Welcome to Canine Confection! We are a low word count, easy app site. We accept wolves, foxes and more. We hope you like what you see and decide to join us!
4/1/2018 New theme up! Called Sonorus--chatbox has a tabbed section at global footer. .
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REFERENCE SET |click HEIGHT | 24 inches at the shoulder EYES | Due to his exposure with the dome, his eyes are a pale, leafy green. His eyes appear glossed over and cloudy, his pupils nearly impossible to see, almost as if he is blind. This is definitely not the case, but he will gladly pretend to be so.
Personality
Likes
storms
nighttime strolls
physically capable canines
getting his way
lit fireplaces
Dislikes
harsh sunlight
boredom
human children
being alone
small talk
Strengths
Creativite
Charismatic
Patient
Weaknesses
Dependent
Selfish
Arrogant
Dreams
To find someone worth keeping around
To make his mark on the city
Fears
Being completely alone
Losing himself
Sinclair is a two sided coin. Heads--you have a dog who will charm your pelt off. He's kind, charismatic, and willing to be the friend you need. His intelligence shines through, a thinker who can probably solve most of your problems in less than a few minutes.
Tails--you have a dog who is just using you. Heads is nothing more than a facade. Perhaps it could be the truth one day if you manage to get close enough, but he has been manipulating you from the moment his green eyes spied you from across the street. He takes and he takes, letting someone believe they have a true friend on their side when he just wants them to do what he cannot. Sinclair is not a physically capable dog. He may be able to heal quickly, but his breed is no longer built for endurance or fighting. He needs others to protect him, to hunt for him (if he wants more than mice or scraps from the humans).
And he would toss you aside so quickly if you proved to be useless to him.
Then there is the hidden insecurity rooted deep within that he never dares to let show. He's afraid to be alone, but he's afraid to be abandoned. If he never cares yet surrounds himself with other canines, then can he truly be alone or abandoned?
Biography
Family
N/A - all dead
Other Important People
N/A
Places Lived
Lavish Lake
Summary
An unplanned litter of four puppies, one of which died too soon.
A distant mother and an eager uncle who gladly took the role of father.
Uncle took the family to see the glimmer.
Mother and sisters perish by the glimmer.
Sinclair lives with his uncle for a few months more.
Uncle turns abusive. Sinclair turns to a Rottweiler mix he met for help.
Uncle is killed. Sinclair ditches the mix.
Sinclair has been wandering ever since.
She had never planned on taking a mate, and she had never planned on bearing puppies. However, life had other plans for her. She could not remember the night she conceived, but she remembered the morning after vividly well. Her body was in pain all over, bruises littering her body and cashes from claws and teeth causing blood to be smeared over her pelt. Her brother was hovering over her, worry clear in his gaze. His pelt was damp, as if he had recently been in the lake. A dead duck laid at his paws, which must have been the reason why he was in the lake.
Eventually, she gave birth to the puppies she never wanted: two little girls and a single boy. There was a fourth, but complications led to their death within the first couple of hours. Her brother seemed more thrilled for their arrival than she was, so she allowed him to take over while she got some rest.
Their uncle became a primary influence as they grew. Their mother was distant, only interacting with them when absolutely necessary. Her brother was doing all the work and seemed quite content with it, so she felt no need to do more than she was. When they were finally strong enough to travel longer distances, their uncle easily convinced them to go on an adventure with him. Their mother was harder to convince, but she eventually relented just to stop their whining.
Their uncle led them out of the safety of the lake and to one side of the massive, glimmering dome that encased the area. That day is foggy for Sinclair; all he remembers is everything going dark and then waking up to his uncle carrying him by the scruff of his neck back to the lake. His mother was gone. His sisters were gone. He only had his uncle, and the older dog would never tell him much of what happened.
Time passed him by. There were plenty of changes the pup underwent, such as his murky blue eyes lightening and changing colors until they were pale green. One could say his uncle was a wonderful adoptive parent, and there was a point when Sinclair began calling him papa. However, all good things must come to an end.
He was barely ten months old when his uncle slowly started taking a nose dive down an abusive path. It was mentally at first, saying little things to undermine Sinclair. Then he began targeting his confidence, and then he became violent. Sinclair could do nothing but take it. He healed quickly each time, and it was almost like nothing had happened a day or two before.
Sinclair began finding time to sneak away from his uncle. He would travel a little farther each time, and he would quickly latch onto the canines he met. After a few weeks and a few chance encounters with the same dog--a Rottweiler mix--he hatched a plan and convinced the dog to save him. The only way to truly save him, however, was to kill his father.
And so he did.
Sinclair stuck close to that dog for only a week more before ditching him, finding he really did not enjoy his presence. He has been wandering around ever since, developing into the dog he is today.
Out Of Character
OOC Name: Moose
Age: 21 years
How Long: roleplaying? ~10 years.
Roleplay Sample
Tail low and posture calm, a black nose pointed up to the sky. Pale green eyes focused on the clouds, dark and foreboding, hanging overhead. There was a storm on the horizon, he just knew it. The faint breeze carried the telltale scent of rain. If one looked long enough, they could see the tops of the trees begin to bend and sway. There was maybe an hour before the storm would hit; there was maybe an hour of time he would need to fill.
Tugging his gaze away from the sky, the collie let his attention sweep across the field. He needed to find something--anything--to preoccupy himself with until the storm hit. He loved watching them roll in, but the wait? Ugh. He was normally a very patient dog, one who could sit and wait while someone talked his ears off. Storms, however, were an entirely different matter.
With a soft swish of his tail, the collie slowly turned around. The sea of wheat parted with each stride forward he took. His destination was unclear, but he had a goal in mind: find the perfect spot to watch the storm from. That shouldn't be too hard.