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Description
│█║▌║▌║ ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕, 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟' 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥. ║▌║▌║█│▌

►:: I D E N T I T Y ::◄
Name: Moth.
Alias(es): None. He prefers Moth as nicknames and the like tend to irk him.

Sex: Male.
Age: 3 years, 11 months.
Bloodline(s): 1/2 Mountain, 3/8th Snowy, 1/8th Forest Steppe.
Height: Current-27 inches, Mature-29 inches
Weight: Current-54lbs, Mature-72lbs
Voice: Honey-coated, often with a sing-song lilt and a sardonic edge. Moth has an accent akin to someone born and raised in Boston.
Mannerisms: Curls tail, has an unreadable expression that he uses for his gain, keeps prim and proper, walks in a self-assured strut, tends to prefer eating alone yet enjoys being amidst the action any time else, carries a proclivity to create falsehoods and lies just for the result.
Physical Description: Slender, lithe in form, and smaller than male wolves tend to average. While afar he may look scrawny, he has lean musculature beneath his pelt. Not tall in stature, his height tends to be a sore spot. Moth keeps his pelt groomed, prim, and tidy despite his wild, wispy strands. His facial structure is slight, more angular instead of broad and his cheeks are well-tufted. Moth has eyes a brown so rich they can appear to look red. A perpetual mischievous glint can be seen in his gaze.
Moth's pelt is thick, despite a shorter appearance, with enough density to weather wintry conditions. The ends of his pelt curl in some places and his hues range from gray to lighter browns or muddied golds.
A smirk often molds his expression, one rather toothy.

Rare Traits/Birth Traits: None.

Related Deficiencies: None.
Pack/Guild: Morass
Rank: Tier 0|Peal

►:: P E R S O N A L I T Y ::◄
Traits:

Positive:
|Charismatic|
|Patient|
|Self-Reliant|
|Scholarly|
|Witty|

Negative:
|Grudge-holder|
|Feeble|
|Liar|
|Conceited|
|Sly|
In-Depth:
Some wolves take wrongs gracefully, preferring to solve the matter through more peaceful means and are willing to forgive and forget.
This is not an apt descriptor of Moth. If anything, he is the polar opposite, clutching onto grudges in the back of his mind without a trace of desire to hear out those that wanted to placate or earnest apologies.
To wrong him is a risky gamble, for he may see the slight as not significant enough to stress over or he might let it consume him. Anger seethes deep inside of him and it further reinforces his inability to let things go. No matter how much time has lapsed, grudges for Moth are essentially perpetual and it takes a lot for Moth to overcome a grudge.
While he may have sparked ire from being wronged, rarely does he do anything beyond sit upon it, fuming. Moth is utterly blind to this trait, believing his reactions to be of the norm, and has difficulty comprehending wolves who are willing to let the past be the past with ease. He does not envy a wolf who forgives without qualm, for he sees one scornful action as a show of character.
Since pup hood, Moth has had an energy about him, one which permeates a more charismatic nature. Words are of intrigue for Moth, and through careful observation of those around him, he developed an ability to formulate how he speaks with the edge of a silver-tongue. This has made him watchful of others, so he may use his charisma if he deems it necessary. On the off-hand, he can also defuse intense situations through charisma alone. Something of a god-send given his weak status compared to many others. If he can avoid fighting by using wits and words, he will gladly do so.
Confidence tends to exude from Moth, with his charisma further bolstering this air. Charisma is his defense, and he has no qualms if it shows.

If there are one thing Moth thirsts after, it is knowledge. This can span several different subjects, and his hunger for information tends to be insatiable. This leads him to be a wolf who has many questions and a strikingly strong determination to garner answers. From herbology to pack dynamics, Moth desires to accumulate as much precious knowledge as is possible. To be a wise wolf is something of a secret goal for himself. One of which he has not quite realized yet.
Regardless, this proclivity can make Moth a bit nosy as he pursues information. Snooping isn't below him.
All in all, Moth finds wisdom more powerful than fangs or claws.

Some may think Moth would have a lean toward being an inpatient individual. However, Moth is incredibly patient to a great extent. While some prefer immediate action, Moth is capable and more than willing to wait, no matter the circumstances. In fact, often he believes that to charge into a situation is foolish and that to wait for the time to be ripe is the correct action. While being a fast-talker perfectly willing to use his wits to sway, his patience is calculative. Like in a game of chess, he ponders over the move of his next action with ginger care.
If combat becomes involved, Moth favors waiting to understand the enemy. This applies to hunting as well, for he will watch his quarry's actions until the moment is right.
To wait comes with ease for Moth.

Despite how he enjoys interpersonal relationships, there is a large portion of Moth that is massively self-reliant. If Moth stumbles upon a problem regarding himself, he would much rather solve it on his own than to rely on others.
The length of his travels especially made this trait concrete as he had to learn to rely on no one but himself. While he does prefer to do things on his own, with reluctance and an amount of grousing, he will occasionally accept another wolf's help.
With hunting, often there's no choice so he swallows his complaints and stills his tongue.

Always the sickly pup between himself and his sibling, Moth is rather feeble, prone to falling ill. His physical strength isn't grand, instead, he must use speed supported by his lithe frame. Because of this, Moth is pretty good at tending to himself and keeping, at most, an open eye on his health. However, his feebleness has affected his appearance, thus he is not built strong and sturdy as many a wolf. This is likely his only insecurity.
Which leads to his next trait.

Beneath the charm lies a different and more hidden side to Moth's personality.
While he would never admit to it, Moth has a tendency to lie, sometimes out of compulsion and sometimes purposefully. He keeps this under lock and key.
This can lead to exaggerating stories to trickery. If against a wolf he cares little for, he will lie without qualms, oft to his gain.
Perhaps the most troubling part of this trait is that he is good at lying, twisting words in a way so deceitful it can be arduous to discern if he's telling the truth or not.
No one is immune to his lies, not even his packmates.

Moth is blind to it, however, he has a proclivity towards being absolutely and utterly conceited. His vanity can be seen in the way he carries himself, the way he speaks, to the way he keeps up his appearance. How he looks is of massive importance to him, leaving him unfound of anything that might muddy his wispy coat.
If something goes his way, he enjoys boasting. He will repeat his victories and talk as if he is among the best. He can talk the talk, whether he can walk the walk is variable.
If something doesn't go his way or he perceives himself as looking foolish, he will suffer a momentary lapse of disappointment before returning to his normal vanity.

To his credit, Moth has a vast amount of cunning, making him a rather sly character. This can make him difficult to trust, in some cases.
Regardless, he can use his slyness to benefit his pack. Deceit is not under him.
Tying into his habitual lying, he can be quite the trickster and trickery amuses him. Usually, he uses his slyness against others, not within the pack, but if he can garner gossip or secrets, he most certainly isn't against using it on his fellow pack members.

On the off-hand, Moth is rather witty and able to entertain humor even when times seem grim, it can spread smiles and lift spirits, and despite his more trickery side, he does enjoy making a wolf laugh.

►:: H I S T O R Y ::◄
Pre-Group History:
tw; strong abuse, violence

Perhaps troubling starts spread seeds that sow eventual traumas.
In Moth's case, his birth was akin to a sin. An atrocity.
Moth's mother was Pheasant, a wolf among the Eagle Peak Tribe who had a wild streak that would lead to turbulence.
Within the pack, she was to be the mate of the lead hunter, an honor. Although lacking the ability to manipulate the path of her life, she never found happiness despite this. Ranking, at the time, seemed to matter little and it wasn't long before she met trouble.

Wayke.
A handsome wolf who temporarily resided in the nearby snowy mountains. The two met and hit it off. While Pheasant knew the relationship could not be, she continued to see him up until his pack began their trek elsewhere among the lands. Soon, however, Pheasant became heavy with pups, and when she went to the shaman of the Eagle Peak Tribe, her pregnancy was revealed to all. Their heritage was seen as an abomination and an utter rule-break within the pack.
The pups were illegitimate. Bastards. The plan regarding her planned mating with the lead-hunter dissipated until the pups were to be homed elsewhere. There was no place for those of such a bizarre heritage.

Pheasant had no joy in being a mother and considered her ranking and placement in the pack more important than the pups she had now given birth to. So, she began to search for Wayke's pack, desperately seeking any scent or sign of their presence so she may rid herself of these pups that burdened her future. While she found success in locating small bands of wolves, none had heard of Wayke, and search after search was all futile.
During her scouring, her pups nursed from other mothers, much to their disdain.

Soon, Pheasant came to realize that everything was fruitless and she would have no choice but to name her pups as per tradition.
To do so made her sick to her stomach.
They were named after nature and beings that resided in the mountains. She came to name them Moth and Tick.

As a youngling, Moth did not understand the circumstances surrounding his and his Tick's birth, nor the ramifications. Like many pups, he was wide-eyed and in astonishment at the world around him. However, such a sunny outlook was soon to fragment, for his sibling as they grew was identified to have neither one particular scent, male or female.
The pack ran on the ideology of each gender having specific duties, what with the males to be raised more aggressive and the females more docile and subservient. The spotlight was on them, Moth and his sibling, and between it all Pheasant.

While Moth, at a tender age, could care less about the gender identity of his sibling, the pack had another view and things grew scandalous. Within the Eagle Peak Tribe, tails, much akin to birds, were important for mating displays and signatures to define the blur between dominance and submissiveness.
Moth, born male and beyond being a tad sickly as a pup, had no condition to bring about focus upon him.

Tick was not so fortunate.
They removed their tail and the cruelty of it all devastated Moth.
As they aged, while Tick seemed to thankfully forget the trauma, despite his youth at the time, flashes of the memory stained Moth's mind like ink.
They found no popularity within the pack, and Moth consistently found himself battling with wit bullies that assuaged Tick. The two were close, their souls linked, and Moth found the suffering Tick went through for something beyond their paws horrendous.

Per tradition, pups were encouraged to feast upon flesh for the first time.
This was a catalyst for change. While Moth could engage in the tradition with relative ease, Tick found themselves at the paws of the wolves who saw them as nothing beyond undeserving of placement within the pack.
Before Moth knew it, this led to bloodshed as Tick lashed out at another wolf. There was little he could do, and the event proved traumatizing to his psyche.
Tick had almost killed another wolf, their rage permeating from the bite of their fangs and the slash of their claws.

Still, life carried on.
Moth found himself on edge when eating with Tick, and the guilt he felt for it was substantial.
The torture of being in a negative spotlight did not subside for Tick, yet Moth received what could be considered standard training as a male. Sure, he was bothered about Tick by others but his sardonic edge often kept other wolves at bay when it came down to that particular subject.

In actuality, he found himself not envious of Tick's situation yet of their ability to learn both the ways of the females and the males.
Being hungry for knowledge, he too wished he could garner such education. Although he had not long to ponder upon such a thing as they were soon thrust into the paws of a cousin, so distant Moth had not known of their existence.

The cousin was to rid his mother of himself and Tick, and for this, he grew bitter. There was little he could do as a youth.
They were to leave the tribe and return to their biological father via their cousin and then their aunt, their father now located after many moons. Moth could not decide if he was eager to leave this hellhole behind or if trepidation made him wonder if they were to be dumped into a worse situation than this.
Not many cared bid goodbyes, and it hardened Moth, vexed him.

The world was cruel, and that was all he had learned from the tribe.

Their trek was long and arduous. All for nothing for their father scorned them upon seeing their pelts, darkened against the bright snow that blanketed his father's lands.
They were told they'd be more hassle than their worth. If their hues had been akin to snowy wolves, they'd have been accepted.
Moth flew into a frenzy, shouting down at all the wolves around him. Angered by how the world spun on yet left him with such a horrid fate.
Even though through fondness that Guyde found for Tick squirmed them a position within his mother's pack, Moth declined, slipping from the pack in the late eve without a word.

It burned to leave Tick behind but no longer could he stand the memories stirred by being around his blood.
He desired something new, a different life without the shadow of his past consuming him.

From territory to territory, Moth traveled, joining packs just to leave them after a moon, forever unsettled. Living the loner life was not quite for him.
Fortuitous, he came into lands that resonated with the hollow feeling inside him, thick with rolling, billowing fog.
It piqued his curiosity as the lands were like nothing he had seen before and something within him tempted him to step further into the fog. Soon, what was fortune became a disaster, and Moth considered himself foolish as he scrambled lost within the mists.

The lands were not what he was accustomed to, and for that, he suffered.
Moth figured his intrigue would be his death amidst these boggy lands. Yet, with a sliver of luck, dizzied and wearied, he followed a scent that indicated a pack of wolves had somehow roosted here.
Upon finding them, an opportunity presented himself.

He could become a member at the cost of undergoing a tradition called Fever Fun, and he was not about to decline.

Group History:
TBA.

► :: R E L A T I O N S H I P S ::◄
Mate: TBD through RP
Offspring: None.
Family:
Tick|Sister
Perpetually he feels guilt for leaving Tick behind, so he obscures and swallows then guilt, ignoring its existence.

Pheasant|Mother
He cares little for her and faults her for the trauma that grips at his heart.

Wayke|Father
He despises his father for he was the final straw.
He would rather spit on his grave than see him again.

Guyde|Cousin
He is appreciative of Guyde's help and for the kindness that he showed Tick. No ill-will exists between them, and for what it's worth, he would have liked to gotten to know Guyde better.

Crypt|Aunt
He knows little of her. Only that perhaps she could've provided a better life but he refused the gamble.

???|Three Half-Siblings
His father's other children. All he can feel towards them is burning envy.
Other: None at current, open.

Other:
►:: A V A I L A B I L I T Y ::◄
Timezone: Central.
Preferred Methods: Discord, Google Docs.
Notes: Yes.
Comments: Yes.
Skype: No.
Docs: Yes.
Other: Yes.
►:: E X T R A::◄
Likes: The security of trust, wandering, the feel of rain upon his pelt, medicinal plants, and their properties, late eve, the full moon, morning strolls, battles of the wit, friendship and close bonds, the cold.

Dislikes: Swimming, excessive heat, having an untidy pelt, being looked down upon, being powerless, having a lack of knowledge on topics he wishes to know more about, isolation, feelings of doubt.

Sexuality: Pansexual with a male lean.

Scent: Maple leaves.

Theme Song: Guess Not- eaJ www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqNGSo…

Application for WolvesofLunarForest !

Description
│█║▌║▌║ ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕, 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟' 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥. ║▌║▌║█│▌

►:: I D E N T I T Y ::◄
Name: Moth.
Alias(es): None. He prefers Moth as nicknames and the like tend to irk him.

Sex: Male.
Age: 3 years, 11 months.
Bloodline(s): 1/2 Mountain, 3/8th Snowy, 1/8th Forest Steppe.
Height: Current-27 inches, Mature-29 inches
Weight: Current-54lbs, Mature-72lbs
Voice: Honey-coated, often with a sing-song lilt and a sardonic edge. Moth has an accent akin to someone born and raised in Boston.
Mannerisms: Curls tail, has an unreadable expression that he uses for his gain, keeps prim and proper, walks in a self-assured strut, tends to prefer eating alone yet enjoys being amidst the action any time else, carries a proclivity to create falsehoods and lies just for the result.
Physical Description: Slender, lithe in form, and smaller than male wolves tend to average. While afar he may look scrawny, he has lean musculature beneath his pelt. Not tall in stature, his height tends to be a sore spot. Moth keeps his pelt groomed, prim, and tidy despite his wild, wispy strands. His facial structure is slight, more angular instead of broad and his cheeks are well-tufted. Moth has eyes a brown so rich they can appear to look red. A perpetual mischievous glint can be seen in his gaze.
Moth's pelt is thick, despite a shorter appearance, with enough density to weather wintry conditions. The ends of his pelt curl in some places and his hues range from gray to lighter browns or muddied golds.
A smirk often molds his expression, one rather toothy.

Rare Traits/Birth Traits: None.

Related Deficiencies: None.
Pack/Guild: Morass
Rank: Tier 0|Peal

►:: P E R S O N A L I T Y ::◄
Traits:

Positive:
|Charismatic|
|Patient|
|Self-Reliant|
|Scholarly|
|Witty|

Negative:
|Grudge-holder|
|Feeble|
|Liar|
|Conceited|
|Sly|
In-Depth:
Some wolves take wrongs gracefully, preferring to solve the matter through more peaceful means and are willing to forgive and forget.
This is not an apt descriptor of Moth. If anything, he is the polar opposite, clutching onto grudges in the back of his mind without a trace of desire to hear out those that wanted to placate or earnest apologies.
To wrong him is a risky gamble, for he may see the slight as not significant enough to stress over or he might let it consume him. Anger seethes deep inside of him and it further reinforces his inability to let things go. No matter how much time has lapsed, grudges for Moth are essentially perpetual and it takes a lot for Moth to overcome a grudge.
While he may have sparked ire from being wronged, rarely does he do anything beyond sit upon it, fuming. Moth is utterly blind to this trait, believing his reactions to be of the norm, and has difficulty comprehending wolves who are willing to let the past be the past with ease. He does not envy a wolf who forgives without qualm, for he sees one scornful action as a show of character.
Since pup hood, Moth has had an energy about him, one which permeates a more charismatic nature. Words are of intrigue for Moth, and through careful observation of those around him, he developed an ability to formulate how he speaks with the edge of a silver-tongue. This has made him watchful of others, so he may use his charisma if he deems it necessary. On the off-hand, he can also defuse intense situations through charisma alone. Something of a god-send given his weak status compared to many others. If he can avoid fighting by using wits and words, he will gladly do so.
Confidence tends to exude from Moth, with his charisma further bolstering this air. Charisma is his defense, and he has no qualms if it shows.

If there are one thing Moth thirsts after, it is knowledge. This can span several different subjects, and his hunger for information tends to be insatiable. This leads him to be a wolf who has many questions and a strikingly strong determination to garner answers. From herbology to pack dynamics, Moth desires to accumulate as much precious knowledge as is possible. To be a wise wolf is something of a secret goal for himself. One of which he has not quite realized yet.
Regardless, this proclivity can make Moth a bit nosy as he pursues information. Snooping isn't below him.
All in all, Moth finds wisdom more powerful than fangs or claws.

Some may think Moth would have a lean toward being an inpatient individual. However, Moth is incredibly patient to a great extent. While some prefer immediate action, Moth is capable and more than willing to wait, no matter the circumstances. In fact, often he believes that to charge into a situation is foolish and that to wait for the time to be ripe is the correct action. While being a fast-talker perfectly willing to use his wits to sway, his patience is calculative. Like in a game of chess, he ponders over the move of his next action with ginger care.
If combat becomes involved, Moth favors waiting to understand the enemy. This applies to hunting as well, for he will watch his quarry's actions until the moment is right.
To wait comes with ease for Moth.

Despite how he enjoys interpersonal relationships, there is a large portion of Moth that is massively self-reliant. If Moth stumbles upon a problem regarding himself, he would much rather solve it on his own than to rely on others.
The length of his travels especially made this trait concrete as he had to learn to rely on no one but himself. While he does prefer to do things on his own, with reluctance and an amount of grousing, he will occasionally accept another wolf's help.
With hunting, often there's no choice so he swallows his complaints and stills his tongue.

Always the sickly pup between himself and his sibling, Moth is rather feeble, prone to falling ill. His physical strength isn't grand, instead, he must use speed supported by his lithe frame. Because of this, Moth is pretty good at tending to himself and keeping, at most, an open eye on his health. However, his feebleness has affected his appearance, thus he is not built strong and sturdy as many a wolf. This is likely his only insecurity.
Which leads to his next trait.

Beneath the charm lies a different and more hidden side to Moth's personality.
While he would never admit to it, Moth has a tendency to lie, sometimes out of compulsion and sometimes purposefully. He keeps this under lock and key.
This can lead to exaggerating stories to trickery. If against a wolf he cares little for, he will lie without qualms, oft to his gain.
Perhaps the most troubling part of this trait is that he is good at lying, twisting words in a way so deceitful it can be arduous to discern if he's telling the truth or not.
No one is immune to his lies, not even his packmates.

Moth is blind to it, however, he has a proclivity towards being absolutely and utterly conceited. His vanity can be seen in the way he carries himself, the way he speaks, to the way he keeps up his appearance. How he looks is of massive importance to him, leaving him unfound of anything that might muddy his wispy coat.
If something goes his way, he enjoys boasting. He will repeat his victories and talk as if he is among the best. He can talk the talk, whether he can walk the walk is variable.
If something doesn't go his way or he perceives himself as looking foolish, he will suffer a momentary lapse of disappointment before returning to his normal vanity.

To his credit, Moth has a vast amount of cunning, making him a rather sly character. This can make him difficult to trust, in some cases.
Regardless, he can use his slyness to benefit his pack. Deceit is not under him.
Tying into his habitual lying, he can be quite the trickster and trickery amuses him. Usually, he uses his slyness against others, not within the pack, but if he can garner gossip or secrets, he most certainly isn't against using it on his fellow pack members.

On the off-hand, Moth is rather witty and able to entertain humor even when times seem grim, it can spread smiles and lift spirits, and despite his more trickery side, he does enjoy making a wolf laugh.

►:: H I S T O R Y ::◄
Pre-Group History:
tw; strong abuse, violence

Perhaps troubling starts spread seeds that sow eventual traumas.
In Moth's case, his birth was akin to a sin. An atrocity.
Moth's mother was Pheasant, a wolf among the Eagle Peak Tribe who had a wild streak that would lead to turbulence.
Within the pack, she was to be the mate of the lead hunter, an honor. Although lacking the ability to manipulate the path of her life, she never found happiness despite this. Ranking, at the time, seemed to matter little and it wasn't long before she met trouble.

Wayke.
A handsome wolf who temporarily resided in the nearby snowy mountains. The two met and hit it off. While Pheasant knew the relationship could not be, she continued to see him up until his pack began their trek elsewhere among the lands. Soon, however, Pheasant became heavy with pups, and when she went to the shaman of the Eagle Peak Tribe, her pregnancy was revealed to all. Their heritage was seen as an abomination and an utter rule-break within the pack.
The pups were illegitimate. Bastards. The plan regarding her planned mating with the lead-hunter dissipated until the pups were to be homed elsewhere. There was no place for those of such a bizarre heritage.

Pheasant had no joy in being a mother and considered her ranking and placement in the pack more important than the pups she had now given birth to. So, she began to search for Wayke's pack, desperately seeking any scent or sign of their presence so she may rid herself of these pups that burdened her future. While she found success in locating small bands of wolves, none had heard of Wayke, and search after search was all futile.
During her scouring, her pups nursed from other mothers, much to their disdain.

Soon, Pheasant came to realize that everything was fruitless and she would have no choice but to name her pups as per tradition.
To do so made her sick to her stomach.
They were named after nature and beings that resided in the mountains. She came to name them Moth and Tick.

As a youngling, Moth did not understand the circumstances surrounding his and his Tick's birth, nor the ramifications. Like many pups, he was wide-eyed and in astonishment at the world around him. However, such a sunny outlook was soon to fragment, for his sibling as they grew was identified to have neither one particular scent, male or female.
The pack ran on the ideology of each gender having specific duties, what with the males to be raised more aggressive and the females more docile and subservient. The spotlight was on them, Moth and his sibling, and between it all Pheasant.

While Moth, at a tender age, could care less about the gender identity of his sibling, the pack had another view and things grew scandalous. Within the Eagle Peak Tribe, tails, much akin to birds, were important for mating displays and signatures to define the blur between dominance and submissiveness.
Moth, born male and beyond being a tad sickly as a pup, had no condition to bring about focus upon him.

Tick was not so fortunate.
They removed their tail and the cruelty of it all devastated Moth.
As they aged, while Tick seemed to thankfully forget the trauma, despite his youth at the time, flashes of the memory stained Moth's mind like ink.
They found no popularity within the pack, and Moth consistently found himself battling with wit bullies that assuaged Tick. The two were close, their souls linked, and Moth found the suffering Tick went through for something beyond their paws horrendous.

Per tradition, pups were encouraged to feast upon flesh for the first time.
This was a catalyst for change. While Moth could engage in the tradition with relative ease, Tick found themselves at the paws of the wolves who saw them as nothing beyond undeserving of placement within the pack.
Before Moth knew it, this led to bloodshed as Tick lashed out at another wolf. There was little he could do, and the event proved traumatizing to his psyche.
Tick had almost killed another wolf, their rage permeating from the bite of their fangs and the slash of their claws.

Still, life carried on.
Moth found himself on edge when eating with Tick, and the guilt he felt for it was substantial.
The torture of being in a negative spotlight did not subside for Tick, yet Moth received what could be considered standard training as a male. Sure, he was bothered about Tick by others but his sardonic edge often kept other wolves at bay when it came down to that particular subject.

In actuality, he found himself not envious of Tick's situation yet of their ability to learn both the ways of the females and the males.
Being hungry for knowledge, he too wished he could garner such education. Although he had not long to ponder upon such a thing as they were soon thrust into the paws of a cousin, so distant Moth had not known of their existence.

The cousin was to rid his mother of himself and Tick, and for this, he grew bitter. There was little he could do as a youth.
They were to leave the tribe and return to their biological father via their cousin and then their aunt, their father now located after many moons. Moth could not decide if he was eager to leave this hellhole behind or if trepidation made him wonder if they were to be dumped into a worse situation than this.
Not many cared bid goodbyes, and it hardened Moth, vexed him.

The world was cruel, and that was all he had learned from the tribe.

Their trek was long and arduous. All for nothing for their father scorned them upon seeing their pelts, darkened against the bright snow that blanketed his father's lands.
They were told they'd be more hassle than their worth. If their hues had been akin to snowy wolves, they'd have been accepted.
Moth flew into a frenzy, shouting down at all the wolves around him. Angered by how the world spun on yet left him with such a horrid fate.
Even though through fondness that Guyde found for Tick squirmed them a position within his mother's pack, Moth declined, slipping from the pack in the late eve without a word.

It burned to leave Tick behind but no longer could he stand the memories stirred by being around his blood.
He desired something new, a different life without the shadow of his past consuming him.

From territory to territory, Moth traveled, joining packs just to leave them after a moon, forever unsettled. Living the loner life was not quite for him.
Fortuitous, he came into lands that resonated with the hollow feeling inside him, thick with rolling, billowing fog.
It piqued his curiosity as the lands were like nothing he had seen before and something within him tempted him to step further into the fog. Soon, what was fortune became a disaster, and Moth considered himself foolish as he scrambled lost within the mists.

The lands were not what he was accustomed to, and for that, he suffered.
Moth figured his intrigue would be his death amidst these boggy lands. Yet, with a sliver of luck, dizzied and wearied, he followed a scent that indicated a pack of wolves had somehow roosted here.
Upon finding them, an opportunity presented himself.

He could become a member at the cost of undergoing a tradition called Fever Fun, and he was not about to decline.

Group History:
TBA.

► :: R E L A T I O N S H I P S ::◄
Mate: TBD through RP
Offspring: None.
Family:
Tick|Sister
Perpetually he feels guilt for leaving Tick behind, so he obscures and swallows then guilt, ignoring its existence.

Pheasant|Mother
He cares little for her and faults her for the trauma that grips at his heart.

Wayke|Father
He despises his father for he was the final straw.
He would rather spit on his grave than see him again.

Guyde|Cousin
He is appreciative of Guyde's help and for the kindness that he showed Tick. No ill-will exists between them, and for what it's worth, he would have liked to gotten to know Guyde better.

Crypt|Aunt
He knows little of her. Only that perhaps she could've provided a better life but he refused the gamble.

???|Three Half-Siblings
His father's other children. All he can feel towards them is burning envy.
Other: None at current, open.

Other:
►:: A V A I L A B I L I T Y ::◄
Timezone: Central.
Preferred Methods: Discord, Google Docs.
Notes: Yes.
Comments: Yes.
Skype: No.
Docs: Yes.
Other: Yes.
►:: E X T R A::◄
Likes: The security of trust, wandering, the feel of rain upon his pelt, medicinal plants, and their properties, late eve, the full moon, morning strolls, battles of the wit, friendship and close bonds, the cold.

Dislikes: Swimming, excessive heat, having an untidy pelt, being looked down upon, being powerless, having a lack of knowledge on topics he wishes to know more about, isolation, feelings of doubt.

Sexuality: Pansexual with a male lean.

Scent: Maple leaves.

Theme Song: Guess Not- eaJ www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqNGSo…

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