Vermillion

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Female Zoroark 5’9” 1.75m 157 lbs 71.2 kg Chaotic Neutral

• Usually pred
• Usually fatal Unwilling prey Max Capacity: 2.5x body mass

Placement: The Pokeverse Birthdate: 7/25 Family/Relatives: Her parents who she has long left behind. Likes: Xerxes, cool weather, adventures. Dislikes: Water, chipped nails, being bored. Hobbies: Drawing with her claws, improving her illusions. Favorite Food: Salty foods, tired prey. Fighting Style(s): Claw arts and dark attacks; trickery. Favorite Move(s): Sucker Punch, Trick. Rivals: Xerxes. Status: Living

Name: Vermillion Age: 24 (human equivalent) Race/Species: Zoroark

Physical Appearance

Vermillion cuts a striking figure—lean but densely muscled, her body built like a coiled spring ready to snap. Her fur is gray. The fur around her throat and collarbone is darker to a nice black, she has lots of very long back hair.

Her claws are her pride—red, meticulously sharpened, and often glinting with residual dark energy. They curve just slightly too long to be practical, a deliberate choice. One claw on her left hand bears a hairline fracture from a past skirmish, which she refuses to fix, calling it a "souvenir." Her muzzle is sharp, aristocratic, but her grin ruins any elegance—it’s all teeth, jagged and white, with one incisor slightly crooked from where she once bit through something (or someone) harder than expected.

Eyes like smoldering coals—amber with flecks of burnt orange—never stay still, always darting, calculating. The pupils contract to slits when she’s focused, round out when she’s amused. Her tail is restless, flicking like a metronome set to chaos, the fur at its tip permanently ruffled from habitual agitation.

She moves with a predator’s economy, but there’s a theatricality to it—an unnecessary roll of her shoulders when she walks, a pause to stretch her claws just to watch light catch the edges. Even standing still, she seems moments from pouncing, her weight always balanced on the balls of her feet. The faint scent of iron and something ozone-sharp clings to her, a byproduct of her illusions simmering under her skin.

Her mane is her vanity—thick, ink-black fur streaked with crimson at the tips, meticulously groomed except for one stubborn tuft behind her left ear that refuses to lay flat. She’ll fuss at it for hours if left unsupervised.

And she’s loud. Not just her voice—every step is a click of claws, every breath a near-purr, every rustle of fur like parchment being crumpled. She doesn’t sneak. She announces.

Personality

Vermillion is a whirlwind of chaotic energy, a creature of pure impulse who thrives on mischief and momentary thrills. Boredom is her mortal enemy—she’ll latch onto anything (or anyone) that promises excitement, dissecting it for entertainment until the novelty wears thin. Xerxes, her reluctant partner, tolerates her hyperactive antics with gritted teeth, though even he can’t deny the strange charm in her relentless enthusiasm. She’s the kind of predator who plays with her food—literally—delighting in the chase, the struggle, and the eventual submission of her prey.

Despite her wildness, there’s a method to her madness. She’s obsessive about her appearance, spending hours grooming her crimson-tipped mane and claws, though she’d sooner set herself on fire than step into a bath. Water is her nemesis; the mere suggestion of being clean sends her into theatrical fits of protest. She’s vain in a feral way, preening like a cat but recoiling from anything that threatens her carefully cultivated "natural" musk—a scent she wears like a badge of pride.

Her loyalty to Xerxes is absolute, though it manifests in the most exasperating ways possible. She’ll follow him into hell, cracking jokes and treating dire situations like a game, much to his chagrin. Respect is a foreign concept to her—she teases, prods, and pushes boundaries, treating life as one big improvisation. But beneath the chaos, there’s a razor-sharp cunning. She’s a master of deception, using her illusions and physicality to manipulate others, always with a grin that says, "C’mon, you know you love this."

Restless, irreverent, and utterly unpredictable, Vermillion doesn’t just break the rules—she sets them on fire and dances in the ashes.

Background:

Vermillion hatched under a blood-red moon in the jagged highlands of an uncharted region—a place where Zoroark packs ruled through fear and illusion. Her earliest memories were of hunger, not for food, but for more—more thrill, more chaos, more of the world’s secrets unraveled between her claws. Her parents were traditionalists, teaching her to hunt with precision and vanish like smoke. But precision bored her. By the time her mane had fully grown in, she’d already staged three "deaths" to escape the pack’s hierarchy, leaving them to mourn a ghost who giggled from the treetops.

Her turning point came when she stumbled upon Xerxes mid-ritual, his claws buried in the chest of a bounty hunter twice his size. Where others saw brutality, Vermillion saw art. She invited herself into his life by mimicking the hunter’s dying screams—a flawless impersonation that made even Xerxes pause. He tried to shake her off. She dug in harder. They fought. She lost. They fought again. She lost better. By the fifth skirmish, he stopped unsheathing his claws when she shadowed him.

Now, she wears his tolerance like a trophy. The wilderness forged her, but Xerxes? He gave her a purpose. Not that she’d admit it. Some illusions are best left unbroken.

types of vore thay do

Soft vore - In soft vore, prey is consumed alive and whole — though not always willingly — and are often unharmed before reaching the stomach, where digestion, asphyxiaton, transformation or simple captivity may await. Soft vore is often regarded as sensual and sexually-oriented due to its largely non-violent nature. Some vorarephiles derive pleasure from watching animals like snakes eat other animals, as they usually swallow their prey whole, a major element in soft vore.

Sometimes the prey simply being in the predator's mouth, often with implied intent to eat but without actually being swallowed is considered soft vore. the prey is likely to comment on the pred's breath upon exiting the mouth.

Anal vore (tail hole) (her fave) - Anal vore is the consumption the character via anus or tail hole. The prey is typically drawn through the digestive tract to the stomach where they are digested in a normal fashion. Conversely, prey may simply remain in the predator's rectum for a time.

unbirthing/unbirth vore (only does with friends) - the process consist for the female of one world to swallow someone with their womb and as the prey is in the pred's womb, the predator has now two choice; first, they could put them in for safe keeping if there is danger; Second, they can transform the prey into their child so they are now the species of the predator (if asked), some do change the gender as they transform them.