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Santi
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| Out of Character | ||
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OOC Name: Cassandra Other Characters: Position: Birthday: No Information Posts: 0 Joined On: 26 Dec 2009 Points: |
Website: No Information Email: Click Here PM: Click Here AIM: No Information MSN: No Information YIM: No Information |
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| In Character |
Age: 1 Year(s) Gender: Male Pack: Kadre Rank: Appearance: Peering out at the world, his mind hidden behind inquisitive golden eyes, Santi will be striking, imposing, and magnificent when he manages to burst from the awkward stages of adolescence. His frame is tall and slender even in his days of youth, and though his markings are dull and unpronounced at his time of arrival, they will blossom into their full potential later on, transforming him from a gangly outsider to a handsome young man who everyone wants to taste. From the tip of his maw to the end of his tail, he is drenched in warm tans and smoky grays that blend effortlessly into one another, giving way to a cream-colored underside. His fur is long, trailing behind him with every step, courtesy of uncertain roots farther back along his family tree; he has a build suited for running, with a deep chest and long legs that carry him effortlessly. As a child, however, his paws are disproportionate to his small bodice, and he is clumsy; this is an trait he will retain through adulthood and into the inevitable black void that awaits him. His features are narrow and well-chisled by the finest craftsman; sunk deep into his skull are two gleaming golden eyes forged in a smith's blazing workshop, and beneath those eyes lie small black markings lining them. The ruff around his neck is unusually large and cumbersome, though he wears it well, proudly masquerading as an exotic nobleman from a distant and obscure corner of the world, it suits his fantasies. As a boy, his coloration will be predominantly tan and cream, with a tan back and sides, and a hood of the soft, soothing brown pulled over his years. As both a pup and an adult, he will have white brows just above his eyes, marking where the luscious cream color begins; it flows from his face to his chest and underparts, creating good contrast against the stark, common shade of ecru that coats his upper half. He has a white tip to his tail, which is heavily furred, resembling that of a fox, and his ears seem almost rounded, as if a part if his genetic makeup contained wildcat genes, due to the proliferation of fur surrounding them. He seems almost unreal, a stuffed toy, a child's plaything, better suited to sitting at the foot of a bed than running rampant as a carnivore. As his life inches onward, as the weeks and months pass by, he will grow tall, but unusually lacking in muscular strength: he is not built for war. Ideally, he could persue prey flawlessly, effortlessly, bounding with outlandish speed, a speed to match a terrified, fleeing deer – but he himself has fallen prey to a condition that his mother knew well. Occasionally, his left hind leg spasms painfully, forcing him to the ground in unparallelled agony; this will impede him from the greatness that he will consistently strive for, the greatness he will never achieve. Impediments aside, he is otherwise physically fit, and the races he will incessantly challenge the others to will shape him into an individual who is extraordinarily fleet of foot. Santi will be handsome; he'll be a charmer who's sure to break girls' hearts, though such a life lies months away. For now, he will be unnoticeable, and will tolerate the constant fawning-over of the more flashy offspring: he knows his time will come. Relations: Personality: Analytical and unbound by the strict parameters set by religion, with an inquisitive edge to his cold demeanor, Santi is curious, constantly examining his environment with expressionless eyes of liquid gold. He is the canine counterpart of the child who pesters his mother with the simplest of questions: he, too, yearns to know why the sky is blue; he, too, yearns to know why the sun rises and sets in rhythmic, repeditive motion. Sticking his nose into places where it doesn't belong, pacing and crouching and squealing horrified, piteous mewls when clawed or bitten by a creature who would prefer to remain undiscovered, he is a miniature explorer, always on his feet and constantly searching for vital amusement. He is unrestrained and hardly cautious, leaping into situations that he would be better off not leaping into, a trait that his own mother flaunted in her brief period of unrivaled glory. Highly compeditive, a thirst for success courses through his velvet veins, a thirst that will drive him to such limits as challenging adults to his petty tests of prowess. The chiding of his much-loved foster parent means little to him; strong-willed and determined, the boy will not rest until his rapidly paced brain is sated with the information he desires. His mocking, disrespectful tone of voice leave acquaintances with a first impression that they shall always remember, and his dry, sarcastic, and often macabre wit coupled with his eloquence will turn potential playmates away – but initial encounters inside, he is betrothed with the gifts of uniquity and loyalty, one part frenetic menace and one part excellent companion. At times, he seems deaf and devoid of intelligence, lagging behind others of his age and gradually fading from reality's fatal embrace; at other times, he seems one step ahead of his peers, be it expertly identifying foliage and attaching to it a special name that only he is permitted to utter or sitting quietly, his head cocked inquisitively, soaking up every word a knowledgeable elder speaks. A dreamer, the time the Xarial boy does not spend hunting for new things to add to his ever-expanding catalogue is spent staring up at the constantly shifting clouds, conjuring ingenuity from the depths of his mind. Always thinking of new inventions involving the materials scattered around him, his internal workshop runs twenty-four-seven, with rest being trivial and unneeded. As for where he stores his inventions – he aptly named it Santi's Great Big Book of Things, and he constantly carries it with him, locked in an obscure little drawer of his consciousness. Argumentive and often needlessly rude, Santi is incredibly outspoken, never hesitating to voice his outlandish ideas. Be the recipient of his vehement yells an Alpha or an Omega, he will not cease until the point is taken and his fantasies considered. His tendency to force his ideas upon others will not take him far, though he does posess extraordinary tact even in the early stages of his existence. As he becomes older, Santi will have a manipulative side to his persona, though this flaw will not be outlandishly pronounced like it is in some. He will merely compel the weak-minded to become his – not in a sadistic, devilish way, but in a way that will help him climb the social ladder until he reaches the apex of society. He is extraordinarily prideful as well, with an insatiable lust for fame and a desire to push aside all that stand higher above him in rank. An observer could say that he fosters mutinous dreams, though such a notion could never apply to him: needless self-confidence runs rampant in the Xarial bloodline, and he is generally unable to suppress his feelings of superiority. Though he may occasionally fall behind the others in terms of attentiveness, he is astoundingly eloquent and fluent: the characteristic manner of speech commonly attributed to a puppy is almost entirely absent from his voice, which will take a striking turn toward alluring as he reaches his first year. His deep, dulcet tones, coupled with his poetic euphemisms evoking devilish desire in all who dare to approach, will make him a tool of seduction – and whether he will use himself as Lucifer intended will show itself over time. As a child, though, he is more concerned over approval from his peers and petty, childish things: the games of tag and the amateur races of three or four, the reckless exploring, the swimming and the wrestling. And, of course, the one thing that gives his life on Zirenta true meaning: his Catalogue, his Book of Things, the detailed tome that he will abandon as a yearling – the same tome that he holds dear to his little heart in those tender, impressionable puppy stages. History: Born on a distant island to a pair of loners and a wanderer by nature, Santi's penchant for adventure pulled him into the sea's froth and carried him away with a vicious, brutal grip, spitting him out into a place that he did not know... |
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