Post by Bhu <3 Irwin on Jul 24, 2012 10:49:42 GMT -5
Name: Bidziil
Species: gray wolf
Age: 4 years
Physical Description: Bidziil has a firm body composition, thick and tall. He has a twilight pelt pulled tight over well developed muscle. His eyes are a chocolate color. He bears many scars.
Personality: Bidziil is a harsh individual that expects perfection from himself and all those he comes in contact with. He is a stern teacher, not opposed to physical punishment or overcruel words. The man is not mean-spirited, he is simply afraid that if he does not walk and talk perfection, he or someone else will be harmed by lack of proper teaching. The man, when alone, is filled with selfhate. He knows he is alone because of his cold nature, but when someone comes around, that cruelty surfaces without invitation and he tries to push others to be as miserable as him. Hey, at least the man won’t die young…just alone.
History: Bidziil was born into a cold world. His mother died in childbirth and he was raised by the only other lactating female in the pack; a cold hearted wench that had lost her entire litter due to neglect. His father was no better, teaching the boy that perfection is the only ticket to survival in this world. He had one decent role model, which affected him greatly. The woman was the alpha’s mate, but unable to have young of her own. She would sneak Bidziil away from camp and talk to him in gentle notes, trying to push it into his head that this pack is not perfect because they don’t know love. The idea settled into his brain, but never quite surfaced until he was a year old. The kind woman died from illness and was quickly pushed out of the picture. Seeing the lack of remorse, and overwhelmed by his own sorrow with the loss, Bidziil ran from the pack.
Bidziil found a home within Eden’s Remains. In his heart he knows there is true goodness, but his parental teachings override kindness at most times. He has not gotten any other close relationships because of the harsh exterior. So he has wandered for years, alone and burdened with self-loathing.
A special event:
She had entered the nursery quietly, picking her way through the prickled brambles in silence. My adoptive mother did not stir from her slumber, but I watched the soft eyed woman with interest. Her cream coat shimmered in the darkness of the damp den. Her chocolate eyes searched the shadows until they found me curled in the corner, far from the warmth of the cruel bitch which I found my milk within. “Come.” There was not a demanding tone that I could sniff out, just pure invitation as she smiled in my direction, before turning and weaving her way from the den.
I climbed quietly to my four month old paws, stretching my black form momentarily before weaving with skill from the den safety of my bramble den. I knew the woman to be my alphess, for my Father had told me that she was the only cream colored woman in our pack. I had never met her in my life, however, for any time I was allowed from the nursery, my father ushered me into the trees immediately for training of some sort.
As we sheltered away into the trees, my curiosity sparked. “Miss, where are we going?” My father had taught me respect towards my higher ranks, at least until I was big enough to defeat them. I watched as the cream fae turned to face me, smile bright in the shadows of the pinewoods.
“Oh, my dear, does there have to be a destination and a mission? Life is not about work and training, those are only pieces of this puzzle. Enjoy yourself sometimes!” With those words hanging over my head, making my eyes narrowed in confusion, the woman leapt from the ledge she had stopped on, splashing into the crystal water of the ice chip blue pond.
Enjoy myself? But Father said life was not a thing of pleasure, but simply a mission of survival. Yet, still I followed. This was my first lesson from the cream fae; everything my Father ever tells me will be wrong. And still I will listen to him and keep this lessons from the alphess locked away in my heart.