Scorpion/Qanik Son

Name: Miksa

Appearance: As far as first appearances go, Miksa might not be easily overlooked. He is not overly tall, barely capable of labeling himself as "large" at 35 inches in height, though he does possess the bulk for it. His torso is thick and sturdy, long with a deep chest, and his legs, while they are long and somewhat lanky looking, are deceptively strong, toned, and well matched to support him in any activity, be it a test of endurance or strength. However he does not tend to carry himself in a manner to reflect what he is capable of, and likely he does not fully know it. His posture is more often low, respectful, and polite, solemnly ready to take direction as it is easier than choosing his own.

Colorwise, he strays only slightly from the arctic white expected for a northern wolf. His solid coat deviates in three different places, the first and most noticeable being the dark, black markings that encircle his bright yellow eyes and reach slightly upward toward his brow. The second is a soft, pale tan that covers over the backs of both ears, and the third is a mixture of this light brown and grey that sweeps across his back in subtle ticking that blends it and hides it almost entirely from notice.

Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality: Quiet is a good way to describe the boy, whose patience as well makes him an attentive and kind listener. While he does well on the receiving end to the worries, stories, and instruction that are given to him, Miksa is less proficient in expressing himself. It is not to say he lacks the ability - when his mind is truly put to it he can be a strangely convincing character, his natural quietness lending weight to his words - but he struggles to find the same worth in his own opinions and ideas that others appear to carry so easily. He often second guesses himself, doubts and worries making him hesitate, and likely it will lead to missed opportunities.

But what he lacks in forward speech he makes up for in action. His quick mind, which fails him linguistically, is capable of seeing what needs to be done, and while it trips him up in conversation it tends to throw him into the midst of things if a physical response is open to him. Greetings can often be conveyed with a smile and a tail wag, affection shown with nuzzles and licks, and dangers are faced blindly as he defends or assists those in trouble. Miksa is in no way one to spoil for a fight, but if required he holds every intention of finishing one should he become involved.

Roleplay Sample: He was kicking himself again, mentally questioning why he even bothered liking someone if he was not going to do anything about it. His brown colored ears were folded and his dark marked brows were drawn down over yellow eyes while he trudged through the familiar snowy forest, occasional heavy sighs voicing to the world his frustration. He had had a perfect opportunity today to say something, the pretty girl even lingering with him longer than he had thought she would, but everything Miksa had said had been safe, hiding his growing affections and keeping her in the dark. No matter how many opportunities he seemed to be faced with - even the day before there had been time! - he worried himself into staying quiet, leaving him wondering both times if he had lost his opportunity entirely.

Finding the tree that he often retreated to - a large, wide one with a surprisingly comfy base - the boy stopped beneath it and flopped upon his stomach, still brooding quietly to himself. Maybe he should just give up. Talking was obviously getting him nowhere, and even when he stopped he could not gather up the nerve to do anything else that would suggest any of his feelings. Maybe it was already a lost cause and she was tired of him, ready to make friends elsewhere, possibly with someone who did not stall as much as he did.

Miksa blinked his bright eyes sadly, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, and as he stared ahead he spotted something amid the hard vegetation of the north. Browns, deep greens, and the white of snow were all very common here, so the rosy bloom seemed to stand out from the background around it, catching his eye. He lifted his head, stared, got to his paws, and stared some more before venturing over to it and the other flowers who shared the little sunny space with it. It was pretty, even compared to the others, and on impulse he reached down with careful jaws and plucked it from the ground. Resolutely he turned, heading back for the dens, in particular the one the pretty girl occupied. She would not be there now, but that was all for the better. How surprised would she be to see the flower left just for her, he wondered, heart already beginning to race at his own brave scheme. And maybe that would be hint enough to her of how he felt.

(Kinda lame and cutesy, but it was all that was coming to me, meh.)