I've learned to slam on the brake
Before I even turn the key

Before I make the mistake
Before I lead with the worst of me
Give them no reason to stare
No slippin' up if you slip away
So I got nothing to share
No, I got nothing to say
Step out, step out of the sun
If you keep getting burned

• introduction
• appearance
• persona
• history

Step out, step out of the sun
Because you've learned
Because you've learned
On the outside, always looking in

• Next

Name...
Corcoran.alias...
The Hermit
CorkyBreed...
great plains wolf.Age...
1 Year.Gender...
Male.Pronouns...
He/Him.Sexuality...
homosexual.

AFFILIATIONS
PACK...	None.
RANK...	Loner.
ASPIRING RANK	None.

MISCELLANEOUS
SCENT...	Smells of lichen and lilac.
VOICE...	Alex Lawther
TOYHOUSE...	Link

Will I ever be more than I've always been?
Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass
I'm waving through a window, oh
I try to speak but nobody can hear

Corcoran is a lean, long-legged wolf with the air of someone who never quite grew into his own limbs. His pelt is a mix of ash-black and faded charcoal, with subtle flecks of off-white across his flanks and shoulders—like snow caught in soot, or stars in a clouded sky. He carries himself with a twitchy, uncertain gait, as if constantly on the edge of leaving or hiding. His fur is scruffy and unkempt, thickest around his neck and shoulders in a wiry, wind-tangled mane that he never bothers to groom properly. Streaks of rusty red mark beneath his eyes and across his legs, faint and faded, like dried clay smudged by time.His face is long and narrow, with sharp cheekbones and expressive, ever-shifting brows that give away every flicker of emotion no matter how hard he tries to keep still. His eyes are a washed-out amber, wide and rimmed in darkness, always darting—nervous, observant, curious. He smells of moss, old bark, smoke, and damp stone, and always seems to carry a bit of the forest with him in his fur. Though not built for brute strength, his frame is wiry and agile, suited to scrambling through ravines or vanishing into the brush without a sound.

STATISTICS

• Next

So I wait around for an answer to appear
While I'm watch, watch, watching people pass
I'm waving through a window, oh
Can anybody see?
Is anybody waving back at me?

AWKWARD | OBSERVANT | CURIOUS | RESERVED | ECCENTRIC.The hermit of the hinterlands, Corcoran is a creature of odd rhythms and crooked charm. He is an anxious soul nestled in the quiet folds of Vargir’s forgotten woods. Shaped not by battle or blood, but by long silences and stranger company, he exists on the fringes, half-boy and half-man. Socially tangled and terminally awkward, he stammers, eyes darting like a startled bird, voice trailing into mumbles that carry more truth than he means to reveal. Yet behind the stuttering lies an uncanny intuition: he sees what others miss, hears the hum in the roots, the twitch in the air before storms. There is curiosity in him that refuses to die, a need to know, to understand, even when it frightens him. Corky is not a leader nor a soldier, but a reluctant guide with an encyclopedic mind and a heart too soft for the world’s sharp edges.

• Next

We start with stars in our eyes
We star believing that we belong
But every sun doesn't rise
And no one tells you where you went wrong

Corcoran doesn’t talk much about where he came from, and most don’t bother asking anyway.He wasn’t driven out or cast aside: he just slipped away. Born to a small, peaceful band that moved along the forest edges, Corcoran grew up quiet and awkward, always a little out of step with the others. While his litter-mates sparred and learned to hunt, he was busy memorizing mushrooms, collecting feathers, and asking if trees could remember things.Nobody was cruel. But they didn’t understand him—and he didn’t try too hard to explain. When he came of age, he simply… kept walking. He found a mossy little gully in the woods and started making it home, cobbling together what he needed with trial and error.He’s survived mostly by instinct, a growing knowledge of the land, and pure stubbornness. He’s not mysterious—just a little weird, a little anxious, and really not sure how to rejoin the world he wandered away from. For now, Corky’s content watching the stars and learning how not to burn his tongue on wild herbs.

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