8th in my christmas series
Wolfie♥Louis wrote:Username:
Wolfie♥Louis
Favourite thing about him:
His lovely coloring. He is the most pleasant shade of a smoky oak infused with umbre to make a shadowy and secretive appearance. He has the appearance, I am reminded of, as a dark stag. He is magnificent but subtle, beautiful yet hiding other thoughts. I also like the glimmer of seductive emerald that sparkles among the oaken body of him.
B.K name:
Fenrir
Age:
5
Personality:
Fenrir is a husky and bold stallion. His eyes hold secrets but his heart holds nothing back. Fenrir is a delicately spoken male, he chooses what he says with artful grace, compiling speech with a antique but sophisticated tone. He is not short of temper but has a rage that equals that of a grieving mare over a taken foal when provoked. He seeks company but strives not to settle among those who he cannot relate to. He is of complex emotion and can be injured by the correct words. He is slow to forgive and slow to heal however he trusts with a more languid capability. He is humble and sees is flaws with immense dissatisfaction. He sees flaws in others and is always comparing himself, always relating to others, he wishes to blend in and fly below the radar.
Descriptive paragraph:
A low whine dims and fades around the relaxed ears of the stallion. A mosquito flies irritatingly around his head, a glimmer of dark emerald in his eyes deceives his irritation. He flicks his ears a single time, ridding his senses of this anomaly. A frown clouds his oaken face. Blinking eyes that are as deep as the forests veridian foliage, he adjusts to the area he stands. Where he is is not glamorous, not signifigantly special to those random enough to wander upon it. It is the stallion's place of solace, it is Fenrir's place.
To a common onlooker, the trees, the shadows, the sun are all vividly similar to the rest of the bayou. To Fenrir to this is the case. He cares not for the damp comfort of the close hugging moss or for the dappled light the trees cast upon his hide. For one to truly appreciate what he sees, one must look up, the sky and not the earth holds true delight to the umbre stallion.
As the late afternoon sun casts its shadows upon the dark ground and dusk takes a hold on earth, the solemn, statue figure of Fenrir stirs once more, his frown vanishes, he arches his fine crested neck and faces his proud head to the sky, letting the view, perfectly framed by the skeletal branches of trees, enter his eyes. The deep varied colors of the sky swirl and dance before him, the glittering promise of starlight weaving it's way into the image. Fenrir is held captivated in his gaze, he is entranced by the wondrous events that take place, burning, miles away from his existance.
