Profile of Victorian

Like the echo of a pebble bouncing down an empty alley way, Victorian is the hollow reminiscence of his father. Black fur cloaks an athletic frame, one that is wiry yet strong. His long legs accompany broad shoulders and, together, create a solid figure. Although sturdy, Victorian is not an imposing or intimidating man. The man's confidence is a quiet one, and if he is a protector, then he lurks until he is needed. Not one for the spotlight, this young man shies away from the lime light as though he a vampire and attention the sun. No—Victorian prefers a peaceful and efficient life. Such is why he walks with purpose, never dallying around flower shops or stray trinkets. He is as unmaterialistic as they come, for little catches those orange eyes. Nonetheless... he is intrigued by books. If anything could give him pause, it's the scent of dust from an old, leather-bound novel. Perhaps it's the streak of white down his chest that marks him as his mother's son, for she had been the one to teach him how to read.

The self is not so weightless
Nor whole and unbroken
Remember the pact of our youth


It is a dangerous thing to trust, to take for granted the luxuries of life. To have a father, caring and kind, and a mother oh so willing to sacrifice herself for the happiness of others. Oh to be loved like that again—to feel unconditionally meaningful. When he closes his eyes, he can still see the memories of his childhood playing on repeat, idly rolling like a movie theatre with not a single soul for an audience. The door is cracked open and, from time to time, he peeks his head in. He watches, his heart aches, and before long he leaves and shuts the door once more.


But the memories always come back.


And they are heavy. In Florence, he can see his mother's joy for life and thirst for knowledge. Her eyes are golden like their father's and, when she's focusing and that furrow forms in her brow, it's just like Renner's when he would scowl. There are echoes of them both and, though he cannot see them, Victorian knows he carries them too. And he is so very conscious of it... of the burden of leading life in a way that they would have been proud of.


Victorian is loyal beyond all comparison, so much so that death could not break that chain. He is indebted to his parents for the love and affection they provided him in his youth. He upholds the same strict moral code and rarely allows himself to take a moment to breathe and relax. As a soldier, Victorian is dutiful. He has a swift mind that quickly unpacks small details and saves them, carefully stowing them away until they become useful again. Although he may seem unquestioningly obedient, Victorian will bite the hand that feeds if he notices even the faintest trace of betrayal or ill will. Protective, the young man has a self-sacrificial streak and will gladly lay down his life for others.


Although he can struggle to take time for himself and find his own passions, he adores his sister and takes great interest in all that she discovers. In truth, all motivated wolves intrigue him and he secretly enjoys conversations with eccentrics and intellectuals.

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome
But love the sweet air of the votives
Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone


Before. Renner met Ana toward the end of his life. His muzzle was beginning to gray when the young woman met him within a forest. She lived there with her family, and though it was not large, it had its own domestic complexity. Renner, tired from his journey, stayed there with the intention of only burdening them for a night. One night turned into a week, a week into a month... and soon he was learning to read with Grandmother Fritha and shaking Ana's nephew off of his paws. Little by little, Renner became one of the family members. At first he was an able-bodied protector, then a lover pining after the strong and able Ana. Though she was soon to hit her prime, she commanded their little family and held them together. Renner admired her strength and the way in which she never withheld aid to strangers. No matter if someone betrayed their kindness, she always found a way to forgive and let go... a trait Renner had yet to learn.


Their marriage had less fanfare than Renner had hoped for. When at last they had announced their engagement, not a single fur had ruffled. In fact, most were surprised that they were announcing it so late. Bemused, Renner glanced at his betrothed only to find her giggling.


Ana steadily began to lose her sight. One morning her vision was blurry, the next... it failed to recover. When at last she birthed her two pups, her world had gone dark save for the soft light of sunshine. Though this saddened her more than she could ever describe in words, Renner made sure to tell her detailed descriptions of each pup as they grew.


And oh did they grow. Florence and Victorian thrived within their happy little family (though it had dwindled some. Grandma Fritha had passed and their cousins moved away). Soon it was just them, but they made a fruitful life with just one another.


Renner had gone to help what they thought was a woman caught in a storm. When he returned, blood was staining his side. A tree had been brought down by the winds and Renner and been unable to avoid its many branches. Ana, with the help of her yearling children, did their best to attend to his wounds. Unfortunately... they did not seem to heal.


And, within a matter of a week, Renner was gone. This blow was surreal to the point where Victorian could hardly grasp the concept. He went numb. He rarely responded when spoken to. He listlessly stared outside and, whenever it rained, his pulse would suddenly race. All the while, his sister tried to care for their mother. But, tragedies often happen in pairs, and their idyllic little life was not spared.


Perhaps it was the loss of her husband... perhaps it was the degenerative disease that stole her eyesight. Whatever the reason, Ana steadily began to sleep more. For a time, she was conscious during midday and merely slept long hours. Eventually, she could hardly stay awake. When the day came that her eyes never opened, Victorian could not say that he was surprised. His heart would have shattered if not for the fact that it had been a long 8 months of decay and... truthfully, he had never put the pieces back together after his father passed.


He worked with Flo to bury their mother by their father. Then, for a little while, they went through the motions at home. One day, as if daydreaming, Florence whispered the soft, whimsical idea of leaving. At first, Victorian was stunned... and then as he looked around at the quiet stillness of their once bustling home, he agreed.