05-13-2011, 07:03 PM
Character Name: Toulouse Dubois
Character Birthdate: September 16 2009
Gender: Male
Species: Canine
Is your character a Luperci?: Yes
Other 'Souls Characters: N/A
Writing examples:
Character Birthdate: September 16 2009
Gender: Male
Species: Canine
Is your character a Luperci?: Yes
Other 'Souls Characters: N/A
Writing examples:
Quote:They—those that had lain beside her or above or below her in a three-dimensional haven that was surely her existence—dwindled. In only moments it was emptied of liquid and of bodies, leaving only her to silently wail and scream through the fluid in her lungs against the injustice of it all. She knew it only by sensation; where once there were others, now there were none. She was washed from the wall of the womb she clung so desperately to with legs that were infinitely strong for their size and make, but she could not avail herself of their power. Not now. She met the cold, harsh floor of the den and her mouth opened wide into a gurgly scream, expelling what filled her lungs in a gush of wrenching coughs. No sooner than that was she left there, soaking wet and comforted none. The bodies pressed around her, tiny infants flailing for some kind of nurturing warmth, but their insignificant forms gave her no salvation from the chill.
It crawled along her spine like little spider feet and hooked there, dragging her flesh into shuddering wrinkles. She didn't notice the arrival of the fox nor the snatching of the pup that had been directly nearest it, not when her entire body wailed for something that was absent. It commanded her attention, what little of it there was, so thoroughly that it took her a moment to feel the others moving around her. Her toothless mouth, previously clamped shut as she fought off the onsalught of shivers, opened into another pathetic sob of a whine, this one so urgent it was soundless. But soon it was silenced. Something met her mouth, something as cold and wet as she, and immediately she bit down with her harmless little gums. The reflex bid her suck, and suck she did.
Distracted now, Roanoke could fully "appreciate" the freedom she had been given, although the circumstances were less than favourable. Her entire body still quivered with the cold, which was at once addressed as Liesl at last returned and curled around them. The whoosh of warmth drew her short attention and she turned her sightless head toward it, only to have the object of her present affections snatched away from her. With a protesting groan that bubbled into whimpering, Roanoke stretched her little legs out, no longer trembling, and felt around for her "sucky". She eventually found it again—for her limited world of instinct allowed her to believe there was only one at all—and contented herself with pressing her opened mouth against Cormac's flank.
Quote:In one corner of the imaginary ring stood Grey Cloud, darkest of them all, terror of the town, the moody menace himself—Suttree! And in the other corner was, well, her. Nary a single redeeming attribute to her name. Roanoke was a rootin-tootin eat-n-shit machine. The odds were stacked quite heavily against her, seeing as her opponent was also larger than her, at least for the moment. Between them stood the perkiest of prizes: a lifetime supply of mama's milk. Unfortunately, Suttree was already closing in on it, the little cheat; the gong hadn't even rung yet! Her brows bunched comically over her tightly shut eyes as she bumped her face against his, rumbling her displeasure out in some kind of hacking cough meant for his ears alone, though even she didn't hear its tiny echo in the den. Her whiskers brushed over his face and she wrinkled her nose up at him, latching onto his snout defiantly with her gums as if to tell him to stop it.
And suddenly the match was over. She'd won! But as she let go of his face to claim her prize and was instead whisked away, she could only wail—what travesty! Surely, he had done this to her. Her body hung limply from the unwittingly hungry Liesl's mouth, but in her mind she reached out a ginormous fist and punched Suttree's crane in the face, for it obviously had one. Boom-pow! Roanoke, Destroyer of Cranes, Winner of Many Tits, Saviour of Worlds!
She found herself clamped firmly down to where she was dropped and in response, she struggled. Her toothless mouth opened into a wide yet silent protestation as Liesl spoke to her. She must've looked something like a demented cobra ready to strike with no fangs to speak of, or something equally ferocious. In response to the words, she flipped her hot pink mohawk and said "oh yeah" tossed her head like a tiny mustang, flailing her open mouth around as if it would somehow return her to the prized teat she'd rightfully won.
Quote:With a warm and fully belly, Roanoke would've been asleep in seconds if not for the calamity that appeared to be taking place. She found no discomfort in pressing herself so closely to Cormac, and in fact was greatly comforted, for now, by the nearness of anything. Soon, somebody else would shove her out of the way, as was customary in the tiresome world they lived in. There was never a moment's rest, at least not for her, for when she wasn't fighting to nurse, she was fighting to be warmest.
A groan of discontent parted her gummy mouth as Cormac was moved, leaving her to flop over onto her side. The impact brought a sharp cry to her lips, and with a shrill whine she began to flail around like the brat she was, kicking out with her stubby legs to connect with whatever had dropped her.