Post by kirsti on Apr 6, 2007 21:10:53 GMT
about you
[/u]what's your alias?
Kirstie
how'd you find us?
Road to Hell (sounds freaky doesn't it?)
additional notes.
I am thirteen years old and I don't know what to say so I am looking bluntly at you
your character[/u]
name.
Malteaser
age.
Four
gender.
Female
breed.
Greyhound Mix
appearance.
Malteaser is a lovely tanned brown and her breed is a Greyhound mix. The 'mix' part is unknown to anyone, yet it is definitely a larger, bulkier dog. She has the speed and agility of a greyhound, with a long sleek body and thin posture, yet there are differences than an average greyhound. The first is that she is bulkier, not as slender and thin as the official breed, and her legs are slightly taller.
Yet no dog can be perfect. Of course, being a street dog, her fur is caked with dust, dirt and plain rubbish. She has scars from previous fights along her sides and neck, and her fur is matted from the times when rolling about in the mud just for pleasure. No street dog is perfect, it would be impossible if they were, yet Malteaser is doing okay for her first few years out in the alleyways. Though her legs are too tall and scrawny to hold her posture, she can still run just as fast as an average greyhound, maybe just a tiny bit slower, but who cared around speed?
personality.
So Malteaser is no stereotype very *friendly* person or bad boy pregnant dog. She is more like a girl who sneers at things that need laughing at, laughs at things that needs shouting at and shouts at things that needs sneering at. Malteaser doesn't understand personalities, nor feelings. She can't understand jokes, but somehow cracks a few herself, and doesn't understand the difference between right and wrong. Malteaser doesn't care though, does she? She still has wisdom in that tiny skull of hers and that is the main thing, and she can still string sentences together and can talk to dogs normally. It isn't like she is some sort of retarded idiot. Why would she be?
history.
A racing dog, like many, many other whippets and greyhounds. Just racing for bets, but did she want to race? No way. This place didn't have greyhounds, nor whippets, it was the mongrel racing arena, and that was that. She was born and put on the tracks, made to run after the d**ned rabbit whizzing past her on the rail. Malteaser hated it, time after time, when the doors would open and the other dogs would go after the toy rabbit, she would stand in her booth, just watching. It was sometimes that she was punished for doing so, the people who bet on her would rebel and shout. She would be hit, slapped and kicked, yet she didn't want to run.
So after all that, the first tormenting year of her life, she was kicked out of racing. Kicked out of all of that. Now all she was, was a stray dog in the city, and what did she know about street dog life? Absolutely nada. This new life would have to be taught, whether she liked it or not.
sample.
BANG! Malteaser juddered in her sleep yet kept her eyes firmly shut. BANG! She opened one eye to see her owner storming in, shouting at her and screaming at how useless she was. Uncaringly, Malteaser lifted her head and gave a yawn. Bad idea. She was grabbed by the collar and started to be thrown about the place. She was only light, a fully grown man could easily pick her up and chuck her the other side of the room. And that was what he did. She slammed at the side of the wall, howling in pain and cowering in the corner. Malteaser cried out but he kicked her in the ribs, screaming at how useless she was at running.
Malteaser kept her eyes firmly shut then, wishing she was asleep, wishing she could just die. The pain seethed through her stomach down to her rear and through her legs. She squealed at being picked up by the collar again, he held her in such a bad manner. Malteaser couldn't breathe, the collar was choking and blocking off her air ways. The man threw open the door and chucked the greyhound mix out into the street. "AND DON'T YOU COME CRAWLING BACK WHEN YOU'RE STARVING!" He screamed after her before slamming the door behind him. Malteaser sniffed at the ground, still absolutely hurting and started to limp away.
This is my new life, like it or lump it. [/right][/size]
