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Description

Buckwheat is hardly the only wolf to suffer loss this year—Valgard was cut to a fraction of the pack it used to be, families were fractured, countless lives fell, and those who survived were suddenly half of who they used to be... and despite his dogged attempts to persevere unaffected by the tragedy, the Omega finds himself lost in more ways than one. A reclusive personality by nature, the wolves he found comfort in were those that shared his blood: mother, father, brothers. It mattered none how little he spoke, how perplexed he continually was, how often he opted to reside on his own; they understood him, deeply.

Only them.

Now he found himself alone, entirely.

Without the connection of those with a grasp on who he is, Buckwheat struggles to find his place among the ranks of the pack, to branch out to the members he's survived alongside, like a pup unable to cry for the attention it needs, he maneuvers voiceless, yearning, and too stubbornly confused and rightfully unprepared to face the reason behind his ache.

Buckwheat as a character surprisingly has started to mean a great deal to me as I've slowly begun to figure out who he is exactly and I really relate to his preference for solitude yet that being unable to kick that nagging desire for connection that simply isn't there any longer... and struggling to express it for one reason or another along the way. So I'm hoping he is more put-together than I am, in some way, but we'll see I suppose!

Another thing I noticed about him is that he looks like he's wearing pants when you view him from behind, how formal of him.

Art, Buckwheat (c)

Description

Buckwheat is hardly the only wolf to suffer loss this year—Valgard was cut to a fraction of the pack it used to be, families were fractured, countless lives fell, and those who survived were suddenly half of who they used to be... and despite his dogged attempts to persevere unaffected by the tragedy, the Omega finds himself lost in more ways than one. A reclusive personality by nature, the wolves he found comfort in were those that shared his blood: mother, father, brothers. It mattered none how little he spoke, how perplexed he continually was, how often he opted to reside on his own; they understood him, deeply.

Only them.

Now he found himself alone, entirely.

Without the connection of those with a grasp on who he is, Buckwheat struggles to find his place among the ranks of the pack, to branch out to the members he's survived alongside, like a pup unable to cry for the attention it needs, he maneuvers voiceless, yearning, and too stubbornly confused and rightfully unprepared to face the reason behind his ache.

Buckwheat as a character surprisingly has started to mean a great deal to me as I've slowly begun to figure out who he is exactly and I really relate to his preference for solitude yet that being unable to kick that nagging desire for connection that simply isn't there any longer... and struggling to express it for one reason or another along the way. So I'm hoping he is more put-together than I am, in some way, but we'll see I suppose!

Another thing I noticed about him is that he looks like he's wearing pants when you view him from behind, how formal of him.

Art, Buckwheat (c)