Biography
His life was ending, as all lives were bound to do. It almost seemed meaningless to live at all if naught was eternal. The only thing he could do, he believed, was to transcend, to fulfill the ultimate achievement of becoming one with nature and the divine.
He was dead if they found him, he said. I hope they come and take me, he insisted. Nobody ever knew who They were.
He was having strange dreams every night, he claimed, of they taking him and recasting his image into a painting, so that even as They killed him, he could live forever and his being could become a work of art, eternally admired even when his body was long gone.
First, They stuck long, thin, straws into his eyes to siphon the green hues out of his irises and into glass vials, which they took to the sea and dumped the rich color into the water. The green of his eyes swirled within the waves and slowly spread throughout the world's oceans until his eyes could see the shores of the entire Earth. Then, They peeled off his white stripes and splattered them onto the waves to mimic the froth of sea foam. They hardened his nose, which crumbled off his face and became a stone, soon after, the black patches on his fur and the flesh beneath were transformed into rocks too, leaving his body like a chunky sculpture shot by cannonballs. Those rocks would sit on the beach, becoming eroded by the battering waves until his strength was distilled into infinite iotas of sand. They peeled off his skin, with the ochre fur still clinging to the hide, and rubbed it into the ground until it crumbled like flaking paint and became one with the earth. The blood still stuck to his remaining flesh would seep into the ground, painting the dust with a rusty palette. By now, all the color had been stripped away from him. The stark, pale skeleton that remained was stolen away by the curious sea and swallowed by whales so enormous that the collection of bones was but an accidentally consumed nuisance that stuck to their teeth.
And now, he was dead but had become life itself in a liquid form. Nothing, not the witherings of age, nor the scorching fires of hell, nor even the dehydrating sea salt, could kill him.
I was 75% water, and now 75% of water is me.
Breeding Info
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| Personality
He had the unfortunate circumstance of never knowing his mother but still inheriting her paranoia and delusions of grandeur. Certainly, he was a gentler soul than she was, his outward appearance meek and timid. But he held his esteem so high, he believed that if he fell, the clouds would cushion him and lift his spirits up again. He did indeed fall, knocked towards the ground by the cruel limit of the sky, but the clouds were empty and useless and did nothing but dampen his fur and make his flesh cold, so he broke his heart and has been a sad soul ever since.
Preferences
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Special Skills
First DH bred, son of Claudia.
Has been featured on news page.
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