slender black-tabbby-and-white tom with chartreuse eyes

Thin. Helpless. Weak. Lupus has absolutely zero confidence in himself, and the way he holds himself is a dead giveaway to his subordinate attitude. From curling his shoulders to his flattened ears to his tucked tail, he's a total scaredy-cat. Just from looking at him, there is no guessing that he is already three years old. It's rare that he even raises his voice above a hesitant whisper, and his stutter doesn't help either. Lupus usually hunches up or curls up in order to make himself appear as small as possible, if not to disappear completely. Built entirely without the strength of a normal rogue, he is gangly with abnormally long legs and small, dainty paws. It's natural to call him gangly or slender, but some call him lean as a more charitable term. Lupus is primarily defined as having a white pelt, although there are large puddle-like splotches of brown with darker stripes all over his back. The pitch-black stripes ring around his back, ending at the edges of his tabby patches. His tail is entirely dark brown with black stripes. Lupus's fur is short and coarse to the touch. Various scars from days of fighting mar the tom's fur, fairly visible thanks to his short pelt. The scars are most numerous around his flank and chest area, with another one nicking his ear. In general, Lupus lacks muscle, and must rely on his brother (and his own wit) to get him out of trouble. At first glance, the people that don't think him cowardly, can actually find him to be rather adorable. His face is pear-shaped with a pronounced, small, muzzle. The lower half of his face is mostly white, while the upper half is mostly brown. The tabby M curves down from the middle of his forehead to perch on the middle of his cheek like a generous birthmark. Staring out from Lupus's face are a pair of absurdly innocent chartreuse optics, mostly golden colored with shades of grassy green mixed in. It is these eyes that seemingly communicate a mixture of youthful fear as well as benevolence. The tom also possesses a rather large pair of ears, of a slightly lighter shade of brown.

Lupus's voice is rather quiet and despite being resonant and deep, it breaks easily. He also has a stutter, which he's had from birth.

TIMID/MEEK Coming from a life that has brought him misery and dreadfulness around every corner, Lupus seems to have been beaten down by it. He has a submissive demeanor, preferring to avoid fighting at all costs. He won't even unsheathe his claws, not unless he sees that his life is truly at stake. This has made him into a bit of a punching bag for other rogues, who beat him whenever they feel like it. It's not a common occurrence, but whenever it does happen, it's absolutely unforgettable for the tom. In addition to being a punching bag, rogues have 'kindly' asked him to do labor without pay. So, Lupus makes himself invisible in every situation, and hopes to just sit it out. The rogues are extremely antisocial anyway, so he won't interact with them if he can't help it. 

IDEALISTIC/NAÏVE Most cats who witness this trait associate it with the childish innocence that hasn't quite left him in his three years of life. It's as if he refuses to grow up and see the harsher aspects of the world. Yes, he knows that some cats (like Curiosity's rogues) are downright vicious, but somehow, his own experiences leave him wondering if they were all just like him - lost, and in the wrong place at the wrong time. He finds that he is less miserable if he sees the best in cats, and sometimes, when he interacts with loners, he's not wrong to find that sometimes, they just need someone to talk to.

When Lupus was born, no cat expected him to survive. His mother, Isla, had given birth to him and his sister in the middle of leaf-fall with leaf-bare just on the horizon. In fact, the only cats to have survived (presumably) was his sister, his older brother, and him. This was a rare occurrence for the queen, who despite having mothered many litters, was not used to having more than one kit survive from each litter. Going from one kit to three was a huge leap and demand for responsibility. Perhaps it was this reason alone that would lead the mother to neglect her kits as she did. Growing up, Lupus felt the effects first hand of neglect firsthand. Their mother was absolutely hands-off, and how exactly the triplet survived was unknown. She gave them milk and shelter, but that was the bare minimum required. If Lupus demanded sentiment, he was looking at the wrong mother. But Lupus never learned his lesson. Inadvertently, the older he grew, the more he relied on his mother. In his weakened state, he needed her. At some point, the two kits asked their mother about their names, to which she absent-mindedly muttered "Lynx and Lupus." His world was small as a kit; he didn't even notice when his brother Centaurus passed away. The only true playmate that he had was his older sister Lynx, who became his guiding figure and best friend. She had confidence and strength, while he was in the shadows. But what truly kept Lynx from leaving him behind was that she saw a compassion within him that lacked in her mother. Whenever she needed help on hunting, he was there to back her up. She needed to look no further whenever she wanted a friend to go on her silly kitten adventures. Their mother was an odd cat, and at the time, Lupus wasn't exactly sure of Isla's values. She was distant and cold at best, when she wasn't totally absent. As the nights and mornings when Isla wasn't around blurred into moons, Lynx quietly coaxed her timid younger brother out of the den and into the frightening world beyond. Despite each adventure and night outing being a huge ordeal for the frightened Lupus, his older sister refused to leave him alone in the miserable hovel that they called a den. Whenever her younger brother asked why exactly she was going, she dodged the question, only saying that 'they needed to learn to take care of themselves.' They had to be independent of their mother. Lynx knew their mother better than her brother. She'd seen that restless gleam in her eyes, the way she was leaving more and more often without an explanation. Why did she keep seeing another tom? Why did she use a honeyed voice, so warm and kind, when toms were their enemy? Why wasn't she showing that love to them? The next morning, at the dawn of their tenth moon, Lynx's prediction that their time with their mother was up came true. Simply put, Isla kicked him out. Kicked them both out. The tortoiseshell grabbed him by the scruff and threw him out of the cave, closely followed by Lynx. When the two mewed pitifully in confusion, their mother had never actually hurt them before, Isla snarled at them, her eyes full of reproach. "Kits are only as useful as their ability to be useful. Instead, you come to me begging for scraps. You two are useless. Get out. And don't come back." It was something that Lupus would never forget, the cat who he would've thought that would give him love kicking him out of his own home. But the twins turned tail, and left without a single glance back.

Despite his over-reliance on his mother, Lupus wasn't the biggest stranger to living life on the road. Alone, neither one of them might not stood a chance. Together, they learned the great woodland together, living off the land. They slowly formed a bond with each other - doing everything together as a team. To this day, Lupus isn't sure why his sister didn't lose her patience with him, but he is eternally grateful. Life evened out for a while, the combined skill of the twins keeping them both from starving. Due to his sister's adventurous tendencies, and penchant for dragging her younger brother around, the twins never really stayed in one place. But one day, the twins made a fateful encounter. Stalking a hare, Lupus became alarmed when his sister got distracted by a foreign scent. Apparently, the hare smelled it too, but just as it was going to flee, a massive tom emerged, killing the rabbit with a swift bite to the neck. After laying down his kill, the brute introduced himself, rather kindly, to the two frightened cats. His name was Curiosity, a rogue. Expressing (what sounded to Lupus) genuine concern, he allowed them to keep the rabbit before offering them shelter. "Being in the middle of nowhere is not ideal for two young kits." Curiosity mewed, his rich voice firm, and yet warm. "Do you two have a den? No? Well, I can give you two shelter for now. Come." But the rogue group that comprised the 'home' was nothing like what the two had imagined.

Being among other cats in a group, even one so loosely organized as that of Curiosity's gang, was a truly foreign experience. But he didn't seem to be at any risk of being driven out, either. There was much more food than the meager amount he usually caught, and a roof over his head. So astonished was the young Lupus that when the coon asked 'for a little payback in exchange for saving [your] life,' the younger tom didn't bat an eye. The request, or the way he'd phrased it, was harmless. 'Can you ask them a question for me?' or 'I need you to do me a favor.' Because spying was the ideal profession for one so small. And so lovable at first glance. To be fair, the off-handed nature of the request did promote some raised fur in private once Lupus had thought it over. But the first few cats he'd been asked to watch didn't suspect a darn thing. Just one look endeared him to his future victims. And there was nothing that kept him around once he'd gotten what he wanted. What he found, he reported to Curiosity in exchange for another day's stay. So, in a sense, he never quite witnessed the consequences. Lynx was not amused with her brother's antics, especially since he was doing this out of fear. But for now, they didn't have another place to go, with leaf-bare in full swing. But, things went downhill after that. Initially, Lupus's only job was to spy. But in his twenty-fourth moon, the male witnessed something that truly caused his whole world to change for the worse. The whole few moments are blurry and horrible in Lupus's mind. He vaguely remembers that he was out hunting for food early morning, and just happened to run into an interaction between Curiosity and a ... tiny little kit who didn't look much older than him when he'd first met the maine coon. Curiosity's words didn't frighten the young tom more than what he did to the kit - Nettlepaw - afterwards. The combination of Nettlepaw's screaming as well as the bloody transaction Lupus witnessed was absolutely petrifying for him, leaving a crimson imprint on his mind that would haunt him for years later. Curiosity ripped into Nettlepaw like fresh kill. But the worst part? Knowing he had trusted this tom, had done favors for him without asking twice. Clan-cats were the natural enemy of rogues, that much his mother had made clear. More violence soon followed, the victims piling up in his mind until they faded into a haze of red. A majestic half-blind black molly called Thievingstar who was killed with a bite to the neck and dragged into the shadows. And the 'patrol' of cats that followed to rescue her and the kit. The rogues were ravenous like wolves, dogs who couldn't tell the difference between blood and water, or were hungry for both. He'd heard Curiosity say that this was Thievingstar's fault. So did this happen to cats who crossed him? Was that what would befall him if he tried to run? It wasn't very long after the patrol fled, taking their wounded with them, that Lupus turned tail and ran back to the rogue's dens. From then on, Lupus and his sister kept their heads down, taking what was given to them out of the rogue's fresh-kill pile and pulling their weight as appropriate. The tom still maintains his silver-tongued, two-faced ways as his original agreement, because the last thing he wants to wind up as is another corpse cooling on the forest floor.