SCREECH

[hedge]

Act 1; My life has always been a dead end street, With heavy eyes that shoot through me



Name:


Screech

Gender:

Female

Age:

3 Years Old


Breed:

Red Wolf

mutation: ----

illness:

While learning how to hunt with her parents, Screech sustained a traumatic brain injury after being kicked in the head. She suffers from aphasia, or word-finding difficulties, and dysarthia, muscle weakness that causes disorders speech, making conversation with her a bit difficult. She may pause in the middle of sentences and changes in things such as speed, tone, volume and pitch are common. Her right pupil is dialated, and is signifigantly larger than the left. Screech often has a problem understanding and processing the emotions of others, and also deals with twitching in her limbs, making her movements clumsy and seemingly unpredictable.

Fur Color:

Dull red-and brown coat, with gray and black across the shoulders and tail, and a dirty white underside.

Eye Color:

Pale gold

Act 2; I slip somewhere in between what's right and wrong, And now I drown with every breath I take

Appearance type:

[Undersized][Thin][Long legs][Large feet][Tongue hanging out][Disfigured jaw][Scar above right eye][Slight limp][Twitchy][Dialated Right Pupil][Dull coat][Red-brown][Black+Gray hatching][Thin, skimpy tail][Dirty white undersides][Gold Eyes]

Screech could have been a gorgeous wolf, a creature with a beautiful coat and a graceful way of moving. Intelligent eyes, a jaw-dropping way of speaking; a wonderful example of a perfectly healthy wolf. It all seemed like she was going to grow into that expectation, until an unecpected tradgedy stopped everything right in it's tracks. A kick to the head has left her disfigured, just barely capable of taking care of herself. Far from a pretty sight to look at, a lack of serious nutrition during a crutial part of development has left her a bit on the smaller side of her breed, a scrawny and awkward-looking thing. Because of the brain damage, she is far from a skilled hunter, scaring off prey more often than she can catch it, and is concerningly thin. At this point, ribs are just barely seen through her thick, ratty coat, and hip and shoulder bones poke up slightly. For her height, her legs are long and skinny, ending in too-large paws. She's a clumsy mover because of this, and the occasional twitching in her limbs doesn't do her much good either, sending this young creature stumbling into trees and boulders. She just manages to scrape by, scavenging more often than not. Her head is capped by two large ears, surprisingly unscathed, that her head never quite grew into. The swivel around almost erratically at times, and are excellent conveyors of her emotions when they don't, since she sometimes can't find the ability to speak. Her jaw is signifigantly disfigured, the bottm jaw twisting off to one side just enough to look unsightly and inconvienient. Her tongue hangs out to the side at most times, passing in between what good teeth she has after several were kicked out. There is a scar above her right eye, presumably where Screech recieved a kick to the head, though the actual impact point could have been in any area surrounding the wound. It's a miracle, really, that she's alive, and that her skull wasn't crushed enough to kill her, though it probably would've been more merciful had she not survived. Her right eye is dialated, so that it is much larger than her left, and she seems a bit unfocused at times, as if she can't look right at what's in front of her, and often tilts her head around to get a perfect view. She also walks with a slight limp, made worse by the occasional, and violent, twitching. In color, her coat is a dull, dusty-looking reddish brown, typical of her breed. With better care and nutrition, the color would probably be much less lackluster, but there's only so much she can do. Across her back is gray and black hatching, the colors more strong and concentrated on her shoulders and think, skimpy tail. Her underside, in color, could be described as a dirty off-white, covering her belly, chest, legs and feet. It also rings under her eyes, as if her coat is attempting to make her dull gold eyes a little bit brighter.

Personality:

[Panicked][Easily confused][Unobservant][Kind][Ditzy][Caring][Pacifistic][Mood swings][Distrusting at times][Overly friendly at others]

As with her appearance, Screech would have grown up to have a lovely personality if she hadn't gone through her injury. She retains some of the qualities she'd had at one time, though they are spotty and uncommon. As of now, her emotions are a bit unpredictable, and can fluctuate just as much as her speech can. She is quite jumpy and panicked, more afraid of others than they ever will be of her and, in her mind, she has all the reason to be. Others have hurt her. Be it the moose that kicked her in the head, or wolves and other creatures that have tried to attack her. Through sheer dumb luck, she's avoided any actual mutation, though that may just be because they have the sense to not take her in. She'd probably be more trouble than she's worth, and she knows it in a foggy sort of sense. All she knows that she's left well enough alone unless someone feels like bullying a creature like her. She is distrusting, most of the time, and it takes her so long to open up fully to anyone that there's never any time to make any allies because others get tired of waiting, or they get creeped out by her shifts. She is easily confused, especially by others' emotions and chatter, and has a hard time understanding things such as tone, content. She's not very good at reading body language, something that gets her into trouble when she does run into a stranger. When she isn't on the verge of fear, she's a kind creature. She wouldn't hurt a soul, not that she ccan anyway. She's certainly ditzy once she gets comfortable with someone, and needs a firm, but patient nudge in the right direction. Screech never did much believe in fighting or violence, which is what got her in trouble in the first place. She'll run before fighting, and in the event that she does get caught, she'll lie down and take it, hoping that her captors decide to leave her be. She doesn't mean any harm to anyone; sometimes her signals are just read wrong. She's not entirely in control of herself. More often than she would like, and quite sporadically, Screech experiences mood swings. They are unpredictable, and certainly unwanted. She can go from cowering away from a stranger to yelling for them to get away, in anger, not fear. False threats are thrown, but in an instant she can be crying and begging to be forgiven; she honestly didn't mean it, promise. And though distrusting, there are moments where she can be absurdly friendly. It's part of the swings, and it's never going to change.

Act 3; I'm sick of feeling like I can't escape, I'll get out before I go insane to somewhere I belong

History:


Screech was born in the late fall, in a litter of three. Two females and a male. Reed was burly, thickly built in comparison to his sisters, who looked as if they would grow into lithe, graceful creatures. Fisher's coat leaned more towards paler colors, taking after their mother, while Reed and Screech resembled their father. Bulky and brazen, Reed seemed the most likely candidate for survival in the pack they were trying to build, but his confidence was his downfall, and a run-in with a bear cub and it's mother felled the young male. From tha point onward, Russet and Fennel concentrated on teaching their daughters to be independent young wolves, and it was Screech that was set to take a leadership position. But tradgedy seemed dead set of bringing the family down, and a kick to the head by a seemingly weak moose sent Screech flying, bleeding into the snow. She just managed to survive, though her parents and sister had left her to die, thinking the end was fast-approaching. From that young age, she was on her own, and went from a healthy, succesful individual to a scarred and beaten-up creature. Using the skills she was taught by her parents before the accident, she managed to survive on her own. Her wounds healed the best they could, though the internal injuries have left her almost hopeless. She's just strong enough to make it though. Injury and abandonment haven't doused the spark, her will to live. Screech is determined to keep on going, though she isn't quite sure what for.




Brother: Reed [Deceased]
Sister: Fisher [Location Unknown, possibly mutated]
Father: Russet [Location unknown, possibly mutated/deceased]
Mother: Fennel [Location unknown, possibly mutated/deceased]
Mate:-----
Pups:-----
Rank/Position: Loner
Pack: ------

Act 3 the final act; Somewhere I belong


&& Ipod;;
Somewhere I Belong-Valencia



Roleplay sample;

"Don't......don't hurt me, please."

"Don't hurt Screech! Leave me be or I'll tear your throat out!"


"Sorry...sorry. Screech....She...I sorry. Let go?"

It had to have been going on for hours, or at least it felt like it to her. She'd been walking for days, after being chased around by some mutated creature, too afraid to stop for rest, and had stumbled upon a carcass, seemingly unattended to. And she's been so hungy, so very hungry, that she hadn't resisted the urge to dive in and swallow down chunks of meat, awkwardly and messily. She hadn't noticed the owner of the meal for minutes, too busy trying to fill the gaping hole that was her stomach until a paw planted itself on a rib right by her head, cracking down on the bone. She had scrambled away, yelping as her spine banged against a tree trunk, begging to be left alone, forgiven, anything. She'd only been trying to feed herself. Couldn't they see that she couldn't provide for herself like they could? Then the swings came, her battered mind taking over when all she wanted to do was sink into the ground. Once it was over, and they'd left in fear of their safety, she couldn't remember what they'd said, or what she'd possibly done. Instead of going to eat more, she'd stayed on the ground, sprawled out and feeling far too sick to eat. It wouldn;t be surprising if she ended up regurgiatating what she'd already devoured. What a waste.

She hadn't meant to do it. She was so sorry, she could feel the ache of regret in her bones.

The world could be so unforgiving, she thought, tucking a dirty paw under her head and staring off into space, eyes unfocused and dull. She hadn't done anything to deserve this, any of it. Hadn't deserved to be kicked in the head, hadn't deserved to be left to die, and she certainly hadn't done anything to deserve the hell she was currently living in. She was going to make it, though. Oh yes, Screech was. Already, there was a strange burn in her chest that made her rise to her feet, unsteady enough to go wobbling into the tree that had made her spine hurt like it did, before stumbling away. She just had to keep moving. Then she could keep the food in her stomach, what she had managed to scavange, and it would all be okay. One day, it would get better.

Read more: FALL-OF-PARADISE.PROBOARDS.COM/INDEX.CGI?BOARD=CREATION&ACTION=POST&THREAD=5"E=5&PAGE=1#IXZZ26UYHCM7Q

[|The March Hare|]

~Accepted~

Welcome to Paradise!

[/i][/center]