Swathed in white, he is the highlands coated in a layer of fresh powder as the winter brings its arctic touch. Tipped in russet, he is the conifers standing rigidly and steadfast as soldiers, against the snowy maelstrom. For the colour sits perched atop his head like a crown, royalist in flesh and bone. So too does it splash up his limbs, highlighting his freedom to run or his choice to stay. Finally it sprays out into the pennant of his tail, as much a family flag as any other, two halves to form the whole. Then, within the center of the little lion man lie two nestled emerald jewels which seem to hold the deepest secrets or perhaps the deepest sorrows of the fir forests of Perth.

attracted to: Females

scent: Balsalm & Cedar

He is sullen. A man plagued by the weight of this world from the start. A burden that he has undertaken all of his own volition. For it is upon his ivory shoulders that the balance between the highlands and the lowlands sits. It is lodged within his chest that the Voxi and the Royalist ideals coexist. It is within his stormy mind that these opposite worlds constantly collide to create just as tumultuous a presence.

He is selfish. There is an inherent necessity to find fulfillment, to find happiness, to find some sort of peace. Such an impossible task when stuck so adamantly in the middle of everything this life has to offer. Whilst others may view his attempts at accomplishing such goals as egocentric, he views it as the simple pursuit of destiny.

He is headstrong. Borne to a kingdom divided, to a family split in beliefs, it is befitting a man to be steadfast in his views. There is a strict classification of all things here and it is imperative to understand one’s place amongst them. For if you are not one thing than you are but another. Things are black or white, there is no grey, just as there is no convincing of him otherwise.

He is serious. Little humor is to be found in a beast of conviction. This life is short and there is much to be accomplished in it. A fruitless fate that separates the man from the pup, the soldier from the citizen or even the criminal.

He is impulsive. Perhaps a testament to an underlying immaturity, he acts outright with little foresight or planning. For he not only comprehends the concept of finite time but so too the rush of immediate gratification. It is about achieving his personal directives while also finally feeling something, anything that isn’t the incessant storms of his thoughts.

Chaotic Neutral

Arran is borne October 31st in Perth to a highlander voxi mother of the commonwealth & a lowlander royalist father of the imperial army. He is of clan Kinnaird and the eldest of three pups.