08-25-2010, 03:23 PM
Character Name: Kafka
Character Birthdate (including year): July 3, 2008
Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci
Species: 100% grey wolf
Gender: Boy
A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M). pm me for msn?
Currently played characters: nahhh
How you found 'Souls: Lucia Cabriel's player and I have been rping together for a long time~~
--
A life spent traveling is chasing comet tails to the horizon, wandering and squandering in a gypsy paradigm. Gleaning “knowledge” or “worldliness” or “culture” by fascination of the broken and hopeless remnants of civilization. Of hierarchy. Of order. It was crying with radiant eyes at the trials of the ordained and pursing lips at them bowing to the godhead. It was playing missionary but never martyr. It was ephemeral, touch-and-go friendships. It was superficial and self gratifying. It was never staying. It was never suffering.
That's what Kafka had done for the first two years of his life. His father, mother, and brother played charitable sightseers, hostelling with reluctant strangers that they often outwardly pitied. The world, in their moon-eyes, was dissolving into chaos. Anarchy on the wings of half-assed rectitude. Pleasure for them was collecting these stories, carrying away the heart-weakening, gut-wrenching, and mind-boggling albatrosses from the tired necks of pack members. Pretend to listen, pretend to care, but it was only a learning experience.
But Kafka, standing at the curled lips of the barbed wire fence, peering in it as if it was the great void Chaos at the beginning of the Grecian universe, believed in order and humanity. An auspicious morning sun, elucidating the territory sprawling before him, laid a shrug of warmth across his shoulders. The stridulations of a hawk rang lucid in the distance.
Character Birthdate (including year): July 3, 2008
Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci
Species: 100% grey wolf
Gender: Boy
A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M). pm me for msn?
Currently played characters: nahhh
How you found 'Souls: Lucia Cabriel's player and I have been rping together for a long time~~
--
A life spent traveling is chasing comet tails to the horizon, wandering and squandering in a gypsy paradigm. Gleaning “knowledge” or “worldliness” or “culture” by fascination of the broken and hopeless remnants of civilization. Of hierarchy. Of order. It was crying with radiant eyes at the trials of the ordained and pursing lips at them bowing to the godhead. It was playing missionary but never martyr. It was ephemeral, touch-and-go friendships. It was superficial and self gratifying. It was never staying. It was never suffering.
That's what Kafka had done for the first two years of his life. His father, mother, and brother played charitable sightseers, hostelling with reluctant strangers that they often outwardly pitied. The world, in their moon-eyes, was dissolving into chaos. Anarchy on the wings of half-assed rectitude. Pleasure for them was collecting these stories, carrying away the heart-weakening, gut-wrenching, and mind-boggling albatrosses from the tired necks of pack members. Pretend to listen, pretend to care, but it was only a learning experience.
But Kafka, standing at the curled lips of the barbed wire fence, peering in it as if it was the great void Chaos at the beginning of the Grecian universe, believed in order and humanity. An auspicious morning sun, elucidating the territory sprawling before him, laid a shrug of warmth across his shoulders. The stridulations of a hawk rang lucid in the distance.