Zak

[zakiel]

Introduction

Please do not post in this thread for simplicity’s sake. Feel free to PM me, but in all honesty this thread was made for the sole purpose as serving as a profile and post log for the cool, bow-down-before-her Zak. Sorry, just noticed that some profiles got a reply. Not that I thought I would or anything. Just fair-warning, just in case. Okay. I'll shut up now.

Updates

11 . 27 . 2006 | well, as I'm pretty sure no one cares much, I'll make this brief. my character is officially going on a sort of 'hiatus' until... sometime in the near future. :-P

11 . 19 . 2006 | seems as though I will be absent tomorrow (the 20th) to about friday (the 24th). Hopefully I'll get an in character thread going after the holidays. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

11 . 19 . 2006 | the profile was posted... and I feel happy ^^

About

Name: Lyss
Day of Birth: 6th January
Gender: Female
E-mail: [e-mail]

Well, because you are here I guess you get to experience some insane rantings of doom... or something. You know, there is a theory that states that if ever anybody discovers exactly what the universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable… There is another theory that says this has already happened. I feel inclined to agree. Anyway, you get to know that my ideas for a future career are still undecided at best, I waste my time a lot. My favorite TV shows are Dexter and Invader Zim, my favorite book and comics are Murder of Angels by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Johnny the Homicidal Maniac by Jhonen Vasquez, and my favorite movies are as follows: The Island (2005), Silence of the Lambs (1991), and Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975).

And yes, I have realized that there's a 'Behind the Wolf' forum. I just didn't feel like posting there, lol.

[zakiel]

Name. Zakiel Echon
Byname. Zak
Pronunciation. [ze - kee - al . ek - on]

Age. one year
Gender. female
Birthdate. January 6th

Species. canis lupus
Subspecies. canis lupus lupus

† Father. Sinistra
† Mother. Atlas
† Sibling. Thak

Personality.

It was always thought of that Zakiel would end up more or less like her degenerate, sickly father. It is true that at the end of his life when his cerebral functionality was more than simply dysfunctional, Zakiel saw it and took some of his insanity to heart. Her mental stability is often questionable, but aside from breakdowns and sudden aggression, Zakiel doesn’t pose any attributes of an unbelievably multi-personality-inhabited shell. Regardless of her uncouth and often vulgar behavior, Zakiel displays a trait not so common among her bloodline, that is, her immediate family - intelligence. Still her views are often thought of as fickle and strange. The best possible way to understand her however, would be to get to know her. Don’t be shy, she likes new faces.

Appearance.

• fur color. off-white
  
• eye color. cerulean blue
  
• fur texture. thick, coarse, rugged

Thick fur swathes the bony body of the wolf, the base color of which is a dusty white which is reminiscent of a bone-bleached graveyard. Pale gray hairs sliver into her pelage to define a more pronounced variegated silver color along her face, back, and the outer-regions of each appendage, including the bushy tail. However, her undercoat and under-parts of her body are tinted with a very subtle pale blonde, making those areas appear warmer in hue. The body structure itself is large, formidable, and still yet rather lanky. For certain, she is a large specimen of wolf, though her muscle mass if below average for such size. Indeed, there are cavities along her thighs and shoulders that should be filled with muscle, and could be should she maintain a healthy and consistent diet. Aside from the common wolf-like attributes however, there is a peculiar feature that she has which makes her unique. Her eyes are a very pronounced shade of cerulean and aqua.

History, n. An account mostly false, of events mostly unimportant, which are brought about by rulers mostly knaves, and soldiers mostly fools.

Atlas shuffled through the moist, hard beads of earth that crumbled around the mouth of the den. The she-wolf flisked an ear back, followed gracefully by a proud swing of her muzzle over her shoulder. Her bright golden eyes shimmered in the semidarkness like two tiny, inconspicuous harvest moons. The gurgling waters played a soft melody for her ears, which she enjoyed for a few seconds before another contraction seared pain down her spine and made her flanks ripple. Atlas proceeded into the riverbank hollow, following the damp passageway along fifteen feet or so before entering the birthing chamber. Her eyes dilated, and she slid onto the warm den floor. The pups were coming.

The rest of the pack accumulated around the den a few hours later. They were greeted by fierce snarls and occasional shrieks of pain, but slipped into a lethargic code of silence. Only Sinistra, the Dragga and father of the coming cubs, paced about and whimpered. His black muzzle was difficult to see in the growing hours of darkness, but his fire-painted eyes told of his concealed merriment and frustration the black beast felt bestowed upon him. Every so often, he was more of a thing to be feared than the mother giving birth in the den. Saliva dribbled down his chin as he panted, eagerly awaiting the arrival of long-awaited newborns.

A day or so passed the wolf-pack by in which all but Sinistra felt obliged to eat or sleep. Half-sane, the black male had worn a small scar into the hardened mud just below the mouth of the den before he finally sat at one end and remained like stone from then until Atlas fetched him to see his offspring. She gave the fruits of his pacing a disproving glance, but remained silent about his shortcomings for once. Sinistra followed her into the dark, dank den and spied two small little bodies resting side by side. Delighted, Sinistra and Atlas named their children Zakiel, for the female, and Thak, for the male. Soon after, the rest of the pack was allowed to see and offer their blessings over the cubs.

By the end of the season’s moon however, there was only one pup left. Zakiel’s brother had apparently been born very weak, and with an obviously twisted and deformed foreleg. While Zakiel gained weight and grew, Thak had remained small and pitiful. It was clear from an early age that he would be one to perish, so his passing was fortunately taken in stride by the pack. When his corpse was found, Atlas picked him up gently in her jaws while Sinistra opened the shallow grave, and she dropped him in, covered him up, and that was that. There was no room for mercy here.

After the humble toll of pity and remorse was taken from the pack, the wolves soon grew into a comfortable routine as spring began to thicken. Whenever the whole of the pack had no particular activity to attempt that day - such as a pack hunt, each was allowed to do pretty much whatever they wanted. There was occasional hunts in pairs, and wrestling was always a pack favorite. But there was one peculiarity that flourished discreetly within the group. A few days after they had moved to a very nice Meeting Place, Sinistra began to steal Zakiel aside.

Though she was forbidden to play with the others when he wanted her, she was not banned from any other activities. After a while, Zakiel would entertain herself and found that Sinistra simply liked to watch. As she grew, Sinistra enjoyed her presence more and more, so much so that he found her even more appealing than Atlas. But no one ever knew. Any endeavor of his was fruitless, as sudden symptoms began to make the pack alarmed of his health.

A few days into her seventh moon, Sinistra began to grow ill. His boisterous, healthy fur grew unkempt and dull, and his eyes watered. He coughed and shivered, and for a while he even forgot about his interest in any female. A week or so passed, and he seemed to grow well again. About to arrive at his peak fitness once more - in which he delightfully remembered Zakiel and their time together, he was soon undermined by insomnia, confusion, and agitation. After a while, he even began to hallucinate. Fearful of demonic forces, in which they so rarely had the time to delve into, the pack sent Sinistra into quarantine. Or, more appropriately, they sent themselves into quarantine, for the black Dragga had slipped into delirium and did not heed the living world any longer.

On the third sun after her eighth moon, Zakiel was shoved by Atlas to begin running. Sinistra crept like a string puppet toward the Meeting Place, his puppeteer highly unskilled. His legs buckled, his back arched, his eyes rolled, and spittle dribbled down his chin. Despite how uncoordinated the black wolf was however, he maintained a straight arrow-like path in his wandering. Sinistra’s choppy movements and halting behavior frightened the pack so badly, especially because he seemed intent to harm them, that they fled the Meeting Place and their Dragga for foreign lands. Certainly the smell of death had been upon him at the time of their leaving.

By the time the pack had regrouped in strange territory, Atlas was terribly mortified that she could be coupled with such a monster. Quickly, she called into question Zakiel’s time spent with Sinistra, for their time together had apparently not gone unnoticed. Zak answered truthfully, but was browbeaten by her mother and various pack mates until she caved in to telling them that her father had dug up and eaten the body of Thak. It was untrue as far as Zakiel knew, but it seemed to appease the wrath of the pack upon her, to redirect it onto the shoulders of her crazed father.

Although Zakiel used this trait of manipulation well, she never again left the rank of scapegoat and Sickla of her pack, though she proved to be much more time and again. One chilly autumn day of her tenth moon, Zakiel looked out across a vast and extensive plain as she sat upon a knoll, her thick fur buffeted by the cool wind. She flisked an ear back to listen to her pack mates’ various activities. A cerulean gaze shifted from the plain to the pink and blue horizon and the jagged mountain peaks that clutched the sky. Her brow narrowed. Her lips pulled back over pearl ivories. In a heartbeat, Zakiel sprinted as fast as she could down the slope and into the field. Her charge was a glorious, victory-filled dash, and even as she reached the far woodland hills beyond the plain, she knew that she had escaped. Freedom never felt so good.

And that, my fellow Varg, is where her story ends. Or begins rather. Zakiel’s entrance into Transylvania can only mean that she’ll be subject to more than what her past could offer, for what better land is there than this to tell a tale of fell beasts, heroic conquests, romantic moonlit nights, and twists unrivaled by any author? Couldn’t think of one? Nor could I.

[zakiel]

Dogpile

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