I am an angel and slayer of demons, a proud winged warrior with tattered and battle-scarred wings, yes it is here that I seek to explore next, my posture proud as I stand before the strange river, my ears swiveling to ever sound that decides to make itself known. I had heard tales of angels here, and kin always does attract me. Angels after all tend to seek the companionship of other angels, and slay the abominations known as demons, but for the moment neither is what I seek, I seek to learn my new grounds as reliably as possible. These lands were calling to me in ways that I dare not refuse, because both demons and angels thrive within these lands, and the idea of a base almost makes my heart beat just a little faster, yes in due time I must seek out these other angels, kin will always greet kin. I begin to groom the luxurious coat that has become ruffled from my travels, intent on making the snowy white of my coat perfectly pristine, black toes pressed deep into the earth as I meticulously groom, after all I must shine with my heritage. I will be recognized as an angel by sight and scent, but also the colour and coat I present.

I love who and what I am, and am confidant enough in my own abilities to step into dangerous territory, because I have held my own against much worse, I have laid claim to my own fair share of won battles and kills, I know where fact and fiction lies. I do not actively search for fights, but I do keep watch for potential problems and trouble. I want there to be something even just a little close to peace, but in my travels looking for it I had found nothing. I know that there has to be a semblance of it somewhere, somewhere in these lands of beauty, there must be somewhere I can find peace, but even in peace I need something to protect. War is an ugly thing, it ruins and kills. Not many care to look past their anger and lust for blood and revenge to see just how ugly it is, when it has always been clear to me.

Black toes dig into the riverbank as I stretch after my lengthy grooming, feeling truly immaculate after all th effort I had put into it. I must look stunning, with the familiar red markings of my heritage blazing amongst my snowy white coat and black toes. It was an anomoly of sorts to some, an angel with his toes burnt black, but maybe it's just a testament of how easily I'll tread danger's path. It just marks me as who I am, willing to throw myself under danger's dagger if I think I can turn it around. I don't ever engage in a fight that I know I cannot win, the only way is if I'm taking the hit for someone important to me, which I cannot say I have any current attachments, because perhaps it is easier that way, or, maybe nobody has been special enough to keep my friendship.


My long legs assure that I have long strides and indeed I can run quite fast, my eyes a dark violet ringed in a darker sapphire blue on the outside of the iris, and I sport rather luxurious coat of cinnamon marked white. I am as handome as an angel should be, and I can truly not be mistaken for anything else, I cannot be mistaken as a demon, or any sort of other ordinary wolf. I take my fill of water from the river, eyes falling on my immaculate reflection, and I am pleased with the results of my grooming, wondering over where to explore next, my pitch black toes wanting to be moving along. I have always had the symptoms of a wanderer, never settling in one place. Maybe one day I will find my place in the world, perhaps I never will. You can never see the future.