Post by eskim on Mar 16, 2007 19:33:49 GMT -5
______________
B a s t i a n ;
until then you can run away
do your best to hide your face
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Name: Bastian (Bass-chi-an)
Age: 5
Sex: Male
Species: Mackenzie Valley wolf
Height: 36 inches
As a pup, Bastian was the ugly duckling. You know what I mean – gangly, scruffy, scrawny. To put it frankly, he was downright ugly. His mother loved him, his father was ashamed of him and his siblings bullied him relentlessly. He grew up with perpetually low self-esteem. Taking the persona of a loner, preferring life on the outside – if that can be termed as life. However, as he grew, he changed. Transformed from hideous pup to beautiful swan. Majestic, almost ethereal in some aspects, a regular teenage heartthrob… on the outside.
On the inside he’s still the same kid he used to be. The abuse of his past has left him with many scars, none of them fading. Girls scare him to the point of paranoia, his self-confidence dropping from zero to negative below. As a male, filled to bursting with testosterone, this fear casts him outside the boundaries of what is “normal” for his age. He may have a pretty-face but he’s still a misfit, his identity remains a mystery even to himself. Yet, through all the blows he’s taken, he’s still a genuinely good guy. On a first impression, Bastian often comes across as guarded and aloof; friendly… but not like he actually wants to make friends. What good are they anyway? They just cause more pain and suffering. He’s naturally skeptical and wary about strangers. He always keeps cool by not coming across as rude, merely polite.
Another scar near his heart is the way he shies away from trust. It’s very hard to coax him out of his shell, to get him to talk about himself freely. Trust is something hard to gain yet, very easily lost. He’s sensitive and, once trusted, will take anything said to him by heart. Bastian is easily hurt, mockery and rumors often cut deeper than they were intended. And, although he’s good at hiding his pain, he could be dieing inside and his friends would be unaware of it. Wolves often feel like they’re walking on thin ice around Bastian, anything could be taken the wrong way. However, he does have a sense of humor and if he tells you he trusts you, he means it. If he lets you in on a secret, you risk his life by telling it to anyone else. If he considers you his friend, he’d die for you any day.
Bastian is patient and mature in his thinking, he’s kind and polite, respectful and dignified. Perfect boyfriend material and it was every mother’s dream that he would fall in love with their daughters. It’s just that cursed fear, he’ll turn tail and run if a she-wolf so much as walks towards him. Bastian thinks he’s the ugliest thing on four legs, years of taunting has him convinced that he’s disgusting and no amount of reflections are going to change his mind. While girls swoon as he walks by, Bastian will begin to feel sick with guilt. He’s an outcast, if girls, if <I>anyone</I>, knew the true wolf inside they’d be disgusted. It’s because of this terror that Bastian constantly feels like he’s being judged, so he’s always a little bit unsure of himself around others. He doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not, which almost makes it worse. Poor thing has learned he can’t run from himself.
But he’s got a brain – a healthy, active, above-average brain. During the worst of the brutality, Bastian would often hide within himself for days. His “happy place” was located in his mind, and he’d retreat there when things got tough. As you’d expect, however, he’s too modest to take any credit for his ideas.
If you didn’t get enough from the picture, I’ll describe his appearance a little bit more.
A mess of thick, white fur coats his muscular body. Wild, untamable, his pelt seems to have a life of it’s own. It ripples and tenses with the fluid movements of the muscles, the power contained in this male. His chest is a white flame, fur spirals around his front legs, bursting with energy and compassion. His tail is thicker than those of most wolves his age and majestically full. His face is calm, although it perceives a notable absence of optimism. Deep, seemingly bottomless, hazel eyes are the only holes in his mask. Everything else, every other emotion can be blocked perfectly by the rest of his face if he so chooses. Yet gazing into his eyes will reveal his feelings, his desires, his soul.
Sample Post:
The sky could have been described in one word, dangerous. Dangerous because it always yielded the beginning signs of rain a few seconds before it actually rained. Or dangerous because it had this nasty habit of getting you to believe all hell is about to break loose from up above and then the clouds blow over and the sun shines out as though it just pulled a particularly good trick. Nope, in this case it was dangerous because it always seemed like “the thing to talk about” when you’re confronted with a pretty she-wolf looking to start a conversation. It’s always, “My my, don’t the clouds look pretty today?” or, “I thought for sure it was going to rain today, hmm.” And then you’re forced to reply in a way that makes you seem as though you care so as not to come across as rude. At least this is what Bastian has observed to be true, from his hiding place beneath the underbrush he’s scoffed at many a stud saying the wrong thing and ending up empty-handed. When will they learn that you just can’t get by with grunting?
From beneath the bracken, Bastian eyed an especially pretty female as she padded by. Probably on her way to meet some, lucky guy. He muttered under his breath. More like an exhale of sound than muttering really; he couldn’t risk being heard by anyone. Yet, the she-wolf still paused for a second, as if waiting for another sound. Bastian held his breath, his muscles tense. She made as though to walk towards his hiding place, hesitating with a dainty paw in the air, before continuing on her way. Bastian let out his breath, and relaxed, calming his nerves and taming the trembling in his legs. What would he have done if she’d found him? Run? Probably, he was pretty good at it too. If the sight of his face didn’t scare her off first, that is.
With a sigh, Bastian laid his head down upon his white paws and shut his eyes, going into doze-mode. His ears twitched in his sleep, that one part of his brain still awake, still probing the setting for life.
OOC: Done, finally. I've been thinking of some pretty interesting plots for him too. Message if you wanna hear them? Maybe get involved?