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Zeal
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.... ooc name: Winter
.... current characters: Stella and this boy
.... how you found us: you can check out any time you like but you can never leave
.... your character's initial fight stats: Power House
....a role play sample (200+ words):
Zeal had lay there long enough for sleep to steal him away. The wayward soul was lost in a fever-tinged dream, reliving his lowest moment yet again, and his return to wakefulness and the world of the living was sudden, groggy, and painful. He stirred to life fearfully and angrily, wondering where he was and not knowing.

Someone was looming over him, their imposing form impossible to discern against the glare of the sun behind them. Zeal's instincts dragged themselves to life, synapses firing with the first, most important thought... to defend himself. He had been so on alert constantly of late, and so haunted by it all, that the thought that this might be a potential friend and not foe simply did not even occur to him in this state. Nor did he comprehend the words as they fell on his ears, the stranger's concern and empathy not registering, unrecognized. As the other wolf leapt down toward him, Zeal struggled to his feet, a snarl forming on his muzzle. His ears pinned flat and eyes narrowed suspiciously toward the stranger in a menacing glare, incoherent thoughts and words struggling to find the way past his lips in a slurred growl. "Who're...you?" The strangers words registered in his mind on delay, and he attempted to understand the questions. Something about... "Help?"

Zeal stared at the wolf for another long (to him, at least) moment, lips moving silently as he put together the events of the past few days, and where had had fallen asleep, and the rest of what he had been asked, and some form of answer, all as if it were the most complex problem he had ever had to work out. But when he arrived at the answer it was all simple enough. He had asked the gods or fortune for a second chance, had he not?

The tension melted out of Zeal's frame - he could not have bore the weight of it much longer anyway. Letting his legs bend slack, he leaned his flank against the stone, not quite willing to let himself lay at a stranger's feet even in this state, but acquiescent to whatever form of care the stranger was offering. A growl would escape him should the other get too nosy, investigating too closely near the worst of the painful spots on his ribcage - he was not accustomed to lowering his guard, but he managed not to snap his jaws at the other man and was too tired to make any real fuss.

and finally a bit about your character... a brash and instinctive fighter looking to change his fate. "Only you get to decide your own worth"