Information


Pax has a minion!

Gladstone the Goliath




Pax
Legacy Name: Pax


The Custom Golden Tigrean
Owner: Tennie

Age: 13 years, 1 month, 1 week

Born: February 17th, 2011

Adopted: 13 years, 1 month, 1 week ago

Adopted: February 17th, 2011

Statistics


  • Level: 1
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 2
     
  • Books Read: 2
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed



Reluctant Princess

Pax had never been one for fairy tales. They always ended too romantically for her, the prince sweeping in and rescuing the princess, defeating the villain with ease and grace. Happily ever after, while the dream of most of the girls in her social repertoire, was lost on Pax. She disliked the idea of some gallant hero trampling after her on a horse, intent to prove his manliness and sweep her off her feet to swoon and marry. There was no thrill, no eccitazione in letting yourself be conquered. She had known this from a young age, and made her possible suitors over the years aware that she was not a prize to be won in simple, silly games. Against her desires she grew into a true vision of beauty, her blonde hair astonishing against her olive skin, her green eyes flecked with gold and framed with thick black lashes... her lips the perfect shape and size as well as the lightest natural shade of pink. Her beauty was unparalleled in her gander of socialite acquaintances, and this only made life more difficult for Pax as more and more men came to her house, asking for her time. Her mother was thrilled that she had birthed such a creature; her father was pleased that he might marry her further into the Family to better solidify his position.

And so the day came when Manlio Ricci met with their clan's consigliere, a true honor for the caporegime Ricci. He expressed the wishes of their capo de tutti capi for Pax to marry his nephew, one called Guerino Bianchi. Another true honor, of course, and Manlio would be a fool to reject this proposal for fear of disassociation. They agreed, shook hands, and Pax's future was set in stone.

The twittering birds of her mother's social group were in awe; oh, how lucky Pax was to be betrothed to such a man, who could care for her always. And the connections the marriage brought! Well, things were just going so well for the daughter of this particular caporegime, were they not? She would marry the nephew of the capo, have many beautiful children, and live comfortable under the influence of the Family. Of course, they professed, she should be chosen over all of our daughters' she was the most beautiful after all, and would make such a nice match for Guerino. Molto buono.

But Pax did not want this life. She wanted something more, something with thrills and chills and freedom. She knew nothing about Guerino Biachi or his influence, nor did she care. Her pampered life was becoming suffocating, and she ached to leave the Family's influence, to run away from the home she knew in search of something more, something più. Alas the life of a caporegime heiress was restrictive, and she was forced to spend time with bodyguards and clueless daughters of the Family whenever she went out. And it was on one of these outings that things changed drastically for Pax Ricci.

They had been out at a club, and Pax had been mulling over a glass of wine whether or not to attempt another escape from the manicured clutches of the socialites surrounding her. They chatted to each other, no desire in their hearts to include Pax, who sipped her wine and gazed with wanderlust at the exit nearest their table. But bodyguards covered the club, their large forms something that Pax, despite her will to escape, could never take down. So she sipped and waited, sipped and mused, ignoring the chatter of those around her until she was forced to stand and leave the group for the sanctity of the women's restroom.

She looked at herself with disdain; this was a woman who vied to be strong, to be free of her family's hold and yet here she was, living their life as a sheep in a herd. She was disgusted by her reflection, hating what she had let herself become. But there was no freedom, no absolution from what the Family had in store. There was only submission or death, and despite her wishes to be free, death was not fitting for Pax Ricci. So she sighed and moved to leave the restroom, back into the dreary world of wine and women's gossip.

But a hand stopped her at the door, coming stealthily from behind and drugging her with a quick and scentless cloth of chloroform. She could only resist for a brief moment before the drugs overtook her consciousness and she blacked out, lost in the abyss of sleep.

When her consciousness returned she was laying in an uncomfortable bed, the sheets itchy and wrapped around her. Her clothes had been removed and replaced with an uncomfortable pair of sweat pants, elastic with no buttons or strings, and a plain white tee shirt. There was a thin paper cup next to her bed, brimming with cloudy water. She had been taken.

Her meals were brought to her by a meek graying woman, who as far as Pax could tell did not speak English or Italian. She never responded to Pax's cries for help or her angry rants, and arrived promptly at mealtimes with the same dish every day. She survived off of sandwiches and water, and soon grew thinner in her capture. The woman who fed her stayed until she was finished with her food and water, then removed the paper dishes and left, never a word or sound coming from her. Pax wondered if her tongue had been cut out, for the woman never opened her mouth even to breathe. It was strange and cold in her new residence. No one of the elderly woman came, and no one informed her of why she was there. Her free time was spent reading, and when she finished a book a new one was provided by the elderly woman, the old one taken away.

Days blurred, weeks transforming into months with no absolution. Pax grew impatient, wondering why she was here and when she would be set free. The fairy tales of her childhood came to mind, and reluctantly she wished for a hero, some gallant man to burst in through the door with words of rescue and faith rather than the elderly woman who came in with tired meekness. She wished for a prince, for a hero, for her father, even... but there was no hope for the heiress and she waited in silence, her heart failing as she drowned in her solitude.

Eventually another visitor came to the room, this time a man as bleak as the elderly woman who fed her. His visits were spontaneous, but he always came with two large bodyguard. The two large men would move to Pax, and hold her down, ignoring her viscous kicks and screams, withstanding her bites and scratches. The bleak man would then take a needle from his coat and inject Pax with a fluid, which made her sick and sore for hours. She did not know what it was he injected her with, but she fought with a caged animal... all to no avail.

Hope vanished from her mind, and reading now held little pleasure for her in the stillness. She slept most of the day away, her meager meals being left on her bedside table with no flair or kindness. Pax ate only out of need, and slipped into a waking comatose state. The visits by the bleak man occurred more often, his injections growing more painful to withstands, the burning sensations left after each injection would come and go, spurring her mind into delirium, her body wracking in pain. She had little desire left to live when salvation appeared, her knight in shining armor transformed into a gruff man with a pronounced limp and piercing blue eyes.

He called himself Gladstone, and informed her that he worked for an associate of her father's. She didn't care who he was or who he worked for, just that someone was there, and speaking. She cried tears of joy at her rescue and he took her home, wading her through the complex she had been kept in for the last countless months.

Pax hadn't paid attention to his attire at the time, but Gladstone had been sporting multiple weapons on his person at the time of her rescue. She had been too weak to walk, and if she had she would have noticed the dead bodies on the floor, the emotionless eyes of her captors staring into the ceiling forever. She would have seen what Gladstone had done to rescue her, but that didn't matter. All that mattered to Pax was the security and warmth of Gladstone's chest, of his strong arms holding her up and carrying her freedom.

He was her savior, her knight in shining armor. He had pulled her from the hell she had experienced and brought her home, and her homecoming was joyous. Parties were thrown, and Pax was welcomed home with open arms. Her mother cried for the cameras and hugged her moroso, happy for the public that her baby had been returned to her. Her father also seemed sincere in his thanks to the lord for her safe return, although Pax heard different versions when in the privacy of his study.

Pax experienced her homecoming through glossy eyes, her heart still not recovered from the ordeal she had been put through. The bruises on her arms had long since faded, but the trauma unsettled her as it awoke episodes in her mind, shutting down her brain and causing her to malfunction socially. Doctors called her condition post-traumatic stress disorder, and her father felt that, in order to fix her problems, she should be locked in their home until her episodes stopped occurring. But the lapses of traumatic memories only increased during her captivity, forcing her father to shut down external communications completely for his delisione of a daughter. Pax accepted his decision with biting remarks and emotional separation.

Her only saving grace now was the presence of Gladstone, who came to call on her time to time. His visits were pure ecstasy for Pax, who had come to relish in his physical companionship despite their lack of social interaction. She felt safe when he was near her, and his personality awakened something within her that begged for release. It was the excitement she had been searching for before her capture, and now that she had experienced the life of a caged animal, she was desperate to experience the eccitazione she felt she deserved. Aside from that, Gladstone seemed to enjoy her company, as oddly as that seemed to Pax. There was something there between them neither of them fully understood, but craved all the same. A deeper connection was threading itself into their lives that would soon awaken within them both.



Name: Pax Delia Ricci
Age: 25
Gender: female
Sexuality: straight
Involvement: Gladstone
Shift: Jaguar
Appearance: 5'6", 120lbs, blonde hair and hazel(bordering golden-green) eyes.
Languages: English, Italian, French, German, Spanish


human reference

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Pet Treasure


French Textbook

Italian Textbook

Plain Ribbon Journal

Green Lacy Camisole

Navy Small Flats

Gray Beaded Bracelet

Leopard Velvet Sticker

Silly Tabby Kitty Plushie

Pet Friends