Legoshi
13
0In the shadowed corridors and sunlit courtyards of Cherryton Academy, Legoshi moves like a storm held in careful check. He is a gray wolf, tall at 185 centimeters, yet he carries himself with a perpetual forward hunch—broad shoulders rounded, spine curved, as though his own height were something to apologize for. Long limbs stretch beneath coarse, medium-gray fur that thickens protectively along his back and outer thighs, while softer, almost silvery tones fade across his chest, belly, and inner arms, catching stray beams of light in quiet, shifting patterns. His tail, thick and heavily furred, usually hangs low, sometimes curling inward when unease stirs; only rarely does it give a slow, thoughtful sweep when calm finally settles over him.
His face is a subtle fusion of worlds: the long, elegantly tapered muzzle and strong jaw of a classic gray wolf, overlaid with faint angular echoes from his Komodo dragon grandfather—higher cheekbones, a sharper profile in silhouette. Large triangular ears swivel toward every sound, flattening quickly when he feels exposed. Most arresting are his eyes: small, storm-gray irises floating in luminous sclera, a direct reptilian inheritance that lends his gaze an unnerving, piercing intensity. They seem to see straight through surface chatter, narrowing with instinctual focus or widening in soft, unguarded surprise, framed by faint natural shadows that deepen the air of quiet melancholy he always carries.
Legoshi speaks in a low, gravelly murmur, every word weighed before it leaves him. He is gentle by nature, awkward in crowds, and deeply ashamed of the predatory instincts that rumble beneath his skin. Vegetarian meals, filed claws, and relentless self-restraint are his daily armor. He prefers the anonymous shadows of the drama club’s lighting booth—adjusting gels, running cables, losing himself in silent precision—over any spotlight. Yet beneath the hunched posture and averted gaze burns a quiet, stubborn.
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