Post by Creek on Aug 13, 2016 7:54:38 GMT
Full Name: Sabra Bella Kross
Age: 43
Height: 5'2
Weight: 120lb
Kind: Werewolf
Ethnicity: Caucasian/Latino
Occupation: Owns Kross Automotive Services
Significant Other: None
Children: None
Mother: Maria Kross
Father: Samuel Kross
Siblings: Tristan
Appearance: Sabra's anything but the hulking werewolf that populates the movies. She is seemingly soft looking, with a generous chest and wide hips, but she carries the evidence of a hard life. Scars span across her knuckles and she has a few crooked fingers from badly set breaks; significant scars include a deep fissure in her shoulder from the woman's initial mauling. She hasn't shrugged right in years and full motion in her left arm is a thing of the past. Her face is heart shaped with high cheek bones and hazel eyes, framed by waves of dark hair, usually drawn back into a pony tail.
She has a rough beauty about her, but a less than friendly demeanor and reputation keep most at bay.
Personality: About as practical a person as you can get. Sabra has no illusions about life, she knows that it can often be quick, dirty, and unfair, but as ugly as her own has been at times, she has also seen some of the good the world has to offer. Family, a home, and pride at knowing it's all self made.
She relishes in her wolf, and even with the loss of all her young life promised--a college degree, a step up from poverty to become something more, Sabra wouldn't choose to be human again for all the money in the world. There are those that say she isn't quite human anymore, and they wouldn't be wrong. The wolf and the woman are intrinsically connected, and it's hard to tell where one stops and the other begins. This comes with its own set of complications, as her logic and clear thinking can often become over ridden by the beast's powerful emotions. She is forceful, stubborn, and prone to harsh judgements.
To her family and friends are everything, to be loved and protected ruthlessly. While she would never admit to it, Sabra quite likes doting on her own personal circle and functions better when she has someone else to take care of. She can seem like quite the hard headed bitch at times, but Sabra takes a good deal to heart. She values community and hard work; shrugging off the problems of life with the simpler pleasures has never been a sin to her. While no stranger to indulgence she works hard to adhere to her own personal code of morals and what few lines she has are drawn firmly in the sand.
Still, no one is perfect. When Sabra makes mistakes they can be monumental in their impact. Accidents happen to everyone, and she isn't very good at accepting such a lack of control. Those who bring them up do so at the risk of their own throats.
Although she can allow herself to be carried away by instinct, Sabra is intelligent. A pro at on the fly thinking and possessing a knack for all things mechanic. Smarts may have gotten her a full ride to college, but it's muscle and determination that has allowed her to survive in a world that can all too quickly turn its teeth on you.
History: There isn't much that bears repeating in Sabra's mind about the life she lead before. She grew up poor in Kentucky, an immigrant's daughter, her mother a secretary for a local company, and her father a well meaning entrepreneur who was ultimately unsuccessful in just about everything he tried his hand at: mechanic shop owner, farmer, carpenter, and husband.
Thankfully, there was no where to go but up, and Sabra eventually made it all the way up to New York, pursuing a scholarship at Cornell for an engineering degree. It didn't come to be. In the middle of her first year, on the walk back to her apartment she was mauled by a stray dog. While recovering in the hospital, two strange men came to visit her. It turned out the stray dog had friends, and they insisted that she was one of them now, that she join their pack.
Fast forward two years down the road. Her poor grades lost her the scholarship and Sabra was forced to drop out of Cornell with nothing but half a degree and the knowledge of what could have been. The pack hadn't been kind--they'd kept just enough of an eye on her to make sure she survived the first change and didn't loose her mind and start eating the good citizens of New York, but life isn't easy for the low dog on the totem pole. Her anger, and unwillingness to keep her mouth shut made her an attractive target. Loosing her scholarship was the last straw, though.
The New York pack had always been poorly run; there was no real loyalty but that of fear from the lower ranking wolves, and the higher ranks seemed ever shifting, titles changing hands, men and women dying for nothing but the desire to see something bleed. It had to change and she wasn't the only one who'd had enough. Sabra became caught up in the tide of rebellion, and narrowly lost her life to the cause, but for sheer luck and stubbornness. The Alpha turned out to be a terrible coward--running away while his wolves fought their pack mates, but Sabra, her appetite already whetted, caught his scent and gave chase.
He was only a man, it wasn't a fair fight. He hadn't even had the time to change. He died in his backyard gurgling on his own blood and Sabra opened his belly and ate and ate and ate until she was full.
And the remainders of the pack came to heel under the Black Dog's rule.
Misc. Information:
- Has a terrible phobia of hospitals and will go to extreme lengths to avoiding stepping foot inside one.
- Enjoys bossa nova and classical rock.
- Bilingual in Spanish and English.
