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[Q] Rogue, Demon/Angel, hold the unity!

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Lavender Hues

Hatted Fatcat

PostPosted: Wed Nov 20, 2013 6:04 pm


Hatching
Name: Rogue
Minor Stage: Teen; About 16 years old
Dream Type: Mystical
Specific 'Nature' Demon/Angel hybrid
Physical Features: Very tall, some muscle, tan-ivory skin, thin face, masculine, long spiked hair with a few cowlicks here and there. Slight point to the ears. Nails on hands and feet are long and jagged.
Personality:

Condensed: Angst magnet, social, honest, low tolerance for most annoyances, blunt, generally approachable, secretly sensitive

Rogue's not the most blissful being to be around, he's blunt, grouchy, and tends to fly off the handle if annoyed just a little too much. He may not enjoy your company all day, any day, ever, and you can forget total eye contact if he has his headphones on. However, underneath his rough, grumpy exterior, is a slightly less volatile area which is heavily protected by any means necessary. This "vulnerable" part of Rogue is where he buries his overly positive feelings, such as his love of people, or his ability to laugh heartily, or even his passion for cooking. If anyone were to ever catch him "exposing" his weaker side, he'd not only turn the color of a raspberry, but he would do just about anything to keep your mouth shut about it. A tough guy's got to keep his cover, you know?

Outfit: A light colored t-shirt, cargo shorts, no shoes. Looks like something you could wear for a walk on the beach.
Special Features: Large angel wings, right one is visibly broken. Large, dark demon horns that curl backwards over his hair. Nails are like claws.
Other: Reference! :3

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PostPosted: Wed Nov 20, 2013 6:23 pm


NaNo Event!
TOPIC: Bacon
WORDS: 249

Ah, how sweet it was, the smell of bacon cooking in the morning. Yes, the allure, the wondrous aroma, it was enough to drive a man wild. Rogue traced his fingers along the uncooked pieces in a thoughtful manner, a rather devilish look in his eyes. He would eat this, NO, he would DEVOUR this in such a way that if he were to be seen the onlooker would quake in his boots! Oh, sweet, sweet, bacon...

But would the bacon ever know how wonderful it was? No, it would forever be doomed to a cycle where it would never truly know just have glorious it was. The way it's ripples sent shivers down his spine would go unnoticed, as would the sounds it made in the pan when it was turned up too high. A horror it was, poor bacon, doomed to be famous in the minds of everyone but itself! Oh, woe, oh, woe! It would never know how many arteries it has clogged, how many lives it has touched! How can it possibly live without this knowledge?

Or, perhaps it did not need this knowledge, for it is a silent observer. Yes, how foolish, bacon knows how popular it is. How stupid could he be to think that bacon wouldn't know it's own popularity? He scoffed, tossing the bacon into the pan, before relishing in the sound it made. HEAVENLY, as always. Bacon cooking in a pan was the one, true, symphony. Why hadn't Beethoven thought about that?

Lavender Hues

Hatted Fatcat

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