Username;; ~Willow
Mako name;; Henri
Mako Gender;; Male
Ah the sadness of it all. To learn the answer, we must delve deep, yet so slightly, into the story of this young man. It all started as a pup. He can remember, or so he thinks he does, the faces and voices of his parents. In reality, ours not his, he had never had or known parents. His mother, honestly too old to have pups, died bringing him life. His father, as cliche as it is, could not bare to look at his son. He could not bare the memories of his wife. The winter was cold at the time of his birth, an ice storm sweeping the town. The poor baby was left to freeze.
Habits;;
*constant twitching
*nervous glancing
*writing on himself
*never wanting to be alone
*always having a quill and ink
*not talking much
Fears;;
*being alone forever
*returning to what he was
*crowds, of any size
*darkness
*dogs
There's no need to go into how he lived and survived, let's just leave it to the imagination, hmm? Needless to say, as he reached of the to be needing and wanting interaction with others, it wasn't there. He was alone, and this left a deep impact on him and his psyche. To bide the time and loneliness, he began making "friends". They ranged from mere images he believed were actually there to things more so... "there". Things such as wall and floor drawings. They all had personalities, and some were even enemies where as others were best friends; this was rapidly becoming his reality.
This first of his kind he actually ever met, he ran from, too afraid of them. He had grown skittish of those he was not used to, of those who looked like him. Only when one of his "friends" encouraged him to do so did he show himself to the young girl. She, too, was alone, but that is another story for another day. For now, we shall leave it at the two thrived on each other, until one day the girl left. He remained in his cave, slowly growing more and more distant from what was real.
One day, he discovered fire for himself, oh how the glow had hurt, but it brought light to the darkness of his cave. He could now look around at the walls and floor, seeing all his "friends" he had drawn, along with those forgotten. He cried that day, over what he had thought he had lost. His dull brown eyes lit up as he scanned the stone, a bittersweet smile playing across his face. Slowly, as the fire died and what was there cooled, a sound startled him. He stumbled through the coals, his paws blackening. Upon returning from going to see what the sound was, he saw the blackened paw prints he had left behind.
Now to him, they were those of another, not himself. His "friends" didn't know any better either, being they fed off of his own knowledge. He couldn't stand not knowing, though when he rubbed his leg after sitting to think, he noticed the black stains in his fur. He rubbed again, then looked to his paws. He could use this dead fire to write! To draw! To make friends! On... himself...! He was elated, now they could go anywhere he went, not just wait for him in the cave.
Bipedal Appearance;;
*rather tall
*malnourished
*thinly built
*not much muscle mass
*muddy blonde,
medium length hair
*dull eyes
He did this for years. But time passed and things changed. The town he lived by grew, becoming a city and bringing with it new things. Strange things. Wonderful things. His cave was not so safe now, though. Many who looked like him walked near him, some even finding his cave and exploring it. This is where he came to meet his medium: ink. He watched as an older male sat at the mouth of his cave, writing. That went on for the rest of the day, only when the sun began to set did the man leave. He went down, to investigate and make sure nothing was harmed. To make sure that it was safe.
Dark, black, blots scattered the ground. He was curious, touching one with a claw. Could he write with it as well? He dragged the claw along the ground, creating a thin, black line. This was stunning. It was much more neat now! He took a leaf, gathering the blots for him to save to use. It was then, when he was trying to find out why it did work anymore, why it had dried up, did the girl return. She was different from what she was before she left, she seemed more like those others.
Now, let's skip back a little briefly. His "friends" were all starting to leave, to disappear, and he was growing lonely. This was leaving him to be more curious yet afraid of those of his kind. He watched them more now, ebbing ever closer to the city.
The return of the girl shocked him, and he wasn't fully certain he could trust her. She made him feel funny, too. He wanted to be with her, all the time, and he didn't like that. Slowly, though, that feeling led him to be so. She brought him to the city, bringing his far and distant reality closer to what we know, helping his to fade. Now, this never truly left, but it is not as prevalent as it was. The writing on himself, the drawing on himself, it is out of his lack of being "in touch" and his only real way for him to be at peace and not feel... lonely.
by me
