(LUCIFER, NOT LIKE THE DEVIL)
(YOU PRONOUNCE IT LOO - SS - I - FUR)
(IVE WATCHED THE MOON FOR 5 YEARS)
(I HAVE AN X && Y. MALE)
(PUREBRED PIT BULL TERRIER)
[ appearance ]
I'm not good at speeches or anything, so this will be hard, and definitely awkward. Within one sentence, I can tell you I'm an awkward brute to talk to, with a tough Aussie accent and a strong outward appearance. Its not that I try hard to look evil, I just am. Always been, sadly always will.
I don't have any mutt specialties, just the one breed. Pit Bull Terrier. We're definitely a variety breed, coming in different hues from black to white, hitting all sides of the color spectrum. I myself am a handsome mix of colors. I like to think of myself as a rainbow, but I certainly don't have that many colors. I kind of blend in all together, with dark brown, blacks, a few specks of white, and lighter browns, tans, then sandy tones. Its not like huge blotches of one colors, its like little flecks throughout my coat, making it hard to pick out one shade.
I'm a stocky brute, easy to see my Bully breed by this. I have an odd figure, nothing feminine about it. I have a large chest, with large, very noticeable muscles, then twist towards my stomach and turn into narrow, but strong hips. I have a tough shell, really. My tail is docked. My legs are thick and sturdy, but great for running.
I think of all my features, my face is my favorite. My head is large, great for that jaw-power I was blessed with from ancestors. My ears are short, with a few pieces missing. My muzzle is very thick, filled with sharp, menacing teeth. But, I do have a handsome face, despite my intimidating appearance. My eyes are a light brown, almost like tan, but a little to dark, and almond-shaped with bold, black pupils.
[ personality ]
I guess I have a strange personality, like that of an old brute, but that of a young, careless, reckless, hateful teenager. Most of me is affected strongly by past fights and occurrences. Damned history, why cant memories just stay away? Well, lets break this down.
The Killer. When I'm angry, its easy to see. My body will quiver, and my eyes will narrow, this is when I'm damn near ready to murder something. Whatever's close enough for me to fit my teeth around. When I do end up fighting, killing, whatever you will, I don't make messes. I make sure to do it quick, and clean.
The Lover. I was in love once, but I never really understood it. Love is a complicated thing to me. You either like something or you don't, never in between. I think its a waste of time if your not sure. If you aren't sure, then you really aren't in love with who ever it it you aren't sure about. That's that. I don't think Ill ever find love again, really. Its tough, and I'm just not sure I could ever be ready for it.
The Magician. I do like tricks. I like to watch real human magicians, too. I have done tricks before, but not those normal site and lay down ones that those humans make their pets do. I'm more of the real trickster. So, maybe a "Magician" wouldn't be the correct term for me then. But, a magician does tricks, and tricks people, so why cant I be called a Magician? I play tricks on others all the time.
[ history ]
I was born on, raised around, and learned everything about a fighting ring. Literally.
The fighting ring was located somewhere way in the outer parts of Australia, where no one lived except for these guys who every night had visitors from all around Aussie come to see their grand dog fights. My mother was one of those dogs who didn't do any fighting, just breeding. She was a champion though, who was a very special sheila indeed. She was beautiful, charming, and was the perfect image of a Bully dog. My father was anything but. He was rough, arrogant, and until I came around, the best damned fighter that shack had every laid eyes and hands upon.
They were in love, I heard. He had seen her before, and had fallen in love. They were bred by the humans at one point, which both loved, and so my sister and I came along. I had three others, but they were still born. My sister turned into a beautiful breeding dog just like my mum, but I was chosen the fate as a fighter. And a good one at that. My sister was actually really really beautiful, and yes, I did love her. I spent every moment I could surrounding her.
One very horrible day, the shack had a break in, and most of the fighters were stolen. Except a few other brutes, my sister, and me. The owners wanted to breed my sister to the death until they had back all the dogs they had lost. They eventually even put me in with her for the dirty deed. I gladly accepted. Most would think that's sick, but hey, they say Greek gods did their sisters all the time. But whatever, on with the story.
While all the pups my darling sissy had popped out were growing into grubby little things, she was forced to fight every now and then. Not surprisingly, I had to fight her too. Back then, I was a sick brute, who didn't really give a shit. I was the best fighter ever, even better then my pa. I wanted to hold that reputation, and back then, I wouldn't even let my sister ruin it for me. As much as I loved her, I slaughtered her just like I had done to many other blokes. I cant say I was proud of it.
That night, I was definitely feeling powerful, I was the most feared bloke in that joint. After the fight, I was walking tall, covered in her blood, and strutting down the kennel hall, every dog turning away from me in fear. I could smell the fear coming off of them!
But, I was released. How, you say? Lets end this short. The owners got sick of my killing of the other fighters, that they finally dumped me off somewhere near Sydney, then I walked all the way to the pier, hopped in a boat, and was carried all the way here, were I began my life as a stray. Woopdedoo.
