Post by .acez! on Feb 26, 2012 19:01:12 GMT -5
CANARY
SING IT OUT, BOY YOU GOTTA SEE WHAT TOMMORROW BRINGS
SING IT OUT, BOY YOU GOTTA SEE WHAT TOMMORROW BRINGS
NAME • Canary
SPECIES • feline
BREED • mountain lion
AGE • two years, four months
GENDER • male
SEXUALITY • Bisexualhe says 'son can you play me a memory?' i'm not really sure how it goes
but it's sad and it's sweet and i knew it complete
when i wore a younger man's clothes
PERSONALITY •Fluffy, soft and friendly, three words that truly express who Canary is. Young and bright, Canary has the mentle capacity of a three-year old, easily distracted by birds and butterflies. A young fellow, with a bright smile, Canary is exetremely optimistic and is willing to share that optimism and happiness with everyone he comes across. Bobbing up and down, you would think Canary has the personality of the bird he was named after, friendly yet shy, scared. But no, Canary is more like boistorous cockerel, jumping head first without little idea on what is going to happen
LIKES • music . people . hope / sunrises . birds . feathers .
DISLIKES • blood . fighting . arguements . dogs .
WEAKNESSES • too gullible . pacifist . superstitious . childish . too optimistic
STRENGTHS • loyal . adventurous . optimistic . gentle . kind . ADHD
FEARS • bloodi can still remember how that music used to make me smile
and i knew if i had the chance, i could make those people dance
and maybe they'd be happy for awhile.
APPEARANCE •Canary is very young. Exetremely. Well, maybe not that exetreme. But it shows in his face. And his stumboling gait. New to the world, or what seems to be new. Small, he could fit into any corner of a room. A bright pelt with the strange markings , spots that are commons in kits of the lion species. These spots it seem, will not grow out of his skin, but rather seem forumlated into it. Because of malnutrion as well, it is doubted that Canary will never grow any bigger than what he is.
PELT COLOR • a nice rustic sandy look. seems to have retained the spots of his youth. His face is etched with the common colors of black from his childhood. His stomach pales to more lighter color as his hind legs fade to more sandy, rocky color that shows of spots.
EYE COLOR • blue / brown - hazel
HEIGHT • 21 inches
WEIGHT • 49 kilograms
BUILD • lanky in height, small in weight. miniature in every way. He seems oddly out of portion, paws too big for his feet, ears big as his face. Much like his personality, Canary is fluffy, having yet to outgrow his kid-like features, and through months, he is starting to doubt he ever will. He has little to no muscules formed, or rather, he has yet to form any new muscules. Weak, scrawny, he hardly poses a threat to any creature.
SCARS? • rusty voice that stutters and gasps [results of largynospasm] - amnesia
MARKINGS •he drove off in the darkness like a slowly fading song
you can hear those distant bells
and you know you'll never leave
HISTORY •he remembers a pool of blood.
his childhood was dark. dismay. he knows nothing of his parents, but the scars they inflicted in the shadows of the night. the only beacon being his oldest sister, shikiri whose eyes were so strange. they were purple
he remembers violets, that seemed to shine.
he had always been scrawny, skinny. he will never continue to grow, always mere inches above the size of a large lynx. malnutrition keeps him from growing stronger. always a sense of a hunger, of thirst. dark oak trees. but lullabies would always comfort the cougar.
he awakes, his body sore.
abuse. scars inflicted on his sister. wounds ravaged his own body. he didn't understand why. he didn't understand the fear of the cougars that passed by. that something strange was happening down below. in a human village.
something echoes in his mind. a scream, a desperate cry.
so his sister ran. and he ran with her. into the night, far away. but they were hunted down. his sister told him to run. he did, hearing the screech of his sister, her final sound before she died. they came upon him. he was down, skull colliding with stone.
he awakes, mind in stupor. remembering little to nothing he finds himself in a trance as a small bird sings. it finishes it's song and flies off, a yellow feather drifting down to his paw, to soak in his blood.
canary. the name it seems all too familiar.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE •
Canary wished he could take flight. That was his hope. His secret. What he wanted more in life than.. life itself. Wings. Coiling his legs, he hopped from human trash to human trash. Every take-off would make him smile, his mouth open as he laughed in rising and lowering octaves. But every time he landed, it was a sense of defeat. Crushing him. What would it be like, to jump and never land?
He imagine it would be great. Sort of like being invicible. But Canary knew, deep down, it would never happen. He heard rumours that weird things were happening, but he doubted those weird things would give him wings. But until the moment happened where someone would tell him wrong, the young mountain lion could dream.
He didn't know where he was now. Probably a site for human wreakage. Broken human dens, and weird sharp metallic things that tasted like salt and dirt. But.. it's not like Canary tried to eat something like that anyway.
He bunched his legs, and curled his spine, whiskers twitching as he landed on the ground with loud thud. His tail curling around his legs as Canary continued on foot, smiling and his mouth and his eyes, wide and open. Eager. He wondered what kind of people lived here. Maybe, he could meet some new friends!
Sniffing the dirt and feeling slightly munchy, he padded forward before stopping. Ears twitching forward, the youngster blinked in confusion as he turned his head from behind the large debris he was currently behind. Oooh! A.. A..
Canary blinked in confusion. He wasn't entirely sure what it was. BUT IT WAS SOMEONE HE COULD SOCIALIZE WITH!!
He took a happy step forward, tripping against a slim metal stick which clanged against a bigger metal object. The creature then turned and barked at him. The noise startled the cat who stumbled backwards behind the large white box thing in fear.
That was not a sound he was familiar with. But he reckonized the words on her tongue, and summoning some bravery, he poked his head from the corner and answered. A B ? Why do you bark? He sang, a quick two note song that rose at the end, a question. Taking another step forward. A tune came from his rustic throat, a tune that some would reckonize as the song of a canary, which he named himself.
