Peter Danials

[Sandy]

Name: Peter Danials
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight
Shift Form: Grey Timber Wolf
Picture/Manip:

Appearance:

Peter Peter Peter. The wolf man.

His lean broad chest and strong arms. A face said to be, nice looking. A wolves charm prisoned within him. His long lean muscular torso, a wolves figure in a man. His flat stomach and swaying hips. Long lean legs make the rest of him up, the jeans loose worn to simply be worn.

His features, those of his shift, his beast. Long delicate and sesitive ears. His long sensitive nose and bright green blue eyes, deadly in the light of the moon. Canines extra long, sharp to the touch. The way he yawns and his fang show, a vampires mouth some might say. No one messes with him, a wolf pure at heart. His stocky build and sweet features deadly and gorgious (XP).

His long lean legs, capable of dragging an elk to it's back with one frail blow. Strides eat at the ground, never bearing a bit. Never holding back. Stamina, his middle name, histrack feature the one to take him to the winners circle, a wolf will never reach. This is Peter Danials.

Personality:

Turned up lips and a sinister glare. His one evil mood, the one capable of evil. Death will fall where this look a has taken place. He can be a devil let loose upon the unlucky, a villin amongst the civilians. His rueful temperment and whicked mouth.

Half closed soft eyes. A small crooked grin partially touching his lips and his eyes never touching another soul. His wanning grin symbol of love. His flirtatious spirit let loose. Pumping through his veins a snake piping along his heart. Letting loose cheesy hit ons, or partially memorable moments.

His most oving time, his soft sweet eyes delicate, a fragial egg in the palms of a butcher. He will devote himself to one he cares for. His wolves being lifeless for these moments, death within him for a birth of something. Dwell on these moments never frequent...

History:

At a young age... Peter was a sweet charming boy, the smile of his mothers love. The bravery of his father, who had died in a war; a war between shifters and their rivals he knew nothing about, hidden from him.

His mother grew up wealthy, he never had a fear in the world. His father was a hero, the victor in his nightmares even after he died; erving his kind. Never did the young boy think his father had any wrong in him, any wolf in him.

His mother grew worried over years with no man, she remarried hoping for more influence to tame her wild child. A man by the name of Kenneth Drans, a construction worker in a near by city. And so they moved, far from where he had grown taking new jobs. They moved south to Texas, beer and liquer had been outlawed here, but the border towns hide these things and gambling was cheap.

Ken became a gambling drunk, addicted to his own pain pills. Peter found no reason to live, watching his only true parent being beaten infront of him by the man he thought she loved. As he slowly choked his mother, death reaking the air, vibrations pulsed through him, a green film glazed his eyes and his body exploded. Ken the fourty year old drnk stood mumbling with fear as Peter, only five at the time, pressed a paw on his throat slowly choking the life from him, he carried his mother the heir favorite horse watching place and dug a hoel for her.... a memorial for him.

As a teen... Peter settled himself down, parentless and living of the streets. His only way to live was the forest, a wolf by night and a human by day. School was a wreck, but he saved money for collage. He was to become a CSI crime scene investigator. Nothing would stop him, nothing. Even when his only girlfriend told him about the unintential fetus. He raised the baby with her, supported her while working and going to school. His hetic life drew his shifting powers to an uncontrolable thing and he became over stressed and almost killed her and the baby, then he left.

Check and cash wads still find their way to the woman he loved, taking care of her and his child. Parents fortune all in his one toyota pick up truck. To be continued