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Submitted: February 6
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TDE: Capulet the Infected Romanticby *DoctorCritical

Digital Art / Drawings / Animals

_{My character for TDE, Capulet the borzoi! Y'all have been seeing him for a while... Now I'm finally uploading him

Skelts
20

Status
Stage 2

~ * ~

Name
Capulet

Nickname
Cap

Age
3 years (almost 4)

Gender
Male

Breed
Russian Wolfhound (Borzoi)

Rank
Raider

Orientation
Homosexual

~ * ~

History

Capulet was born securely in Eden with the post-apocalyptic equivalent to having a silver spoon in his mouth. His family was a richly-blooded one, and due to his father's owned metal business as well as his mother's work as a propagator, they always seemed to be inherently wealthy in Capulet's childhood. Because his father was always out of the home on long business hours, Cap, in youth, would stay home with his mother, and the two formed a close bond; she taught him how to live with the grace of his bloodline, to always be eloquent and polite, telling him stories and reciting poems of love and beauty in their waking hours to pass the time. Capulet thrived in these stories and limericks, and in him rose the heart of a true Bohemian; a beautiful, intelligent soul of empathy and grace. In this time, he also became a hopeless romantic; which, naturally, would be the driving force of his downfall.

In the beginning of his third year, he met Riddle. He was helping his father in the shop when in walked a young customer, about the same age as Capulet, looking to order a product from the smithery; as his father went to the back to prepare the materials, Capulet casually struck up a conversation with the customer. He introduced himself as Riddle; he was a Hawker, and after talking for just a few minutes, the two discovered they had an uncanny amount in common. Riddle, too, had been raised in a similar manner, and the two quickly sank into an intelligent conversation about the truths of the world and the beauties of what surrounded them...Capulet was instantly taken by the other's elegant nature, and both knew within minutes of their introduction that they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together. His father came back with the items, and Capulet made an arrangement to meet Riddle again that evening. The latter quite bashfully agreed, and their relationship took off fast.

This arrangement went on for several weeks, but began its inevitable decline when Riddle missed one of their meeting times. Capulet was slightly confused, but didn't want to intrude; he simply returned home, giving his partner the benefit of the doubt and looking forward to their next meeting. But when Riddle never showed, the borzoi began getting worried, and he decided to go looking for his lover. He wasn't in his home, and Capulet's heart pounded with even more concern, spending the entire night searching fruitlessly for his companion out in the wastelands.

Capulet found him just after the sun rose the next morning. He lay beneath a shallow outcropping of rock on his side, the dirt beneath him stained a deep red with lifeblood. His breathing was slow and ragged, and he could barely find the strength to lift his head; he had been brutally attacked by the dogs of the wastelands, and had taken pains to drag himself as close to Eden as possible before collapsing. Capulet stood for several minutes, panicking, wondering what to do; if he went to get help, they would consider Riddle a lost cause and dispatch him before he could endanger anyone in the town. He couldn't lift him to carry him back; not with his thin, light stature. Feeling a devastating sadness, Capulet simply lay next to his dying companion in the dust, feeling his every shuddering breath vibrating his ribs as he cried and waited for the sickness to take its final, inevitable toll. Unable to sleep through his agony, Capulet spent the time licking Riddle's wounds clean; it was infected blood, deadly to ingest, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not standing to see Riddle addled by such imperfections.

It came late that night, when the sky was black and not even the light of the moon shone past the clouds. Capulet was awoken by the sudden sensation of cold air on his side, where Riddle's form was pressed against his; he glanced up, and it wasn't seconds after he did that he abruptly felt a righteous pain on the side of his face. The transformation had been completed; Riddle stood now, quivering with insatiable psychosis, Capulet's flesh hanging from his clenched, bared fangs. 'I love you,' came Riddle's cold, hissing voice. 'I can't stand to leave you...so shall I take that pretty face with me to the next world.' Riddle gave a last shuddering, gasping laugh before his systems collapsed; as did he, crashing into the dust and seeming to deflate as the life left him.

Capulet, even though he was weak with blood loss and beginning to feel sick with pain and swallowed illness, still managed to bury his love beneath the outcropping, giving his body a final rest. Afterwards, unable to shed any more tears, Capulet simply sat, thinking; he couldn't return to the village, not with his onset of sickness. He felt his sense of self shutting down, like a tired machine after years of excessive use...after several hours of thought Capulet simply curled up and slept, sleeping more deeply than perhaps ever before, hoping that when he woke up, he would be next to Riddle, and all of this was nothing but a nightmare.

When he finally woke up, he wasn't next to Riddle, and it wasn't a nightmare. He reluctantly stood and, unable to figure out what to do next, simply began walking...walking away from the grave of his love, away from his life in the village with his mother and father and friends. And so began his new life; he channeled his bitterness, rage, and sickness into a raw hostility, and he was soon a Raider, battling with both old and new illness as he waited until he, too, could die, joining Riddle in the afterlife.

~ * ~

Personality
Before he contracted his infection, he was known for his gentle, patient manner, being taught from a young age that beauty and truth were the only things in the world that could save a soul. However, after the incident with Riddle, he long since abandoned this nature, replacing it with the bitterness and hate of fate screwing him over. He became arrogant and vain, even with his face being torn, obsessed with himself and not caring enough to give anyone else the time of day. Capulet feels that because he was subject to such injustice, no one else deserves anything better, and freely makes everyone else's life the same amount of hell on a daily basis; this is mostly why he became a Raider in the first place. Capulet's humour and sense of fun are severely diminished, and it's much harder to make him smile or laugh as opposed to his carefree nature in the past...his most common expression is that of boredom, as if he can't take anything seriously and it's all just an attempt to amuse him. However, despite all of his narcissism and negativity, he still is an enduringly hopeless romantic, and if anything reminds him even the slightest bit of Riddle he's remarkably easier to tame.

Strengths
Intelligence
Size/looks (they help to intimidate the smaller enemies x3)
Speed (he can easily clock in at 40 mph)
Jaw strength (borzois were trained to latch onto wolves and not let go; his bite is pretty thunderous)

Weaknesses
Romanticist nature
Size/looks
Thin limbs, very lightweight (he's not very good at fighting against things with a lot of heaping muscle)
Arrogance (he's easily pissed off to the point of blind rage)

Relationships
N/A

~ * ~

RP Example
It was a pleasant, musical kind of day out in the wastelands...wait. No it wasn't.
Capulet actually awoke to the sounds of screaming, the only resounding noise piercing the quiet of the barren wastelands surrounding. His lanky, skeletal form eased itself into motion and stood to its full height, dust trickling out from where it had nestled in his fine, wispy fur. With a wide jawed yawn that flashed several ivory teeth, the borzoi glanced about, padding out from the small rocky outcropping under which he had slept and looking for the cause of the unruly sound...ah, there it was. A dog from Eden, bleeding profusely out of the throat. Its head was thrown back to the extent of its malnourished spine, its jaws open wide in the scream it had just emitted. Capulet sauntered slowly to where the poor creature lay, writing in its own death throes while its body was ravaged by the infection's final vices. "How pathetic," Capulet said in his light, accented tone, raising his eyebrows at the pitiful creature at his paws. He should kill it, drag it from the abyss of its own misery...but then again, why would he? The pleading eye of the dying hound watched him as he turned away, padding back the way he came in his long, slow gait. That would only ruin the fun.

Other
coming soon

Character, art (c) *DoctorCritical
Application (c) *Falconicide}