You seem to have wandered in somehow. Welcome, lonely wanderer, my home is your home, my hearth is your hearth.

Maybe you can tell me who I am.

.Persona. Name: Zurchi Vocal: Zurr-chi Nickname: None Gender: Male Species: Lupe Paint: White Age: Young Adult Mate: None	.Physical. Pelt color: White/Blue undertones Pelt other: None Texture: Medium, soft Form: Lithe, thin Eyes: Grey Wings: Fade to white Markings: Dark Blue Accessories: None
.Character. x Gentle x Kind x Caring x Soulful x Understanding x Alter→ x Cold x Dark x Mysterious x Sadistic x Evil x	.History. Mother: Passed Father: Never known Siblings: None Friends: None

You're looking for my story, are you? I'm sorry to dissappoint, but you'll have to go away empty handed. Someday, maybe I will be lucky enough to have a story of my own to tell captivated audicences, but for now I'm writing it as I go.

My name is Zurchi, you know that much already. I live, I learn, I grow like anyone else. But then my life starts to...deviate from what must be the norm.

Sometimes I feel like a fallen angel, because it seems to me that I had committed some sin. Thus my pain; thus my suffering. Thus my ruined paradise. But no matter how I wrack my brain, I cannot imagine what exactly that sin is. Yet there must be one, otherwise, why this heartbreak? All I know is that I suffer from frequent laspes of memory, that, to say the least, intrigue me. As far back as I can remember, they have always plagued me, these long periods of time when I couldn't remember where I was, who I was with, what I had done. And, every time I 'awakened' from these sporadic spells, I would come to myself as if awakening from a forgotten dream, smelling on my fur the faint smell of death, sometimes finding congealed blood upon my paws. It has always been this way.

My wings...sometimes they dont work. Sometimes it as if they are not even...there. It's at these times that I feel a certain bloodthirstiness. Like I want to kill. Demolish, raze, and burn. And afterwards, I'm left feeling unclean. Like I shouldn't even be alive. And so, more to undo any sins I may have comitted, I assist others, smile at strangers, strive to make others' lives perfect. Yet, try as I might, sooner or later I begin to feel hungry for blood again, and I will fear for myself and those around me.

I am like a troubled spirit, wandering the earth not knowing myself, forever wondering, forever hoping, hoping that someday, perhaps someday, I may realize why.



It was raining.

Actually, that statement was, in itself, not very remarkable. It was always raining in these parts, one way or another. Stormclouds had made Devon Creek their home since the beginning of time, or so it was often said.

What was very remarkable was that on this day, this dreary rainy day, a pup had been born; the first one to have been born for many winters. The eyes on the small bundle of fur were yet still closed, but he was surely alive, and that was a wonder; nothing ever survived for very long in these parts.

The young pup slept on, not yet aware that his mother lay lifeless, thirty paces away, not knowing that one day his life would be such that he wised he had none. All he knew was the dewy softness of the grass, the gentle falling of the rain, and the soft gusts of the spring air. And so he slept, and so he dreamed, enjoying his last few moments of happiness.




Meet Solace.

Leaves crunched and twigs broke as the lupe stumbled over them, his sides heaving from exertion, his tail flailing madly, a look of fear upon his face. Fear, not of some unseen demon; not of a threatening predator...but of himself. Zurchi was running from himself.

It had happened again, and though he supposed he should be used to it by now, who could ever be used to the stench of blood, the reek of death, the knowledge that oneself was the cause of that blood, of that death? He tried to reason that it wasn't him, that he would never do any such thing, but the evidence was right there on his front paws and his jaw--clotted, brown-red blood. The deep stains marred his otherwise white fur, and there was no escaping it.

Zurchi didn't slow until his home was in sight; it hurt him to know that the last time he had been here, his paws were still pure white. Panting, he collapsed by the banks of a small pond. After a moment, he edged closer to the still water, peered over the sides of the bank, and came face to face with his own reflection.

He would have sobbed if he were capable of it, and not for the first time he considered just ending his existance.

But suddenly, a movement caught his eye, and Zurchi squinted into the waters. A little critter had appeared, causing ripples that marred the smoothness of his reflection; a little pepito, yet still a newborn, fanning her translucent fins hesitantly as she tested them out.

Zurchi blinked in suprise, not from the presence of the pepito, but because on her features he saw no scorn, no hatred, no loathing. All he saw was a faint smile and the calm gentleness of complete acceptance. She was the only living thing who had seen him in his most depraved state and didn't hate him for it. And to him, that meant the world.

He lay there for hours watching his new companion swim to and fro, sometimes stopping to grace him with a grin, until she dissappeared into deeper water and out of sight. But he didn't mind. He knew she was still there, deep inside the cool blue waters and he knew she'd be back, and for once, his world didn't seem so gray.






So this is the end, eh? I didn't expect you to stay long.

Take care of yourself, your family. I hope you, if not I, will continue to find the world a happy place.