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[docile]

Kavik

The sand was like hot coals beneath my velvet-soft pads, the sun's rays released now with the coming of the night. But it was the time of day known as "twilight", the transition period 'tween afternoon and evening where one could still enjoy the ocean's turmoil and the slightly-cooler temperature that never seemed to dip below seventy. High seventies.

I didn't like to be alone at night, especially in secluded areas such as this, where, should I scream, no one would hear me. After much of the spring, I'd finally come to realize how futile whimpering and yelling were when it came to the ghouls. Nobody could help me, could pry me from their searching eyes and limitless requests. I would be a good little doggie, yes, if I did what they told me, but oh no no no no no, I do not like them one bit. In fact, they almost scare me with their sinister faces and distorted minds. Some were as crazy as I! Because who in their sanest of times could claim ability to see the spirits of the deceased? None but I. At least, I've naught found another soul like me.

Sometimes I think people mistake me for a liar, a stupid little boy who makes up stories to get their attention. It is they who are the fools, though, for they do not realize my greatness, as I have yet to flourish. In the quieter times, where I'm not plagued with an innumeral amount of zephyrs to attend to, I like to sleep. You may think it's a waste, but believe me, my work is quite tiring, and it's the only time that I am truely at peace and without the stresses that accompany the daylight--or even the nightlight. Those dang ghosts are everywhere, haunting me with their esoteric shapes and forms, always nagging my subconscious by flitting around at the edges of my vision. Sometimes, though, they did come forth and speak, which oft times leaving me with some little mission of theirs they'd not had the time left on Earth to finish, or just a great story or two--the outcome was dependent on the temperment of the ghoul.

I held no alligance to any of this city's packs nor numerous gangs, a lone wolfdog intent on spending his days with the solitarity of himself. Although, I did like friends, would like a family. Because I was not all doom and gloom! Besides, I loved to have fun--it was an amazing deviant from my normal routine. Around here, I guess, fun would be hard to come by.

Word Count: 467
Notes: Pretty good muse! As an fyi, "Kavik" is actually Xiv of the Skeleton Pack, though he has a dissociative identity disorder where he has separate personas. Kavik is Xiv's other persona. Kavik believes he looks like this, though really he looks like Xiv, whose picture is here.

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[Wolfeh]

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[atrb=background,http://i725.photobucket.com/albums/ww252/DoubleSoul/B2.jpg] BLOODY PAW-PRINTS, IN THE >>FOREST<< White bloodstained paws kissed the ground as a snow white figure trotted along. His eyes were locked onto nothing. His floppy ears rested against his skull as he moved forward. The brutes tail flowed behind him. His breed? Maremma Sheepdog. And pure at that. You see that dog is me. Blackout. My parents always believed in pure breeding. Which indeed was what I am. A purebred. My heritage helped me live as long as I have. See when I was born my mother died trying to give birth. My dad noticed movement in her dead body and tore at it thus bringing me into the world. Weird how I would survive that when all my siblings died. My father named me Blackout for after I came into the world the lights were I used to live burned out. Ironic no? Anyways he took me to his half brother and pawned me off on him. He called me a demon and what was I suppose to believe when your only living parent calls you a demon or monster? In other words I took to what he called me. Believing I was the devil himself in dog form. Doing his bidding. I started killing. I was ruthless and untouchable or so I thought. One day my father came and attacked my adopted father. He had him by the throat and he died. I was furious and raged against my father for killing my fatherly figure. I almost died myself but I didn't. I killed my father out of mercy. Not of anger. See my father was a wimp, and pathetic. He always ran from his problems like he did when mum died. That was a little brief past of mine. I don't talk about it much to feel special. Anyways I was trotting down the path and ended up at the Haunted Beach. I had no idea why I ended up here. It wasn't the first time either. I like to come here cause the voices in the wind cover up Raksha's voice in my head. In fact it was my favorite place to come. I came to a halt when I reached the shore. I didn't let the water touch my paws. I wasn't afraid of water I just didn't like the salty taste this water had. Nasty excuse for water if you ask me. I sniffed the salty air as a scent hit my nose. I felt lonely today so I decided to seek him out. I followed his trail and almost crashed into a husky or wolf mix of some sort. I tipped my head. "'Ello Zeh nam b Blackout. Wat b yurs?" I asked pushing my rump to the ground as my front legs held my chest erect. Muse: great Words: 467 Puppet: Blackout Comment: Funny how we both got 467 words in both posts XD

[docile]

Kavik

I'd looked up just in time to see a blaringly white male narrowly miss crashing into me. His floppy ears bounced as he righted himself while I did the same. This strange guy tilted his head, an equally strange accent flowing from his red-stained lips. "Ello. Zeh nam b Blackout. Wat b yurs?"

[/i] he asked of me, the majority of his sentence lost in a garble of some foreign language. I squinted, trying to understand, finally picking up on the odd name of "Blackout". Whatever followed it made little sense to me, though, naturally, I decided to tell him my own 'sake. It was customary to exchange titles like this, so even if I couldn't comprehend this Blackout, I'd at least be able to guess what was going on. And you'd think I'd know a bit about accents, eh, with those dang drawling ghouls?

"Good evening, sir." I intoned, my dark brown eyes looking over the ocean's expanse to the setting sun. It was quite pretty, though I enjoyed the twili--Crap. Was that a zephyr in my periphral vision? You know, I do really hate those ghosts with their horrid timing. I did want to make a friend of this male, though the beach certainly did not seem to want to wait. Against my better judgment, however, I ignored them, which may be a crime in their book. Too bad. Smiling, I flicked my eyes back, teeth flashing pastel colors in the yawning sun. "My name is Kavik. Like the Wolfdog." As if Blackout had ever heard of that fable! It was nothing close to coincidental that my mother christianed me "Kavik", she some mongrel husky-dog who'd caught the fancy of a wild wolf. Kavik's story was her favorite, and I'd grown up on it, glad to have such a noble predecessor to claim my namesake from.

Word Count: blarg
Notes: Pretty good muse! As an fyi, "Kavik" is actually Xiv of the Skeleton Pack, though he has a dissociative identity disorder where he has separate personas. Kavik is Xiv's other persona. Kavik believes he looks like this, though really he looks like Xiv, whose picture is here.
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