Post by PittieGirl on Aug 23, 2013 16:15:14 GMT -5
Name:
Christian
Gender:
Male
Age:
3 years
Breed:
Pit Bull
Appearance:
Christian is heavily muscled, bulging and rippling with sheer power. His ears are clipped into perfect triangles, and his tail has been docked to a short copper colored stump. He has scars on his neck and back, white and puckered skin stretched tight. Christian's short coat is a perfect copper color, but is dull and dirty. His white blotches are spotted with dried blood and grey mud. Kindness shows in his honey colored eyes, but the joy is dulled by a deep misery and distrust. He stands tall and proud, but underneath that is a terrified and vulnerable puppy. He always looks like he is close to turning and running as fast as his lean, powerful legs will carry him.
Personality:
Christian has boundless energy, whether fighting, playing, or talking. His joy is hard to resist, and impossible to deny. He never complains or pleads, but does his job with a panting smile. Though many turn away due to his rough appearance, once given a chance he will make your world a brighter place. Or at least he acts like it. His perfect façade never falters, and he will never let it. He was abused for years, and it has left it's mark, both physically and mentally. He tried to kill himself once, climbing on the roof of a small house and jumping. He suffered scratches, but nothing more. Christian bears an immense burden, and it takes its toll on him. He sleeps as little as possible, because of the nightmares. He is bake in the fighting ring, back under the teeth and claws of dogs who want to fight no more than he does. He never fights back, just lets himself be beaten brutally, healed, and thrown back. On the surface, Christian is a carefree and enthusiastic dog, but beneath that he is scared and scarred.
History:
Christian was bred to fight, he had his ears clipped and his tail docked within weeks of his birth. As he grew, he was trained. Trained to hate and to kill. Trained to annihilate anything standing in his way. It was his first fight that changed him. The humans urged him on told him to finish it. Christian, Pistol then, had killed another dog in cold blood. He was horrified with himself. He was still covered in his own brothers red blood when he vowed to never cause anymore harm. He truly hated himself. He let the other dogs rip him to shreds, but he never cried out. The fights never lasted long. The humans were bored with his lack of response to the cutting teeth and whirling claws. He left. Just walked away. The humans didn't stop him. They didn't even notice. He tried killing himself. He tried isolation. He tried to embrace the freedom he had never felt before. But it all failed. He was two then. Still young, but aged by his miserable, pitiful excuse for an existence. Christian decided to pretend. He made friends, created a new being. He called himself Christian, after the gentle, beloved character that the humans sometimes spoke of. He was becoming more than the shell he had always been before. First his shell was full of hate, the despair, then it was empty. For the first time in his life, he began to fill his shell with himself.
