[- Alice -]

omg mark

[♡Chocolate♡]

Username:
Name:
Personality(max. 500 words):
What's their worst childhood memory?(max. 800 words)

[rainbow;]

Username:
dum shibe
Name:
ace
Personality:
quiet and reserved. he’s difficult to break, but when
he makes friends he’s very loud and happy. he likes to please
others and loves herbs and flowers. he often smells like
flowers and plants, but would deny it if anyone mentioned it.
he knows many remedies and herbs and keeps them in a collar
around his neck, ready to use whenever he needs to. he’s
scared of letting his real feelings out, as he thinks he’s going
to forget everything if he does. or he thinks he might remember
anything, and he’s not sure what’s worse, therefore he tries not
to let others in. (104)
What's their worst childhood memory?
ace trotted down a grassy path through the plains, his
fur fluffing up and his tail flicking behind him. he looked around,
shaking his fur out. he was supposed to be hunting- the scent of
prey sharp on his tongue, but there was an undertone that he
enjoyed more. nose to the ground, he padded forwards. the scent
was strong, but sweet- almost familiar. what was it? he pushed
through a clump of grass and saw a flash of colour, looking up.
a borage flower!

excitement flashed in his chest and he jumped forwards, gently
plucking the leaves off of the flower. it was so useful! as he kept
carefully plucking the leaves, he heard a soft, swishing noise
behind him. what was that? he flattened his ears and sat up, looking
around. nothing but the grass. was he hearing things? suddenly,
from a thick clump of grass to his right, another, much larger kalon
flew out and pinned him to the ground. struggling and growling
softly, he thrashed and struck out blindly. he gasped and looked up
as teeth met his neck.

'don't. move.' growled a voice above him. was that... 'hello, son.'
his mother hissed, towering over him with a disapproving look on
her scarred face.

'mother! what are you doing!' ace tried to push her off, his small
body much weaker than the battle-toned one of his mother.

'playing with flowers again?' his mother hissed, stepping over him
and crushing the borage under her paws. 'oops!' she turned to ace.
'you need to get over this. have you done any battle training today?
anything other than playing with stupid PLANTS!?' she snapped,
getting in his face. ace backed up, gulping.

'i-i was about to- but i saw the flower and thought maybe we could
use it-'

'a FLOWER? what would we need that for!?' she growled, striking a
paw across his cheek, leaving deep gashes as he gasped in pain.
'get it together, you imbecile.'

ace stumbled back, dizzy with pain. 'm-mother- i've told you before i
don't like to fight-' he looked up, his vision slightly blurry. his mother
was staring at him through narrowed eyes. she stayed there for a
moment before smiling softly and padding forward, wrapping her
body around him.

'oh my poor baby boy... i'm sorry...' she mumbled, licking his fur. he
relaxed, closing his eyes and feeling light-headed. she quietly groomed
him for a moment, before stopping. he let out a soft noise and opened
his eyes, seeing his mother's jaws around his front paw. 'then don't fight.'
she growled, biting down and wrenching his leg sideways with a loud
SNAP.

ace had screamed.

that was the last sound he remembered. in fact- it was the only one. of
course, others had told him it was his mother who had done it, but his
memories were blurred and he was unsure of what had happened. his
leg was crippled, so he had become the healer of his tribe. (497)

[whatswrongwithangela]

-

[spirit • daydream]

Username: APH Siantia
Name: Aaron (Meaning: "high mountain" or "exalted")

Personality(max. 500 words):
Aaron is an insecure, silent and shy kalon. The reason for all of this is because of his tragic and very depressing backstory. His insecurity causes him to not have that many friends. He isn't able to talk to others easily which causes others to write him off as a silent type or just the type that isn't good with other people. In fact, he is a very fun-loving kalon and loves to make friends, but he is never able to keep as many as he wants. He was taught to never talk back even if the kalon was being unfair or rude. He was always supposed to be perfect and polite. Whenever he talked back to his parents or their friends he would always be punished. Now he either agrees with another kalon or he keeps quiet if he disagrees because he is scared that somehow his parents will appear out of nowhere and punish him.

What's their worst childhood memory?(max. 800 words)
It all started when he was way younger when his parents split. He was forced to stay with his mother when his dad left, but she never wanted him. After years of living with his mother, he was finally taken away to live with his grandmother. He was still being haunted by the fact that he would be taken back to his mother. After two more years, he was finally taken in by his father. He then started to grow up and forgetting some of the terror he had gone through at his mothers'. He feels worthless at times but is forced to smile so that he won't push his problems onto others. He still has nightmares from his years of staying in the clutches of his abusive mother. He prefers not to ever think about it, but he knows that someday he will have to go back to it and accept what had happened.

[mousekewitz]

.

..
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form by lord ren

Personality: (347/500)

When he was a kit, Garrett was very free-spirited and rambunctious. It wasn't unusual for him to play with other kits his age or to get himself into some sort of mess. Most times his parents would be the one to diffuse any situation where Garrett had gotten in over his head-- more than once a neighbor was annoyed with his antics. Once he matured he was far more tame. Instead of sticking his nose where it doesn't belong he became a noble young kalon that was quick to offer his help to those in need. When he wasn't aiding his father in some way he was running errands for the townspeople. Garrett took intense pride in himself for being able to take burdens from others.

Despite his positive and helpful exterior there also was a part of him that was hidden; it was a more self-conscious side that stemmed from his mistakes as a child. Though he has greatly changed in character he cannot help but feel himself as a nuisance. He is certain that others still talk badly about him behind his back or do secretly not enjoy his presence. This doubt only shows itself to those he is close with such as his oldest friends and his mother. He is afraid to show this weakness in case he is ridiculed for it. In order to combat these feelings he busies both his mind and body with rigorous work out sessions. Most times he will train with his team in order to better his skills as a fighter.

He enjoys activities such as boxing-- with it he can release any pent up emotions. Without this sort of outlet he'd surely explode under pressure. Garrett is the type to keep his true emotions bottled up instead of sharing his thoughts with others. As his father's only son he feels though he must remain strong no matter what is going on. Outwardly he shows himself to be a gentle person lest someone cross him; then he turns fierce and intimidating in order to protect those he loves.

Memory: (795/800)

Sunlight trickles through the canopy of leaves above them. Garrett rests lazily against a tree while his father stands at the ready; he's on guard and looks completely invincible in comparison to his tired son. The younger kalon twists to lean his back against the trunk before sliding down to sit. It seems as though their patrol has been going on all day when in reality it is only been an hour at most. Their shift is only supposed to last until lunch which, for someone with such a short attention span as him.

There's a snapping of twigs a few yards away but he pays it no mind. The forest makes those sorts of noises-- it is nothing to worry about. There hasn't been a need for patrol officers to use force in nearly a year now and even then it was only a wild boar that had made its way into their territories.

"Garrett! You should always be at the ready. We never know what is coming." His father chides him from the other side of the path. His eyes are locked on the resting kalon with an expression of exasperation.

"We hear stuff like that every day though!"

"Doesn't matter. Get up and get on guard."

Sighing, Garrett rises to his feet and adjusts his grip on his staff. At his young age he isn't allowed to handle anything more dangerous. Training for other weaponry comes later in life when he is more matured, his father says.

They stand like that for a bit more time before the rustling starts. It grows ever louder in their direction. Garrett looks to the bushes with curiosity bubbling in his chest. Each short step towards the shrubbery marks another hitch in his breath. Before he is able to go too far, a group of figures darts out from his father's side of the path. His father gives a cry of pain as they attack him with clubs, the thuds echoing in his mind.

"Garrett! Come help me!"

A scream of panic erupts from the younger kalon. As he tries to make his way over, wielding his staff like a true warrior, two taller forms disarm him. They drag back his kicking, screaming form from the fight on the path. Try as he might he is unable to free himself from their strong hold. Their assailants continue to beat the patrolman to the ground while his son watches helplessly.

It seems like ages before they let up. His father slumps to the ground soundlessly. A few of the attackers look at them with cold expressions, chilling his blood and making his fur stand on end. A few seconds pass without a single breath passing between them. Finally one speaks up.

"When he wakes up I'd apologize for being such a weakling. You wouldn't last an hour with us."

The figures melt back into the bushes as Garrett sits frozen on the ground. His teary eyes drop to the curled figure before him, both of his eyes closed with near tenderness; there isn't a wrinkle of pain anywhere in his expression. Garrett scrambles over with tears dribbling down his cheeks, his breath hitching with the beginnings of sobs, and finally he pushes at his shoulder.

"Dad?" No response.

"C'mon. Wake up." His tone turns desperate, he gives another push.

"Dad, please."

It takes a few seconds for a response to form. Initially it is a gentle twitch of his brows then it is the twist of his face into a pained expression. The young kalon chokes out a cry of relief before dipping to bury his face in the elder's throat, body trembling. He can feel a hand fall on his back in comfort. It rubs across up to his neck and then to his hair where the fingers curl, petting his hair and calming him.

"Garrett-- it's okay. Go get your mother and tell her to find someone out here to help me up."

"I'm sorry." He blurts out the words before he can stop himself. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Dad."

A tender look fills the elder's eyes.

"Don't you worry about it, that wasn't anything your old man couldn't take. Back when I was your age I got in street fights all the time. Those boys packed more of a punch than those rotting old sticks. Go get your mama, okay?"

"Yes, sir." The young kalon sniffles and wipes at his face. Once he is on his feet he runs back into the village towards home.

Even now he remembers this day as the lowest point of his life. Not being able to protect his father because of his weak body and frivolous nature has continued to haunt him all these years after.

Notes:
+ Extras: moodboard and playlist
+ To listen to the playlist click on the moodboard

[~Finchly]

Username: ~Maddy~

Name: Majuro /goes by Maj for short

Personality:

ISTJ
THOUROUGH, CONSCIENTIOUS, REALISTIC, DETACHED, ANALYTICAL, OBSERVANT, PRACTICAL, LOGICAL, FACTUAL, EFFICIENT, SYSTEMATIC, ORGANIZED, RESERVED.
Majuro, or Maj for short, was once a young dreamer but his experiences and upbringing shaped him into the analytical thinker he is today. He doesn’t like to be around many people and will prefer to stay alone at home than be in the middle of a social area. He has a keen sense of right from wrong due to the injustice he has seen in his lifetime. Maj often listens to his head rather than his heart and prefers to come up with logical reasons to do things. He gets stressed when things challenge his logic and may become pessimistic and tend to withdraw or shut down. He does not like to be rushed and hates loud noises. He prefers not to drone on and on with a story but instead get right to the direct point.

[152/500 words]

What's their worst childhood memory?

[Placebo]

Ｋ Ｏ Ｚ Ｍ Ｏ Ｔ Ｉ Ｓ || Ｍ Ａ Ｌ Ｅ

-ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ-

Poor Koz is a little manipulator. It’s a sad product of his environment- discarded socially and economically from the start,
he’s had to claw his way to the position he’s in right now. As a decorated noble from joining the army, Koz knows that
there’s no way he’d be as successful as he is right now if he hadn’t have used others in the past to further his career.
Long gone are the days where he’d stumble over his words under the demeaning gaze of anyone with the fortune of
having money. A closed mouth smile and smooth words are his calling card, a smile that accents his mask of charisma
and allows him to put others at ease whether they should be or not. He’s learned that sentiment is for the weak, the
poor, so once he gets what he needs, he’s quick to cast someone aside. He’s even quicker to cut his losses when he’s
over his head- some might call that cowardly, but Koz begs to differ. He’s seen war; he’s seen cowards. And being a
noble, he’s surrounded by the same cowards. Sniveling creatures, the lot of them. Koz is no coward.

But Koz can’t help but wonder what the reward was for gaining his wealth and power. He’s still as alone as he was
before it all.

Koz always seems to have an acerbic edge to his words as well. He’s a bit of a pessimist, not willing to get any closer
than he needs to others around him. Surrounded by the fakeness of the wealthy day by day, he can never seem to
muster the compassion to be particularly sweet when he’s pushed. Usually his facade of impersonal charm masks this
unpleasant fact, but when forced to keep up conversation, he becomes decidedly clipped. His heart still seizes at the
thought of having to entertain another creature with a certain amount of spectacle. A product of his younger years,
possibly. Koz knew it was impossible to overcome stage fright.

But, despite it all, Koz merely puts up a front to protect himself. He’s constantly reproachful of the world, and expects
the worse out of everyone he comes across. It’s too dangerous for him to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

Oh, but how idealistic Koz is, deep, deep down. Even to this day, he dreams of a select few who he could easily confide
in without fear of ridicule. The few he could share his thoughts with freely, like his love for philosophy and the world,
and how it continues to fascinate him what kalons and other creatures are capable of- the feats, the little things, the
good, the bad!...

But. Koz, he… can’t be cast aside anymore, or cast out. Not again.

{460}

══════════════════════════════════════════

Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

--Is this what it's like to fall from grace?--

══════════════════════════════════════════


Is this what it's like to fall from grace?


Poor, poor little Koz, all alone in this world. It’s 1898- a particularly
harsh winter has blown through the streets of London, and the small
kalon has had to suffer it on his own. His orphanage has good intentions,
but their resources are scarce- it’s normal for him to feel cold in these
months.


So, color him surprised when a noble comes knocking on their door one
grey morning. The man is adorned in the nicest clothes that Kozmotis
has ever seen. The noble’s talk with the matron is short, and he quickly
turns towards the children within the creaky building.


Oh, but not just any child. The noble has his sights set on him.
Little Kozmotis.


Koz couldn’t believe his luck. Why would a noble want him? A child
with no family name, a nameless orphan? Despite the cold, Koz could feel
his spirit warm.



Oh, and the kalon is so kind. The noble rests a warm, blessedly warm palm on his head, and speaks a few simple words.


“Would you like to come home with me, little Kozmotis?”


And he does. And how glorious it is, living in the house of the noble.


For once, Koz isn’t overlooked. The servants within the manor, his new home, treat him with a wealth of indulgence. He isn’t cold, he isn’t hungry, he doesn’t have to worry! His curiosity grows with each passing day, and his unfortunately illiterate self becomes invested in the books within the noble’s enormous library. One worker offers to teach him. It’s like Koz is living in a dream.


Yet…


All dreams shatter.


══════════════════════════════════════════

It’s dark when Koz wakes up one night in his bed. He’s not too concerned over the fact- he still hasn’t been able to sleep through the night quite yet, even though he intuitively knows his small body needs the rest. He rubs under the perpetual bags under his eyes. For as long as he could remember, Koz never could get restful sleep in the orphanage. Even in the warm manor, he still couldn’t regulate his sleep. He absently rubs at the scar running across his eye. Idly, he thinks about how the scar has always been a constant for him, like the rings around his eyes. Hah, he might as well be a raccoon.


Koz’s jaws gape in a yawn as he slips out of the bed. His sky blue shirt thankfully holds up with the added fluff around his chest, but his pants threaten to fall. He wonders why he bothered to get out of bed- usually he waits quietly until he can lull himself back to sleep.


The spark of remembrance jolts him awake. Of course! He meant to show the lord of the manor his writing progress. He still couldn’t match up each letter with their sound quite yet, but he learned how to spell his name!


Koz quickly pads over to the low nightstand and picks up the small piece of paper. The letters scrawled on the face are blocky and awkward, nothing like the elegant print of the books he longs to read one day, but Koz is proud of it nonetheless. K-O-Z-M-O-T-I-S. He does indeed like the look of it.


With a tired grin, he slips out of the dark room and into the even darker hall. He carefully keeps his own door ajar to let the cool light of the moon flood the hall, and he sneaks down to the noble’s wing.


But, he’s sidetracked when he hears the sound of raised voices coming from one of the rooms. And well, Koz can’t help but be curious.


It was the kind noble, and another woman.


“...But he’s just a child, mother! I can’t simply put him back where I found him!”


“You most certainly can! He’s no Kozmotis the second!”


“That shouldn’t matter! That general’s line died out long ago, and you know it. You were the one who wanted to go on this wild conspiracy chase, and try to salivate after his money. You were the one who told me to pick the child up!”


“You watch your tone with me, boy. The orphan was simply a dead end, Sigmund. We have no more use for him. That orphan’s mother must’ve been sentimental, naming her child after a famous dead man.


“...”


“I really wish they wouldn’t do that. Just sullying up our search with their stupidity.”


“...Yes, mother.”


From his position in the doorway, Kozmotis was unfortunately too far away from the pair for them to notice his presence. He could feel himself grow impossibly cold.


And too bad poor Kozmotis could extrapolate.


The noble, he… picked him up, because he thought Kozmotis was... useful? A stepping stone?


… No.

Kozmotis was gone by morning.

{800}

Credits

I really do love this name

[rainbow;]

quiet bump! good luck to all! ;u;

[seawoof]

I have this art for whoever wins this gorgeous kal!