Loki | Male | Grey Wolf

GENERAL APPEARANCE.
The first thing you notice about this boy is his signature grin. Curled over his lips in a crooked fashion to expose half of his ivory teeth. The second thing is the wild glint in his eyes. The look the rust colored pair holds is nothing short of crazy. Something playful and flirtacious around females. Something devious and cunning around males. His normal facial expression is one that says 'keep me at arm's length at all times. I can not be trusted.' He's hard to read and very unpredictable most of the time. His large ears are coated in the same rust color as his eyes, grizzled with a black overlay. Around the base of his ears is where the grizzled gray and black mix begins. The pattern runs completely over his forehead and all the way around his eyes, trailing down to the tip of his black, leather like nose. His maw and chest are covered in an ivory tinged fur, along with his underbelly and legs. On each cheek is a cream colored splotches surrounded in the grey mask he wears. The gray from his facial markings runs down to meet at a v at the bottom of his thickly furred chest. A defined line of black and rust run down the front of both of his front legs. The overlay on his back is made up of a very chunky, black and white pattern. Red tinges cover almost every piece of his body, mixed in with the creams and blacks. The tip of his tail looks as though it had been dipped in black dye.

There is something about his physique that is odd. Trying to decipher whether he is a short stout wolf or a lanky legged, puff ball one is hard to do. The fur coming off his underbelly almost seems overly long, whether it actually is or not is..ok it is. He is a skinny little thing that seems defined with muscle but not bulky in the least. His 95 lb body only holds the muscle he has gained from everyday life and the little bit of time he spent in his home life. His legs seem stout but, in the same sense, appear lanky, depending on whether he has winter fur or not, and take up most of his Winter fur makes him look bulky and almost intimidating with his new false size. While his summer pelt tends to make him look a little more slender and long legged. He is about 34 inches in height at the shoulders and seems to be quite disproportionate between his build and his height. His huge paws add to his disproportionate physique and makes him appear to be clumsy and pup like. This adds to the way his 'cute acts' effects females when he decides to be a goofball. His body is riddled with randomly placed scars. It only seems to add to the look of crazy he has.

PERSONALITY.
Loki is a trickster and a joker. He does little things purposely to get under another's skin and finds humor out of it, generally snickering when he watches the other getting frustrated. He is sarcastic and finds his humor the funniest although he can not take a joke in return. When someone starts picking at him, he immediately grows angry. His sarcasm grows darker, his jokes harsher. His grin goes away and it is almost as if bipolar disorder has taken over. If it continues, he grows vengeful, spiteful. Along with his trickster nature means that when getting back at someone, he has the ability to do so quietly and most don't even know he has done anything. They have no one to blame. But it is not what he generally does. He holds a grudge like no other and it's usually because they picked back at him. Sometimes he purposely runs into those canines to pick at them, try to egg them on to fight him so he can tear them apart, or laugh at their attempts to hurt him. Other times, he just does things behind their backs to get revenge. More often than not, stealing their women is his revenge dish of choice.

Loki is a lady's wolf. He is a major flirt and for some reason, even if he is sarcastic and a light-hearted jerk to said girl, she is still struck by him. Something about that 'if he's mean, he likes you' theory. He does not attach himself to anyone but, is more than willing to make you think he plans on sticking around. That crooked grin generally draws them in. His playful nature holds their attention. His picking at others somehow makes him look cute. He is a smooth talker and agile, yet still a clumsy goofball at times.

He always wears that grin. It's like a signature of his. Most think him crazy, watching him laugh in another's face as he pushes them over the edge. He fears nothing and will fight anyone if they come at him first. He will never start an assault. Though as soon as a fight breaks out, his crooked grin returns to his face and he finds it funny. The worst thing is to fight a crazy. And this boy is it. He is almost impossible to keep down. And even though he might not put a scratch on his offender, he always seems to stand back up, wobbly and spitting blood, but will always stand, that crooked grin still across his face.

But through everything, he is observant. He watches everyone's movements closely and learns from them. He has spent most of his life learning how to read others by how they speak, how they carry themselves, how they look at one another.

Everything is a double edged sword with Loki. Things that he finds ok for himself to do, irritate him if someone does them in return. But he seems to feed off the adrenaline rush of the fights he gets into and therefore, doesn't seem as though he really minds in the long run.

HISTORY.
I was born to a pair of grey wolves, although I only knew the one.

His mother gave birth to him in the dead of winter. Though Loki never saw the snow. He was born inside a hand built room. Each wall made of plywood. The only sun like light him and his siblings had was the heat lamp that towered over them. Loki spent his days among his brothers and sisters. His mother was free to wander about, the barrier holding the pups in only high enough to do just that. Loki was naive at the time, not questioning his existence, how he was created, or that a male figure was needed for the process. The litter spent each day nudging each other and fighting for their mother's nourishment. Loki learned how to cure his boredom by biting at his siblings' ears, gnawing at their tails and feet. When the litter grew large enough to really become mobile, the fights Loki started grew harsher and harsher. His brothers and sisters saw Loki as an irritation to them. Loki saw it as a way to study his siblings' reactions. As a way to learn and grow as an individual. And the fighting that ensued became a rush. An addiction. His mother had often said he was like his father. Loki had never known what that meant. He had never known what she was even talking about with a 'father'.

And then I was taken into the hands of an unfamiliar scent.

One by one, the pups were sold off to random humans. None of the pups knew any better that they weren't meant to be. They had been an accidental litter between two wolves that were nothing more than house pets. The price tag set on them was little and therefore affordable by almost anyone. And the novelty of owning a full blood wolf is always appealing to the wrong people. Loki had been smaller than most of the other pups and left behind more often than not by the random visitors. And then one day, he left the confines of the wooden walls that had kept them contained from the world. He lay cradled in the arms of an odd smelling person. But, all seemed to be well. And that day, he not only left the walls of his life long home, but he made it to the even larger outside world.

I was set in a barred cage. This is where I set alone. And where I listened to the growling.

Every night, he listened to the sounds of dogs growling, barking, whimpering. The sounds belonged to none of his siblings and therefore, their owners were strangers to him. And then he met with one of them. A young pitbull male who didn't seem as friendly as any of his siblings had been. He also didn't cower to Loki's normal ways like his siblings had. Loki had set in his crate for days, and the only thing he had for entertainment was working on his smirk. Adjusting it, fine tuning it. Thinking of ways to get under another's skin. And this was his chance to finally interact with another. And so, it began. He instigated as was normal. And the fight broke out. Just as everyone had intended when placing the male with Loki.

Then I was bloody. Tongue lolling from my mouth. Saliva falling to the ground like heavy rain drops. But I was alive.

He was beaten, and badly. His fur was stained and gashes from teeth would soon be scars. But something in Loki didn't care. Something liked it. Something in him liked the challenge of pissing someone off to the point that they actually fought back, versus his siblings who just grew annoyed. He felt alive. Adrenaline pumped through his veins like never before. And it is exactly what the two legged creatures wanted. He became a training tool. He was unaware of how he was being used but, he didn't care. Dogs were brought in and Loki was used as a tool to rile them up before a fight. Something to make them want to fight harder. And through it all, Loki wished for more. To feel that thrill of being put on the edge of death. He would rise from the ground every session, battered and bloody but, grinning nonetheless. Happy that these humans brought these dogs in. Happy that these people had taken him from the boring four walled prison he had been in until then. He set in his crate afterwards, assessing his new wounds and thinking up ways to remain cool, calm, and collected with his next look at death, think of new ways to get under the fur and flesh of his next aggressor. Loki moved up to having the whole room his crate was in to himself. His reward for being some psycho piece of work.

And then it all stopped. Everything. My breathing no longer raced nightly. My stomach no longer churned in anticipation.

They just stopped coming for him. He spent days sitting in the dark room, pacing the concrete floor in waiting. But no one ever came back. Years he had spent thrill seeking against his opponents. It had become an addiction to him...and now, nothing. Like a 10 year smoker quitting cold turkey. He grew restless. He needed his fix. And in the end, breaking out won his mind over. And he spent a few days gnawing at a jutting out corner in the oddly shaped room. He chewed on the drywall until he could work his way out. On the outside of his solitary confinement, there was a small area boxed in with random pieces that could be found to piece together a ring. Too tall for him to see in unless he stood on hind legs to peer over the wall. Blood stained everything in the restraints of it. Loki ended up trotting his way up the stairs to the light, to freedom. The upstairs of the home seemed comfortably lived in. Nice clean carpet. Nice, comfy furniture. But no inhabitants. All the doors still remained shut. But a few window had been left open to let fresh air in, the curtains blowing in the fall breeze. He made his way on to one of the couches and stared outside, pushing his nose to the screen. This was the only thing that kept him inside now. He jumped to the floor, landing with a thud before trotting a few paces off and turning to stare at the window. He threw his weight into motion and in a couple bounds, he was jumping to the couch and making his dramatic leap through the screen.

I was free. The world was mine.