| |
NAVIGATION
|
|
|
|
|
Hola ladies and gentlemen (and a mix of the two, perhaps. ^^~) Welcome to my FINALLY made site for Galway. If you find anything mispelled or anything that doesn't sound right, let me know! I also DO take commissions (if you're stupid enough to PAY me for my scribbles. XD) And gift art of Galway is ALWAYS LOVED OMG. :D
Thank you~
<3, Me |
|
|
|
Galway is a shape-shifting, hollow-boned feline. How this has come to be... has yet to be determined. :3
Back to basics:
Name(full, to her recollection): Veronica O'Conner
Name(goes by): Galway
Nicknames: Galpal, Galface, Galbutt, Galaxy, Gallows, Gallerina, Galwife, Galhuh, Gallerina, Galsex, Gallilicious, Gallery, Yankee Bitch
Sexuality: Bisexual, thankyouverymuch. No preference.
Status: Happily married, but endlessly cute, flirty, and cuddly.
(her main form is that of a feline. (: )
Hair(length, colour, texture): To her waist, silver, silken. Normally unkempt.
Fur(length, colour, texture): Tabby-length, cream, very soft and well-taken care of.
Eyes(colour, shape): Vivid emerald, more Asian human than cat.
DOB: April 10th, 1986
Tail: Thin at base, growing wider to appear Menchi-like, if you will.
Ears: Almost inverted, sloping down rather than up.
Appearance
A pretty, bespectacled feline. Creamy fur, silver hair in gorgeous torrents down her back. Two framed her face, more often than not obstucting her view. Ever-present blush was visible on cheeks, adding to her cuteness. A simple pair of beige flairs hugged low on her hips, any underthings that would have shown covered by her fitted black t-shirt, a white star smack in the middle. Her feet were sheathed with the coolest shoes known to man: a pair of bright red Converse platforms. Mmdrool. Tiny wings floated behind her, made of a shimmery black but solid material. Right wing was pierced eleven times in various places. Left periodically changed from leathery to feathery. Glasses sat on nose, unsupported by any arms.
Human:
Hair: Just below ear-length, two bangs sectioned off and framing face, tied at top of head with ribbon Deeply coloured red. Silky. :o
Skin: Pale
Eyes: Emerald; large and somewhat slanted.
Appearance
She wore a crisp blue dress with minutely puffy sleeves, the dress hanging to and gently brushing at mid-calf. A pressed white apron draped over that, tied into an admirable bow in back. Tall black and white striped socks climbed her legs while shiny black dress shoes resided on her feet. Wire-rimmed frames perched precariously on her human nose.
|
|
|
|
Well... I guess, I should start from the beginning. That's how all good stories start out, right? Ok, here we go.
Well, as you might have assumed, Galway isn't my real name. Yea... I had to change my name a few years ago because of... them. The people... who're after me. But you don't really know who they are, do you! I guess not... Sit back, relax, get a drink, take a potty break... I'll tell you all about it.
It all started the Spring of 1986.. April 10th, to be more precise. A
poor family living on the coast of a little Irish arcadia off the
mainland of Furcadia were blessed with a tiny and sick little girl... A
girl that didn't appear as if she would make it through the year....
But a girl they could call their own.
Yep, that was me. A sickly little baby girl, barely able to keep down
anything they put into my mouth. I was named after my great
grandmother. I was Veronica O'Conner. Or at least... that's what
I remember my name to be. My last name. I know my first name... It's a
shame I had to hide it.
So I guess, from what they told me, I was on the verge of death. I
was... one, I think. But suddenly... one day, I got better. My parents
wouldn't tell me how. They... They just told me... They called it a
miracle. I know better than to believe in miracles. Whenever they
talked about it... it was as if the very memory hurt them. They'd
cry... but not out of gratitude. They were bitter tears. Tears that
wern't for me.
I didn't have any other siblings growing up... or friends, for that
matter. My parents were very protective of me... And, well, I guess I
should tell you why. You see... Well, as far as I know, I'm the last of
this... rare, hollow-boned species of feline. We're called the Kinavra.
Or... I'm called... a Kinavra.
I won't be the first to admit we were in poverty. We were poor, ok?
Poor, poor, poor. They were barely able to afford to keep me alive. But
it didn't mean they didn't try their hardest. They really wanted me
happy. They tried so hard. They even scraped together a little monmey
and bought me this really neat fork on my 5th birthday. I know it
sounds weird... but I really liked it. They told me that there were
only two in the world, and that they had no idea where the other one
was. I felt special. The people on our little island knew how important
it was that I
lived... so they'd always give us little hand-outs... bread,...
cheese... food. I wasn't old
enough to be properly grateful to them. But I realize now that if not
for their generosity... I wouldn't be here. But they did... my
parents... bless their hearts... managed to keep me alive. At the sake
of their own health. They... died when I was seven.
I can't say that I missed them. I lived such a sheltered life... More
than once I wished that I was just... a normal feline, you know? Not
some... race of hollow-boned felines bred for speed and dexterity. Yes,
I have it memorized down to the teeth. Would you like to play trivia?
Didn't think so.
Oh, did I mention I'm Irish? Yea, I kinda thought you'd have guessed...
being born and raised in an IRISH arcadia... but I guess, talking to me
now you'd never notice. I've long since lost my accent. But, as I've
heard from... uhh... reliable sources... that once in a while...
under... uh, certain... circumstances... I have been known to possess
my accent.
"IT'S WHEN SHE'S DRUNK!!!"
....I've gotta close that window.
...Moving on to another topic. After my parents passed away, the... the
townspeople didn't quite know what to do with me. They knew what I
was... what I was worth... I'm surprised they didn't sell me to some
museum or something right then and there. But there was this lovely
woman by the name of Sweet Miss Molly Malone that took me in, and took
care of me. She... treated me like her own daughter. And the best part
was... she had money. I had a full meal three times a day. I had
clothes that fit. I was clean. (when I wanted to be.) And she didn't
treat me like some odditiy. She didn't have a fuss if I fell and
scraped my knee... she didn't have a heart attack if I got a cold.. she
treated my like a normal kid. And friends! I had friends... And one
friend of mine... her name was Jacque... She was like my older sister.
I loved her so. I'd wake up in the morning with thoughts of her... what
we'd do that day... and she treated me like I was her little sister. I
was so happy.
But... one day... Jacque just.. stopped hanging out with me. I'd try to
talk to her, but she refused to listen. I hadn't the faintest idea what
I had done or how I had angered her... and then she left the village. I
guess that's why I'm a bit... paranoid... a bit over-protective... a
bit.. inferior to everyone... I just don't want the people I love to leave me.
I think it was when I was ten years old I started having eyes problems.
I dunno what happened... I think it might have been some late reaction
from the sickness I had endured for so long as a child, finally coming
to bite me in the ass after so long. But Molly had taken me to the
doctor, and I got this spiffy pair of lenses. Most people complain
about having glasses. What do I think? If I have them, and if I can
see... I'll wear them every day for the rest of my life.
When I was about 12, Molly was having troubles... Something with
her landlord being a jerk... made her move. But this was pretty cool:
she was moving to the mainland. I was going with her. I was going to
Furcadia.
We moved into this crummy little town called FurN. It was pretty nasty.
But our house was nice. Two levels... big kitchen. All that groovy
stuff. And I lived there with her for about three years until I got
separated from her one day.
I was only 15... and I was pretty freaked out. While I wandered about
looking for her, I heard these gruff guys talking about how... how
there was 'a rare pure breed running around' and about how 'She's the
only one left, she'd be worth millions'. Hell yea, I was scared! I took
off... with nothing but the clothes on my back, the weird bag Molly had
gotten for me (that was apparently bottomless... I named him Oliver)
and my fork. I swore no matter how hard times got, I'd never give up
that fork. It had my initials on it... it was mine. I was special.
So I fled this FurN place. I wound up going south, and ending up in
this place called New Haven. Sounds pretty great, right? Buzz, wrong.
It was almost as bad. But then again, I was really young. I realized
that if I was going to save myself, I'd have to put what little
remained of my past behind me. That meant... changing my name,
stripping my identity... and forgetting who, and what, I was. So I
became Galway, naming myself after one of the places Molly liked
talking about the most. (Molly was a very, very Irish person.)
It was a year later that I was caught stealing a needle and thread to
mend my clothes. I was thrown into a place called TSP. Back in FurN yet
again!
I never really considered myself a... 'slave', per sey... granted, I
never had enough money to keep myself 'good' for more than a week at a
time... but I had managed to scrape a few oddjobs here and there, and
that kept me alive. I had been at the end of my weekly budget.. and for
some stupid reason needles were really expensive at the time. TSP
wasn't so bad, I guess... the occasional rough character trying to take
me back to his -- or her-- house and give me a hard time. Well, I
wasn't going to have any of that. Despite what of my past I had to
forget, I didn't forget I was made to be fast and flexible -- Oh how
that helped.
Two years later I noticed (it was hard not to, she was bitching pretty
loudly) another girl -- about my age -- in the pen next to me, clearly
putting some huge ugly guy off. I started to yell at him too. I was
pretty bored, and maybe I could find a friend in this new girl. She had
bushy purple hair and a loud outfit. I liked it. We eventually managed
to make him leave, and I crawled under the rungs into her pen. After a
lot of snooping, I found out her name was Twiggy, which I thought was
cute. She told me her tale... and it pretty much sucked as bad as mine
did. When she told me she was a vampire -- holy cow -- I almost
high-tailed it out of there! But I couldn't just leave her. She was
actually a year younger than me... And I felt sorry for her, dammit.
Somehow, her and I managed to get out of that stupid place. While
walking alone one day, I found a small golden bangle, which I gave to
her. She's not removed it since.
|
|
If you didn't hate me then, you sure as hell had better start.
Create a
free website at Webs.com
|  |
|
