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The Burning Star
Loner
Statistics
Species
Mackenzie valley wolf

Sex
Demiboy (AFAB) (They/Them/He)

Age
5

Height
Very Tall

Weight
Light

Build
Average

Eyes
Metallic gold

Fur
pale blues that fade to washed out yellow

Scent
Bergamot, Hint of Smoke, Vetiver

Oddities
forehead diamond

Mark of Mythris
None


Posts

Threads

Willful - Observant - Painfully honest
#1
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[Image: da25c57accb8c20c7348839d7735858d.jpg]
Womp Womp motherfuckers
3-3-3 OC
N/A
0/30


Vespero Fafnir Emotional Actions Thoughts

Vespero was quiet, listening to Fafnir complain every 5 fucking seconds in his ear, god did he ever shut up? No is the answer he got when a loud scream filled his mind and ears as Fafnir wailed about being bored.

Ah couldn’t care less if ye're fashed, Fafnir. Just shut yer gob.

A brief flick of his tail, a small twitch of a rounded ear, and Vespero was finally at the border of a pack he'd smelt very frequently in passing. His tail twitched slowly, ears tilting backwards, leaning to set the pup in his jaws down, Little Sabine had been the only pup to survive of the two, the other buried far north, somewhere bitter and cold, no place for a pup, but also the only place he could bury them without leaving the small living one alone. Oh if only he had someone to watch Sabine..

That is why he's come here, his tail flicked, and his nostrils flared as he soon tilted his head back into a bellowing howl, a summons for whoever leads this pack, a greeting, a question, all in one, mingling and cascading across the meadows like a wave.

Do you really think a packs gonna protect that little demon? They're worse than yew, and a packs gonna hate that!

Vespero was silent, doing his best to ignore Fafnir despite him being right in his ear, and simply watched forwards, keeping a paw hooked around Sabine silently.



Scottish Gaelic English Vespero English Fafnir
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the Dreamer
Kingdom of Avon (Matriarch)
Statistics
Species
Mixed Breed Wolf

Sex
Female (She/Her)

Age
5 years (5/1/2021)

Height
Very Tall

Weight
Average

Build
Athletic

Eyes
Sage green

Fur
Tones of blush, soft cream, and a dash of coffee

Scent
Lavender, honey, florals and citrus

Oddities
Wavy, tumbled fur - frequently dotted with flowers and foliage

Mark of Mythris
Idle motes of light

Writer

Posts

Threads

Sociable​​ ʚїɞ ​Gentle ʚїɞ Dreamer
#2
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Skill
Leader (1/5)



All around her, the world was being torn asunder. The dark of night was unrelenting and it reflected the pitch of every living thing's imminent demise.

Fable found herself bracing for impact at any given moment, as though the sky might fall at last - scattered, ragged pieces designed to crush anything or anyone unlucky enough to linger beneath them. But the fall never came, and it left her energy charged like having her fur ruffled against the grain.

Add in her mother's poor - worsening - condition and the absence of her daughters, and her mental fatigue was great. It felt insurmountable, sometimes; as though she might crumple beneath the weight of it without any warning at all.

When a howl rose to the air, she didn't hesitate to answer it with a responding call of her own. The end of days might be near, but it would be against her nature to not return a summons - if it was someone injured, she would want their final moments to be as comfortable as possible, even when she, herself, was coming apart at the seams.

Operating on auto pilot, she veered toward the stranger and stopped near them with a curious look planted across her features, her feet firmly within Avon's bounds as she afforded them space.

Hello, she greeted, a smile spanning across her muzzle in a way she hoped did not betray the fatigue tinging her. Ye have found th' Kingdom o' Avon. Her gaze looked them over for wounds before snagging on their daughter. A pang sailed through her chest; she wondered if she would see her own children before the world went dark once and for all.

Her eyes skipped back to, presumably, the child's parent or guardian figure as she added, Is there anything we can help ye with?
[Image: Viv_FableFB.gif]
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