on a bed made of concrete.

[Jefferson Soul]

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Character Name: Jefferson [Maluki Soul] Real Name: Lin Character Birthdate (including year): 4 (2004) Luperci: Yes. Gender: Male. E-mail: deviousgoldfish@gmail.com AIM: monkey seizure How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: I used to play here as Maluki, but left due to school and real-life issues. Note that Jeffer is all banged up and has been for a while; he's not looking to join a pack because he has no idea where he is or that he's on their borders, but this is still a joining pack nonetheless because things will work themselves out. :3;; wc541 -- Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the ground seemed so suddenly softer where as he stepped, like a pillow trapped beneath his pads and claws. What a difference that made on aching paws, aching joints, aching bones; it felt as if he had aged twenty years instead of just a few, but it was of little matter to a mauler like Jefferson. The past few years were barely more than a rushed blur in his ever-spinning mind. Incidentally, what years lingered before then had been dashed from his memory as well; all that remained were shadows where pain used to be. Something shot through his heart when he thought about a father he must've had--and always suspected that there was some sort of pain he'd forgotten about still living there, long since forgotten and neglected. Simply put, Jefferson had just stopped caring. But the ground here, it was so... soft. Perhaps it was because the hybrid had stepped on rocks for too long. Mentally and physically, the rocky road had been a, well... a backbreaking one. For some time he'd wondered where he'd come from, if someone was looking for him--there had always been a nagging feeling that someone was looking for him--but he couldn't remember anymore and moved on just the same. He'd moved on far too much. He was tired of moving on alone, perhaps, but pack life had always been such a foreign concept. There was a certain familiarity to it, especially when wandering on long-deserted grounds where a pack must have once settled. He'd discovered a den that he not only found was vaguely something he could recall, but cozy and comfortable. He'd slept easily that night. Jefferson hadn't slept easily for as long as he could remember. Memories were like poison, like plagues; ever resounding in his head, ever haunting what potentially could have been dreams. What were to be kindhearted and pleasant memories turned into nightmares, and were thus deserted just like the den where he slept. The hybrid could not stand to sleep easily anymore. His head pounded like rock on concrete; the plush, grassy grounds were comfort for his aching feet for some time, but Jeffer knew how far he'd walked, and knew when walking became his downfall. His bones and stomach could not handle it anymore--ever since he'd gimped his leg, he'd been unable to capture a decent meal in what felt like ages. His stomach constantly gurgled and cried, now emaciated and running along his ribs. The hybrid wasn't proud of his appearance, quite mangled and unloved, but somehow he'd managed to get along. One eye was shut permanently, completed with a gash not only through it, but halfway down the jowls as well. As he stepped off of his limping leg it would ache, and as he pressed it to the ground again, he'd swallow the small whine that surfaced. So had been Jefferson for several months. He was unable to swallow the whine that time. A painful yelp arose, and Jefferson went crashing to the ground. The questions rose again as always as he laid there--where was he going? Why keep walking? The hybrid heaved a sigh, closed his good eye, and breathed.

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