RUN FOR THE HILLS
Run For Your Lives
Nᴀᴍᴇ: Torn. A body's muscle can have a tear. The ligament can have just a small rip or be in complete shreds and it's still that-a tear. So, maybe the tear in Torn's ear accounts for his name. Maybe it was the feeling deep in his mother's chest when she realized only one of her pups would survive a rough labor in the midst of a battle. Of course, it could be the way the grass around her was rustled, sliced by long claws of wolves eager to fight. It could be anything really. Who knows, save the female wolf that died soon after her pup was born? Not even Torn can put the pieces of his name together. Maybe that's the point. Endless possibilities.
Gᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: A group of three males was supposed to be born alongside a runt brother, though only the smallest lived. Torn - the little runt boy. He's smaller than an average wolf still.
Aɢᴇ: Three years, four months have passed since the stressful birth of Torn. He pretty much acts his age.
Sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs: A wolf pack, timber wolves, gave Torn his home. He was rightful there. All his family tree were wolves bred with other wolves, domestic dogs ignored.
Lᴏᴏᴋs: Torn has a deep blue, #435961, pelt. The markings on his fur are a grayish red color, #614343, and the inners of his ears are grey, #222121. His accessories and eyes are blue, #03bfff, and red, #ff0303. The white marking his in several places is simple white, #ffffff. Scars on his body are pink, #fcb5b5.
Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Aғғʟɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴs: A half blind, one limb broken boy is the one standing before you. His left eye, marked clearly by two scars, has lost sight. It's plagued him since birth. Scars were gained later, as he cannot see in that spot to fight off attacks. A rear leg also on the left side is broken for the same reason. In a fight, he didn't know he was drawing near a drop until he tumbled down the side. It's painful to walk but there's little he can do. Unwilling to give up, he presses onward.
Iᴛᴇᴍs: On the forelegs of Torn are two socks that don't quite go down to his paws. They stretch upward towards his elbows. On his left leg it's bright red with the jet blue stripes across it. His right leg has a blue base and brilliant red stripes. It's unknown as to exactly where they come from, but as a young pup he got some more scars on his front legs. The fabric is to hide the injuries. On his tail is a band of the same colors, a base of blue with several red marks resembling fangs on the top as well as the bottom. Around his neck is a necklace. The black thread holds onto a round blue jewel that has a tendency to glow brightly. He doesn't know why he likes it so dearly, but he says it calms him down. He holds it in his mouth if the light it puts off needs to be hidden.
Dᴇsɪɢɴ Bʏ: weegeestar5 - donated to Symphony Character Adoption Agency
Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ Dᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ: By looking at Torn, it's easy to see he's scared and broken. He limps about and looks generally pathetic. When scared, his small body shakes rather violently. His eyes are often wide and looking everywhere. Yet, he never looks at someone. In a greeting he chooses to stare at their chest or face rather than making eye contact. He's always moving and tapping his foot, showing an anxiety of sorts to get away. His stance reassures this, as his muscles are always tense to run as soon as trouble comes.
Tʀᴀɪᴛs: Quiet, anxious, and paranoid. Untrusting. Upon conversation, sweet. Cautious.
Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: If you see Torn while walking along the street, you'll notice he tries to stay away from anyone else on the walk. His head generally hangs down to show he's not a threat. If, for some reason, you decide to approach him, he'll shy away. You can greet him and he'll stutter a response to be polite but try to end the conversation. Rarely does he like someone right away. If he does, he still usually has trouble with conversation. After a few more positive encounters with him, you'll start to see the sweeter side of him. He always lends a listening ear and will share in the enthuse, sadness or anger of the friend he's with. His advice is usually decent when it comes to something about emotions or a question about nature things, but he's not good with social problems or advice on what to do. He's ran all his life so he's not too sure what's good for others. He doesn't form many close bonds. This is mostly because he's so shy but also in part because his nomadic life style keeps him moving. Sometimes he gets a bit lonely, but it's then he remembers why he's always moving-to keep himself safe. He doesn't exactly know what he's living for, but he keeps on going until he finds a reason to stop. He hopes at some point he'll form a bond that'll keep him in place. His appearance, beat up and scarred, sometimes makes others frightened of him or look down on him. He doesn't like pity. The friend or mate he looks for is one that will consider him an equal, and he thinks he might be close to finding one.
Oᴜᴛʟᴏᴏᴋ Oɴ Oᴛʜᴇʀs: Upon a first meeting, Torn assumes everyone is bad but gives them a chance to prove themselves. First impressions are important when dealing with him. He always remembers the poor or good choices you make in the first conversation, at least until bigger things cover them up or too much time passes. He's fairly good at remembering names and looks of those who did something but scarcely remembers anyone else. Time in silence pays off, at least a bit, because he's had to read facial expressions to tell moods of people. He can tell generally if they're in a bad or good mood, but not much better than any one else. He uses it more though because he's extra cautious yet curious on the road. When someone comes to talk to him, he'll reply based on the aura they put off. Socialites usually intimidate him, for he feels they'll think down of him because he's shy, so he gets along very well with other quiet wolves. He tends to like shy but bold creatures, ones that start off hardly talking but will talk more as time goes on. He's met few of them but got along fairly well with them. At some point, he wants to be friends with someone that's straight up crazy and wild, but he hasn't met someone like that who likes him.
Oᴜᴛʟᴏᴏᴋ Oɴ Sᴇʟғ: When thinking of himself, Torn relates his looks to a monster. He's got scars that he says make him ugly and a stride he says looks like a murderer's. His name saddens him sometimes because he wonders if he's too stupid to get it. He tries to come to peace with it, trying to reason that his negative side is the monster and he can hide it if he tries, but that pessimistic attitude seems to come out no matter what he does. Usually he can ease the complaints by letting it out. That's harder than it sounds, however, because there's not many people to talk to and he feels stupid speaking aloud to himself.
Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ: The fight raging on at Torn's birth had taken it's toll on the group. A stressed birth had been guided by only one wolf other than the mother in a secluded part of camp. Somehow, the medic survived alongside the young pup and tried to raise him. With hardly anyone left, it was just the elder and a few of the younger females. Only one male was still around. They did their best to raise them in honor of Flower, but his disadvantages made him a burden. The old fae demanded they keep raising him. When she passed away, they were grief-stricken. Their care for him faltered at that time, so he left. He didn't necessarily mean to go forever, but he couldn't find his way back home. He ran into enemy after enemy, harm-doer after harm-doer as he stumbled onto strange territory. He was not a part of their territory and he had nothing to offer. The wolf, six months at the time, was chased out of even possible home. It took hard concentration to remember the hunting techniques of his old packmates. He forced himself to picture the way they stalked food so he could do it himself. Eating was obviously important and if he could become an excellent hunter, perhaps he could find a place in a pack. He worked hard but his endeavors often forced him onto the land of other's. After awhile, he was getting better, but he had stumbled onto someone's else's home. They began attacking him. Having already got the scars on his eyes from another fight, the opponent could tell he was blind. He came from that side and landed a heavy blow on his side by ramming into him. They fought. Torn was pushed back and didn't realize there was a river rushing by him until he fell off the edge and was swept aside by the current. It was fast paced and he fought to reach the top, but every time he would just get a breath and sink again. He was battered when he pulled himself out and his back left leg was in ruins. It made hunting harder, which saddened him, and he was constantly in pain. He was forced to live along from then on. Nobody saw him as ready to work, so he was constantly dismissed. Not one of us. Too beat up. Obviously a failure, so disgraced. Those are the things said about him. He lives along, wandering around still hoping to find someone who cars about. That's really all he's looking for. Love. Unconditional love.
Gᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: A group of three males was supposed to be born alongside a runt brother, though only the smallest lived. Torn - the little runt boy. He's smaller than an average wolf still.
Aɢᴇ: Three years, four months have passed since the stressful birth of Torn. He pretty much acts his age.
Sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs: A wolf pack, timber wolves, gave Torn his home. He was rightful there. All his family tree were wolves bred with other wolves, domestic dogs ignored.
Lᴏᴏᴋs: Torn has a deep blue, #435961, pelt. The markings on his fur are a grayish red color, #614343, and the inners of his ears are grey, #222121. His accessories and eyes are blue, #03bfff, and red, #ff0303. The white marking his in several places is simple white, #ffffff. Scars on his body are pink, #fcb5b5.
Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Aғғʟɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴs: A half blind, one limb broken boy is the one standing before you. His left eye, marked clearly by two scars, has lost sight. It's plagued him since birth. Scars were gained later, as he cannot see in that spot to fight off attacks. A rear leg also on the left side is broken for the same reason. In a fight, he didn't know he was drawing near a drop until he tumbled down the side. It's painful to walk but there's little he can do. Unwilling to give up, he presses onward.
Iᴛᴇᴍs: On the forelegs of Torn are two socks that don't quite go down to his paws. They stretch upward towards his elbows. On his left leg it's bright red with the jet blue stripes across it. His right leg has a blue base and brilliant red stripes. It's unknown as to exactly where they come from, but as a young pup he got some more scars on his front legs. The fabric is to hide the injuries. On his tail is a band of the same colors, a base of blue with several red marks resembling fangs on the top as well as the bottom. Around his neck is a necklace. The black thread holds onto a round blue jewel that has a tendency to glow brightly. He doesn't know why he likes it so dearly, but he says it calms him down. He holds it in his mouth if the light it puts off needs to be hidden.
Dᴇsɪɢɴ Bʏ: weegeestar5 - donated to Symphony Character Adoption Agency
Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ Dᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ: By looking at Torn, it's easy to see he's scared and broken. He limps about and looks generally pathetic. When scared, his small body shakes rather violently. His eyes are often wide and looking everywhere. Yet, he never looks at someone. In a greeting he chooses to stare at their chest or face rather than making eye contact. He's always moving and tapping his foot, showing an anxiety of sorts to get away. His stance reassures this, as his muscles are always tense to run as soon as trouble comes.
Tʀᴀɪᴛs: Quiet, anxious, and paranoid. Untrusting. Upon conversation, sweet. Cautious.
Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: If you see Torn while walking along the street, you'll notice he tries to stay away from anyone else on the walk. His head generally hangs down to show he's not a threat. If, for some reason, you decide to approach him, he'll shy away. You can greet him and he'll stutter a response to be polite but try to end the conversation. Rarely does he like someone right away. If he does, he still usually has trouble with conversation. After a few more positive encounters with him, you'll start to see the sweeter side of him. He always lends a listening ear and will share in the enthuse, sadness or anger of the friend he's with. His advice is usually decent when it comes to something about emotions or a question about nature things, but he's not good with social problems or advice on what to do. He's ran all his life so he's not too sure what's good for others. He doesn't form many close bonds. This is mostly because he's so shy but also in part because his nomadic life style keeps him moving. Sometimes he gets a bit lonely, but it's then he remembers why he's always moving-to keep himself safe. He doesn't exactly know what he's living for, but he keeps on going until he finds a reason to stop. He hopes at some point he'll form a bond that'll keep him in place. His appearance, beat up and scarred, sometimes makes others frightened of him or look down on him. He doesn't like pity. The friend or mate he looks for is one that will consider him an equal, and he thinks he might be close to finding one.
Oᴜᴛʟᴏᴏᴋ Oɴ Oᴛʜᴇʀs: Upon a first meeting, Torn assumes everyone is bad but gives them a chance to prove themselves. First impressions are important when dealing with him. He always remembers the poor or good choices you make in the first conversation, at least until bigger things cover them up or too much time passes. He's fairly good at remembering names and looks of those who did something but scarcely remembers anyone else. Time in silence pays off, at least a bit, because he's had to read facial expressions to tell moods of people. He can tell generally if they're in a bad or good mood, but not much better than any one else. He uses it more though because he's extra cautious yet curious on the road. When someone comes to talk to him, he'll reply based on the aura they put off. Socialites usually intimidate him, for he feels they'll think down of him because he's shy, so he gets along very well with other quiet wolves. He tends to like shy but bold creatures, ones that start off hardly talking but will talk more as time goes on. He's met few of them but got along fairly well with them. At some point, he wants to be friends with someone that's straight up crazy and wild, but he hasn't met someone like that who likes him.
Oᴜᴛʟᴏᴏᴋ Oɴ Sᴇʟғ: When thinking of himself, Torn relates his looks to a monster. He's got scars that he says make him ugly and a stride he says looks like a murderer's. His name saddens him sometimes because he wonders if he's too stupid to get it. He tries to come to peace with it, trying to reason that his negative side is the monster and he can hide it if he tries, but that pessimistic attitude seems to come out no matter what he does. Usually he can ease the complaints by letting it out. That's harder than it sounds, however, because there's not many people to talk to and he feels stupid speaking aloud to himself.
Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ: The fight raging on at Torn's birth had taken it's toll on the group. A stressed birth had been guided by only one wolf other than the mother in a secluded part of camp. Somehow, the medic survived alongside the young pup and tried to raise him. With hardly anyone left, it was just the elder and a few of the younger females. Only one male was still around. They did their best to raise them in honor of Flower, but his disadvantages made him a burden. The old fae demanded they keep raising him. When she passed away, they were grief-stricken. Their care for him faltered at that time, so he left. He didn't necessarily mean to go forever, but he couldn't find his way back home. He ran into enemy after enemy, harm-doer after harm-doer as he stumbled onto strange territory. He was not a part of their territory and he had nothing to offer. The wolf, six months at the time, was chased out of even possible home. It took hard concentration to remember the hunting techniques of his old packmates. He forced himself to picture the way they stalked food so he could do it himself. Eating was obviously important and if he could become an excellent hunter, perhaps he could find a place in a pack. He worked hard but his endeavors often forced him onto the land of other's. After awhile, he was getting better, but he had stumbled onto someone's else's home. They began attacking him. Having already got the scars on his eyes from another fight, the opponent could tell he was blind. He came from that side and landed a heavy blow on his side by ramming into him. They fought. Torn was pushed back and didn't realize there was a river rushing by him until he fell off the edge and was swept aside by the current. It was fast paced and he fought to reach the top, but every time he would just get a breath and sink again. He was battered when he pulled himself out and his back left leg was in ruins. It made hunting harder, which saddened him, and he was constantly in pain. He was forced to live along from then on. Nobody saw him as ready to work, so he was constantly dismissed. Not one of us. Too beat up. Obviously a failure, so disgraced. Those are the things said about him. He lives along, wandering around still hoping to find someone who cars about. That's really all he's looking for. Love. Unconditional love.