Post by .River\\ on Jul 24, 2009 16:46:51 GMT -8
Ritilan
[/color]You speak of sleep....What's it like?
[/center]B E H I N D . T H E . M A S K
[/center][/color]Name: Leesha
Age: 15 (16 in Sept.!)
Contact Information: PM or e-mail/IM on profiles
S T A N D . U P . S T R A I G H T
[/center][/color]Name: Ritalin
Pronunciation: RIT-a-len
Meaning: a brand of Methylphenidate in its hydrochloride form
Titles Given: Sleepless One
Nicknames: None
Birthday: September 3rd 2004
Age: 4
Pack: None
Alignment & Loyalties: None
S M I L E . L I K E . Y O U . M E A N . I T
[/center][/color]Pelt: White with hints of black down his muzzle and on paws
Marking’s: Light gray crossbones mark both flanks
Eyes: Flaxen honey
Figure: 5' 7" nose to tail
Height: 32" at shoulder
Weight: 126
Breed: Grey/Arctic
Voice Tone: Baritone
Basic Description:
His coat consists of three major layers.
The first being closest to the skin, and bearing the softest, thickest white fur of his being, and made for holding most of the warmth to his frame.
The second, another white layer, being not as thick, still held the trait of helping hold heat to his body, and was slightly waterproof.
The third and final layer, was the waterproof gray layer, that was spattered around his coat, missing in patches from scars of fighting.
Over all, his frame is average, if not a tad small for a male of his breed. Not made for speed, but not made for brute force either. Simply he was just...made.
Played by: .River\\
C R O S S . M Y . H E A R T
[/center][/color]Likes:
+ Females
+ Silence
+ Winter
+ Sunsets
+ Rivers
Strengths:
+ Patience
+ Thinks Outside of the Box
+ Black and White judgment
+ Listens to full/all sides of a story (Unless he doesn't care)
Life Goals None as of now
Dislikes
- Whelps
- Cockiness
- Females with a mind of their own
- Heat
- Whiners
Weakness':
- Tends to be silent when it counts the most
- Rarely has a good alibi
- Easily snaps
- Can't come up with good excuses
- Often doesn't help when he should
Past Illness/Injuries:
Has not been sickened, but many scars litter his pelt. One prominent scar is the claw marks running from the middle of his maw down the side.
Personality
More often then not, no wolven has met another quite like him. One moment he is there and caring, gentlemanly and the works, and the next he's off on some rampaging scheme. Rarely does he choose sides in a matter, preferring to make his own side, on which he is alone. Ritalin is simply a complex wolf. Do one thing wrong in his eyes, and he couldn't care if you were drowning or starving, his nose would turn up like you weren't even there. Do something admirable, or something that he admires, and he might do you a favour or two.
W A Y . B A C K . W H E N
[/center][/color]Grand Sire: Feavured Night
Grand Dame: Blasphyme
Sire: Opium
Dame: Ribloa {Deceased}
Brother/’s: Thymine
Sister/’s Haunted Flower
Other Kin: None
Closest Friend: None
Interest/’s: None
Courting: None
Courted by: None
Mate Few have even hoped at this rank
Whelps: Hoshgenki and Homnia
History:
He was born into decent parentage, as most young pups are. Loving mother, caring father... Well, at least the 'loving mother' part. Never had he really seen his father during pup hood; though that was due to Opium being a bit of a forcer, and going where he pleased, when he pleased, not caring of what he left behind.
Ritalin was one surviving pup of a litter of four. The first was stillborn, then came Thymine and Haunted Flower. He was born last. Thymine was the runt of the litter, while Ritalin was one of the larger; Haunted Flower was the largest. He is also the only one to have a coat of snow. Brother was black and sister was brown. An odd crew they were, alone with their mother, trying to hunt and survive, just the four of them.
Dear mother, Lady Ribloa, died shortly after the pups had aged two of a dark sickness that had no name to them but The Madness. After that, not much is known of Haunted and Thy, as the trio split, and went separate ways. What is known, is that Haunted Flower found her legs as a respected member of a darker pack, and Thy found himself amidst creatures of a purer kind.
Ritalin however, never found pack life to his suiting. Every pack he had been near had never fit his life style, and couldn't handle his attitude. Either there were too many rules, too goody two-shoes for him, or they were too demanding, saying he had to be this brutal and cruel.
In the end, he stole away from everyone as a loner, a rogue, a renegade. This is how he lived.
Alone he lived, and slowly he became what he had once hated. More and more he found himself acting like his father; not caring, going and coming as he pleased and doing things he should regret. One of these cases got him in major trouble.
No longer could he remember her true name, but to him she was his Ecstasy; his pure, sweet Ecstasy. A great find she had been, and he had even thought himself enamoured for a spell. That was until the night she had refused him.
He had never once been refused. Anger over took him, and with rage and lust, he beat her, and took little Ecstasy as his own. Against her choosing. Forcing her, he imbued her with his seed, then took off and left her on her own. He couldn't stand the sight of her any longer.
After that...well, not much was heard between the two of them until his lady and her new knight appeared before him one day, with two small pups. In anger, her new suitor, Nolan, attacked Ritalin with great anger, rage, and hate. The lady had been scarred, and he was there to take revenge.
After a bloody battle, the two stood before each other, panting and torn to pieces. Ritalin stood up and turned on the pair and his pups, and left once more. He had won, but no prize was claimed, he had never wanted those whelps anyway.
So goes his slightly dark and troubled past, that leaves him bearing scars, and the haunting dreams of being attacked once more and losing to that male. To the one that had dared to claim his love and kin.
W I S H . Y O U . W E R E . H E R E
[/center][/color]Views on Life and Death:
Those who cry and mourn for the dead deserve to be ridiculed. Death is simply the beginning of another life. Death is the release of this accursed life into a better one. Be glad that your death is soon, and at hand, it will lead to better things. Life is simply hell.
Views on Purity:
True purity cannot exist. It is impossible. To be truly pure, you cannot have a shred of darkness in your heart, and anything that makes you anger, hate, or rebel, is darkness. Jealousy, vanity, envy. All are forms of darkness that live in everyone's hearts. No one can be truly pure.
Views on Darkness:
Darkness...something that is, in a nutshell, a part of everyone. Every heart contains darkness, and every heart will. You can't deny that you have darkness within yourself, anything that is felt that isn't joy or happiness has some form of darkness. In short, we are all dark wolven.
Views on the Pack:
A pack is mearly a disestablished mess of lone wolven who crave to be in the company of others. They create what could be called the 'Perfected Mess' with their ranks and feeble attempt at creating a stable hierarchy.
Views on Her/Himself:
Me? Well, I have done nothing wrong. I am simply just the man of freedom. Nothing I have done has given anyone right to say that I am mad, or that I should be slain. I live how I choose, and those around me must adjust.
RPG Sample:
Ritalin...Ritalin....
Before the fair lady's words, his mind had quickly been captured by another magik. The source of his tension seemed to melt away, like butter in the direct path of sun, and his honey like eyes closed softly. The scent of the night crawled into his brain, speaking to him like a siren to a sailor, a flame to a moth, offering him all the riches of the deep night, and all the perils as well.
The offer Lady Night gave him was...tempting to say the least. It was a chance to forget everything that had ever harmed him.
Give him a chance to start over.
Again.
Her voice sung to him, like a mothers lullaby, like a soothing cello melody.
His serene expression suddenly turned hard, and he tensed up again quickly. The sailors boat crashed, the moth came to close to the flame, the mother never sang, and the cello's strings snapped. The night scent turned sour, and the lady's offer ended suddenly.
Where did you all go...?
The thought was like a lost little boy.
Faint words seemed muffled by a pane of ice sheeting over his mind, but recognition came, and eyes snapped open, realizing who had spoken, and this time, aloud. Eyes opened to see Ecstasy, his darling Ecstasy, in a frightened state. A hard scent entered his receptors, and a snarl cursed his face as an audible growl grew deep in his throat.
He was back.
No, they were back.
