Username;
Moonpheonix
Name;
Cover
Gender;
Fluid(he/him)
What do you like most about this viscet?
Honestly? The colors. Shadybro did a similar mix, and I loved his as well. Also, I love the more defined-patterned viscets. But the vibrant, fading oranges on the horn and mane really get me most(And I may be partially biased to orange's favor because it is my darling brother's favorite color) ^^ Regardless of that though, they're still absolutely gorgeous-looking ^w^ I do quite adore your designs, Mint (and I hope I'm not being impolite by calling you by an abbreviation in a tryout 0.o)
Do you own any viscets?
Yes, two darling boys<3
1 extra;
"Bio of the Shadow Coverer"
Cover. He who cowers in shadows. He who fears what the world will think of him. A fear of everyone beyond simple shyness. Those that he was around before he completely slipped into his chronic paranoia he calls past-livers, (lie-vers, not livers xD) those who he knew of in his past. He doesn't remember what his name was in the beginning. He's sure it was something simple that didn't define him at all, however. He remembers the past-livers called him cover, though, because that's what he did a lot of the time when he was around them. He feels as if it suits him, at least more than his original one, so he kept it. Not that a name is particularly important, for a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Though he is quite literate, he was always a quick learner and has memorized many complicated words and phrases, he never speaks. Some even say he never learned to speak at all. He doesn't know. He's never tried to. The most he's ever communicated is with small hand gestures from within a heavy, grey overcoat (with his horn still sadly sticking out at the top) a long time ago when he had to beg for food. That was before the paranoia completely took him over. For as long as he can remember, though, he has not made a sound. Maybe he is indeed mute? Even he does not know what it is that caused him to be this way. But he's made his way. All alone. It was hard, but this is what he prefers. Sometimes he even feels melancholy, in the damp dark with only the stars to guide him in the alleyway of the small, abandoned city which he calls home. It may be small, but he remembers by heart every single, nook, cranny, and hiding place even a frightened mouse could not find. He does not fear the world itself, only the things that will judge him. The rain will not. So he finds solice within its gentle words. He can never feel safe. But he can feel wanted. The rain speaks fondly of him to those who will listen. He knows it. Maybe some do listen. Maybe some will remember him. But he will never, ever come near them, not as of now. But the ones that know of him, and heard of him not from the rain sing a darker tune. He is the one-horned demon covered constantly and completely by shadow. A monster to be feared. A story to keep your children from going outside their safe apartment homes. What irony it is that this was just what he ran away to avoid in the first place, before he broke. Poor child. But he does not know of their stories, for he never ventures near enough to hear them. He moves daily between his many hiding spots so as to not be found out, and few would go looking for him regardless(though he does not yet know why) As he is transitioning from space to space, he tries his very paranoid best to avoid all living creatures. This doesn't work of course, a small mouse or rat gets startled by him every once and a while, causing him to nearly keel over from the fear laced in his chest. He is constantly confused about why he is. Why is he different? What is the point of him being at all? But he knows he won't get an answer. Even the kind, generous rain cannot tell him, though if it could he's sure it would. He cannot remember a time when he has felt regret or longing. He is not one to get attached to anything. Yes, not even the rain. He knows it will be back at some point, let it be a day, a month, a year, a century... it doesn't matter to him. In truth, the only thing he wants from it is for information and to tell his story. He has never been able to love physical things. However, he can love the feeling of senses, such as the sound of the rain or the warmth of the sun, the grainy touch of sand or the melodious voice of a young girl on the steps of an abandoned ghetto. He can ideeded love, though most wouldn't think so, and he felt the strong significance and fervor buried within each of those things. In a sense, he is quite a passionate person, though he doesn't know that or would understand what exactly that would mean (And in truth, do you? what exactly does it mean to "be passionate"? is what Cover would say to you, if only he had the strength and the knowledge.) Most of all, however, he wants his story heard, his true story. He does not want to leave the world a devil of the night, for why would anyone? When he things of people as glowing souls, hearts beating to the words of the rain, he does not fear them. Light is not to be feared, it keeps the creatures happy and the world bright. And on a certain day when the sun was glowing as a bright ball in the sky, and yet the rain was pouring down on an unlit city, Cover removed his hood. What did he have to fear? The sun, the rain, would keep him safe. And on that one, special day, he smiled first at the rain sounds, and then to the sun's glistening warmth, with his own shining face which he got a glimpse at from a puddle on the soaking cement ground. Yes, just like the sun's rays, he would concider his colors " Warm", though he hadn't looked at himself hoodless in a very long time. Until now. But he never learned the concept of smiling, nor did he think his pelt symbolized anything of importance. It was dingy and faded, an ugly sight, which reminded him of the beforetime when he was called a monster to his past-life peers. So what did that moment mean? not a thing. And he knew it. The terrible thoughts that come after moments of brightness are too much to bear. He only learned that which frightened him that day, which sorely caused an upsetness within him. No, that could not be the way for him to fix himself. He of course wants to be better, to be freed from his fear. But he just doesn't know how. There are so many things that he cannot find the answers to. But the only way for him to escape is for him to save himself, for he will never take help from another. He is sure he is missing out because of his behavior. Maybe, one day, when the anticipation is too much to bear, he will run to another and beg them to teach him of the world. The thirst for knowledge is the only thing stronger than his fear. The rain cannot teach him everything. All he truly needs is time. Yes, the one thing that it was thought everyone is given(though they are never given much.) But his needing of it, and of knowledge, may save him from his perturbation.
would be my first!
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