The More We Flare

Spyridon Russo · 08-10-2010, 02:07 PM

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Hello Inferni 'Souls :3

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

o Character Name: Spyridon Vitaliy Russo

o Character Birthdate (including year): November 14, 2008

o Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci Ortus

o Species: 50% Canis Lupus Communis 50% Canis latrans

o Gender: Male

o A secondary form of contact: Only e-mail

o Currently played characters: Ever Mayawyn - Primary

o How you found 'Souls: A giant talking taco :O

o Initial post:

The leaves rustled fiercely, spraying a cascade of water as a figure emerged from the darkness. His black pelt was streaked with mud and his face dripped with the rain. Amethyst irises’ scanned the area with flaming confidence.

“Проклятие этой плохой погоды”

Spyridon spat in his native tongue, shooting a disgusted look at the ashen sky. He batted a paw at the weeping bracken and shook away the water that had collected in the brown fur. Just passing through, the Russo had found himself in the unfortunate position of wandering aimlessly in a storm. Unaware of where he was or why, the drenched male continued on without fear and refused to show weakness by shivering in his naked optime body. His hands were clenched by habit but immediately loosened as he felt pressure against his leg. Bright eyes looked down at the red figure cowering beside his frame.

Spyridon’s expression softened and he bent to scoop up the quivering creature. It was small with red fur plastered over a slim assemble and snout pointed before milky brown eyes. The pale fur was also splattered with mud and the male frowned, unable to distinguish the beautiful snow white chest.

“дный красный Прансер”

The Russian said sympathetically into his arms where the young fox had buried her nose. The red dog had been Spyridon’s only companion for the years he had been alone and the water to his flame that burned as instantly as lightening. He pressed a hand against his friend’s flank comfortingly and slipped the pup into his only accessory, a sky blue messenger bag. Inside, the male had various items he had needed over the course of his travels, none of which were a map.

It was true; the Russian had not known he had drifted into Canada or Inferni territory for that matter. He could smell wolf scent nearby but brushed it off as being stale. His paws carried him where his nose did and never back again. But these days time was catching up to him. He was becoming bored and found himself lonely although the Russian had too much pride to admit. Dwelling on the past was another thing Spyridon found a useless waste of energy. His past was none of the importance to him or anyone else for he had never shared it with anyone.

The male was woken rudely from his meandering thought walking as a brown paw sank into a puddle lined with mud. Rolling his unusually bright eyes that were suddenly covered by his wet bang, Spyridon searched through downpour for shelter but found himself hesitant to continue.

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