August

oh, my sweet summer child.

Name August

Biological Sex Male
Sexual Orientation Heterosexual

Skin Colour Light Bronze-type Tan
Hair Colour White
Eye Colour Amber

Detailed Appearance Very leggy and tapered of torso, he is tall and waifish. Regardless of being well-fed or no, he is virtually never overweight and easily falling underweight. His features follow his lean appearance and musculature is that of a runner. He has blue tattoos inside the navicular fossas. On his left, 88D. On his right, 48188. He is immensely flexible.

History He was a racing greyhound on Earth. He ran 37 races before being rescued and adopted out to a good family home in which he resided for 13 years, passing away from natural causes at a ripe old age. His death finds him in a strange world without any knowledge on how one ought to stand on two legs or even speak.

Sample

He sits, now; or at least he thinks he may be sitting. It is dark. The whole of the world had felt as though he had suddenly fallen off the high-soft-nest in his person's death-slip-floor box-speak room. He had heard his name in his favorite person's voice. She sounded sad, and for a while he had been desperate to return to her - to lay his long face over the sharp line of her shoulder and burp reassuringly in her ear so she knew he had eaten well and she could take back the dry niblet bowl with strange orange mush smeared over the top layer.

Then he felt the peace overwhelm him. Peace that looked almost as though it preceded a bright light-- and then suddenly only looked like a strange rendering of the lackluster world that he had known and loved.

He is seated, but he had never sat before - no matter how many "good boy, sits" his person had ever offered - and he can tell that something else is very wrong. His legs, they bent the wrong way. His feet felt bigger, his hands moving wierdly, elbow so far below his chest that he thought he might be having a strange, as his person called them, Brain Bunny.

Amber eyes blink, bleary and tearing. It is too bright here, now, after the encompassing dark that had held him so tightly before. Where was his person? Where was that rabbit he had sped off after? He groans his malcontent, but the sound is strange and it startles him into jolting about to look behind him in case his person's mate had snuck up on him again. Nothing, in fact nobody. All around him is open spaces. The only notable feature of the landscape is a far off treeline and a nearby stream he cannot smell (odd?) but can certainly, he thinks, reach.

He whines, though, as he realizes there is a deep pain in is chest, that his legs don't want to collect in their usual way beneath him, that he cannot tell why the colors are so debilitating in the world around him---

Colors. Colors that he has never seen, did not know that he cared to see. Suddenly he tries to think back to his person again -- to think of her colors. It grows difficult, so pale and dull as the memories now begin to seem. Another whine, and this time he notices that that sound too is strange.

He blinks, he turns in the grasses, he dips his head to his chest as another pain echoes out from the center of it--- and yelps - both in human, and dog, standards with only the use of the human voice coming up his throat. This is not his chest. He looks down and cannot see his handsome sleek muzzle, cannot see his fuzzy white breast. He sees what he saw when his person’s mate skinned himself. Hairless, strangely broad, and frankly quite ugly in his eyes - no matter how he loved his person, she was not so lovely as Taco had been in her sleek perfection.

He scrambles back far enough, tripping over oblong limbs until he was in the stream and he did a wonderful rendition of a men’s cologne commercial with a whip of his head and a gasp at the chill of mountain run off in comparison to the summer air.

Your Player Name BAB
How you found out about us Kate
Anything else you wish to include Bank the coin, pretty please!