What graceful beauty is this? What is she but the broken petals of a rose, long forgotten but still blushing with the crimson tint of life? She comes in the form of twirling grace and flurried desire, a dreadful concoction of distinctive beauty and captivating charm. Alluring decorum and finesse emanate from her ballerina build, a subtle mixture of curve and lean muscle. Her size, though slim, will grow to tower over the miniature form of her dam, and she will even peak over the dark shadow of her father despite her ability to match his muscle. Rivaling her eldest brother in height, the radiant princess holds herself tall and with pride, unafraid of the world and unafraid of those in the way of her dance. Follow her now as she moves across the stage, her motions reminiscent of the emotion that swirls within her eyes; within her soul.

The dress she wears has been tailored by the finest seamstress. Mother Nature was kind to Nova, bestowing upon her the grace of both day and night, light and dark, star and universe. Unique. Does this not make the rose beautiful? Soft petals of white; armored thorns of black. She bears on her back the colors of both honor and bane, of both the pure and the corrupt. Dark and light collide in a powerful blend upon her back, her cape that of the mightiest midnight and her underbelly lined with the purest of whites, of virgin snow. From top to bottom, her frame fades from dark to light, gray furs emphasizing the colors and offering a seamless transition from one extremity to the next. Her slender muzzle is rimmed with a silvery white, and feathery ermine streaks surround her eyes. A universe unfolds upon her silken pelt, her appearance directly representative of her name. A nova, a bright star in the blackest reaches of the universe.

Reminiscent of her mother, the young princess’s eyes are bright sapphire pools of emotion, a doorway directly into her soul and heart. Her thoughts, her emotion, her life is painted onto those eyes, so bright against her monochrome dress. But much like her ebony and ivory coat, a contrast of sire and dam once again comes into play in these sapphire pools. While her left eye is a replica of her mother’s own hue, the right is a battle of water and earth. An obvious emerald streak crosses through the middle of her right eye, a leaf afloat a vast sapphire sea. A genetic mishap perhaps? Or simply a piece of her father’s pride, forever pooled within her exquisitely chiseled face. Yet another fascinating reminder of her feminine build and seductive smile, joyous rapture captivating the hearts of even the most stoic old brutes. Let her capture your soul. Nova is an exotic young princess; she is beautiful, captivating, sensual all at the same time. A bold creature, playing with good and evil … a wistful smile upon charcoal lips.

scar note: Nova carries with her a scar .. a blemish amongst the otherwise near-perfection of her appearance. A long score of claw marks rakes across her rib cage area on her right side, the result of an encounter with an angry mother bear.

Blissful and ignorant, the female is a burning star, streaking across the universe. Wistful lusts and probing desires drive her onward and she all but leaves those she has met in the ripple of her wake. Dazed and confused and wanting more. She is not bound by gravity or loyalty, for the world is her playground. Her youthful rapture will follow her throughout her life. A seductive gypsy, traveling as she will, beating her tambourine and smiling playfully in the light of the fire. She creates her own tempo for her own life, upbeat and catchy, dragging others along for her ride but never stopping to tango with them. Their beats are too laborious. Nova is but a free star, a spirit shooting across the universe, beautiful and intriguing. Throw up a net to catch her, tangle her and question her and she will all but smile at you, spin you a fabulous tale a dart away once more. A tricky fairy.

So let the fairy spin you a tale; let her draw you a line, let her put the pieces together. Nova’s imagination is her strongest weapon, her tongue an able sidekick. Ordinary events, so boring and mundane, sprout wings in her mind’s eye, flowering with color and fantasy. Nova’s world is full of exquisite happenings, neon lights and mythical creatures, and she will not hesitate to tell others of her fantastic adventures. She will make you believe, make young eyes widen with wonder, make old brutes shake their heads and smile. Lovable and exotic, she spins her stories through the air, painting a picture for anyone willing to listen. Bright gypsy eyes sparkling and hips twirling, drawing her audience into her world, making them wonder, making them want.

She feeds upon the emotion that others emanate, swooning over brittle compassion and gnawing on their pains and sorrows. A fantastic actress, dancing in her spotlight, playing with the emotion of her audience. There is nothing she enjoys more than musing at the hidden attempts of others to admonish their feelings, to hide their inner souls, to become bound to creatures they have created. Frustration boils her blood at the thought of wolves becoming drones, robotic followers without individuality. There is nothing that will seduce her more than raw emotion, not hindered by inhibitions and not undermined by thought or attraction to a pack or law. Every wolf has their own luscious flavor, draining from their eyes and their expressions. Nova has an exquisite taste, an innate ability to read faces and read souls and draw them out from their hiding places. Let her rehabilitate a broken soul with a gentle touch and a lacy smile.

But does she seem so stoic and stone that she is unable to feel? This is untrue. Despite her constant desire to travel, to see, to feel, to explore, she does care for those who capture her interest. But she is nothing more than the delicate petal of a rose, floating through the breeze, watching the world from the height of the atmosphere. Her loyalty to her desire and her loyalty to travel outweigh even her father’s, but unlike that mighty brute, she does not so heavily feel the repercussions of abandoning her family and friends. Her mighty way with words and her uncanny ability to forgive and forget land her in the safety zone. So chase her if you wish to keep her, or release the bird to the sky … for she will always return to lay a gentle kiss upon your cheek, that smile in her eyes and that fire in her heart.

father: Keoto Aralashie Kringle
mother: Remedy Deray Aralashie Kringle

brothers: Ares, Kael
sister: Ariadne

half sister (mother): Rosalie Astrophel
half brother (mother): Sagi Astrophel

uncles: Raphen S. Kringle and Salaynn Aralashie Kringle

paternal grandmother: Misk A. K. Haken
paternal grandfather: Renegade S. Kringle
great uncle: Noel Kringle