Post by Deleted on May 19, 2012 19:39:50 GMT -5
WHISPER
NAME. Whisper
NICKNAME(S). Whis or Whisp, but only her brother calls her by those names
AGE. 2
SPECIES. Wolf
BREED. Eastern Wolf
GENDER. Female
HEIGHT. 27 inches
WEIGHT. 45 lbs.
COAT. Ebony Black
EYE COLOUR. Light silver with an aqua undertone
NOTABLE MARKINGS. All black except for her right paw, which has a metallic gray sock.
PHYSICAL.
At birth, her physical size was already predetermined: small. She was the only pup in her litter, the rest were stillborn. But, if they had lived, she would have surely been the runt. Standing at a mere 27 inches, Whisper isn’t what you’d call big, nor is she heavy for that matter. She was always slim, even as a pup with all her baby fat. And because she was weaned early off of her mother’s milk, her size was greater decreased. Her muscles are not very defined, nor is her very little body fat, and because of this, she looks scrawny and vulnerable.
With her long sleek black coat, she almost disappears in the night. The only thing that would give her away would be her silvery cyan eyes that seem to glow in the night and are never filled with any emotion. Her face always looks serious even if she in in her own dream word, which along with her eyes, gives her a great poker face that no one can read.
Though she will never admit it, or accept it, she is a very beautiful she wolf. Her body is very proportionate and graceful looking. Her ears are nice and rounded, her muzzle medium in length and angular with a black mane of fur framing her delicate face, and a long fluffy tail makes her the essence of hidden beauty.
FEARS.
Horses
Fire
Being in a large crowd
Being the center of attention
VICES.
Uncomfortable around other wolves and prefers her own company
Over thinks a lot
Doesn’t trust openly
Twitches her tail and left ear when nervous
STRENGTHS.
Wiser than her years due to her history
Stronger than she looks
Knows a lot about plants and herbs
Great survival skills
PET PEEVES.
Being Wet
Violence of any kind
Overly aggressive wolves
Overly happy wolves
Loud noises
LIKES.
Silence
Butterflies
Small or harmless animals
Being left alone
Her brother
PERSONALITY.
Whisper was never her talkative type. Her name itself gives that away. Shy, quiet, and very reserved are a few words that fit this little she wolf very well. Before her brother’s death, Whisper was just like any other pup: always playing games and laughing and having fun. But his death greatly disturbed her already fragile mind. She imploded in on herself, not letting anyone see her true nature for fear that they would be taken away right before she could grasp them. She shunned everyone, became scared of everything, and exiled herself. The loving and caring nature she was given by her brother was soon replaced to something completely the opposite.
An outsider would say she was insane. Sometimes when she is alone, she acts like her brother never left her side. In her own world, she talks to him and he talks back, she plays with him and he plays with her. But of course, when she is with another animal she would never admit to doing so. She probably wouldn’t even answer them. She is very socially awkward and doesn’t like speaking up. Because of this, most wolves think she is deaf, but she is not.
Whisper might as well be deaf. She hates loud noises or sound in general. For this little Eastern Wolf, silence is golden. She hates anything that makes loud noises, like a horse neighing or even a wolf howling at the moon. Around her, you might as well shut your mouth. She would shut it for you, but something she hates even more than loud noises is violence. When a fight starts, there is always going to be blood. If she smells wolf blood, she will most likely pass our or start retching.
Life, in Whisper’s eyes, is too valuable to through away. Yet she locked hers up inside her, the hard silent-loving-afraid-of-everything sell too thick to break. The pup inside of her too far inside to come to light. But even in the strongest shell, there are cracks.
MOTHER. Shima, living (whereabouts unknown)
FATHER. Atival, living (whereabouts unkown)
SIBLINGS. Canto, deceased
HISTORY.
Through the eerie silence of a forest at sleep, a pup whimpered quietly. The sound was mournful, that of a wolf grieving a lost family member, but was also faint; barely a whisper. Abandoned, lost, and alone, Whisper cried in the darkness, her only companion was a snowy owl perched atop an oak tree using its white feathers to guide the small pup along her tree-cleared path. Her family was long gone, along with her former pack. They had abandoned their smallest member—a mere four month old pup—to search for unclaimed land. Surely the journey was too great for such a small wolf, they thought.
She padded along her path, stumbling and falling many times. She couldn’t clear her mind of the fact that she was alone. That her family and her three-year-old brother had left her without second thought. All was silent in the forest of the lost pup, until the sound of foliage crunching in a familiar rhythmic pattern met her ears. “Don’t cry, little Whis.†The strong, calming voice soothed her. Her brother’s voice. Canto had not abandoned her after all!
He took care of the four-month-old Whisper until she was a full year older. He taught her how to hunt, how to make a shelter, how to find water, how to survive. He played with her and was patient with her. That is, until the disease devoured him.
First the dizziness started. Canto would fall down and his eyes would be twitching back and forth like a pup after spinning in circles too long. Then came the nausea. He couldn’t even stand without vomiting all of Whisper’s previous kill. It would make their den smell foul and she would have to clean it up before the stomach toxins made her regurgitate also. The darkness came soon after. Canto would black out for hours straight and awake with no memory of why his little sister was constantly prodding her nose on his rump telling him to keep conscious. But the worst plague The Disease carried was the last.
Blood. It would pour out of Canto nonstop, finding any crevice to escape from Whisper’s brother’s mutilated body. The salty metallic smell of it was worse than the puke. It would fill her senses and Whisper would become insane on the worst days and think it became her entire being. How could Canto be living through such a terrible disease and be the one telling her it was going to be alright in the end?
The once most beautiful, strong, and caring creature had deteriorated before Whisper’s very eyes. A mere two weeks before he was hunting the largest buck in all of Toren with Whisper, laughing and radiating life. Now he was on Death’s doorstep, having already knocked and now just awaiting an invitation.
Now just skin, bone, and blood, Canto still tried to comfort Whisper. “Don’t cry, little Whis,†He cooed. His voice crackled and strained with effort. Hearing the same words spoken to her one year ago, water formed in her eyes. “Though I will soon be leaving, I will never leave you.†He started coughed up metallic red liquid.
Whisper nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck like she always did when she was afraid or sad. “Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone,†She whispered quietly, tears now freely running down her cheeks.
“You will never be alone. Never.†The rest of his blood streamed out from his nose, ears, and mouth, but his glassy unseeing amber eyes remained fixed on Whisper’s silver ones. His last words still echoed in her ears.
“Never.â€
NAME. Azyris
AGE. Teenager
EXPERIENCE. Four years
OTHER CHARACTERS. None
HOW’D YOU FIND US. On deviantArt.com, through a friend of mine.
PREFERED CONTACT METHOD. PM or email