Name:
I am Vogel; the false prince.
Build:
I am tall and thin, skinny legs that can run as swift as snow in a blizzard. My muzzle is long and bony. Certainly, most males that stand next to me, well, their foreheads reach just my jaw. The stone-hard horns make me look even taller than I really am.
I may look weak, and seem to break like twigs; I assure you that any thickness on my bones is muscle. I am not excessively powerful, but I can hold my own. Strength is average, with abnormally fascinating speed.
Personality:
(sympathetic) | (humorous) | (independent) | (level-headed) | (distant)
I have several traits that I use to define myself, like we all do. I would like to say I have a heart of stone above all else, but alas, I would be lying...
I wear an exterior of rock, but it contains a molten core. I look and act like the Grim Reaper, though an angel in disguise is all that really exists. I couldn't let another go hungry, I couldn't leave behind my comrades to save myself. I would love to be able to; I simply can't.
However, I can say I have a sharp tongue that bites on its own. Some may say I'm too harsh with words when I pull comebacks out of nowhere. I usually try to trace a bit of humor within my arguments, lighten the mood, though most just take it personally and try to bite harder.
I don't need them. I don't have to put up with their disagreements and stupidity. I am my own man and I live by this always. When things get too heated, I walk away on my own and start a new project, with no asking for help or complaining that I have to be alone. Besides, I usually prefer to have my own space anyway.
Even in the worst of situations, like when I had to leave home, I think things through. I know when the time is right for big decisions and I plan it all out before I just get up and do it. The opposite of spur-of-the-moment? That's me!
What can I say? I'm quiet and prefer not to speak anyway. I don't like friends because I only get drama from them. Fights start over mates, or so-and-so said I did this and that... screw it! I want nothing to do with basic society. I do my own thing, make only the best of friends when the opportunity presents itself, and shut out all else.
Stories:
Birth of Lies
Four nubs in total grew from my head. My parents were baffled when they discovered the bumps forming. I was certainly nothing from a royal family; how could it be that I had the symbol of the alphas?
As my horns grew larger, it was almost definite that this was happening. My parents one day announce to all that they knew "Our son is an alpha!" and "We know for sure he has four horns now." No one believed them until they looked at me. They shouted in jealousy and rage "How'd you get so lucky? Birth to an alpha when you have not the slightest drop of royalty in your blood!"
I was praised, given gifts and was protected beyond necessary by my parents. My sisters couldn't play too rough with me anymore. I couldn't get any injuries that would last my lifetime. I can't say whether I liked this life or not; being singled out by all society even if it was for praise.
It was bad for sure in the end...
About a year later, as I began growing into a fine, slender young man and my horns began to extend larger, those horns began to form together. They were not a double set after all; they were just two pieces of the same horn. My parents were devastated. They hid me from the world; hid their lies and mistakes from everyone who loved them so much. They acted normal, but everyone got suspicious as to why they couldn't visit my family anymore. Well, someone spotted me when I poked my head out of the den for some sunlight one afternoon and spread the word about me.
I didn't know then, but my parents actually did consider disowning me. That would be the typical outcome of the story, right? Thrown out like a bad seed usually is what happens.Although I was a lie, they still loved me too much. No, instead my parents just kept me inside whenever possible. I couldn't play with anyone else because everyone kept their own children away from me. I was tainted; a disease.
Ironically, a disease of the pack was what led me to flee. A disease, my own kind I like to call it, was my excuse to live in freedom. It started with my father. He caught some bacterial virus that quickly spread to my weakest sister. They were dying, and fast. Others from the pack caught it also, whether from my dad or in other means, I don't know. Then my mother, who lasted only a few days before the illness took her soul from the pack. That settled my decision--it was time to go. Today, I am honestly shocked that I didn't catch a case of the infectious death-disease. I planned where I would go beforehand; over the mountains and whatever awaited afterwards. If I starved to death, or if exhaustion was my fate, then so be it. At least I tried. Though, if I died there then I wouldn't be telling you this story, would I? Well, what awaited on the other side of the mountains was my new pack. A home.
Mate:
I know nobody; I am nobody. Until someone proves me wrong, I want nothing to do with a mate.
base- e0decf
light brown- 221c19
dark brown- 100f0e
green- 03e281
blue- 033be2
dark gray- 9e9e9e
light gray- cbd4d0
nose base- 838282
nose specks- 5f5e5e
paw pads- ae9399
eyes- b3b2b2
