Buzzard
Wild - Cold-hearted - Illusive
Pet Name: Buzzard
Owner: dreamcatcher
Theme / Type: Terror Jinx
Gender: Male
Mood: Mad
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 10 / 10
Strength: 7
Defense: 8
Speed: 5
Intellect: 5
Misticpower: 7
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 3/1254 [ View Foods ]
1. - Nocturnal Pomme
2. - Quari Pomme
3. - Scorpion on a Stick
2. - Quari Pomme
3. - Scorpion on a Stick
My story is not a special one, nor does it hold any significant value to those around me. If for some reason after reading this or hearing it through conversation a Mistican is touched, has their heart sink, or any other reaction other than somberness, I do not wish to hear of it. I do not want pity. I am not seeking comfort, nor to I want to feel compassion. My past is blunt, like myself, and does not need to be brought into the open. But... it seems you will not leave until I tell you...
As far as I know I was created based on a whim and idea. Even though I remember not the details, I do recall that even as a young, Normal Jinx, there was a smattering of bitterness in my heart. It seemed that my destiny was to keep to myself and avoid companionship at all costs - there was nothing in this world that humored me or tied me to any given being. I do not remember why or how my name came about... I don't know if my previous owner even called me by my name. However, it is the only true thing that I can hold onto from my past, especially after I became a Terror.
How it happened I do not know, but the crazed emotions and savagery that lay dormant in my soul were awakened. I fell into an icy pit of hatred that not even a Frost or WinterCursed pet could know, locking myself from everyone and everything, only emerging from seclusion to eat. By that time the pickings were slim, and I soon lived up to my name, scavenging on whatever I could find to feed myself, preferring that to any encounters. Somewhere in the chaos my consciousness was lost and I slipped in a state of unknowing. Perhaps that is what made my previous owner abandon me. Maybe I was too unpredictable to own and began terrorizing their other pets or made they themselves tremble in fear whenever my crimson eyes flashed through the shadows. Either way I somehow found myself in the Pound, secluded from the other pets in a clean cell, iron bars the only thing I had to look forward to, literally.
This actually pleased me. I was finally alone and had the privacy - the seclusion I wanted and, at that point, needed to keep what sanity I had left. I was at peace with myself, especially when a sudden wave of new arrivals held the attention of Charitee and other staff. People didn't even know what kind of pet I was because of how I kept myself hidden, body shrouded by my large wings and darkness. Those who did have curious eyes were quickly shooed away by a snap of my jaws. ...Until my current owner came along.
It was later revealed to me that she had been searching the Pound for a few weeks prior, as well as then, trying to find a new member for her family. Something about how every pet needed a home on the holidays, no matter what their name was or what they looked like... I don't recall. Her reason didn't hold my attention. She said she'd actually been fancying an Inarbu but had to check every pet and cage anyway, just in case she found the one. Why did that have to be me? I was content with living the rest of my life in that cage - it was the second best thing compared to the wild itself, in my eyes. But no. She had to ask to enter my cage and get a better look, since all she could see was a mound of ebony feathers. The few pets that had tagged along with her, another Jinx and an Ahbruis, both of whom were rather solemn and quiet as they stared after the girl, waited outside my den while she approached. My body language told her to back off, and she knew that - I could see it on her face. Nevertheless, she approached anyway, and I hissed before lunging out at her. It was just a feint, but it still knocked her over. The entire time, even after the attack, she was rather quiet. In a moment she was gone, and thinking that my job was done, I curled back into a more comfortable position and began my eerie vigil. But before she left, she uttered one thing to me.
"You're just an old buzzard."
Odd how she called me that without knowing my name at the time. Then she came back, and I was removed from my paradise.
The first little while felt unbearable under her care. None of her other pets were really the playful sort, much to my delight, but they were still too curious for their own good, especially the other Jinx, Beta. The most annoying, snooty member of my kind that I've ever come across, no matter if her personality was formed into that shape because of her past or not. The others are not worth mentioning. I mentally planned her demise and moved on, trying to find some sort of reclusive refuge among her quarters. What was worse was that without fail, day after day, she came to me and tried to have conversation or pry my past, wondering how I came to be in the Pound. Eventually I told her, but to my surprise, she didn't try to hug me or
comfort me like others in the Pound had. She simply nodded and left me alone.
I was shocked, but relieved. Every now and then she tends to try and get me to be more social, and there has been some sort of mossy, winged Pal trying to follow me around, but... so far, life has been decent. I am free to roam and keep to myself for the most part, and I have to say, I somewhat prefer my new owner's presence, if only because she keeps her other pets away without me having to so much as raise a claw in my defense. I know that she wants to try and change me, but that I am unwilling to go through with. She's suggested that I need to accept compassion and friendship from others, but what does she know? I am perfectly fine living my aloof, bitter life.
Why fix something that isn't broken?
Many thanks to Jill who, in the end, allowed me to adopt Buzzard.
Revelry
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