Occupation: officially jobless, in actuality busy with selling stolen goods in illegal trade and hunting.
Blood Status: Pureblood
House: ex-Slytherin
Side: Death Eater
Family: Greyback family
Residence: A cabin almost at the heart of the woods.
MAGICAL:
Boggart: n/a
Patronus: Cannot produce it but if he could it would be a large snake.
Amortenia: Blood, woods, the air before a storm, pomegranate.
WAND:
13, Blackthorn, Rougarou hair, unbending - This wand was made not by Olivander but by a dark wizard in the depths of Knockturn Alley. It is illegal and untraced by the wizarding government.
PERSONALITY:
+ A natural leader, a determined and resourceful man when he has put his mind to it, a protector of all he deems his own. Desires a better place for his pack in the world even if he is very comfortable in his position.
- Sadistic, vengeful, extremely arrogant, and even narrow-minded at times. Joyous when others suffer or fear him. Slytherin's cunningness and ambition that sorted him into said house never disappeared even after the changes his body went through. They twisted and morphed into something a bit more negative instead.
BIOGRAPHY: (Cw: very bad person who likes causing pain)
Greybacks weren't a big name in the Pureblood circles, even so, the family was proud of their heritage, of their name, of their blood. Fenrir grew up being told about their past, about knightly ancestors who fought and died for their lords. Fenrir was proud of his last name and even after leaving his home a year after he was bitten and basically tossed under the rug as the third son he kept his name. He was raised to be proud, ambitious, and Loyal, sorted into Slytherin, young Fenrir wasn't ashamed of his lycanthropy from the beginning.
Even now he would like to think that the reason so many wolves are driven to his side is exactly due to the pride he takes in both sides of himself along with his strength.
His upbringing before the faithful meeting with a werewolf was rather tame, usual, and boring. He truly started living only after he left his home and learned to fend for himself. It took a long time to truly grow comfortable and familiar with his new body, his changed magic, to learn how to lead a pack. But he had managed to make it happen and ruled as well as one in their position was allowed. He never regretted turning people and that list was growing even years after.
The terror, his last name, and personal beliefs were what drove him to agree and side with the Dark Lord, only after the man had sworn to give werewolves a better place in the future, of course. He was tired of seeing his kin, his people so helpless and tossed out of any society but their own. Unable to have a proper life, which suited him but not many in his pack that were driven into his claws by sheer desperation. Such powerful creatures reduced to kicked puppies, it drew him mad with the desire to burn everything down. He planned to raise above pests that only knew how to yell in their presence, to rule over them as they have ruled his kin for decades and centuries.
QUOTES:
"Cogito, ergo sum" - "I think, therefore I am."
"Audaces fortuna juvat" - "Fortune favors the bold."
"Eye for an eye."
"I howl for I have lived another day."
The second she heard where the wolf came out from, she turned to face the creature. Any second she was expecting the thing to pounce her, knock her to the ground and end her life, yet, there was a feeling that lingered. Glossy azure hues fixate on the animal's gaze.
A squeak slipped her parted lips at the feel of his claws against her leg, expecting it to be deep enough to draw blood, but there wasn't. Her breathing staggered, breathing heavily, trying to process the situation.
"Why haven't you attacked me yet?" She found her voice, though barely audible. There would be no escaping, that was certain, but the more she looked at the wolf in front of her, there was another feeling that started to consume her, fear mixed with excitement.
Fenrir stayed there, moving his face closer still, memorizing her scent that smelled like baked goods didn't seem like such a bad decision. He put the paw on her a bit stronger to push her onto the ground although not much of a threat to her just yet. Growls filled up the space between them as he looked at her face. She looked like a doll, with big and bright eyes. He wanted to keep them around like little girls kept their dolls.
He kept looking at her, basically on top of her, should I claw her? Should I turn her? Maybe…
His large mouth stretched as he opened it, getting close to her stomach, but something made him feel like this was all far too boring all of a sudden. He didn't feel like doing it, so instead he snapped his mouth shut and lay on top of her in his wolf form, contemplating if and what he should do with the little lamb he had under his claws now. A huff of air left his nose as he closed his eyes. What would be good? A scream from her would be good. Yes, it would be the best.
That was all she could think about, the continued howling behind her and the rustle on either side of the bushes she tried to navigate herself through, had the adrenaline coursing at a speed that her whole body felt alive, one that she had never experienced before.
Tears pooled in her eyes, but not enough that they streamed down her cheeks, pushing her body forward to come into a small clearing. Fatigue started to hit her, her muscles screaming for oxygen. If she could think rationally, she might have finally agreed with James Potter that running might have been to her benefit.
Instead she stood in the middle of the circular green space, catching a glimpse of the flower she was here for and shook her head. Now she had to worry about where he was going to come from, panting heavily, trying to catch her breath.
Would she become a meal? Which would be tragic, she was too pretty to die.
She was fast, He liked that about her. He liked how agile she was, not wasting time to look behind her to see him or attempt to. It would make her slow and that would fasten her doom.
They arrived at a clearing. He enjoyed it a lot. The chase was done and he was here to claim his hunt prize. He rushed forward. Stopped right there, in front of her, curious what her final attempt would be. Would she finally try to fight back? Probably not.
He waited for a second, then a tick more before he tapped her leg with his claws, but not in a way that would make her bleed. Not yet.
The howl alone had Alara jump off the ground, her body twisting around until she came face to face with a wolf. It was bigger than a wolf, much bigger, which had her worry more. The last bit of research she did about these woods didn't say anything about a creature lurking in it.
A foot stumbles back, slowly, wishing to put some distance between them. All she wanted was the flower, her heart pounding against her chest, fingers going to find her wand. "I don't want any trouble," her words stutter, mouth turning dry.
Even if she tried to produce a spell at the moment, it wouldn't have helped. Her prefrontal cortex shutting down and leaving her with three options - fight, flight, or freeze, and one came to mind. She quickly turns, taking off to the left into the bushes, trying to create more space between them.
Was this a smart move, no, but all she cared about at the moment was her survival. Hands forward, pushing the thickness of the branches out of her way to allow her body to fit through. Run. The only word present in her mind, the only function she was able to produce, hoping that the creature wouldn't follow after her.
He felt amused, very amused indeed. She trembled like a leaf during a stormy night. Even so, his eyes followed her hand that itched towards the wand. He wouldn't wish to be caught off guard and hexed after all. 'No one ever wants trouble Little lamb,' He wanted to say to her, but he could only growl at her. 'Silly girl.'
Finally, the lamb got on with the program and started running away. 'May the chase begin!' The man thought and had to pause just to find himself hilarious before sprinting right after her. Not too quickly, he wanted to have a long hunt.
He howled right behind her, jumping from side to side to make noise, he wanted to hear her squick and sob. She probably had a lovely crying face. He was planning on seeing it before her last breath got stolen by him.
where: the woods outside the city
who: @theproudwere
There was a certain flower that had Alara out in the woods close to midnight. It was a recipe she found, one that consisted of magic, that required the blooming that only came from the light of the moon. A dim blue that glimmered in the night. Her research showed her where it would be found, finding it in the light of day, but what she required could only be by the pollen of night. It intrigued her.
Following the same trail she took earlier, humming softly to herself, all that went through her mind was how delicious this cake was going to taste, and the healing component it would have; if it worked the way it was described.
From the corner of her eye, something blurring passed by, having her halt in her steps, the beating of her heart growing. "Is someone there?" She calls out softly.
Fenrir was bored, utterly bored, which is what had him running through the forest, chasing the deer while fully transformed. It was when he sunk his large teeth into its neck, holding the poor defenseless thing down, that he heard it.
The humming made his ear twitch. A distinctly feminine voice. Deep in the woods nearing midnight. How brave of her, or foolish, mostly she seemed to have a death wish.
Or she has never heard of Red Riding Hood. It was that inner joke that had Fenrir open his mouth and drop the motionless corpse onto the ground, coloring the grass underneath his paws red, a truly lovely combination when it came to summers like this.
He held back a howl for now. There would be time for that. First things first, he should greet the little lamb that lost her way. Teach her why she should listen to fairy tales, a lesson she would learn once with him and never forget.
He ran circles around her, slowly moving closer and closer until she noticed his presence. That's when he howled. Loud, wild, dangerous, hungry for terror, and the rush of hunting a human.
He jumped right in the line of her vision. Teeth visible and sharp, mug dripping with blood, eyes blazing with intent.
"Run little lamb. Run fast and far, make this fun for me. Do not disappoint me." He thought taking a few paces forward towards her, shadows cast by the forest mostly covering his large body.
