Harley_Hunt

((Image is not owned by the player, and is primarily used b/c a profile without any image just-feels empty to me. For an idea of Harley's build, this https://pre00.deviantart.net/4067/th/pre/i/2014/110/6/f/chubby_bunny__by_nekomimi_loli-d7fbrc7.jpg is a good approximation until I get a comission done!))
((Note: Player is very flexible, and happy to play this character differently. Please, feel free to ask! This character is a female version of Harley_Chase, because The Hunt cares not for gender, and neither does the manifestation of the Hunted. ))

Nearly every pantheon has a god of the hunt. Flidais. Wōden. Artemis. Pakhet. Obad-Hai. On and on, an endless list. Guardians of the hunt and the hunters, of the chase, of skill and strength and speed. Champions of the battle between the predator and prey, the manifestation of the struggle to survive by taking the life of another.

And then there's... Harley.

You see, for almost every push, there is a pull. For every demon an angel, for every yin a yang. Forces and concepts that mirror each other, but are not always, necessarily, in balance

And if there are hunters, then there must be hunted.

Harley, then, is--well, it's not entirely clear.. She's somewhere between a demi-god and an anthropomorphic personification, almost more nature spirit than diety. She seems more like she is the manifestation of that side of the coin, the ultimate manifestation of those whose lives are doomed to end as a wet, gooey *gltch*, a part of the natural order made manifest, rather than some deity listening to the prayers of mortals. She has no temple, no adherents, no religion, no worshipers.

She doesn't really even have any powers . Oh, sure, she has heightened senses, and she's a fair bit more durable than a baseline mortal, but all that serves to do is let her churn down for longer.
And what's worse, she sometimes seems like she might not know what she is.

Sometimes, she's just going about a normal, ordinary mortal life. Buying clothes, eating food, going to work, worrying about bills, her driver's license, the works! But while her memories stretch back all the way to her childhood, she can't help but escape the nagging feeling that something doesn't add up. And the evidence of her existence doesn't seem to go back nearly that far...

Sometimes she's simply been recently given form, and is just straight up confused about everything , including the fact that she knows she knows things, but doesn't ever remember learning them. Or, frankly, even remember existing prior to a few moments ago...

But sometimes, she does know who, and what, she is, and its those times that she tends to at least appear to be grumpy about it. When Harley knows she's been given the short end of the spiritual stick-that she literally exists to be hunted, to be consumed, whether by a diety (or dieties!) of the hunt, or by other forest spirits, or in some sort of ritual chase with a priest or priestess tucking her away somewhere hot, and dark, and squeezy.

Or even just by some random schlub on the street!

It's rather difficult for an mortal to distinguish her from-well. Another ordinary mortal. Anyone unordinary (a mage, a god, a spirit, a demon)-might not know what she is, but they'd know this bunny-girl isn't fully human.

"What? Uh, yes. They're totally fake, I just like wearing them. So there's no need for you to touch the-nnggghh.." -Harley, as someone asks about the weak point that is her ears.