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for lark,
IP: 58.172.197.220
Posted on January 7, 2019 at 00:23:49 AM by sol

that's the way it is,

Name: Morgan
Gender: Male
Age: Seventeen
Eye Colour: Both his eyes are slate grey, with various lighter and darker slithers throughout. They are ringed in black.
Appearance:
37 inches / 149 lbs
Morgan is quite rangy, made to last a long time in fairly bleak places - long legs, deep chest, tall ears, the whole set. He was made for endurance, for sure, but doesn't lack in speed either, though his muscle is wiry rather than burly. His fur is perhaps a little sparser than average but just as long as any other wolf's, just more guard hair than undercoat. It looks 'spiky' over his top thanks to that, and smooth over his legs.

Like the second wolf in this shot, Morgan's fairly usual in appearance too - well, as far as non-Moladion wolves go. He's tawny, grey and cream with variations of tone throughout. His most distinguishable feature is likely the mix-match of cream and grey along his back, and the darker 'bars' across his throat and chest.

He has several chips missing out of his right ear with a distinct tooth-sized hole to accompany them. The tip of his right canine tooth has been broken off, and what remains seems to stick out just a little all the time - like a bit of a smirk, really. He's covered in little scars over his entire body too; in the summer, when his fur is thinner, it's quite obvious. Some of the larger scars grow white fur, so he has some small pure white markings throughout too.

Personality
Morgan can seem fairly rough at first. He's a little abrasive, short on words but not on opinions. He's blunt, direct and doesn't have a single poetic bone in his body. If you're messing up, he'll tell you, and if you've really pissed him off, you'll know about it too. In that way, he's honest. But he isn't honest. He keeps a lot of himself hidden away from others, particularly the truths of Alyssa, Isabella and the moon woman. He speaks vaguely of them, as if they were just stories and not memories. He detests disloyalty, after all, despite being guilty of it several times over. In that way, he's a liar. And he knows it.

But he seeks to be good, or better at least. He knows he can never be a good man, just a better one, so he tries his best to push the other gang members towards a more righteous path. He wants them to know how to love, life, and how to one day be free from the cycle of violence they've all come from. But for him, he doesn't quite see a future. At least, not a pretty one. Because of that, he's acquired a fairly fearless nature, saying and doing whatever he wants because he doesn't much mind the consequences involving just himself. Of course, he won't risk the others. He'd rather die than risk them, a strange new part of his personality that he often ponders: is it love to do that? Did he ever really love Alyssa or any of the others?

History
Morgan hails from a fairly desolate region, a kind-of-desert place far from Moladion. The summer's were hard and the winters were hard too, so it wasn't a surprise when his parents and two older sisters decided he and his sister, Alyssa, were getting too big to feed. So when he was about a year old, he and his sister were chased out. They lasted a while by themselves, and it was some of the happiest years of Morgan's life. The pair of them had a lot of good adventures but one winter, when they were four, Alyssa came down with some kind of sickness she couldn't seem to shake. She spent the entire winter getting thinner and thinner, her fur falling out in clumps. She did her best to stay positive, but one day she started pleading for Morgan to end it for her. It took him weeks to really understand and just as long to bring himself to do the deed.

By then, he was five and he was alone. He tracked down his parents and older sisters. He found them and he paid for it, because to them chasing your own kids out of home was different to being the one to actually kill them. So he left with a broken tooth and a broken heart. It didn't take him long to find a group to fall in with though - a band of men like him, old and young alike but all walking with a ghost. They hunted, broke packs apart, took what they wanted to etch out a living.

Then he met Isabella. She was nothing like his sister - Isabella was gentle, timid, and she'd spent her whole life raising her siblings and helping her family. Hell, she'd only met Morgan because she came to the gang needing help to hunt a bear out of their territory. See, she didn't have it in her, and her parents were getting old and her siblings were still too young. So Morgan and two others signed up for the job and the rest just fell into place. He'd even sworn to stay behind after the job, a promise he actually kept.

It went like that for two or so years. He helped her family, raised her siblings, spent nights out with her father under the moon telling stories. She blushed and hid every time he came back, but she was tender to him and he felt something inside him change. Until he met the other woman.

He was ten, and she was older. She never did give him her name; he knew she'd come from far away, from a place with oceans and fire, but she never gave him a name more than once. Lunar, Moon, Shore. Never a name, just attitude and games. She'd been on the borders of Isabella's territory and despite knowing better, Morgan kept returning to find her there. Even when Isabella settled in for the winter, round and giggling about their soon-to-be children, Morgan spent many nights chasing that silver woman through the plains.

He kept it up for a year. Eventually, Isabella knew, when the pups were just a few weeks old. Morgan knew she hadn't found out though - the woman had come for her, and Morgan couldn't fault her. The woman had always warned him that she was an honest wolf, raised with a mother who loved her mate more than life itself. She had warned him: if he couldn't do just that, then she couldn't stop herself. She hadn't meant loving her though. No, Morgan could only blame himself. She was right, after all. He'd failed to love Isabella more than adrenaline and danger alike and so, he left.

For years, he ran with his old gang, and sometimes alone. He met other women, tried to replace Isabella with them, but never learned to love somebody more than adventure. He learned just about everything else though, or so he thought. Gracelynn changed that when he was damn well nearing fifteen years old. A little late to have an epiphany, he thought.

Before Gracelynn, Morgan thought he'd found his forever-home with his gang. But she was like a whirlwind and she kicked up memories and feelings Morgan had buried away behind women, blood and scars. She had the fire of Alyssa and yet, Morgan could see Isabella in there too, and the moon woman. Little bits of everybody, all fighting among themselves within her. It didn't take Morgan long to realize he didn't know a single thing and so, he'd followed her. They butted heads, that was for certain, but Morgan couldn't let it go. He needed to see it through: he couldn't bare seeing somebody like her suffer like Alyssa, or Isabella, or become a lost, drifting soul like the moon woman. He still doesn't know just what he's supposed to do to make sure of that but hell, he's going to give it a shot.

Able to imprint.

SAMPLE!:

It'd been a long winter for all of them. They hadn't stopped since they'd left the princess' realm even when the ice had built up between their toes or Gracelynn had poked fun at one of the ribs that had begun to smile out at them from Morgan's side. What was hunger and weariness compared to getting the princess away from her crazy-ass uncle, after all? Gracelynn had been firm on that. If they didn't see the importance of that then she didn't see the importance of keeping them around. Morgan tended to agree but he couldn't help but think she was a little crazy for it either. At least, they should've killed the uncle, made sure he couldn't track them down come spring and give them all a hard time after they froze and starved their way east. But ultimately, Gracelynn was their voice. He was just an old bastard, anyway.

But he had called her into question when she'd decided on the place known as Moladion. Sure, they'd heard about it but they'd also heard about it. Lots of wolves, lots of packs, lots of life and all of that but just as much death. Stay a season, then get going again, he'd said, but Gracelynn saw more to the place than he did. She saw a future or something, if not for her than for the princess at least. God, he hated himself for it but the moment he caught whiff of that kind of...passion, he couldn't help but back down. He'd grunted, rolled his eyes but he'd gotten to securing them a nice hideout despite it all.

Of course, finding that hideout had been a real pain in his ass. There were a lot of wolves, and each of them wanted a piece of the land as well. He'd find an area, wait it out and then move on the moment he sniffed out anybody else. He'd ended up finding them a place wedged between the crags and grotto, deep within the rocks and bramble; the river slowed and pooled before it disappeared underground, rocks jutted out over the water. It wasn't really pretty but it kept them private, kept them safe enough. In a way, it was an apology to them all too for having been the naysayer of their arrival. He didn't know how to say it, after all, but he could at least show it by finding them somewhere to settle down in - their own little piece of this wannabe' paradise.

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