{{Yes.Nevermind though...i have too many rps already...sorry for wasting your time.}}

OoC://

Thanks. 

OoC://

Weird colors allowed? And powers/ wings? I have many wolves to choose from, so I need to know xD. 

((Lol, darn. My wolf is purple xD. Okay, new one coming up.))

Name: Creo

Age: Adult 
Gender: Male 
Apperance: Above   
Rank: Alpha Male 
Personality: Rp it out? I'm literate, just a bit tired.

History: Didn't want to tell me, and I didn't want to press the issue

S.O: Straight 
Crush/Mate: Open ;) 
Other: None

((I guess I will.))

Sitting in his small den, muzzle pressed against the ground between his paws and eyes shut tightly, Alcarié kept muttering nonsense words to himself. He'd not slept in what felt like days, mind plagued by vicious red eyes and the scent of spilled blood, so much blood. He'd refused to let himself rest, terrified at what his nightmares would be haunted by, or if he'd ever wake up. Shoulders shaking almost violently, the shaman suddenly threw his head up and back and snarled viciously, gold eyes flashing at nothing in particular and fangs gnashing at air. The voices in his head would not be quiet, they talked and they teased never giving his head a break. He just wanted them to shut up! Suddenly the metallic tang of fresh blood swam through the air, infecting his tender nose and causing him to whimper, swinging his head side to side to find the source. It took him a second to finally realize he tasted it as well, forcing him to stick his tongue out and lick his nose. He'd bitten the inside of his mouth when he bit the air. Growling at his own faulty stupidity, the insane wolf started pacing back and forth in the tiny space, tail dragging the wall every time he turned. "What is it you want? Huh?" He asked a little pup sitting on the ground at the entrance of the den. It only tipped it's heads to the side and grinned evilly. He looked closer at the tiny animal, and a startled gasp broke form his throat. It was the same pup that he'd killed all those years ago, the same one that had visited him since and did not but torment him. "Get out!" He yowled,  "Get out and leave me alone you cursed little beast!" Lunging forward, he tried to snap at it's throat, to kill it the same what he'd killed it so long ago. To p*censored*er by's, it would look as if he was yowling at nothing but a figment of his imagination, and that he was. There was nothing there but air. Sitting up and spiting out some dust, Alcarié cackled as he noticed it was gone, that little devil was gone again. The insane glint in his eyes seemed to grow, and he laughed, turning and padding into the den as far as he could go. Sitting on his skinny haunches, sores visible from where the bones had nothing but a patch of skin over them throbbing, he returned to his earlier position, muzzled on the ground. But this time instead of whimpering he cackled coldly, oddly.