The tall, broad shouldered man's hair was the color of dark chocolate and stood up every which way from days of no sleep. His head hanged as he walked with utterly no purpose. The shadows about his eyes suggested stress and a lack of rest, but despite these the health and power about the proud character was almost tangible by the way he moved, the look in his eyes, and the ripple of muscle that was visible even beneath his favorite black coat.
His face was handsome, almost seraphic. Many a lass had fallen for him just by getting a glimpse of his face, and many had had their heartbroken. Not by Ignis's choice by any means. No, he wasn't the cocky, I-am-the-boss, kind of guy that you were liable to find anywhere these days. There was a calm wisdom about him, something that usually gained him a lot of friends and respect. Beneath his honey brown eyes hid a flame though, hiding an anger and unrest that'd been within him since he'd woken in the fisherman's cottage. He remembered nothing before the fisherman healing him within his home other than his name and that he was a wereling. Who his family was, his home, his last name, and his pack was, Ignis hadn't a clue.
Sighing, Ignis stopped as a scent wafted into his nose. It be a pack, I suspect. Ignis's wolf said within his mind and stirred restlessly. Looking about him and making sure there were none around Ignis slipped immediately into his wolf form, a giant beast that stood only an inch shy of eleven feet tall. His fur was a pale reddish brown with a streak of black across his shoulders. His brown eyes blinked, before he allowed his head to go back and he howled. As soon as his melodious song was done, his form wavered and he stood once more in human form as his sharp eyes took in the dark night surrounding him. Stuffing his hands in his pockets and the six-foot-nine man tried not to look as lost as he felt.
His face was handsome, almost seraphic. Many a lass had fallen for him just by getting a glimpse of his face, and many had had their heartbroken. Not by Ignis's choice by any means. No, he wasn't the cocky, I-am-the-boss, kind of guy that you were liable to find anywhere these days. There was a calm wisdom about him, something that usually gained him a lot of friends and respect. Beneath his honey brown eyes hid a flame though, hiding an anger and unrest that'd been within him since he'd woken in the fisherman's cottage. He remembered nothing before the fisherman healing him within his home other than his name and that he was a wereling. Who his family was, his home, his last name, and his pack was, Ignis hadn't a clue.
Sighing, Ignis stopped as a scent wafted into his nose. It be a pack, I suspect. Ignis's wolf said within his mind and stirred restlessly. Looking about him and making sure there were none around Ignis slipped immediately into his wolf form, a giant beast that stood only an inch shy of eleven feet tall. His fur was a pale reddish brown with a streak of black across his shoulders. His brown eyes blinked, before he allowed his head to go back and he howled. As soon as his melodious song was done, his form wavered and he stood once more in human form as his sharp eyes took in the dark night surrounding him. Stuffing his hands in his pockets and the six-foot-nine man tried not to look as lost as he felt.