Last Chance at Ryven Babbus!!
04-29-2014, 08:11 AM
Hi I'm Will. I'm hanging out in the cbox so you can catch me there if you wanna chat.
Name change?: Seva Luponigro -> Crowe Luponigro
Design number: 1
Personality: He is a fearless and passionate fire. A heart which beats cold in his chest guides the mind which wanders on a path of uncertainty. Crowe is instability, he is chaos. There is a trapped and twisted beast dwelling within the cavity of his soul, it burns like the unrelenting caress of sunlight. He keeps his thoughts hidden, his truths are his alone. Secrets are to the boy as treasure, he hordes them much as the dragon hordes his gold. A dragon among wolves.
He clings to the heel of his kin, a silent shadow. His words are to be heard on privilege not by right. he is careless in his body language, reckless in his nature. The sight of anger and hatred, death and pain are nothing to him. Grief, however, he relishes. There is not a reason for it, yet he seeks it out anyway. Does not feel it for himself, nor guilt or compassion. Every inch of his being is drawn by avarice and envy to experience and horde.
Crowe must know, he must learn he must be. Everything which exists must find its way to him, it must be his. Only his blood kin can achieve anything close to a kinship with him, he loves them with that fierce passion which like fire can burn until it consumes even what it wishes to protect. Obsesses over them to a point where jealousy drives him to violence, his sister... his Mother. They are his alone. His family, his kin. His forever.
RP sample: He wears a mask of a sullen nature. Ears falling back toward his head and eyes telling no tales. His body is rigid, paws pressing hard into the Earth. The bird watches him with beady dark eyes, a curiousness in its death's mask. He rolls his shoulders forward, head dipping slightly as if in silent conversation. The large black avian spreads its wings, offers a lazy roll of its head and settles once more. The boy wonders what it must be thinking.
His dark coat offers him protection, leaves him hidden and disguised in the shadows, he draws in a breath the first in a long time. The bird caws at him, breaks the silence and it sounds like a thousand earthquakes. Crowe's ears flick suddenly forward and he moves with a fluidity unmatched, a dragon uncoiling and lunging from its cavernous home. His mouth is wide, fangs glinting in the sun's dying light as he breaks form the shadow.
There is a moment where time stops, the bird has flapped her mighty wings to find solace in the sky, yet she hangs suspended. He is on his paws, fore legs raised from the ground as he lunges upward. They hang there for a terrifying moment as time races forward to catch up, as the death mask sets itself forever on her small emotionless face.
Crowe's fangs find their mark, they close around blackened feathers, turn them crimson with the bird's blood. His head jerks left and right, worrying the body. It cries out, sends the others flying from trees to the relative safety of the world above. A world he cannot reach. A second bite is more than simply a hold, he breaks the fragile bones and punctures organs, her blood turns the small section of white on his muzzle to red.
Once more the boy is seated, body tense and eyes locked on the form of a large black bird. He watches as it swoops down to the corpse lying in the snow, three more join it and tear at the body. The eyes are swallowed whole, the liver is fought over. He wonders how many he can kill before they reach the sky.
Name change?: Seva Luponigro -> Crowe Luponigro
Design number: 1
Personality: He is a fearless and passionate fire. A heart which beats cold in his chest guides the mind which wanders on a path of uncertainty. Crowe is instability, he is chaos. There is a trapped and twisted beast dwelling within the cavity of his soul, it burns like the unrelenting caress of sunlight. He keeps his thoughts hidden, his truths are his alone. Secrets are to the boy as treasure, he hordes them much as the dragon hordes his gold. A dragon among wolves.
He clings to the heel of his kin, a silent shadow. His words are to be heard on privilege not by right. he is careless in his body language, reckless in his nature. The sight of anger and hatred, death and pain are nothing to him. Grief, however, he relishes. There is not a reason for it, yet he seeks it out anyway. Does not feel it for himself, nor guilt or compassion. Every inch of his being is drawn by avarice and envy to experience and horde.
Crowe must know, he must learn he must be. Everything which exists must find its way to him, it must be his. Only his blood kin can achieve anything close to a kinship with him, he loves them with that fierce passion which like fire can burn until it consumes even what it wishes to protect. Obsesses over them to a point where jealousy drives him to violence, his sister... his Mother. They are his alone. His family, his kin. His forever.
RP sample: He wears a mask of a sullen nature. Ears falling back toward his head and eyes telling no tales. His body is rigid, paws pressing hard into the Earth. The bird watches him with beady dark eyes, a curiousness in its death's mask. He rolls his shoulders forward, head dipping slightly as if in silent conversation. The large black avian spreads its wings, offers a lazy roll of its head and settles once more. The boy wonders what it must be thinking.
His dark coat offers him protection, leaves him hidden and disguised in the shadows, he draws in a breath the first in a long time. The bird caws at him, breaks the silence and it sounds like a thousand earthquakes. Crowe's ears flick suddenly forward and he moves with a fluidity unmatched, a dragon uncoiling and lunging from its cavernous home. His mouth is wide, fangs glinting in the sun's dying light as he breaks form the shadow.
There is a moment where time stops, the bird has flapped her mighty wings to find solace in the sky, yet she hangs suspended. He is on his paws, fore legs raised from the ground as he lunges upward. They hang there for a terrifying moment as time races forward to catch up, as the death mask sets itself forever on her small emotionless face.
Crowe's fangs find their mark, they close around blackened feathers, turn them crimson with the bird's blood. His head jerks left and right, worrying the body. It cries out, sends the others flying from trees to the relative safety of the world above. A world he cannot reach. A second bite is more than simply a hold, he breaks the fragile bones and punctures organs, her blood turns the small section of white on his muzzle to red.
Once more the boy is seated, body tense and eyes locked on the form of a large black bird. He watches as it swoops down to the corpse lying in the snow, three more join it and tear at the body. The eyes are swallowed whole, the liver is fought over. He wonders how many he can kill before they reach the sky.