Sylvia Katherine Dane

Sylvia has brown, wavy hair that reaches the back of her neck and spills slightly down her back. Her eyes are a light green and are underlined by the freckles scattered across her cheeks. She as a slender build to her, reaches five feet five inches (5'5''), and weighs in at around one hundred and fifty pounds (150 lbs).

In her wolf form, she has long, powerful legs and a trim body. Her fur is brown with flecks of gray and various other shades of brown. She is thirty-four inches (34 in) at the shoulder in this form.

She is often seen wearing comfortable clothes, such as a tank top and jeans. As long as it isn't heavily restricting, she'll wear it on a day to day basis. For formal occasions, she brings out elegant dresses and puts in earrings, dabs on some makeup, and readies herself to be a proper lady—for once.

Affectionate | Caring | Loyal | Considerate | Friendly

Everyone has a good side, even if that side is a front. Sylvia is highly affectionate, and doesn't really have a problem showing it. She cares deeply about others and usually puts them before herself, meaning she often shoves her problems under the rug in order to listen to the problems of others. She is fiercely loyal to those that earn her trust, and tends to remain that way even if she finds out they use her, just because she doesn't want to be abandoned. Sylvie does her best to be considerate of others and their feelings, and is friendly even to those that do her wrong.

Secretive | Low Self-Esteem | Unforgiving | Jealous | Pessimistic

Despite her outward appearances, Sylvia keeps a lot to herself. She doesn't talk about her past if she can help it, and she usually lies about her own feelings. She has no faith in herself, bringing her self-esteem down to next to nothing. Perhaps something that doesn't help is the fact she tends to hold on to grudges, even though she acts like she forgives everyone for everything. In reality, she is heavily jealous when she is left out of social outings with close friends and when others flirt with guys she has a thing for. Her overall outlook on life is that it's rather pointless, but she's still here, for some reason.

Sylvia doesn't talk about her past much. Born and raised in the South Norfolk area of Chesapeake, Virginia, she had a fairly regular childhood up until the age of nine, when she as molested by a family friend. He was promptly removed from her life. Over the years she went through therapy to help with the depression and post-traumatic stress disorder that arose from that event.

After the event, she had a typical time in middle school—meaning, she hated it. No one ever has anything nice to say about their time in middle school. She started cutting for a while, but that faded into nothing when she got on anti-depressants. For a while, her life was semi-normal.

The part of her life that she won't talk about is when she became suicidal and was put in a hospital. It wasn't a psychiatric ward, just an area in the hospital sectioned off for those that were, like her, suicidal. After being there a week, she was released. The psychiatrist in the hospital suggested that she move out of her parent's house and start living her own life.

And that's what Sylvia did. She packed up and set a course for Chicago, hoping that she could make a new living there. Before she left, her best friend, Michael, gave her a knife with a handle that looked like a Celtic Cross. He told her to keep it on her, just in case. She agreed to.

It has been six month since she left her smaller, quieter life in Virginia. Since then she has been bitten by a werewolf. Sylvie is still getting used to the lapses in her memory three days out of the month, but she has started looking for a place where she can lock herself in so that maybe, hopefully, she won't kill anyone she loves by accident, especially if her friend decides to visit.

It's going to be a long lifetime.

“No, not again,” Sylvia murmured. She could feel the transformation coming on, the way her muscles tensed and reformed, bones crushing themselves as they tried to flow between the mess of muscle. Her eyes closed against the agony emanating from her body, and when they opened again they were no longer the lovely shade of green her friends knew and loved, but a thirsty golden color.

What stood in her place was a brown wolf, long legs sprouting under a slim form. They almost looked like stilts. No trace of human recognition remained in those silent eyes. The wolf lifted its muzzle and sniffed the air, following the scent of meat that wafted in from the open window. A butchery was closing up down the street.

The wolf leaped down from the one-story window. This would end up being the second time Sylvia blacked out and found that she couldn't remember anything from the last three days. And this time, she would believe that she really had changed into a werewolf. They do exist.