B R U T U S
The Jester of Scotavia
We've been dreaming, but who can deny?
It's just the best way of living
between the truth and the lies.
name: Brutus
age: 9 years
gender: Male
eye color: Chartreuse
appearance: Brutus is a relatively small and scraggly male, standing 28 inches at his shoulders and weighing 65 pounds. He has a patchy, ragdoll look to him, some tufts of fur sticking out longer and in different directions than others without any real pattern. While most of his tail is threadbare, the very end of it still has long and wispy fur.
The majority of his coat is a cream color, topped with a blend of russets along his sides, legs, and on his ears. A blanket of silver lays over his back, as well as up his nose and over his eyes. A black streak runs his his forhead, and he has two more black streaks on either side above the russet. Black lines his eyes and trails off at the corners. Most of his face and paws are off-white.
personality IN SHORT: A little clumsy, rarely on time, but never sorry or awkward about it. Narcissistic and egotistic, but not vain. Playful. A performer. Energetic, strongwilled, and competitive... but lazy and mostly unmotivated. . Intuitive, but unwise. Clever, but nonsensical. Friendly and generous to friends, but not always reliable or kind. An undying optimist.
personality NOT IN SHORT: Brutus is, indeed, a conundrum, made up of startling contrasts. There is nobody in the whole world that he loves more than himself. Truly, he thinks he must be the greatest thing since sliced bread, and wolf-kind hasn't even invented bread yet. That makes him the greatest thing ever. He is not, however, vain, and more often than not looks like a complete mess as he doesn't particularly care for his appearance. Truly great people don't need to look good. Or maybe they just look good, anyways.
Brutus has more energy than God should probably have given any single creature, and he is surprisingly durable considering all of the trouble he tends to get himself into when he gets bored. Somehow he has always come out mostly unscathed. On the other hand, Brutus is an absolutely horrid bum when he doesn't want to do anything and it is near impossible to get him motivated if he has his mind set on being useless.
As far as intellect goes, Brutus is a rather clever young boy. He has smarts, but that doesn't mean he always uses them. Commonsense is not Brutus's forte and a lot of his decisions seem to be completely lacking in wisdom. Spur of the moment, he can be rash. He is, however, oddly intuitive and will often surprise others with random and unexpected snippets of wisdom.
Brutus enjoys social interaction and will often seek others out for entertainment. He is a performer at heart, an actor with a penchant for dramatics, though he only ever does so for his own entertainment as he provokes reactions from those her performs for. While he is friendly and seemingly an open book, Brutus is painfully selfish and will rarely do anything if not for himself or his own amusement.
Lastly, Brutus is an undying optimist. Few things, few burdens, and nearly no amount of abuse can quell his spirits and his lust for life. If there is a silver lining to be had, you can be damned certain he will rip that bitch off and make himself a shiny new sweater (or, more likely, a pair of socks). If there is seemingly no silver lining in sight, he will make one, and probably in the most obscure and nonsensical fashion possible.
ability to imprint: Yes, please.
History: Brutus was not raised so much as he was allowed to live by Graddok, the wolf who slayed both his mother and father in a fit of jealousy after he was born. Having mostly to fend for himself, he grew up stunted and thin, but remarkably capable of survival in unlikely situations. As soon as he was able, he was exploring the world on his own, never settling down until he came to Moladion and was readily accepted by Bahamut, the King of the Scotavians. There, Brutus found himself in a comfortable home with men who let him be without harsh judgement, and an alpha who actually appreciated his company. When Dude and Hawthorn came calling for wolves to up and leave, it was probably Brutus's whimsical nature that saved him, as he was more than happy to run off on a new adventure, unaware that he would lose most of the Scots.
Imprint?: Yes!
read the rules: Yes!
what is our word count minimum: 200!
how did you find us: This is where my soul is, baby.
Sample: Losing one's home seemed to be a common occurance in Moladion. People were constantly being displaced and forced to wander and find a new place to reside. It almost made Brutus wonder if he had been better off without a home of his own... without comfort and companionship to grow accustomed to, only to potentially have it snatched away. It was not a train of thought that lasted long in the raggedy male's mind (most trains of thought didn't survive more than a minute), and was quickly shrugged off as a possible inevitability he'd deal with when it became an actual issue.
The fact that Abraxus seemed on edge and just barely reigning himself in didn't move Brutus, as perhaps it should have a wiser wolf. He moved in closer, his rat-like tail wafting contently behind himself, as he first eyed Abraxus's extensive injuries and scarring, and then tried to peer around him at the female in his shadow. "Ah, a Jester King, aye?" He responded to the fallen king a little distractedly. "You know, there's often more to a jester than meets the eye. All that joviality's gotta come from somewhere, you know? And it's certainly not our asses... Most of the time."
Bahamut's arrival spared Abraxus and Teagan from an inevitable rant on Brutus's part, and quite possibly saved Brutus from the pummeling that would follow. The wafting of Brutus's tail turned into a full, butt-wiggling wag and he grinned a goofy grin at his King. "The lady's got puppies," he informed Bahamut, having caught a whiff of the lady on the brisk breeze. It was not yet decided if the Jester's obsession with puppies was adorable or yet another abnormal cause for concern. "We can keep her, right? I'll even show her where the Bums are denning."
'Bums' being his endearing term for the Gypsies, and a somewhat hypocritical one, at that.
He turned a suddenly odd and critical eye to Abraxus and held it for a moment, unwilling to prostrate himself before the Scotavian King, but clearly hurting in his effort to be as polite as his ego would allow him. The severe look didn't suit Brutus's face and it quickly fell away, his tongue falling out the side of his mouth as he acknowledged Abraxus's pain and so acknowledged his need. It wasn't that his injuries made Brutus feel any sort of sympathy, pity, or empathy, but that it inspired the sort of possessiveness one might feel over a dying baby bird. The child didn't want the baby bird to get better, because then they would have to let it go. The child just wanted a goddamned baby bird.
"... If we can keep him, too, I promise I'll feed him. Lookit him... he's only got half a face." As if that were to make the prospect of keeping the fallen king any more appealing, and as if new pack members would need to be kept as any pet was.
ooc name: Lorikeet
contacts: ecstacybubble (aim)