at 13 while surfing, lost her arm, and is still a champion surfer.

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HISTORY:
→ ”Think of the average middle-class family in Creta, not too far from the shorelines of Devon. Two happily married parents, Linda and Paul, though I was never totally sold on the “happily” part since they, like, never really mentioned it or looked it. And then there was me. I loved them plenty, most of the time, but there was something so irritating about dad trying to constantly impress his bosses and kiss ass and be more that just bugged the piss out of me. It didn't matter really what I did as long as it didn't make him look bad. He was a business stiff and his family were accessories, though honestly I think he and his Rolex totes had a better relationship than we did.”

Cookie was born as Krystal and all the time she lived at home was spent as an only child as children were an “expensive habit with less pleasure than alcohol but twice the headache and regret.” Paul was a very controlling and demanding man who wanted a life as perfect as it was in Norman Rockwell paintings, feeling that the perfect, ideal family would help him seem a better candidate in business as being able to manage the delicate relationships of a family meant he could manage the delicate relationships and negotiations of business. That said, Paul's precisely planned-out life had little rule for a daughter who wouldn't submit to what he felt were standards. He wanted her hair long, she wanted it short. He wanted to introduce her to his peers in frilly white dresses, she'd come home caked in mud. He felt that children should be seen and not heard and then only seen when needed, and Krystal had a knack for making her presence known no matter who heard or talked about it later.

Despite the pleas of her mother, Krystal continued to act out, spending much of her childhood fighting with her father for both her mother's attention and affection, as well as a sort of dominance. She simply wouldn't submit to the role of being quiet, meek and ladylike, holding up standards that she felt were archaic. Krystal was a smart girl and very athletic; she liked to impress people, but even from an early age felt it was wrong to impress them with false fronts. If you couldn't appreciate her for her own skills, then you weren't worth her time or effort to please... which only led to greater tensions at home. The beach was Krystal's only solace, the girl often ditching classes that were a waste of her effort or ducking out of home to put off a pending fight. The steady pulse of the tide soothed her anger and frustration as her family pushed her further and further away. Any chance she had she was there swimming, surfing, rollerblading or just enjoying the atmosphere and wondering why home couldn't share this peace.

”At the boardwalk, I could, like, find real happiness in the things I knew I was good at, and occasionally win a little money from it. Coming in first... It's a feeling unlike any other, ya know? Knowing I'd beaten everyone on my own skill, listening to everyone totally cheer after I won- especially since I started building a solid rep for that, and a small fan base- It was all a bodacious thrill! There, I was totally accepted as myself and for nothing but pure skill! I could, like, be myself, and was the best! It was awesome. My own family wouldn't understand or, like, even TRY. But the family I found at the beach was enough to make up for it. The dude who rented boards, Marley, he even started tutoring me in the subjects that I couldn't stand so I wouldn't totally flunk out. He insisted I couldn't just drop out in freshman year. I honestly wish I could go back and tell him I'm sorry that I never did finish and wasted his time.

Things were slowly improving, at least in school. Krystal was getting into fewer fights as she built up her relationships with people outside of her house and turned to them as her family. She often would go straight to Marley's store to do her homework and then go home with him for dinner with his wife. More than once, Krystal spent the night, feeling more at home in the little apartment with them than her own parents. Even though her grades were improving and she got into fewer fights, the constant lack of coming home and disregard for her own family (particularly her father) were taking their toll, until finally one final fight at school (that she didn't even start) ended it all and resulted in the phone call that would kill her.

Far away from civilization, totally landlocked and hidden in the mountains near Xi'an was a boarding school. The Outreach Learning Center for Troubled Teens offered an impressive education, a strict discipline and a family environment geared to help kids from all over the world become the upright citizens that their parents wished them to be. Or, it was just a great place to dump the children society could do nothing with and forget about them. The school's “tough-love” approach promised Mr. and Mrs. Woodrow that their daughter would shape up and graduate with higher marks, and that while there she'd make lots of friends and have the opportunity to enjoy their many hands-on learning techniques. The school was massive, tall iron gates surrounding the huge property that was hidden so far into the mountains. It was beautiful, but something didn't sit well with Krystal. It wasn't just the overly-friendly smiles of the teachers and staff, but how unnaturally mellow all the students were. There was just a vacancy in their eyes and a slowness to their reactions in all of them that was just uncanny.

Despite her begging, pleading and bargaining, Krystal was left at the school with her suitcase, her parents not looking back once as they left the school, Xi'an, Xing, and Krystal forever. She didn't fight or cry about it; they'd left her there, and Krystal doubted they really wanted to see her again unless they had to, even though they promised regular visits. The classes were more challenging, as well as having to suddenly learn Xingese; there were no days off from classes, every day having at least a two hour class to learn the language. The thing Krystal noticed most, however, was that some of the food made her sick, particularly the milk. Teachers told her over and over to drink her milk, and everywhere she looked she could see students drinking it just fine; they were even allowed up to three cartons per meal. She was told that it was just the difference in Xingese cows milk and Cretan, but the more she drank it the more she'd get used to it. But even as weeks wore into months, Krystal never did fall in with the rest of the student body, constantly earning detention and demerits for lack of conformity and questioning the lessons and teachers, and especially for never drinking her milk.

The one saving grace was that she'd made a few friends who, like her, felt something was very wrong with the school even though none of them could put a finger on it. In secret, they began to research things on their own as best they could and found an unusually high number of student disappearances, even though those students hadn't graduated. It seemed more than strange that all of them were runaways, especially given the high security measures the school took to “keep their students safe.” More questions, more snooping, more digging until finally one boy she knew, Taro, was confronted by a teacher. It quickly escalated and became physical, and after school security dragged Taro off he wasn't seen again. Teachers said he'd been expelled and sent home, but Krystal and Hwen had their suspicions. A month later, Hwen also we removed from the school after hacking their contained web to get to school's darker records. Missing students all had something in common; they were all reported as runaways to authorities, parents and foster care systems, but noted as Factory. Hwen didn't know what they'd meant by Factory, but copied as much of what he found to a flashdrive as he could. The next day, he was gone, leaving Krystal on her own entirely with only a flashdrive to find the answers.

She knew he wasn't a runaway, and Hwen had been from Xing's foster care system. He had nobody to go back to. But when asked, all Krystal would be told was to drop it and was given detentions for fighting about it. At night she would sift through that flashdrive, sorting the records and taking notes in secret until she had enough pieces to put the bulk of the puzzle together. The runaway students were being shipped off campus to a factory further in the heart of the mountains. All the students who'd vanished were nonconformists, trouble-makers, or had found out too much. The milk was drugged in order to keep students compliant. Krystal didn't know what to be more disgusted by, or how to go about it. First she tried sending letters home hinting that there was a problem and begged for her parents to come get her, phone calls home denied after they started to suspect her. At meals she'd beg students not to drink the milk, even though she couldn't say why. More punishments. She tried to be sneaky about it, asking if they could let her talk to the Xi'an newspaper company for a working internship, feigning a sudden desperate interest in journalism. Denied. All her attempts were thwarted as they came, until she couldn't take playing nice anymore and one lunch stood on the table, screaming to get everyone's attention.

”I'd just had enough. So I stood up, grabbed a full tray and threw it at the wall to get their attention. But even with all of them staring at me... It was like talking to a room full of zombies. Their eyes were just, like, totally vacant, like nobody was home to listen no matter how much I screamed. I told them all to stop drinking the damned milk; that the school was drugging everyone to keep them mindless. I asked if anyone cared that the students who all supposedly ran away were actually shipped off to some factory, probably to be sweatshop workers. God, not a one of them said a damn thing. I don't think they even blinked. They dragged me off to the office. I bit the nurse when she tried to sedate me. It was so freaky; I kept screaming for help, but none of the staff even cared. And then I told the principal that I knew everything and was going to go to the newspaper with it. I'd totally expose them and shut them down. And that's, like, the last thing I remember in that office.”

The first thing Krystal noticed when she came to (apart from the headache) was that she couldn't really move. Then, the smell; lots of metallic scents and waste and chemicals. And as she got her bearings and looked around, Krystal saw that she was in a wire cage, part of a row of dozens of similar cages. But everything hurt. Every part of her body hurt, and every noise, fiber of light and scent just made her want to retch. She'd thought her hands looked weird because her vision was warped, but as it came more into focus, she saw that her body was no longer her own. Rough black pads covered her palms and fingertips, soft white fur covering every inch of her body. Her clothes were gone, and she'd been left in a simple brown shift. Krystal struggled and tugged at the fur, but only realized that it hurt and really was hers. Krystal moved around enough to sit and curl up in the tiny cage, for the first time in years, crying openly as she caved to fear and pain.

“Who were you?” Krystal looked up to the cages nearest her, each filled with an oversized animal person, and hundreds of smaller cages with regular animals. Hwen's voice. That was Hwen! No longer the Xingese boy she'd known, but a south Xingese spotted cat. All around them were foxes, tanuki, Xingese wild cats... But why? And then the horrible truth swallowed her whole as Hwen pointed to a large bin with rotting carcasses in it. Hooks hung down from the ceiling in a work area, the floor filthy with blood that hadn't been hosed away. This was a fur factory. The problem students were all sold here and fused with animals in order to sell larger furs into Xing's massive fur market. Students, peasants, homeless people, even people replying to ads for research volunteers; they had all become this factory's victims and would be fed, fattened, and skinned to make blankets and coat trim.

For the first several days, Krystal refused to eat any of the food of water brought to her, upset that it would end this way and regretting that she'd never see her family again. Her sixteenth birthday was coming soon, and that damned school would just tell her parents she'd run away. Would they be happier without her, though, considering how easily they'd given her up to a place that was like an oubliette?Finally she caved, starting to eat and fighting with the despair that consumed her as she was helpless, only able to watch as more people were brought in, changed, and then those who had been there long enough and matched orders that needed to be filled were strangled, drowned, and skinned, sometimes while they were still clinging to life. Skins were carefully ripped from the bodies that were shoved into a bin to die in agony and rot until they were thrown out back to be burnt. There was no hiding or disguising it, the horror and stench working to keep those remaining from fighting the inevitable. Unattainable sunlight peeked through the windows high above them near the roof, but there were no doors to lead directly outside from that giant room of cages.

Time slipped by, days and nights blurring with only the sounds of death breaking the silence until one day, Krystal overheard something she wasn't meant to overhear. She didn't dare tell anyone and cause a panic, so she watched, and was right. Larger “batches” were being culled, bigger than what anyone could have realistically put an order for. Someone had found out something about the factory, and so they were being killed en masse to remove evidence. A sudden fear gripped everyone in the cages, but in the panic, inspiration came. The chimera outnumbered the factory workers nearly four to one, and whispering through the night, that row of cages came up with a plan to try and escape. The worst that could happen was they would die, but any chance was worth taking. The day came that the workers came to cull their block, and the first few cages were opened. Blows were given, and humans were bitten and attacked as Krystal ran down the row to push all the release buttons. More and more chimera burst free from their cages to attack. It was a flurry of fur and limbs as they all ran through the building to push for the exit, bursting into the open air in the side of the mountains of Xi'an, deep in its ancient forests as the summer rains poured down. Shots rang out, workers killing everyone they could to keep the truth from escaping. Krystal ran by Hwen's side through the woods, not caring that the motion made her joints hurt or that the underbrush was poking her feet or tearing at what little clothing she had. Run. Just run, and don't look back. Bullets sailed closer and closer, screams echoing in the woods too deep for anyone to hear their cries as they fell and died. Krystal didn't hear Hwen fall into the brush; only her heart as she tried to get away until her own scream caught her by surprise. The shot felt like getting hit really hard, before the burn set in. She didn't even realize she was slowing down until the next shot ripped through her body and sent her tumbling down the slope of the mountain. The mud gave under her, Krystal slipping and rolling down into the swollen river coursing by. The current was too strong to fight against as it kept pulling her under with little to grab onto until finally she surrendered to the dark, happy that if she died it would at least be in the water.

”The sound of the water rushing all around me was intense, and I stopped being in the river, in Xi'an, in Xing, and I thing, like, the whole world. I saw it. I was surfing this epic wave that was cresting ahead of me and tunneling around me, and my board was just slicing through perfectly. The water was this incredible blue, and at the end of the wave, there was light. Pure sunlight, like I was surfing straight into sunshine. It was so weird, man, like spooky. But really awesome at the same time. I don't really think I was moving, and yet the light was coming closer to me and my board, but then at the last minute, I jumped off and cut out of the wave tunnel and away from that light. I think I was, like, about to die I guess. An afterlife of eternal surfing? I could totally get into that. But I didn't stay. Instead, I woke up laying on a little futon on the floor. I was bandaged up, and wearing a really pretty robe. And then I heard humming, and saw her: Wai Po Fong.”

Krystal was dazed, confused, and a little scared when she woke up in the old house deep in the heart of the mountains, but the old lady who had found and treated her insisted that Krystal stay there and heal. “Only spirits can heal their own,” Mrs. Fong had told her cheerily. She'd told her how fox spirits were lucky things to see, and to have one staying in your family's home was truly lucky. No matter how many times Krystal insisted that she wasn't a spirit or anything lucky, Mrs. Fong would only laugh and call her a little spirit anyway. The farm was small and hidden far away from everything, leaving Krystal once again completely cut off from the world, but this time it was a peaceful feeling. Mrs. Fong was cheerful and strange, and even as Krystal grew more used to the new abilities that came with her body she never could hear or smell Mrs. Fong coming or even on the property. She seemed to vanish when she'd just been standing next to Krystal, be heard humming in empty rooms, and some days just couldn't be found. But Krystal never really questioned it, appreciating finally having a home to be where she was wanted and cared for. On the days she could find Mrs. Fong, Krystal would sit and listen to her long stories of ancient Xing, of other fox spirits and the many spirits that lived in the mountains, of the wonders of alkahestry, and most usefully, how to learn to be in tune with her own body enough to learn to shift to a human form.

It had taken Krystal months to get to where she could shift without it hurting as much and maintaining it, and even though her human body didn't look quite the same as she'd remembered it, she was happy. Months slipped by, and the world outside had started to matter less and less, the school, Creta and even her family becoming things Krystal stopped thinking about on a daily basis. She was growing into a much calmer young women, and over the two years she stayed there Krystal had found contentment in the simple chores and the company of the old woman she couldn't hear or smell. It wasn't until the spring after she'd turned 18 that Krystal realized she'd forgotten about the rest of the world entirely, the memories of the horrible school and factory like some distant nightmare that had been washed away from her mind. Krystal realized that in removing herself from the world, she forgot about it and everyone in it, and was starting to have a hard time clearly remembering her own mother's face. It scared her to think she was forgetting the people and places she came from, and even more, exactly how long she had been in the mountains with Mrs. Fong. Grandma Fong still called her Xiao Jingling and she could still transform, so the memories of the transformation really had happened, but how long ago? She'd only been on that little farm for a month or two, four at the absolute most! The thought gnawed at her for days until finally one evening Grandma Fong asked what was troubling her darling girl.

The conversation had been uneasy and had taken a lot of effort, each of Krystal's questions met with simple, straightforward answers that answered nothing. She was somewhere far away from harm, they had everything they needed on the farm and didn't need to go to town, the old woman was her grandmother and loved her, and she hadn't been there “very long” so there was no reason to hurry and leave. She was here now, and her Grandma loved her, and that was all she needed, right? Grandma Fong wouldn't answer her beloved little spirit, and crying, told Krystal that if she left the farm she would never come back. Krystal had never seen the cheery old woman cry before, and all night long heard the muffled sobs, leaving her very torn; Krystal knew she had a family out there somewhere, even if their faces were fuzzy. She remembered the ocean and sunshine, and distant echos of voices forgotten long ago. But on the other hand, she was happy here with Grandma Fong; maybe she couldn't remember much of the rest of the world because it had been so unhappy. After all, she couldn't really be a fox-spirit, could she? Krystal didn't sleep that night, and by morning had decided she needed to find and face the truth, whatever it may be. The next morning Krystal found that Grandma already knew her girl was leaving, and had been up early preparing food and a bag for her to take, asking again if she was sure she wanted this; they had each other, and could stay happy in the mountains forever without the world. But Krystal insisted, and promised that in a month she'd come back to visit and clean.

It was a long trip down the mountain and through the forests before Krystal found civilization again, and was more than a little shocked to find out that she wasn't in Xi'an at all, or even remotely near it. She was more than a thousand miles away. The world was overwhelming, the noises and smells almost too much for Krystal to take in all at once, especially as she learned that she'd been on Mount Tiantai for two years when it only felt like a few months. As the reality that Krystal was alone in a part of Xing far from where she had been, had no resources or papers anymore, she knew that adjusting would be difficult, and getting home would be even harder. With a little smooth-talking and working to show her word was good, Krystal found a room to stay in while working an internship with a small local paper. The work was a lot less nerdy than she thought it was before, and seeing her work printed was actually pretty satisfying. Before long, she found that her work was getting more and more recognition, and before long Krystal was able to move onto a bigger newspaper in another city. Before she moved, however, she made her way back into the mountainside to go say goodbye to Grandma and clean as she'd promised. When she finally found the farm again, Krystal wasn't sure if she was in the right place or not, the beautiful old house was dilapidated and rotting, the animals and crops were dead and gone, and it looked like nobody had lived in the property in ages; the only thing she'd found of Grandma Fong's was an old cup. Looking everywhere, there was no sign of Grandma until under a peach tree behind the house, Krystal found the single grave marker for Wei Po Fong, dating back more than seventy years. ”Only spirits can heal their own,” Grandma had told her once. And then, things all made sense, especially now knowing she was on Tiantai mountain. But she stayed and cleaned, offered food and incense, and took the cup with her, not looking back.

Wanning wasn't a big city in the slightest, but it offered Krystal something vital she'd been missing: the coast. The weather was nice, the people were decent, and the area thrived on tourists. Because Krystal was fluent in Xingese and Cretan and knew what Cretan tourists would want, her job was simple (on paper, at least): write travel articles about Wanning for their magazine which was carried all over Xing and now being marketed to larger cities in Creta to boost tourism. Covering Wanning's blossoming surfing market (and competing in the contests) were what first started getting her recognition in what she did. Krystal was great at her job and loved it, and the company began to send her all over Xing for the magazine. As much as she knew she should, Krystal had no immediate inclination to go home just yet; she was happy here, respected, and doing things she loved. She was building a solid reputation, and didn't want to go home and explain everything that had happened, and especially not have anything to show for it. But one day her boss called her in to talk to her about her papers; apparently the “Krystal Woodrow” that matched her passport information had been filed as dead according to the Cretan government.

”Those bastards at the school had told my family I was a runaway, and somehow I'd died. Fucking bastards! My boss, Han, he and I had become pretty good friends, so I finally told someone the truth about what happened. It was beyond weird, showing my friend what I really looked like, like, bizarre. But he was totally cool about it; he didn't fire me, or tell me I was anything less than I had been, and like, actually told me he was impressed by my willpower to keep going. But we both agreed I needed to go back to Creta and get the papers corrected, because I was sure as hell alive. Han told me to take time off work to go home, reconnect with my family, fix my stuff, and come back and write an expose that would take out that fucking school. Even said he'd help me get justice for all of us, and that... was, like, amazing. I haven't had a friend as good as Han in years. I was 22 and for the first time seeing the family I hadn't seen in eight years. Going home was way hard, and the closer I got to Creta the more I just wanted to hop the next plane back to Xing. But I had to do this, much as it sucked. But really? Nothing prepared me for that kinda hurt that could only come from seeing my own grave in person.”

There in the family plot, was Krystal's own grave. She was legally dead, buried, and only lived to be 16. While not wholly untrue, Krystal was a bit miffed, wondering if her family even bothered to try and find her or the truth, or if they'd just felt that her death was for the best for everyone. She wandered around Devon, and found that the world she used to know had changed. The surf shack was closed, word from people who had known Marley being that he and his wife had closed shop some years ago after the bigger pro shops moved in and kid they were crazy about died. That hurt, knowing a lie she hadn't been aware of had hurt people she loved more than her own natural family. The boardwalk wasn't the same without them, she found, and as Krystal watched the house she'd once known as home, she only felt more and more torn. Her mother looked well, and so did her father... and their kids. An eight-year-old boy and girl. She remembered her mother being sick a lot and putting on a little weight, but she'd never mentioned being pregnant when they dumped Krystal at the school. They had known... that they'd never see their girl again, and hadn't wanted to. That was the final nail in Krystal's coffin. She really was dead to her family, so what was left for her? But she still had a few days and needed to think; she couldn't go back to work and let Han see her falling apart. She avoided being near the home she'd fought against all her childhood, hanging out at the local park where she used to play soccer. As ironic fate would have it, in the days before she was due to head back to Xing, Krystal met her brother and sister there.

The two were sweet and smart, Julia and Ken both wanting to play with the “pretty lady with the fluffy hair” after watching her do soccer drills solo. Ken wanted to be a soccer champion, and Julia wanted to be an animal doctor and have lots of horsies. Krystal saw a little of herself in both of the kids, and even though they didn't know they were playing with their big sister, or that they even had one; it was okay. She was happy just knowing she'd met them and talked to them. They came to the park every afternoon, and were happy to see her there waiting for them. The kids lapped up her stories about ghosts in the mountains, and winning surfing contests in Xing and right there in Creta. But her bother and sister gave her something very special. When they finally asked the young woman's name, Krystal told them she didn't know what her name was, and that she needed one. Ken and Julia popped out all kinds of names, especially when she said they could name her anything they wanted, until finally one stuck out: Cookie, since she was nice, and sweet, and the mole on her cheek was like a chocolate chip. Taking Marley's last name and the new name the kids gave her, Krystal was laid to rest, and Cookie Waterford was born. She snuck a quick picture of Ken and Julia, and told them to read the magazine she wrote for and watch for surfing contests. Cookie never stopped to exchange words with her mother before she left Devon, but she did give her one last look and felt it; something about the way she looked back at Cookie told her she could sense whose ghost that was as she walked away, heading back to Xing

Han helped her to get paperwork and passports set back up in her new name, and set to help his star writer take out the school that did the unspeakable. A lot of what she wrote was from memory, and the rest was a few sneaky interviews, and hacking the systems to get the files that Hwen had died to get. Finally the truth was published, and couldn't be fought. The lawyers had no outs to cover it all up, and justice was served as the school was taken down. Hwen, the murdered students and all those innocent people were given their revenge and Cookie was given national recognition for the piece. The power of the written word was just as powerful as a tidal wave, and proved the young woman was just as unstoppable. “Cookie's Bites” has since then grown, her articles appearing in the travel and tourism magazine still based out of Wanning, syndicated all through Xing and Creta, most recently translations and editions being worked out in Amestris. Cookie is the reporter that is always sent first anywhere where the people, sports, or events are extreme. Han now pays for Cookie to travel all over the world for exclusive interviews and edgy articles or sporting competitions, the Wild Child now free to run on instinct and follow where the writing takes her, unafraid of whatever life throws at her for each.

And in the words of Paul Harvey, “And now you know... the rest of the story.”

...........................................................................

TRIVIA:
→ As much as she says she gave up yesterday, Cookie took a photo of her younger siblings playing and keeps it in her wallet. It's laminated to keep it from being ruined.
→ Cookie's pyramid-studded collar stays on her always, and has a dog tag on it. One side boldly states COOKIE while the back states PROPERTY OF NO ONE
→ Her normal body temperature is 103, even in her human form.
→ Foxes are naturally musky creatures, so Cookie bathes obsessively and practically drowns herself in body sprays and heavily-scented shampoos, anything that will cover up her chimeric pheromones.
→ Her Dune Buggy is named Cherrybomb and she does converse casually with her (yes, her). All of Cookie's cars have been named and had their own personalities and quirks; Cherrybomb is her fave, and her baby.
→ Like other foxes, Cookie is more awake at dusk and at night, which conflicts terribly with her love of the sunshine.
→ Cookie can and will howl and can sometimes get other wild foxes to join her. Unlike a wolf's howl, a fox's howl is high-pitched; however, like her canine cousins, the sound is equally haunting and can be heard for miles.
→ When buying food, Cookie will only buy and eat meat that is organic and free-range. That said, she doesn't do fast food and at restaurants will either stick with fish or vegetable dishes. She tries her best to stick to a mostly vegetarian diet.
→ Cookie is avidly against the fur industry, especially in Xing, and has led a few groups over the years to break into fur factories to free the animals and burn the buildings to the ground.
→ Cookie works as a traveling journalist, writing mostly for sports and travel magazines, but is also knownto do “hard” pieces when the opportunity presents itself. She also occasionally is had as a guest on radio programs, and her personal articles are called “Cookie's Bites”.
→ Being that she's a writer, Cookie takes a tiny tape recorder everywhere with her to dictate notes for what she'll write later, record interviews, and occasionally talks to it like it's a her partner.
→ Fluent in Xingese (powderblue), Cretan (steelblue) and can speak enough Amestrian (palevioletred) to work and interview, generally.

...........................................................................

ALIAS:
→ It's-a-Me! Mari- eh? Oh, wrong place. It's Shu.

OTHER CHARACTERS:
→ Shula, Gavin, Tanandra, Anouk

CREATOR'S COMMENTS:
→ Kibbles n' Bits, n' Bits, n' Bits, n' Bits!!

FACE CLAIM:

Code:: [b]KalahariFox[/b]/[i]Anastasia[/i]

CUSTOM RANK:
→ WILD CHILD
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by Guest Tue May 15, 2012 4:46 pm

{APPROVED}

Waterford, Cookie

Waterford, Cookie

Re: Waterford, Cookie