09-03-2008, 04:45 PM
1. Character Name: Emory Medley.
2. Character Birthdate (including year): May 4, 2004.
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Regular Wolf.
4. Gender: Male.
5. Your e-mail: brendalee-@hotmail.com.
6. A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M): That's my msn.
7. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Sublunary Abyss.
Emory stepped up to the edge of Phoenix Valley’s pack territory. If you could consider it that, it was more like a paw, a couple of claws, just to show how big of a rebel he really was. This hadn't been planned. He hadn't planned on joining a pack; he hadn't planned not to. He was not one to calculate the likelihood of good fortune, but he was sure that maybe settling down would be wise for the time being. A wanderer was the mental name he had given himself over the years, well deserved. He hadn't settled down once since his kin pack. There had never been any need or want to do so. Independence is what he'd left for, and that's what he got. It was well-lived, but Emory knew that he wasn't getting any younger, and it was time he'd established himself for what he was. Or should be.
At least he'd picked a wonderful day for it. Pouring rain slamming down on his snout made for a good atmosphere to be considering his worth coming into a pack. Gargling back water, struggling to keep his eyes open to see who he was talking to, that sounded liable. He chuckled quietly to himself and looked out over the boundaries. Decent place, even if it was temporarily gray and wet. Appealing to the eyes at least, that was nice. Giving a good rough shake of his pelt to get rid of some of the water weight, Emory reclined to his haunches and continued waiting, almost in expectation. Should he wait for someone to find him? Would howling be too pushy? Emory let out of a gruff cough and lifted his left hind leg to give his ear a scratch. He was procrastinating, in a sense. No one would gladly be scoping the borders for wanderers like himself. Wanderers shouldn't be out and about on days like today.
Swishing his gray tail, he felt the added weight and let it slop back on the ground. This was boring. The ground was moshy and uncomfortable. Emory looked around, squinting through the rain, getting a few drops in the eye. It'd be no different if he was looking into the sun, except this weather attacked him. Nah. He'd wait, he loved this weather. His gray and black pelt weighing him down again already, the coldness of the rain sinking in. Peaceful, was what it was. Arguable, yes. But wasn't Emory here under abnormal circumstances anyways? Rebelling, breaking all the rules. It was the perfect day.
Word Count: 424
2. Character Birthdate (including year): May 4, 2004.
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Regular Wolf.
4. Gender: Male.
5. Your e-mail: brendalee-@hotmail.com.
6. A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M): That's my msn.
7. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Sublunary Abyss.
Emory stepped up to the edge of Phoenix Valley’s pack territory. If you could consider it that, it was more like a paw, a couple of claws, just to show how big of a rebel he really was. This hadn't been planned. He hadn't planned on joining a pack; he hadn't planned not to. He was not one to calculate the likelihood of good fortune, but he was sure that maybe settling down would be wise for the time being. A wanderer was the mental name he had given himself over the years, well deserved. He hadn't settled down once since his kin pack. There had never been any need or want to do so. Independence is what he'd left for, and that's what he got. It was well-lived, but Emory knew that he wasn't getting any younger, and it was time he'd established himself for what he was. Or should be.
At least he'd picked a wonderful day for it. Pouring rain slamming down on his snout made for a good atmosphere to be considering his worth coming into a pack. Gargling back water, struggling to keep his eyes open to see who he was talking to, that sounded liable. He chuckled quietly to himself and looked out over the boundaries. Decent place, even if it was temporarily gray and wet. Appealing to the eyes at least, that was nice. Giving a good rough shake of his pelt to get rid of some of the water weight, Emory reclined to his haunches and continued waiting, almost in expectation. Should he wait for someone to find him? Would howling be too pushy? Emory let out of a gruff cough and lifted his left hind leg to give his ear a scratch. He was procrastinating, in a sense. No one would gladly be scoping the borders for wanderers like himself. Wanderers shouldn't be out and about on days like today.
Swishing his gray tail, he felt the added weight and let it slop back on the ground. This was boring. The ground was moshy and uncomfortable. Emory looked around, squinting through the rain, getting a few drops in the eye. It'd be no different if he was looking into the sun, except this weather attacked him. Nah. He'd wait, he loved this weather. His gray and black pelt weighing him down again already, the coldness of the rain sinking in. Peaceful, was what it was. Arguable, yes. But wasn't Emory here under abnormal circumstances anyways? Rebelling, breaking all the rules. It was the perfect day.
Word Count: 424