Post by .:RaVeN:. on May 25, 2007 13:29:47 GMT -5
born to the name; Enigma, Meaning Darkness;
they call me; Raven;
roaming morbid for; One Winter;
i am crossed with; Wolf & Saarlos Wolfdog;
destinied; Female;
i act upon; Lamenting Nightmares, that come to search for me day and night, never to rest until they catch me. You will see the everlasting run from them in my eyes, the gloom that lurks behind the sad orbs which avoid any contact upon another creature, always dodging for the inanimate. I have never known happiness, or at least none to remember. Soulless I may seem, but what is truly, madly, deeply inside me, is only able to be found out, as soon as I am blessed with a happy tear that sparkingly pearls down the hollow face. I avoid company, haven't been brought up to learn contact to anyone. My appeal towards humans is bitter. I growl, I bite, I tear, and I may kill, if I am dared to do so. Anger and Timidity are my two main emotions, and not to be played upon. For if you pull the wrong strings, you may end up where you'd never be able to imagine to be. I do not dominate, but I also do not submit. I don't powerplay, nor try to impress anyone, but I do not bow down to anyone either, no matter how much they torment me.
take a look at me; You will surely see a thin and nasty looking character cryptically glancing at you from far away, the purpleblue orbs enchanting you horrifically, nearly sucking out the last drop of happiness. I may be built tall, very tall infact, nearly 36" at height, but my muscles do not ripple beneath my nightblack, silky pelt that covers the near-skeletal figure beneath the hidden strength. Long legs allow me to run fast and make high and wide leaps. My head will usually be heald lowly, the sad, but beautiful orbs gazing gloomily at the ground beneath the huge paws. Overally, you may mistake me for a black wolf, a bad omen, intended to bring only bad luck to whatever I pass. The long, furry tail mainly hangs lowly, but not submissively. In general, I am a beautiful dog, outside, and deeply inside, but you may find me ugly. I do not care.
i am sided; Western Bostonia;
positioned; Basic Dog, the sad figure in the background;
my direful memory; Born into the world, hidden behind a trashcan in a dark alley. I look upon my siblings, all smaller than me, all more cheerful. My mother, a Saarlos, watches the light colored puppies, not including the ravenblack outsider of the young troopers. When a dog passes, she stands high above my sisters and brothers, but not me. Night falls, and we all settle to sleep. I try to feed upon milk, but am rejected to stay with an empty stomach, pulling me to weakness.
I hear a car screech, recognizing it as the pound. My mother takes my kin away, hides them somewhere else. I am left whining bitterly, hoping her to come back for me. My wishes do not come true. They never have. Footsteps behind me echo across the alley, a hooded human male grabs my scruff and neck painfully, nearly choking me to death. He yells something over to the driver of the car and throws me inside a cage. I hear the doors slam, and start to cry to sleep, the last fragment of an image behind the window, is a large mother dog heeding her puppies, not knowing she is missing one. Or, most likely, knows, and does not care, for I am a lost soul in this world anyway.
I wake several hours later behind bars in a small pen. I see that I am alone, again. Fellow dogs are crouching in other pens. One is taken out into a white gleaming room. The door is shut, my heart starts to race, and I hear an earpiercing howl, followed by a loud thump, and I know, that the dog is dead. I fear every day, the same fate awaits for me.
Soon my first blood had come, and I was made inable to birthe more hell children. My fellow dogs were brought, taken away, euthanized. It turned out nobody was interested in me. I grew larger, stronger, and more dangerous-looking. Humans started to avoid my pens by inches, walking a distance of 3 feet around it. One day, I notice it is soon my time to leave the world, which is simply not welcoming me in any way. I see the vet open my door, knowing now is my chance to break free.
I take a huge leap, landing behind the man, my growing fangs bared at him, not wanting him to follow me. They obviously think I am a threat, and three men in suits come in minutes later with long iron sticks in their hands. Are they to beat me back into the cage? The strong scent of something burnt reaks into my nose, I do not know what is causing the smell, but I know it's threatening me. My growl gets louder, and I jump over the men who are blocking my way. They take the iron sticks upon their shoulders and the next thing I hear is a booming burst of sound that throbs in my ear.
A soaring pain shoots through my chest and shoulder. I feel warm liquid run down my dirty fur, soon to recognize it is my own blood. I start to lick the wounds, but they burn even worse as I feel on my tongue that I am pushing some kind of metal in deeper. I gaze back at the men, and turn again to run. More shots, as I am known to them now. They do not hit me, but I feel a glass break next to me as I pass it, leaving a long gash across my thigh.
I reach a window and jump for my life. I run, and run, not knowing where to go, until I finally reach a hideout. Tired and exhausted, I slump onto the cartons and fall asleep. I still have the scars to tell the tale, visible scars, and psychological scars. Even though my own bloodmother abandoned me, I still love her, even if I am unsure she loved me. I am not set out to find her, I know she is still watching over me. Somewhere.
they call me; Raven;
roaming morbid for; One Winter;
i am crossed with; Wolf & Saarlos Wolfdog;
destinied; Female;
i act upon; Lamenting Nightmares, that come to search for me day and night, never to rest until they catch me. You will see the everlasting run from them in my eyes, the gloom that lurks behind the sad orbs which avoid any contact upon another creature, always dodging for the inanimate. I have never known happiness, or at least none to remember. Soulless I may seem, but what is truly, madly, deeply inside me, is only able to be found out, as soon as I am blessed with a happy tear that sparkingly pearls down the hollow face. I avoid company, haven't been brought up to learn contact to anyone. My appeal towards humans is bitter. I growl, I bite, I tear, and I may kill, if I am dared to do so. Anger and Timidity are my two main emotions, and not to be played upon. For if you pull the wrong strings, you may end up where you'd never be able to imagine to be. I do not dominate, but I also do not submit. I don't powerplay, nor try to impress anyone, but I do not bow down to anyone either, no matter how much they torment me.
take a look at me; You will surely see a thin and nasty looking character cryptically glancing at you from far away, the purpleblue orbs enchanting you horrifically, nearly sucking out the last drop of happiness. I may be built tall, very tall infact, nearly 36" at height, but my muscles do not ripple beneath my nightblack, silky pelt that covers the near-skeletal figure beneath the hidden strength. Long legs allow me to run fast and make high and wide leaps. My head will usually be heald lowly, the sad, but beautiful orbs gazing gloomily at the ground beneath the huge paws. Overally, you may mistake me for a black wolf, a bad omen, intended to bring only bad luck to whatever I pass. The long, furry tail mainly hangs lowly, but not submissively. In general, I am a beautiful dog, outside, and deeply inside, but you may find me ugly. I do not care.
i am sided; Western Bostonia;
positioned; Basic Dog, the sad figure in the background;
my direful memory; Born into the world, hidden behind a trashcan in a dark alley. I look upon my siblings, all smaller than me, all more cheerful. My mother, a Saarlos, watches the light colored puppies, not including the ravenblack outsider of the young troopers. When a dog passes, she stands high above my sisters and brothers, but not me. Night falls, and we all settle to sleep. I try to feed upon milk, but am rejected to stay with an empty stomach, pulling me to weakness.
I hear a car screech, recognizing it as the pound. My mother takes my kin away, hides them somewhere else. I am left whining bitterly, hoping her to come back for me. My wishes do not come true. They never have. Footsteps behind me echo across the alley, a hooded human male grabs my scruff and neck painfully, nearly choking me to death. He yells something over to the driver of the car and throws me inside a cage. I hear the doors slam, and start to cry to sleep, the last fragment of an image behind the window, is a large mother dog heeding her puppies, not knowing she is missing one. Or, most likely, knows, and does not care, for I am a lost soul in this world anyway.
I wake several hours later behind bars in a small pen. I see that I am alone, again. Fellow dogs are crouching in other pens. One is taken out into a white gleaming room. The door is shut, my heart starts to race, and I hear an earpiercing howl, followed by a loud thump, and I know, that the dog is dead. I fear every day, the same fate awaits for me.
Soon my first blood had come, and I was made inable to birthe more hell children. My fellow dogs were brought, taken away, euthanized. It turned out nobody was interested in me. I grew larger, stronger, and more dangerous-looking. Humans started to avoid my pens by inches, walking a distance of 3 feet around it. One day, I notice it is soon my time to leave the world, which is simply not welcoming me in any way. I see the vet open my door, knowing now is my chance to break free.
I take a huge leap, landing behind the man, my growing fangs bared at him, not wanting him to follow me. They obviously think I am a threat, and three men in suits come in minutes later with long iron sticks in their hands. Are they to beat me back into the cage? The strong scent of something burnt reaks into my nose, I do not know what is causing the smell, but I know it's threatening me. My growl gets louder, and I jump over the men who are blocking my way. They take the iron sticks upon their shoulders and the next thing I hear is a booming burst of sound that throbs in my ear.
A soaring pain shoots through my chest and shoulder. I feel warm liquid run down my dirty fur, soon to recognize it is my own blood. I start to lick the wounds, but they burn even worse as I feel on my tongue that I am pushing some kind of metal in deeper. I gaze back at the men, and turn again to run. More shots, as I am known to them now. They do not hit me, but I feel a glass break next to me as I pass it, leaving a long gash across my thigh.
I reach a window and jump for my life. I run, and run, not knowing where to go, until I finally reach a hideout. Tired and exhausted, I slump onto the cartons and fall asleep. I still have the scars to tell the tale, visible scars, and psychological scars. Even though my own bloodmother abandoned me, I still love her, even if I am unsure she loved me. I am not set out to find her, I know she is still watching over me. Somewhere.
