"I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where's that wiseman, that would not be I,
If she would not deny?"
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male-5-single-fighter-saf-
- ｎａｍｅ;; Langley. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't know the meaning of it. All I know of it is that it's mine.
- ｇｅｎｄｅｒ;; Brute.
- ｐａｃｋ;; As pack-born as a jackrabbit. He's from the Saf pack, though he wasn't born into it.
- ｒａｎｋ;; Fighter. Perhaps any able-bodied brute would not comprehend me if I told them my rank. But I am quicker than my wit, (if you can believe it!) and I am not afraid to spar against the larger wolves. So I am a fighter. I intend to stay one until the day I pass from this world to the next.
- ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ;; Langley is a strange wolf. You could call him bipolar, but no matter how long his random personality shifts last, he usually settles back into his usual poetry-gabbing, upbeat self. He tries to stuff meaning into almost everything he says, which is both, in a way, fascinating-- and wholly annoying.
Some say that he's sick in the head. But in the back of their minds, they know he's far too smart for that. He is very proud, to an almost ridiculous extent- he's also very honest. Behind his sly exterior, he's painfully loyal and would sacrifice himself for his pack. His selflessness traces back to the many years he spent alone, without a family or a pack or a home. He throws himself into the society he has because it is like nothing he's had beforehand; he is very grateful for it, and clings to it, in almost a pitiful desperation. His lifeblood is a constant interaction with others, no matter how they perceive him to be. This can be labeled as masochistic, for he isn't always accepted or befriended. But he simply doesn't care. As long as he's getting some sort of interaction.
He does not have a complicated love life. He's fallen for a handful of fae in his time, but as ridiculous as it sounds, he clams up when the opportunity to tell them how he feels is at his advantage. Sure, he can flirt, but only jokingly. As soon as he's faced with something serious, he just shies away.
- ｈｉｓｔｏｒｙ;;
Whispered lullabies. The sound of a living being's body. Voices high and deep.
He was the only one in the litter who managed to survive. The rest were stillborn; choked on the very chords that pumped life into their tiny bodies in the womb. The irony was like the taste of a bitten tongue. Langley felt no sadness for his dead kin that night. He was warm and safe and blind, experiencing the first moments of life in a silent reverie only a newborn can feel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The air felt sweet in his mouth, and he let out a little satisfied groan, his little voice warbling before dying out with the heavy blanket of sleep.
His puphood was bittersweet. It did not last long, but his mother was kind to him, and spoke to him in a lively way that made his spirits brighten every day. As time passed, there was a strangeness about him. He could run and speak and was clever for his age, but he did not get larger. His father's eyes were stern and full of worry for his only son, and he began to push him around somewhat to "become strong, like your brothers would've been." For though he was the only survivor of his litter, he was also a runt, if it wasn't obvious. His mother defended him, coddling him and enveloping him in her sweet fur and kind voice. "He's only a baby...He'll take his time. Just be patient with him." One day, the large bush that they called their den was struck with a jagged bolt of lightning, the leaves catching afire in a bright blazing storm. The dry ground and debris around them blazed, also, and the smoke was stifling. Langley's mother was caught under a burning oak log, and Langley could not bear to leave her side. So she turned to him and she bit him on the flank, hard, her snarls choked with the growing ash of the wildfire. "Run, Langley. Please." Hurt, he stumbled away, and was caught by his father on the scruff. His mother's dying, anguished cries would haunt him for the rest of his days. His father did not look back once and never spoke of his mate again.
The two wolves traveled across the countryside; usually Langley was the one to start conversations, intending to cheer his father up. It usually ended in silence. Though he was quiet, and cold, his father taught him how to hunt and fight. Langley still gets chills up his spine when he remembers his father's jaws, open in a white snarl. "Fight me. Don't you dare hesitate- get angry. Go ahead and tear me apart." But he did hesitate- over and over again. So his father was always the first to lunge, to claw and bite just enough to cause a sting but not enough to make his son bleed. The pent-up frustration inside of Langley was forced out of him, and he finally turned on his father and fought with him. He grew stronger and more agile every day, and his father was finally proud of him, for the first time. Tragedy struck once again, however; a small tribe of humans found the wolves sleeping near their campfire and attacked out of fear. Langley's father was killed by a hunter's spear and Langley was once again forced to run away, to abandon the single wolf who he knew and loved, despite their difficulties together.
He joined a small pack of wolves, and made himself move on, distracting his guilt-laced thoughts with socializing and chatting. The pack was friendly enough, though they treated Langley at a rank close to what an omega should experience. He didn't mind, and was only happy to get food to eat and a warm place to sleep every night. But the pack was wrought with deceit and lying; ranks were shuffled around at random, and soon, the highest ranking wolf was a cruel-hearted brute who had a mind that was clouded with rage and war. He was power-hungry and also very young. Langley could not help but to pity the wolf, while others hated him with a passion. Rumor had it that the brute's father assassinated the old alpha so his son could take his place. Since Langley was friendly to the new alpha, he became the second-in-command wolf and fought alongside his alpha in many battles with other packs. But he, too, was hated by the pack for joining with the domineering alpha. One day, a particularly vicious battle brought on the death of the alpha, and without the alpha, the pack turned upon Langley and chased him out.
Bruised and broken, he traveled alone across the land, careful to avoid the tribes of humans dotted over the countryside. It was shortly after that when he came upon the Saf pack, and has stayed in it ever since.
- ｆａｍｉｌｙ;; Oh, mother. Father. How I miss you, and I do wonder what you would tell me if you were alive today. His family is long gone.
- ｃｒｕｓｈ;; Tell me that you're joking. Nobody, at the moment.
- ｏｔｈｅｒ;; I hope you are well, my friends.
amory 
