Kennel: p55
Section: Pound Of Hope
Name: Toshiro –Talented, intelligent-Insists upon being called ‘Cross’ however. He seems to not recall being named Toshiro.
Breed: Arubian Cunucu Dog born with unusual pointed ears.
Age: Does not age.
Why do you want this animal?&What will you do for this animal?:Cross really struck a chord with me. I love everything about him, he’s a character I can really create a history and personality for, just his design seems to tell a story. From looking at him, I found his whole background and personality coming to me, which at the time was inconvenient as I was in the car, and had to rummage around for a piece of paper to write it all down on! He’d have a home on my character thread, in which I keep all my favourite characters and their art. He’d also be a close friend of Ashen, my Gryphon character of whom I am smitten with. He’d be drawn, roleplayed and written about. I really will do everything for this character.
Personality: Cross is an extremely silent canine who acts somewhat like a mute in his ability to go without talking for days on end. It’s rare that an acquaintance of his will ever hear him speak, so when you can hold a conversation with him you know you have found a way past his defences. He is an extremely instinctive dog who relies heavily on senses which are yet to fail him. A talented reader of body language, and can often sense moods in the air before they are discovered, many around Cross believe him to be psychic, and this frightens them. He is not, however. Simply intuitive. He is used to hardship and can last days without food or water should he run into such trouble, and would not voice a single complaint. His eyes are a gateway to the real him, Toshiro, not Cross. Though even he himself doesn’t know who this is.
Cross finds that when others are in trouble he will always place their needs above his own. If he finds prey when there is a shortage, he would give it to someone else while he himself starves. He, needless to say, seems to be very good at reading the emotions of others and has an easy ability to know when something is bothering another and would be hard pressed to solve it for them.
Despite his silence he is forever sought after by others, be them male or female. This fact completely bewilders the serene canine, and he finds that those he has not even met before, know his name. No matter how many times he is knocked down, he will always rise again, and would place himself in deaths arms if it means saving a friend. Yet, he never asks nor expects any thanks, and vanishes before he can become too close to a fellow canid.
This is the issue with Cross, he is forever disappearing. Scared to his stomach about commitment, he frets and worries about getting that one inch closer to someone to be considered their friend. Though he holds no true malice, Cross will never stick around long enough to get to know, so many fear him or blatantly ignore him- he guesses they don’t want to grow close to him either.
One passion in his life is for his tattoo and his gas mask. He loves them dearly. He also seems to have an uncanny affinity with birds, be it Grim, his vulture guardian, or any other.
Dislikes:
-Encroaching on another’s personal space, and having this done to him.
-Talking. It always seems to lead to fighting.
-Being coddled. He is tough, and resents it when others pity or ponder over him.
-Being asked about his tattoo, missing limb or gas mask.
Likes:
-When ‘friends’ of his know you don’t have to speak, to be there for someone.
-Silence.
-That feeling of satisfaction when you know you have helped.
-Birds
History/Backround:
At first for Cross, the day had been nothing more than usual. He had found a sandy cove in which he had rested in for the day, tenderly dipping his mask in the cleansing salt water of the ocean and leaving it to dry- the first wash it had had in weeks. He held it now in his jaws, no more gently than he would hold an infant. In truth he was quite pleased with his den, because it seemed even more secure then his previous home in the mountains. The bird however, the one that had watched his actions carefully throughout the day with piercing eyes like molten emerald, well this he wasn’t so comfortable with. Obviously there was the advantage of having a permanent guard around this new home, he knew from experiences previous that birds almost always shrieked before danger – but what about the obvious point that he had no idea who the creature was, or what his real intentions where. Why waste all her time here observing me? He wondered; What was the tie? What he really wanted was a guarantee of his safety in the short time he would be spending here... some way to ensure he lived in a less dangerous area to the one he had come from. He couldn’t imagine that such a thing existed – a guarantee, and that was why he wasn’t willing to trust the bird.
After a few moments worrying, in the end, there was nothing left to do but dismiss the bird from his mind and concentrate on the prey before him. Creeping slowly forward... what he hunted was only a hare, but at least it was something. Snap. He winced at the misplaced paw-step, lunging as gracefully as his three legs could manage, forward after the hare that took off across the dry grassy verge above the cove. At the last moment, a split second before it could slip beneath the hole that was its den beneath the ground, a massive bird dove down unto the earth and snatched it with its strong talons. Lifting it into the air, even as its heart gave out in fear. Cross panted and pulled to a stop, knowing his prey was lost to a more successful hunter. So he was surprised when the rabbit dropped from its massive talons and hit the ground before him.
“Good hunting, brother”
The bird commented respectfully, landing besides the rabbit but making no move to take it. This was a vulnerable position for the bird, and that surprised Cross – why would a bird trust him so easily?
“I have been observing you from afar. ”
For a moment, Cross regarded the magnificent avian, with her black and silver plumage and hooked beak. He had not seen another like it. Still he did not speak.
“I am Grim. And you are Toshiro. You do not recognize me?”
But Cross was stuck staring at those massive wings, stretched out before him in a flourish of a well practiced motion. They really were brilliant wings. Sparkling in a fanned out shade of dark brown verging on black, and pulling through was a glorious silver colour, it was light against the darker features, light and clean, sparkling in the ray of the sun. Her watchful eyes not as black as many bird eyes he had seen. These ones had more depths, and a glossy olive in their centre. A dangerously deadly sharp beak curving tightly at the tip. This Grim really was a magnificent creature.
Then the familiarity of her bright eyes struck him. The bird above the cove. What she had called him. Toshiro.
Grim stared at Cross for a while, obviously waiting for him to speak. When it was clear Cross would not, she shuffled her wings and gave a croaking rumble- close to a growl.
“Speak you little, listen much.” The bird murmured to herself, her eyes never leaving his.
“Who are you?” Toshiro whispered.
One year earlier;
White walls, an acrid scent burning his nostrils. Strange figures leaning towards him through blurred vision. “No, you can’t, don’t!” The shrill voice made Toshiro want to scream. It was in his ears, pleading, begging.“NO!” The scream came again. His throat felt hoarse, yet his eyes remained strongly closed. “PLEASE!” Again, the awful shriek that made him want to disappear.
“Toshiro, shut up, please stop!...” Came a broken whisper to his left. Toshiro opened one sore eye to see a face. A looming face, that somehow appeared heartbreakingly familiar to him. His vision swayed, seeing double of the creamy coated spaniel that peered down at him, her wide eyes needing. But for what? His foggy mind rumbled. “No, no, no!” Whoever was screaming needed to stop. Decisively, Toshiro desperately felt for his legs, gathering whatever strength he may have to stand up. For a moment, the dog wobbled, before creasing and falling back to the unyielding ground with the screaming ringing in his ears.
Awake again. Why?
Who was he?
Who?
Blackness.
“I think he’s dead. Losing the leg really took it out of him.”
“We can’t keep these clinical tests up, Sir, people will start noticing.”
“This old thing was one we picked up from the streets, no-one will miss him. Stop worrying.”
“But-“
“No, let him go. Let it go.”
A bird cried out. Something being pressed across his face. The colours came back.
Art:
A manip I made of Grim. The marking in the corner is the one on Cross's gas mask.
Other:
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P1
designed by me using a base S-Nova on DA (feline crouch) - 
