[Scarfire ;]

username :: scarfire ;
name :: entei
gender :: unknown, but considered to be male


Pokeball design; WIP
Personality; WIP
Backstory; WIP
Why does it love fire?; WIP
Extras; (You can have up to 3)

ohmygod reserve

[cinnamonroll]

Reserve

[Little Fish]

Possible reserve o mi gosh.

[Klyse]

Username; Dan Howell
Name; Entei
Gender; Male
Pokeball design;
Personality;
Backstory;
Why does it love fire?;
Extras; (You can have up to 3)
wip c:

[Becaw]

Username;
rancidPoet
Name;
Axel
Gender;
Male
Pokeball design;
The ball itself appears to be made of lava. Holding it in the right like will create the illusion of flames engulfing the pokeball. In the event Axel is away from it the ball will slowly grow hotter as he approaches; no need to worry though, it's highly resistant to flames or heat of any degree.
Personality;
Strong and but very misunderstood due to his connections with fire. This is very much a reason he spends his time alone. With his apathetic aura Axel gives off the impression that he's fearless. Very much the silent type, right as you're about to speak to him he's gone without a trace. He would much rather observe you than greet you. Getting close to him is dangerous as he is not very likely to open up, but if he does there is nothing that he wouldn't do for you.
Backstory;
Mystery surrounds this ancient beast; thought to be one the oldest living Plumerians, Axel was born 4360 B.C.E. from the volcanic eruption of Macauley Island. His eyes glowed like the lava did and his paws strode across the molten earth with ease. He observed the nearly uninhabited island around him as one of the natives became curious about this fiery stranger. They spent a brief moment observing one another and just as the native walked toward him Axel vanished from the island, and began his journey around what is now called the Ring of Fire.
Why does it love fire?;
Axel loves fire because it's a beautiful force; not just destructive, fires can restore the balance in an area, return the nutrients. He's not fascinated by its tenancy to hurt but its ability to heal.
Extras; (You can have up to 3)
~ Poem:
The flames they beckon
And draw me near.
They flicker little secrets
And settle my fear.
The blaze it soothes
Just as it burns.
And just like a fire
My heart loves to yearn.
And just as a flame
It tends to expand
Without control
It would cover the land.
All those in its path
Would just run and flee
Rather than watch all the good
That this fire could be.

~ Entei (cause why not c:):


~ (Probably a drawing of the plumie) WIP

[kh.aotic]

Username; Czhu02
Name;
Gender;
Pokeball design;
Personality;
Backstory;
Why does it love fire?;
Extras; (You can have up to 3)

marks

[star note]

Omg marking

[Lioness626]

Username; Lioness626
Name;
Gender;
Pokeball design;
Personality;
Backstory;
Why does it love fire?;
Extras; (You can have up to 3)

[Offended Cockatiel]

Username; Byteme
Name; Phons
Gender; Male
Pokeball design;

A big black orb, shaded with a darkly purple hue, it seems cold, unnerving. It somehow looks stunted, like a black hole yet it is weightless. So thin, so fragile and smooth that it may break into pieces if thrown or tapped, or placed akwardly. It seems to be made of glass, easy to shatter. Gleams in the sunlight.

Personality;

A gentle hand and a strategic brain can get you very far. Though not as far as you mite hope. Phons is a little bigger than most, and does not seam to be adaptive to his naturally larger parts. He is clumsy beyond belief, and has a habit of at least knocking one thing over in the five minutes he spends in front of any person in particular before him. He is secluded, a loner but not because he doesn't like sociable contact, more that he is painfully, so, so awfully, bad when it comes to it. His unsociability and clumsiness create a shy character, someone who turns red when anything silly or provocative is brought up, says 'hi!' instantaneously and then shares the awkward silence with the one he spoke with. He is such an unbelievable wierdo. Unbearable. He and his science share an intimate relationship... He is in all terms, except diplomatically, married to his work. And it's not as if he is likely to find someone else to begin an intimate relationship with.

Because as smart and handy as he mite be he is a scientific dork that is so very interested in engineering, scientific study and livid activity in the unknown. It seams, more than most things, but he can't help it. It is a natural dream.

Backstory;

The heat radiated within his small hands, shaking with the flame. It's noises within the movement was the apitomy of strength, brazen like twisting air. A golden yellow lit up his face, bright red eyes seeming to play with the shadows of the flames. The general idea was to tell a child not to do something and watch them kick you in the stomach as they do just what they're not supposed to. No one had told him yet, to not play with fire. Maybe that was the problem that led to this. A cool silver lighter, turning warm below the helm, was his choice of toy, sat in his hands like some sort of newly found god given power.

It was as if the night had been taken over by this, momentarily, bright source. It, so small, the brash fire, overtook his little power. He may have been tiny but it was smaller than even he, it just didn't understand the reason behind many smaller things habitually not being as strong as their larger opposition. Oh no, it bit at his cowering, covered fingers, shadowed by the darkness, like a jawless shark.

But it could not get too close. He blew a softly drawn breath at it and watched the flame move away, then dance right back towards it's spot. That was enough, the match flickered off... Leaving the room dark and lonely.

His mother and father could not know. The sheltered, awkward twelve, hitting thirteen, year old let the darkness take over, drawing a breath as he heard the living rooms evening clock chime 12. It was a cultivating secret, silent and just for the lips from the boy named Phons to ever utter and understand.

The night whispered its last goodbyes as it engulfed him into sleep, letting the silver match he hid beneath his bed, under the mattress and behind folded clothes stay hidden as it was. The night was good at keeping things out of sight.

For years, if it's needed.

---[/center]


It shattered, shattered to the floor and pierced his feet, blood was everywhere. He couldn't feel a thing. Face darkening beneath the strength of his own emotions. It played over and over again, that same moment, the same old high pitched crash, to indicate a loss of composure and mentality. Within that room he shook, not because his feet bled into a deep, red, pool, but instead because his precious instrument was not to be whole once more.


"I had a horrible dream tonight," He told himself at the age of seventeen, trying one more time to wring his fingers together without them still aching. No use. In it's glass casing sat a black orb, eerie just by appearance. It was precious. It was what he wouldn't tell anyone about, if he had anyone to tell about it to. It was what his mind liked to revolve around. What he dreamed about now it seamed. And the dreams took him over, it was darkening... It was psychotically repetitive. Smoking rings would fill up the air and take over his home, hissing goodnight to his poor little face.

I had a horrible dream tonight, he had said as if they all hadn't been horrible, as if they hadn't been this bad. They had been, they always were.

In the night the fire took them, him and her and he was left all alone. Mother and father and child all went missing beneath the flames, and only the child came out. Eighteen, was that still considered the age of a child? Because it definetly felt like it. No, no... That was wrong. Every time, within his dreams, he was older than actuality. Every year. No, the happenings of the fire were when he was at fifteen. Now he was eighteen and falling into the pit of reality, emotions biting at his heels, at his ankles.

Now he was being pushed into the world, staring at it through innocent, secretly horrified eyes. Stumbling and fumbling, tripping on his own big feet as push came to shove and he ended up in the real world, almost wishing for his horrid lucid dreams over this.

Burn marks took over his back gently, told to stain his innocent body forever. One silver lighter had ended it all, and now three years had passed. Eighteen, eighteen years spoke freedom. Eighteen years and you weren't a part of the relocating system anymore. The bags felt heavy in his arms, even though they held more air than actual physical products. Bitting his lower lip he stepped away from home once more.

It was time, once again, to leave whatever nest this scraggly big bird had concocted, in his three years within the system. It's holes and gaping wounds becoming more evident the more you stared at it. The first nest burned, the secound whipped roughly and whisped away into the wind. Without him.

The black orb sat, sarounded by clothes, gently encased. He walked and it shook. It was his source of life, it was with meaning. It was his. No one would know. The pale faced boy, man... Male, stared up as the sliding doors slid open once more, just for him, and let the outside winds touch at his tall, awkward form.


Why does he love fire?;

Fire inhales everything living and nonliving without concern. It is a gluttonous thing, something Phons fears and is in awe of at the same time. His voice may be awkward and shaky, his body may be clumsy, and his activity may be staticaly attached but within his mind many straight things go flying, bolting around in ways others can't imagine. Fire is the destroyer... But it also is the way to begin anew. Civilizations have had their fires, in the name of actual living beings. Without a few metaphorical fires within society our world would not be here the way we've gotten used to it. Fire is a grandeur thing, and just as winter is said to kill life with it's frigid habits, fire does the same, but after everything from the past is plowed over and broken, new ones will form and grow. Always coming back. For Phons fire seams to be a small little restart button, so amazing, so terrifying.

Restarting everything once again, restarting the world. Begin.


Extras; (You can have up to 3)

extra 1

The static touched at his skin, sparking off little jolts of sharp but small pain. The rules were simple, attach the smallest gear to the biggest compartment and come back with some hot liquid source for tightening. He tilted his gaze up, hair falling over his head not because of movement but because of sweat and grease. Mmm, if that wasn't attractive... He wiped at the knees of his pants and walked to the table with black hand marks over them. Slipping back, thumping up against the wooden chair he picked up a small juice box with 'apple flavour blend' written in big red letters on its front and a cute little straw jabbed into it, quite nicely. His arms were bare and covered in small red spots where he was mildly shocked a few too many times and he contemplated touching them as the little juice box of his began to run on empty.

It was a toddler sized box, just like the dozen few crumbled onto the floor and on the small rectangular table beside him.

The fire pulled in, tugged at his gaze as it burned and he couldn't help shaking in absolute fear, yet leaning in with a grin of pure fascination.


Extra 2

"Hey, give me that!" Wow, did fifteen year olds have absolutely bratty voices, or what? Of course, the red gazed recluse was not in the place needed to get into such arguments. He did not have the composure, and after at least a month spent in the hospital, the validated energy.


extra 3


Outside, brand new sounds, brand new fresh air. Oh. Oh, no... the air was just the same as it has always been. It just felt better from outside the windows and usual walls, rules and regulations that were needed. Things to be followed.

[glassesprotag]

reserve