[starry--knight]

WHAT IS A MAKOATL?

A Makoatl is a terrestrial shark-dragon hybrid recently discovered off the coast of the greenland sea. They have the powerful tail and jaws of a shark, with the body and (occasional) horns of a dragon. They usually have manes, and are covered in thick coats of fur-adapted to keeping out the cold in their native habitat. They live on a diet of mainly meat and fish, and are known to be vicious hunters! Despite this attitude toward their prey, however, they are very protective and mothering to their offspring, as well as to each other the majority of the time.
Click here to read more about this species!

To adopt this lovely mako, fill out the form below!

Code: Select all

Username:
Mako name:
Mako Gender:
Personality:
1 art piece:

You are allowed to add up to 2 extras. Extras cannot be more art! End date is December 1st!

[bsktcase]

Username: Beast Girl
Mako name: Kate Beckett
Mako Gender: Female
Personality: Wip~
1 art piece: Wip~

[Rivkah]

❝ Lᴀɪᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ Lᴏᴡ Kᴇʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ;
---- ---- ----Sɪᴅᴇ ʙʏ sɪᴅᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀ, ʟᴀɪᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ Lᴏᴡ Kᴇʏ. ❞

---- Alan Jackson's Laid Back 'n Low Key

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username: Rivkah at your
service, trying for this beauty.
mako name: Eyvindr Olsen;
Eyvindr being a Nordic name
meaning "island wind."
pronounced: Ay-vih-ndr.
this is not the common
pronunciation, but I preferred
it to Eey-vih-ndr. call him Eyvin.
mako gender: male, though
he acts quite feminine.

♛ ✎ ⓐⓡⓣ

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personality: Feminine, sweet, earnest. That's Eyvindr. This Nordic Makoatl, having lived in Greenland all his life, has a personality stereotypical of a homosexual. Flamboyant, dramatic, and often quirky. Always extravagant and theatrical, Eyvin takes everything to the very highest degree. He's very sarcastic, and as persistent as a seagull looking for trash and shiny things. Always the ostentatious one, this guy can be a bit of a braggart and a show-off, but always means well. He lives by the idea that nothing in life is worth having if you don't use it to the very extent it can be used; he never abandons a pencil until it's an absolute stub, and he won't waste even a centimeter of paper when creating his art.

Eyvin is awkward and rather socially inept, but that doesn't stop him from coming up to you and talking your ear off anyway. He'll say whatever comes to mind – no matter how nonsensical, embarrassing, or weird. Colorful in every sense of the word, from an artistic mind to a... unique personality, Eyvin – sometimes unfortunately – guarantees that you will not forget him. Bottom line, he's not the sort of person you want to know if you're not into immediate impressions and never forgetting the face. Besides that, Eyvin most likely won't let you forget anything anyway... he's nag you until you have it imprinted in your brain for the rest of your life.

If you like spending your energy on other people, Eyvin is pretty much your kind of guy. If you prefer not to have chattering incessantly, you'd probably do well to avoid him. He's one who's used to having a lot of people around him and the only time he really likes to be alone is when he's absorbed in his art. Then it's best to leave him be and allow him to finish in peace.

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❝ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛ's ᴛᴏᴏʟs ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ
--- --- ---ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛs ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛ ɪᴛsᴇʟғ. ❞

extra one - lifestyle: Eyvin lives on one of the peninsulas at the coast of Greenland. He was born on the large island country itself, but made his home on one of the pieces of land attached to it later in life. He works as an artist in Danesborg and makes a modest but satisfactory income; he'd rather be in his artistic way of life than some boring office job with no flare or fun. He enjoys spending is weekends in the outdoors, because he believes that the land and the sea give him inspiration for his art. He's a rather thin and gangly guy, so his energy usually isn't spent on something sporty, however he'll never pass up a chance to swim. It clears his mind and helps him focus.

extra two - some words from the mako: As only one piece of art is allowed, I have decided that the best pictures painted in your head are sometimes words. This is the best way I can convey is artistic talents without actual art. This will be told from his point of view. Enjoy.

❝ Why do I paint, draw, sketch? Why did I choose an occupation that seemed fun, easy, flaky? When you draw, there's a different feeling for each person. Some people do it just to relax, or to have fun, even if they aren't the best artist. Others do it to reflect, to concentrate, and to ponder. Others still do it because they are embracing some form of the life we live and the world we live in. I do it for all of these reasons.

When I paint, it's like reading a book, almost - you get transported to a different world. Your mind focuses on things normally overlooked; small beauties in life. The breezes on a summer day, smelling of blossoms and rustling the grass and trees. That's what I paint. Snow, covering the world in an icy blanket while it sleeps those six cold months of autumn and winter away until the spring rejuvenates it. People; happy, smiling, natural. Never posing, always sincere. That's what I paint, draw, sketch, doodle. Some may draw the darker parts of the world, even I on occasion. But I will always, always insert little details, things of light and hope to catch your eye. I paint beauty, even in its ugliest or plainest forms.

I paint abstractly, too; so you may view things in a way most do not see it. So you can imagine things that aren't there, but could be. To have a new perspective. I can paint a flower with sharp petals and flowering leaves. I can paint a fish with a tail more like a feathery bird's wings than one of the fish. Imagination can be inserted into anything, and it can be a treasure, especially in art. This, all of this, is why I am an artist. This is why I paint. Draw. Sketch. ❞

[finoodle]

Dropping out to help a friend

[versicolor]

dropping out uwu

winner can have the art i made below (:

[Novi]

Username: ::☠ skull corgi ☠::
Mako name: Phoebe
Mako Gender: Female
Personality:
1 art piece:
WIP
WIP

[saint.EXE]

what a pretty boy *o*
im not trying out but good luck to all!

[Flowerdust]

Username:
Mako name:
Beckett
Mako Gender:
male
Personality:
1 art piece:

;D; reserved <3

[peppermintleo]

Username:
PureCrazy

Mako name:
Jasper Niefe

Mako Gender:
Male

Personality:
Don't let that cute little smile fool you, Jasper is smug, selfish, and a jerk. He's an actor you see. He thinks he is all that. And he'll even try to convince you, using his traditional alluring smile like you see there. I promise, it'll be the biggest mistake of your life if you let him seduce you. He's vice versa pansexual. It's ALL about looks to him. You look good, he wants you. He doesn't care if you're a sweet girl who deserves much much better, or a cruel vicious guy with a killing streak. He likes how you look, he will try his very hardest to get you into his possession, using that smile and his calm, attractive, breathless voice.

1 art piece:

Extra one:
Actor's Journal

Extra two:
Romeo and Juliet
Starring Jasper Neife and Rairakku Kawa

[ser]

IMAGE HERE

❝ ｏｌｄ ｆｒｉｅｎｄ ｃｏｍｅ ｂａｃｋ ｈｏｍｅ
ｅｖｅｎ ｔｈｏｕｇｈ ｙｏｕ ａｌｗａｙｓ ｗｅｒｅ ａｌｏｎｅ
ｙｏｕ ｈａｄ ｔｏ ｐｕｓｈ ａｇａｉｎｓｔ ｔｈｅ ｆａｔｅｓ

ｊｕｓｔ ｔｏ ｍａｋｅ ｉｔ
ｍａｋｅ ｉｔ ｔｈｒｏｕｇｈｔｈｅ ｇａｔｅ ❞

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ᴜsᴇʀɴᴀᴍᴇ
« Hello , i'm bliss, !
I am a deep admirer of Makoatls! I've never been fully interested in an adoptable species, until makos showed up on the scene. They continue to be the only species that I actively watch and cherish. I do currently own one Makoatl, my boy Ikan Singa. I love him dearly, and he is my spoiled little prince. Sometimes I'll take a look at a few designs, and consider entering for them - but no design [ beside Ikes ] has really struck me until # 71 came along ! I am so thankful for this gracious opportunity to enter for her , as she has certainly enamored me ! »

ɴᴀᴍᴇ
« Jace
Jace is a simple girl , and her name seems to have no meaning other than it's what she calls her own. It's short and sweet, just as she is herself. The name is a bit masculine, however Jace does not mind. She can also be affectionately called 'Jay', and it serves as a suitable nickname. She will answer to anyone, but prefers that only close companions call her Jay. »

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
« Female
There is no doubt Jace is female. She carries feminine qualities - from her graceful locks to her petite figure, she eminates femininity. She is flowery and sweet, and carries maternal instincts. Jace does not like to bind herself to just one 'type' or gender in romance, and she sees herself as pansexual. »

ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ
« Jace is rather naive, compassionate, and laid-back. Her gullible and simple-minded ways result in her having a very simple outlook, a child like innocence. Folk tales and legends are among things that entrance her spirit, though whether she completely believes in them is left unknown. The small town she lives in does not help with her ignorance- which is not a bad thing, it just means she needs someone to guide her, and join her in her curiosity.
Her social abilities are rather impaired, as she didn't venture very far as a pup. At first Jace is shy and keeps to herself, and would prefer to listen than to speak. It does take long to warm up to her, as she prefers other animals than her own species as company. In the end, however, she turns out to be an adoring and kindred soul. Once attached she is slightly clingy due to her dependent nature, but she presents herself in a calm and respectful manner.
Jace is overall a caring, peaceful Mako. She often enjoys time in the company of the woodland creatures that surround her home, as they do not require her to speak. After the passing of her love she has grown slightly more secluded, and more into an explorer and wanderer. She can be compared to a deer - beautiful and graceful, dependent, yet wary, swift, and agile. »

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ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ
« * i'd recommend listening to this while you read the story below *
click !
✿ leaves in the river = seawolf
✿ black leaf falls = seawolf
✿ lead me home = jamie n commons
✿ the parting glass = emily kinney , lauren cohen
✿ safe and sound = taylor swift, the civil wars
✿ ruska = apocalyptica »

ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ᴘʀɪsᴄɪʟʟᴀ
« "Hurry up Jace, or we'll be late!"
A soft voice echoed through the house, smooth like warm milk, quiet as a mouse. It rocked gently off the barren oak walls, silently making its way to the top of the banister. Lips pressed impatiently against frost-bitten paws as the sentence came to a close. Another hurried sigh was emitted, this time the listener took head to these sounds.
“I’ll be right there, Priscilla! I’ve only forgotten something.”
Priscilla – the name still leaves a lingering taste; one that once tasted of honey. It has since lost its flavor.
Paw-steps were heard skirting across the staircase, soon landing clumsily upon darkened planks. Here, Priscilla stood near the doorway; wind-swept ebony bangs overlapped her olive eyes as she gently lifted her chin to gaze into my own. She had a fragile, petite stature; so much so she was dwarfed standing next to the ancient grandfather clock that ticked one hour too early. The fractured, innocent disposition only made her all the more lovable.
I grinned as my paws tip-toed towards her, my heart fluttered. I had known her since I was a pup, yet she always managed to set aflame a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. She intertwined her lanky tail with my own, and pressed her figure.
“You know where to go.”

We arrived at the coffee shop, an hour later than we normally do. In fact, we always arrive an hour later than we’re supposed to. Along our walk we often times stop by the lake to count the number of carp that jump out of the pond, defying gravity as they sprout wings, each day clambering higher and higher towards the sky. Or, we’ll be stopped in our tracks by a friendly fox; one who we’ll twitch noses with and chase in the piling snow. Once we captured and healed an injured cardinal. The bird had injured its wings from taking interest in flight too early, and was found curled up in the snow, believing hope was out of reach. The curious creature was taken to a nearby abandoned nest, and everyday we visited the chick to bring crackers and a new bedding of leaves. He grew well months later, and we still sing hello to him as he dances over our heads, now with a family of his own.
The shop itself was a melancholy figure, among a barren wasteland of snow and trees. It stood hunched over, next to a grand oak tree , which towered above the roof. There were only two windows that peered into the outside, one next to a flowery watercolor painting, the other by a washed out award for 'Best Coffee Shop In Town'. It was the only coffee shop in town.
A friendly face popped up from behind the bar, thrusting its paws into the air.
“Jace! Priscilla! It’s 4 o’clock, ‘n I’d be a fool if I wasn’t to expect you pair o’ birds to join me ‘ere!” He clapped his muggy paws together, releasing a wide smile in our presence.
He was the barista, known to the locals as only ‘the lumberjack’. He was tall, broad fellow, with an intimidating scar across a wispy eye. At once he began to prepare our drinks, setting some coffee beans into an age old machine. The smell of fresh coffee and macchiato performed a promising tango around the room, and we took our seats by the pair of dilapidated windows sat next to the pastel flora. Upon sitting down my eyes found their way to hers, welcoming and soothing; the type I could become lost in for hours.
Her voice broke the humming and whirring of the coffee makers. “Where would you like to go for your birthday? I’m thinking Italy. You’ve always talked of Italy.”
My birthday was a week from now, a Monday. We never do much extravagant on birthdays, though we did speak of it. Truth be told, we were poor. Our dues and debts are paid through kindness and scrapings from chores. The lumberjack, for example, serves us for free on a daily basis, as he was a friend of my parents. Otherwise, we had no change to our name. We were mere outsiders.
“Oh, Priscilla. That’d be great. Can you imagine taking one of those…canoes? Along the riverbanks and channels? The ones with singers that serenade, and a basket of fine bread.”
We both laughed at this prospect. It was far off dream, yet it was one that entranced both of our imaginations. She loved the idea of traveling, and I’d sacrifice all to be able to bring her wishes to reality.
“Your cuppa’s,” the lumberjack gruffed, as he set down two steaming cups of coffee.
With that, we drank heartily. In between sips we’d elaborate upon our fantasies, discuss the weather, and tell stories of our pasts in great enthusiasm. These evenings were my favorite part of the day. Any time I spent with Priscilla was my favorite, yet these were especially memorable. The little talks, they’d always bring us closer.

Hours had past, and the lumberjack was preparing for closing. Travelers had come and gone, yet we were the last remaining. The sun was beginning to drift off into the sky, being lulled into a deep sleep. Darkness began to seep into the building, creating an even darker atmosphere in the already dim shop. Upon that note, we left our well-wishes and thanks in the stagnant air, and took our steps into the freshly-laid snow.
It was especially cold that night, which only brought us closer together. I could feel our heartbeats sync, and at once I knew I was at peace. We walked in silence and shared glances, as it was all that was needed to communicate through the dark. Rushed, heated breaths emitted, creating a light fog around us. We stopped once more at the lake. The carp were resting, the water barely stirring.
A forest background encircled the lake, just as quiet as the life within. Small rodents and majestic deer slumbered underneath the watchful branches of the trees overhead. The deep, rich blue water reflected the moonlight’s rays, and collaborated to create a scene most magical.
Snow began to tumble down the longer we stayed out, yet we only hurried closer, diving into eachother's plush pelts.
“You know, I really wish we could go to Italy. I truly mean it.”
We've known each other since we were pups. I was an orphan, taken under by a fisherman. I grew up in his shack, along the dock by the lake we so loves. Priscilla lived with her mother in the forest, and we spent our childhood picking along the shore and counting evening stars. When her mother passed I was there for her, and from then I always was. Our bond was great, and we certainty loved each other.
However, I only wished I could show her my gratefulness in a material manner, just as she wished to do so for me.
In the end, we both knew we could never afford anything so grandeur. Her gaze wandered off to shore of the lake, then into the shadows of the trees. Finger-like figures grasped the ripples of the water, and I watched as they danced in her eyes.
“It’s okay. We have each other, and that’s all I need. It’s the best birthday present I could ask for.”
She blushed as I said this, but it was true. It was always true.
“I love you.”
“And I love you, Priscilla.”

I did not celebrate my birthday the next Monday, Priscilla did not celebrate my birthday either.
She grew sick on the Wednesday before. It hit us hard, and sudden. We knew what was happening, but denied it in every which way. It was just as in the case of the cardinal. We hoped the cardinal would heal, however we had a feeling that he might not make it, and we had to be prepared for that notion. However, as much as I told myself, I wasn’t ready.
Priscilla was always sick. We always knew it.
She had come to terms with her fate, her illness, but I hadn't.
On Thursday I stood by her bedside, only a candle illuminated the dreary room. Tapping could be heard from the outside, brought by a drizzling rain.
She had already begun a hard fall downwards.
“How many carp did you count today, Jay?”
Her voice quivered, trying to sound upbeat, yet I knew she was trying to suppress the coughs.
My eyes avoided her, as I stared to the outdoors, following the paths of the raindrops as they fell onto the sill, seeping through and plopping onto the floor within.
“Jay? How many?”
I did not break my gaze, and only curled my tail tighter around my numbing paws. Perhaps I was being unreasonable, yet no amount of power could bring me to look into her eyes. Not yet.
“3 Priscilla. Only 3.”
However, I hadn't even left that day to count the carp. Ever since Wednesday I had not left the house. I've been seated upon the bench by a portrait of her family, memorizing the patterns and rhythms of the rain pattering against our roof. I had only left to feed and check upon Priscilla.
On Friday I wrapped a blanket around her wiry frame, brushing her cream bangs from her face, away from the sweat trickling down. She was pale, extremely weak. A cough shook her being, disrupting her entire body, rippling through her limbs. I set a cup of coffee on the bedside table and read her a story in the candle light.
The night seemed eternal, yet even though the day seemed to last forever, Saturday, at last arrived.
The grandfather chimed 2 – though we both knew it was actually 3. It was the only sound that ricocheted through the house that day.
Alas, Sunday rolled over. The bed was empty, covers strewn over the floor, sopping up the puddle by the window. The rain turned into a storm, and rocked the home to the core. There was a stillness in the air, it was palpable in the most unsettling way. I put away the story book for the last time, and slipped into the backwoods.

Today I sit on the hill. The hill overlooking my town of Igaliku, the lake, the coffee shop, and my home. It’s been 5 years since my last birthday, as I have not had a birthday since. I sit here with my rabbit, Chaise. She’s curled upon my lap, set into a light slumber full of dreams and wonder.
The cardinal flutters overhead, mounting his way into the sky. He flies farther than the carp ever did, and reaches the clouds above. I wonder how high birds can fly, I like to believe they soar quite far. Perhaps, he’ll say hello to Priscilla. I’m sure she’s visiting Italy right now, for my birthday, and I’ll visit Italy too someday. We’ll visit Italy, one day.
»

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❝ ｉ ｋｎｏｗ ｙｏｕ
ｄｏｎ’ｔ ｂｅｌｉｅｖｅ ｍｅ
ｗｈｅｎ ｉ ｂｅｌｉｅｖｅ ｉｎ ｙｏｕ
ｂｕｔ ｉ ｋｎｏｗ ｉｔ’ｓ ｇｅｔｔｉｎｇ ｅａｓｉｅｒ
ｌｉｋｅ ｉｔ’ｓ ｓｕｐｐｏｓｅｄ ｔｏ ｄｏ ❞