Deion

Build: Smooth musculature laces an impressive physique. He could easily be described as burly. Though far from the largest of his line, he is still no fine china doll. The male has sturdy shoulders and a deep chest, perfect for endurance and hard hitting brutality. One might describe him as a granite statue, a veritable Adonis carved from mottled stone. The broad planes of his face translate into smooth, high cheekbones and a thick muzzle. His paws are massive, wide and strong. Perfect for uprooting herbs and gripping the ground in unruly terrain. The legs that support him are thick columns of muscle and bone, corded with steely muscles. Powerful thighs serve to further bulken up his form, and allow him to run down even the quickest of prey. Factor in a height of 42", and you are faced with a veritable titan of a man with a scowl to make you cry for your mother.

Coat: Donning a thick, plush coat, the male is the epitome of a northern beast. There is a density to his fur that makes it poorly suited to warmer climates for extended periods. Thankfully, he tends not to retain too much water while swimming thanks to its bulk and makeup. Not that anyone notices the density of it upon first meeting. Instead, they are awestruck by a display of celestial brilliance.

A base coat of deep, rich navy. Mirroring the sky in the dead of night, nearly black. Only as the gaze travels from his face, down his neck, and along his form, does the colour begin to shift. Highlights of rich purple mingle into his ruff, transitioning then to mottled cerulean. As it shifts to brilliant mauve along his thighs, by the time it reaches the tip of his luxurious tail it has returned to inky blue. Gold and ivory decorate his elegant bodice, a pale lattice climbing up his forelimbs from his alabaster paws. Around his elbows it briefly shifts to icy blue, then to gold until it peters out over his shoulders. Along his topline, the purple of his ruff turns to cerulean, back to purple, and then to brilliant white. Broken streaks of these shades alternate along his elegant form, almost too much for the eye to absorb at once.

As an aside, his tongue and maw are stained inky black to match the rest of his flesh.

Mutation: Thick tusks protrude from his lower jaw, taking up the space behind his (decidedly average sized) canine teeth. Only a few inches in diametre, and curving ever so slightly back and away from his nose. As he grew older, they thickened up and dulled at their tips, though did slowly increase in size until their tips have become nearly level with the top of his thick muzzle. Perhaps once he's reached the end of his life, they might begin to extend into the open air and poke up on either side of his snout! (reference)

Eyes: Brilliant, reddish-magenta mirroring the stony gaze of his mother. Though he decidedly lacks in the fullness of his dark lashes.

Scent: wood smoke and mulch, sometimes mixed with gore.

Stance: There isn’t an ounce of fear in the man, not for any mortal being. He stands tall and confident, head high. When walking, he holds his head level with his shoulders, prowling about as the embodiment of a roiling thunderhead.

Scars: In Winter of year 12, Deion earned a pair of small slash-mark scars across the front of his right foreleg, two or three inches below his inner elbow, roughly 3 inches long apiece.

Cynical: The stars look on, cold and distant. The world cares not for the insects that scuttle upon its face. Bitter to the core, the male has little regard for a positive point of view. To make the most of existence, one must recognize that the world is cruel. This is how he has come to hold countries in his palms, and balance everything on a knife’s edge. Scoffing and rolling his eyes is all but second nature by now.

Affectionate: A weaker point of his character- he is endlessly loving. Anyone who will sit still long enough can expect to be jostled, nipped or nuzzled. Physical shows of intimacy of any kind come easily to him. Leaning his head against someone’s shoulder, or grooming them after a long day are among his favourite things. Granted, it takes quite a while for the male to become close enough to another for this side of himself to see the light of day. Complete strangers would be hard pressed to believe him capable of such acts.

Loyal: The thing about being a piece of shit is that you have to stick by the idiots that are dumb enough to keep you around. He would gladly put his ass on the line for his comrades, no matter the cause. Even if its dumb and misguided, he'll follow them wherever they decide to go. While he loves his family, he stands firmly by the notion that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

Harlot: If there is one thing he enjoys, it’s carnal pleasure. Hardly one to turn down the opportunity to engage in the sins of the flesh. He has no preferences for gender or dominance, only that they catch his attention. Without a doubt, his constant flirting could charm the skin off a cat if he put the effort in. Luckily for the majority of the known world, he's rarely willing to put in more than the bare minimum of effort at any given point.

Standoffish: Deion is a surly bastard, without a doubt. On first impression, he might even be an outright jackass. He tends to wear a scowl, and speak in short, clipped sentences with strangers. He doesn't often want anything to do with those he meets, and it takes a lot of persistence to get him to hold an extended conversation.

Deion speaks: fluent Macedonian and Icelandic

PURCHASES:

Height x6: here

Open character pass: here

Minor fantasy mutation: here

background courtesy of nettlejelly on dA

Born Winter year 10misc