Post by ⋆Ravɛn on Apr 2, 2012 12:54:29 GMT -5
KAZOU
"Life is one of the more polite names for hell."
this is me in the flesh,
NAME: Kazuo
NICKNAME(S): None
PRONUNCIATION:Kah-zoo-oh
POSITION: Free-roamer
taste the sky,
AGE: 4 years
GENDER: Male
BREED: Grey wolf
HEIGHT: 32 inches
APPEARANCE:
Apperance reference
Kazuo is a typical grey wolf, standing at 32 inches and weighing near one hundred and forty pounds. Powerful muscles flex beneath a taut, colorful pelt when he moves, and his eyes are almond shaped, a glistening amber-gold in color. His coat is thick, a mixture of grays, browns, and blacks, with white upon his chin and his paws. His gate, when he moves, is quick and deliberate, as if he always knows where he is going. Just below his skull, behind his ears and down further, are thick scars. They are difficult to detect beneath his fur, but easily to detect by touch. His paws are large, his ears triangular, and his nose a glistening black. His claws are long, slightly clear in coloring, and his teeth are an off-white color, a few of them chipped in the back corners of his mouth. He is, overall, a well-built grey wolf, his appearance exactly as it should be.
thoughts that make me go insane,
PERSONALITY:
Kazuo is perhaps one of the most intense, frigid wolves that one might encounter. From a young age, Kazuo came to believe that most people and places were wastes of his time. He grew distant, preferring to keep to himself instead of indulging in the company of others. His eyes are cold, displaying the lack of positive emotions that long ago went missing. It is not because he is incapable of feeling joy or happiness; in fact, he feels these as much as any other wolf, but what brings him glee might cause another to cringe away. When it comes to females and love, Kazuo scoffs, finding love to be a lost cause. Sometimes, he even believes that it does not exist, and that those who believe they experience it are daft and blind to the ways of the world. He vows to never take a mate or intentionally produce offspring. He finds not only women, but everyone to be beneath him, his ego inflated like a balloon. When he speaks, which is quite rare, he makes sure that he is perfectly understood, each word emphasized and deliberate. He has no qualms about taking down whatever or whoever stands in his way, and he finds himself to be quite intelligent.
all over my shoulder,
FATHER: Tyus
MOTHER: Brayan
SIBLINGS:Unnamed [m],unnamed [m]
HISTORY:*
The rain drops made small, clear pattering sounds as they landed on the damp leaves that dangled from tree branches, before rolling noiselessly over the side and onto the ground. Far below the canopy of leaves, a brute hurried along a worn path, his fur slicked down with water. It clung to each strand, rolled steadily down his muzzle, but he was undeterred. From his jaws hung a limp hare, which had been captured only moments before the storm had started. Almost frantically, the brute pushed forward until he stumbled upon a rock wall, and carved into the wall was a cave. Lounging around the cave was a small gathering of wolves, each of them keeping their distance from the opening - aside from one. It was this one that the brute approached, dropping the hare at her feed with a dull thump. She was clearly an older fae, and she stared at him with a grave expression. "How is she?" He asked breathlessly.
"Alive," the fae answered gruffly.
"And the pups?" The male asked anxiously.
An odd look overtook the female's face. "Three males," she began, and the brute's expression was joyous, but it quickly changed as the older wolf continued. "two stillborn."
The male looked distraught. "And what of the third? Sick? Crippled?"
"See for yourself." She stepped aside, and hesitantly, the brute stepped into the den. Curled at the back was his gray mate, and she peered up at him, her expression unreadable. Off to the side, as if pushed away, were two still bodies.
"Tyus," she greeted him, and then without another word, she shifted so that the last remaining pup was in clear view. The brute, Tyus, sucked in a breath. No visible deformities. In fact, the puppy was wriggling and squirming, desperate for it's mothers warmth, as it should be.
Tyus felt his lips stretch into a grin.*
"Kazuo. Don't treat Suki so harshly."
Kazuo immediately crawled off of the pup squirming underneath him, ears pinned against his skull and eyes narrowed, despite his little tail, which wagged back and forth. He found it absolutely ridiculous that his mother refused to allow him to wrestle with Suki, just because she was a girl. It wasn't like he had brothers to wrestle with, although he wished he had. Whenever he asked why he had no siblings, his mother's eyes glimmered as if she were far away from him, and his father gruffly responded that sometimes, life worked in mysterious ways. Kazuo evetually learned to stop asking.
"Suki's the only one I can play with!" He exclaimed, for aside from Suki and her sister, there were no other pups in their very small pack. At five months, he was lanky and awkward, a mass of flailing, stumblings legs and massive ears. His mother simply pinned him with the look, and he reluctantly bounced off to find something that held his interest. Suki, as he had expected, followed. Often the two were seen together, although Suki was two months his elder, as they were best friends. Their mothers tended to whisper that Suki and Kazuo would one day come to be mates, but Kazuo wrinkled his nose at thoughts like this. Mates? With Suki? Disgusting.
Firmly pushing the sickening thoughts from his head, he turned and glanced back at the pup, a mischevious gleam appearing in his eyes. "Wanna race?"*
"Have you seen Suki?"
Kazuo had asked this question perhaps ten times, and finally, he received an answer. He was pointed in the direction of the stream that ran through the forest, and immediately he set off in that direction. He found his mate lounging beside the water, and she smiled, pleased to see him. Quickly he informed her that he would be hunting with her father, and she wished him a safe trip. After nuzzling her and promising her that he would return, he left her there by the stream and moved in the opposite direction, towards the dens where he knew his father was waiting. Funny how only a short time ago, he was wrinkling his nose at the idea of Suki as a mate. Now, at two years, the grey wolf had filled out nicely, his body muscled and strong. And his feelings for his childhood best friend had developed as well.
All throughout the hunt with his father, he thought of her, nearly too distracted to hunt. Perhaps that was why he hadn't noticed his fathers odd behavior; his stuttered words and nervous glances. It was while Kazuo was stalking a doe that Tyus pounced, attacking his son from behind. The last thing Kazuo remembers feeling is pain exploding right behind his skull, and then his world went dark.*
"Kazuo?"
Slowly, his eyes opened. Darkness surrounded him, and beneath his body was a hard, stone floor. For a moment, he could not remember why he was here, or what had happened. His head throbbed, and suddenly, it all came rushing back. He struggled to move, but was pressed back down by a warm, familiar body. Suki.
"Kazuo, please! Do you remember what happened? You didn't come back, and we were worried. We sent someone after you. They found you half-dead in your own blood, and Tyus is nowhere to be found. Were you attacked?"
Kazuo went on to explain, his tone angry and a snarl pulling at his lips, that his own father had turned on him and left him for dead. Suki hardly dared to believe it, and when she relayed the information to the rest of the pack, they were horrified. Why would Tyus suddenly snap and disappear? It made no sense to anyone, and Kazuo's mother was left hurt and confused.
Kazuo, the place behind his skull still sore and torn open, was made to rest. Suki and other members of the pack were constantly visiting him, bringing him both company and food. But despite the company, Kazuo found his thoughts wandering to darker places. He questioned how a father could so easily make an attempt on his son's life, and in turn, he began to question love in general. Love for everything - family, friends, mates. His own pack members, his mother, Suki. He questioned everything, anything, and as he did, his heart grew more closed off to the world, until he refused to speak with anyone. He grew agitated when Suki would visit him, and he would openly turn his mother's affection away.
He had no time for trivial feelings and pointless hopes.*
"Where are you going?"
Suki's voice stopped the brute in his tracks. The stars were glimmering in the sky far above their heads, and Kazuo had assumed that everyone was asleep. He had apparently assumed wrong.
It had been two months since he had recovered. Two months since he had began to act cold towards everything and everyone. Two months since he had changed his views of the world. And now, when he was finally taking his leave, he was interrupted. His lips twitched, a snarl forming as he turned to look at her. How had he ever found her appealing? She was plain. Boring.
"Kazuo..?"
He turned from her, shaking his head.
"Go away."
Although his back was to her, which made him slightly uneasy ever since the incident, he could hear her scurrying after him. She was pleading, questioning why he had become so cold, and with each pathetic whimpered word that slid from her muzzle, Kazuo's agitation grew. He repeated his command, several times, but still she did not listen. Eventually, Kazuo knew that she must have been daft, and his rage skyrocketed. Impulsively, he turned on her, just as his father had turned on him. Surprised, and unsuspecting, Suki was an open target. Kazuo easily tore her throat out and left her writhing on the ground, pathetically gasping for air. So similar it was so his own situation two months prior, but he paid this no mind as he took his leave.*
Over the course of the following two years, Kazuo was constantly traveling. He encountered many wolves who were weaker than he was, wolves that he killed mercilessly if they stood in his path. He also encountered wolves that were stronger than him, more agile, more intelligent. On these circumstances, he barely escaped with his life, but he always slipped by. He was a survivor, and his heart had grown closed off, his mind bitter and sharp.
He was a walking time bomb.
