#misshowel

Evelyn Heather Wilde-Hops

NICK

Evelyn Heather Wilde-Hops

In which Rosalind Howel, press liasion for the ZPD ( @misshowel ), makes contact with Mayor Canidae and the two discuss the mayor’s policies. Great example of how Canidae interacts with other wolves - a constant balance of hiding her true species for fear of ridicule.

"Eeeww, she touched you, she touched you!" The words echoed across the school yard, repeated by one child, then another, and another. Soon it was close to an amused hysteria with young mammals running about and pretending to be terrified as the disastrous plague spread across the group. Those touched with the 'disease' gladly chased the others, teasing and taunting that they were going to get infected. It was much like an insane game of tag, where each child tagged became another tagger, until only one was left; the original carrier. The other children dispersed into various groups, laughing and snickering, glancing and whispering. Alone she stood, it hadn't taken more than a few minutes for the entire group of children to leave the yard, some going to play at the playground, some in the little wood behind the school, and some went back inside. Her paw was still up, one finger raised a bit more, as she'd only gently poked a classmate's shoulder in order to ask if they'd seen her backpack. A single, innocent tap on the shoulder had unleashed this cruel game, and the children playing it most likely had no idea how it made her feel. After all, they simply did what was fun, they only did what everyone else was doing. As long as one child found it amusing to taunt her, the rest would follow. Call it pack, herd, flock or family, the mentality was the same and it was strong.

"I guess you haven't seen it.." Swiping the back of her hand across her pink nose, she snivelled lightly before letting out a sigh. Red eyes were watching the ground as she walked, observing the pink tint on her toes, the pink claws. Glancing over at her hand, even her paw pads were pink. All extremities, the rim around her eyes, the inside of her ears, all had varying shades of the typical albino blush. The rest of her body was white as snow. The genetic difference between her and another white wolf wasn't technically all that big; it was the visual difference that was striking. It was the visual difference they latched on to. Of course, her weak and brittle constitution - while it could have been much worse than it was - didn't help other than to drive the point home further; she wasn't the same as them. Even the things that worked exceptionally well with her gave cause for outright bullying; her impressive hearing was freaky, her ability to excel in school made her weird. And with how she was able to move so nimbly with impeccable balance, why she must not only be adopted, she must be an alien!

They were far fetched insults, but children rarely care much for logic. They see a difference, they take advantage of it. They make others see the difference in order to have peers to laugh with. They build packs, herds, flocks or families, all based on having the same opinion of something. To animals her age, fitting in, belonging somewhere, having friends, it was everything. An animal without friends could just as well not be an animal at all. And what was a wolf, without a pack? It was nothing.

Rosalind sat down in the small sand box, smiling to herself as she began playing around with building a castle. The other children would never succeed in breaking her spirit, because she did have a pack. It consisted of only three other wolves, but that was more than enough for her to tough through the day. She had her mom, she had her dad, and she had Andrew.

Because original character abuse is a-okay.

While Rosalind managed to get through her childhood while still feeling loved and cherished, it was anything but easy. She’s lucky she had her safety net consisting of her parents and best friend, otherwise her life might have been very different, if there had been a life at all. 

It was her first big press conference with the new mayor. Though a memo had informed her of the particulars weeks ago, the details to be discussed at the conferences were: restructuring of the ZPD, an agreement between the new mayor and the commissioner to use private military contractors in police positions. As Howel waited for her the mayor, she could see the crowd of press gathered. Every major network had reporters, from newspapers to television.

Slowly, a limousine pulled up near the open garden area; Aurelina had decided to hold the conference in a section of Zootopia Central Park dedicated to the men and women of the ZPD. With the bearing of a film star, she was ushered out of the limo, sunglasses obscuring her pink eyes, but the sun hitting her hair and exposing the peculiar color. She took the stage with aplomb, a flowing, but professional, dress adorning her figure. She looked more starlet than mayor, but that was simply her bombastic style. With a slight nod to Howel, she reached out to shake her hand, holding the pose for photos to be taken, and then turned to the lecturn. Since Lionheart had been mayor, someone had forgotten to get a shorter one, and the wolfess had to climb two stairs to stand behind it properly.

“It is my pleasure to announce this sweeping change for the ZPD. Dear Miss Howel here represents the department’s interests, and though my negotiations went with the commissioner, her could not be here today... As such, I’d like you to welcome the public face of the department, the press-lead, Miss Howel.” She gave the other wolf a side glance as the gathered crowd clapped politely.