Post by Basyle Cerise on Jun 29, 2011 10:18:59 GMT -5
When We Come Down
Name:
Basyle Cerise
Basyle, with the meaning of King; Cerise, a shade of deep red.
Sex:
Male
Birth-Date:
April twenty-second, 2300
(I wasn't able to figure the exact year.)
Age:
Four years
We'll Be Dreaming Safe and Sound
Species:
Half Moon
Pack:
Loner
Rank:
Born into the rank of an Alpha, it's all he knows.
Duty:
If not to lead, he would fall into the position of a soldier.
You Better Know Why
Appearance:
His base coat is a deep auburn red, blanketed by a soft grey. Deep greys streak his coat, leaving a slightly dirt look. A nearly white-grey engulfs his paws and half of his legs, along with his muzzle, and the marks aove his eyes. A deep brown runs down his coat, reflecting the red to evoke the presense of his mixed blood.
His build is strong and lean, with a long muzzle and sharp ears, his neck his thick with fur, elluding a larger size than he is. Around sixty-five pounds, he is a moderatly sized Half Moon, yet his lean and strong legs give his smaller build more power.
Skills:
Leader|| Basyle, not only to himself, but his family, was to become an Alpha. He leads with power, fairness, and equality.
Verbosity|| He always has an input, incrising his reliablity to help others and it helps strenght his place among the other wolves, proving he isn't afraid to stand up for what he is thinking.
Sentimental|| Any spare time he has, Basyle not only thinks, but thinks hard. He's goal in life is to answer all the questions, even if he doesn't know them yet.
Personality:
To find the answers- isn't that all he'd ever wanted? He knew how to lead with power and dignity, but that was all trained, forced into him at birth. Through his own eyes, he saw the world as a lot of questions, needed answers. His stubborn ways always took over, along with short-tempered reponses that were easily triggered. For a wolf born into the alpha line, his sweet-talking was perfected at a young age to all the females, and mastered his body language down to the wire. Slightly full of himself, he never mastered the idea that there were better wolves than himself out there.
Because You're All I've Got
History:
If nothing else, it was the nudge of a cold, wet maw that he remembers first. A motherly nudge, with slight force, that pushed him out into the open. Next, the smell of fresh, pure air, complimented by the soft shadows of the chisled rocks and flanking trees that loomed with great height over the pup. His first time leaving the protective area of his packlands, which intailed weaving through brush and a lean creek, to find this place.
Born to the Alpha of the pack, the then dubbed Cerise was not only to be trained in the rigorous line of leading, but felt it in his blood. Nothing out of the ordinary was his birth-pack, except for his mixed blood to create a Half Moon. This pack had been around for a long time, only now beginning to calm down. This pack was small- if even a pack. More like a group of loners, not truely recognized by full packs. Living in this land with the other, larger packs, thsi group of now peace-loving wolves found it easier to stick together than try to find a place in the other ones.
Years before, it had been a strong and violent pack. Leadership was choosen by the survivor of a battle, and the lenghts they would go to in hopes of winning. Courtship was not heartfelt, it was lust. Before Basyle's time, luckily, things changed. They way the wolves viewed it all changed. This peace, it left them all feeling relaxed, and patient. The wolves realized that taking each other's lives was not up to them, but a higher being.
Into this world of thought he was born, and expected to carry on this tradition of envoking peace, yet Basyle didn't accept it. He wanted it to be proven, or never felt it was true. Every wolf has their own way of discovering themselves, and he knew that he needed to discover his own views.
Raised in his pack, he never told them how he felt about their way of life. Praised as a warrior by his father, and loved by his mother for his independence, he was always seen as strong in the eyes of the pack. His stubborn air was taken as strength, but it was a mix of that, and something else. His internal conflict, to leave this pack, and experience life. He knew that this wasn't all that was out there, this pack with their relaxed style. As much as being looked up to was nice, he had never experienced anythign else- never had them point out his many flaws, never had to be put in his place. As crazy as it sounds, he wanted it.
As his parents aged, he knew that it was his last chance. He left, still branded with his puppy name, before he was stuck to lead the only pack he knew until his death. A solemn goodbye, his parents still thought that he was trying to be strong. If anything, he was waiting to experience fear.
RPer:
Laura Michelle[/center]
