HOWLKIT
(alt names: snarlkit, gnashkit)
TELL ME I'M A BAD MAN
KICK ME LIKE A STRAY
THUNDERCLAN | BAYING HOUND
x DUKE
HE/IT
LH BLACK SMOKE MAINE COON W/ LOW WHITE, AMBER EYES
carrying cinnamon, sepia, dilute, non-silver, polydactyly; has polydactyly, 50% maine coon
howl is a sturdy kit with a long black smoke pelt, a dark and ethereal coat that shimmers with silver undertones as the light catches it. his fur seems to flow like shadows, giving him an almost ghostly appearance, especially in dim light. the only disruption in the smooth darkness of his pelt is a single streak of white running down the bridge of his nose, a stark contrast that draws attention to his face.
his eyes are a pale amber, almost translucent, with a sharpness that seems out of place in a kit so young. they hold a constant wariness, always watchful, as if he's perpetually on guard against an unseen threat. those eyes miss nothing, absorbing every detail around him, though they often carry a weight of sadness or anger that contrast his tender age.
howl's body, even at a young three months, is already large and sturdy, hinting at the maine coon blood in his veins. he has broad shoulders and strong legs, with paws that are larger than those of most kits his age, not least due to the extra toes on each of his paws. these paws make his steps heavier and more deliberate, as if he's constantly aware of the space he occupies. his build, while not yet fully grown, suggests a future where he'll be a formidable presence, his body shaped by survival and the harsh lessons of his upbringing.
his face is marked by sharp, defined features, with a narrow muzzle and high cheekbones. the white streak on his nose only enhances the intensity of his gaze, giving him a look that is both captivating and more than slightly unsettling. his ears are tall and tufted, perpetually alert, and his whiskers are long and fine, twitching at the slightest movement around him.
when howl speaks, his voice is low and measured, each word chosen carefully, as if he's weighing its importance before allowing it to be heard. there's a hint of roughness to his tone, a result of the many times he's had to suppress emotions, forcing them down until they emerged in clipped, guarded speech. he doesn't waste words, preferring to observe rather than engage in idle chatter.
howl's typical gait is cautious,deliberate. he walks with a heavy tread, his sturdy frame and large paws giving him a steady way of moving through life. when he runs, it's with purpose, each stride powerful but controlled. he moves with the air of someone who's had to be on guard since birth and knows the importance of being prepared.
his scent is a blend of pine needles and damp leaves, like the scent of a forest after rain. it carries a faint undertone of something darker, almost metallic, reminiscent of the fox-burrow he was born in, where the air was thick with the scent of his mother's warning growls and the distant, lingering trace of prey blood.