[CANI] Cyrus

DOCS APPLICATION | ACTIVITY & RELATIONSHIPS TRACKER | MEDALLION

B A S I C S

Name: Count Cyrus Saartre

Age: 5 years

Gender: Male

Breed: Beauceron x Afghan Hound x Siberian Husky

Weight: 43 kg / 94 lbs

Height: 69 cm / 27 inch

Faction: Stray

Notoriety Level: Nobody, lvl 1

Job: Wanderer

Council Rank: -

P E R S O N A L I T Y

🟩

Cultured | Generous | Good-natured | High-minded | Independent | Meticulous | Profound | Scrupulous | Suave | Protective

🟨

Unconventional | Quirky | Superstitious | Solitary | Old-fashioned

🟥

Disruptive | Chaotic | Erratic | Escapist | Insecure | Narcissistic | Neurotic | Obsessive | Ridiculous | Anxious| Paranoic

I think it’s important to mention here that Cyrus owns a mansion. Due to that fact, and also growing up by the side of a street magician - he believes himself to be truly special. You see, there are many things that are normal to Cyrus but completely outrageous to other dogs. Say, stuff like walking on his hind legs whenever he wants to, wearing clothes or keeping to outdated etiquette norms. That is, he believes himself to be a landlord no worse to his hominid counterparts and he intends to keep up with the images. 

He speaks with long and complex words most don’t understand, painting a vivid imagery of what the world could be around him. With just a tale and gesture he could make you believe you were sitting in a dining hall with marble floors, crystal firelit chandeliers and a feast of finest dishes, even though in reality you’re in a run down mansion with a chipped plate of scraps in front of you. Being a stray, he doesn’t have much to give but despite that he never turns anyone away, his place a refugee spot who might come seeking assistance.

At the same time, he himself rarely leaves the residence, barely ever making trips into the town. Being quite old-fashioned, he feels uncertain in the presence of modern technology and urban design. Coming from a big city and doing his fair share of travelling he might not be scared of it, but he certainly finds it repulsive, turning to the most distinguished ways of living. And if it is lonely at times, he appreciates the solitary and the opportunity of being alone with nature.

That being said, behind the elegant facade where he strives to appear cool and collected in the presence of others, when left to his thoughts Cyrus immediately turns into this little stress ball of anxiety. He has the habit of overthinking and easily develops obsessions, be it something physical like the habit of compulsive cleaning and rearranging the space or maniacal creation of fictional stories. If you heard him tell a story of when he lived in Arizona, it's probably different from all the stories he had told others about his time there. 

Whenever something puts a strain on him, he first strives to appear cool and collected like he is absolutely in control of the situation and only later lets it resurface when he is on his own. He often reads too much into things, coming up with completely irrational interpretations, whisked away from reality by his vivid imagination. At the same time, he remains oblivious to the simplest of problems, spending the whole day rearranging the portraits in the hall in accordance to the Fibonacci sequence by different metrics and only realising by the sundown that he is yet to find food for the day. No doubt he’d have probably led a way more miserable life if it wasn’t thanks to his faithful steward looking out for his basic needs. 

H I S T O R  Y

CONTENT WARNING : Mentions of homelessness and hypothermia

Summary:

Cyrus was adopted as a puppy by a street magician from New York. He lived with the man up to two years who taught him various tricks as a part of the performance. Throughout that time they lost their home and had to split their paths during a cold winter. Unable to locate his human, he decided that there was nothing keeping him in the city and departed on his journey across the states. Three years later he reached Canidale where he decided to settle down in an abandoned mansion at the edge of the town, taking over the name and title of its previous owner.

Whole backstory:

How does it feel to be born in the best city on earth? Congrats, you're now the citizen of the largest metropolia and all you had to do was to simply exist. Does that fact make you a winner? 0.001% of the truly successful? Let's see…

You live in a multi-floor tenement house. Inside it there are rows of long corridors, like a labyrinth, only one of them leading to your place. It consists of one small room with a window on the opposite end. Through it you can see the facade of the other building on the street, so close and so high that it obscures most of the sunlight, giving you just a glimpse of rays at noon, when the sun is directly above. There is one other being you share the space with. A middle aged man, with an air of weariness surrounding him. He took you in when you were just a pup, handed out through a street notice saying "Unique puppies, will give away into good hands". 

Did the man have good hands? There was certainly something special about them. They gave good pets, tasty food - but most importantly, they had the power of making stuff vanish. In fact, they were so good at it that the man spent whole days doing just this, standing on the street and making other peoples stuff vanish and reappear. When you were old enough, he started taking you with him. You observed his act, how he called out to passing people, waved around his magic stick in practiced patterns or shuffled a deck of paper cards. You also have been noticed. Once a woman stopped by to pat you on the head, another time a man gave you a bite of his sandwich. 

One day, instead of coming back to their small room, the man led Charlie into a dark alleyway, where he laid down on his coat as the night arrived. Ever since they never returned to the house, only occasionally moving from place to place. Charlie didn't like it, as it was colder than their previous living space, lacked the soft bed and he was absolutely terrified by the rats scurrying away through the drains at night. Only very, very rarely when the sky was clean he could watch a solitary bright face of the moon crossing the sky. Once they went to that one other house, attempting to get in, but once the woman standing in the doors looked at Charlie and shook her head, the man had immediately turned around.

During the day, he resumed performing his job just like before. He also taught Charlie new tricks as he grew up. Soon he knew how to hold a hat in his jaws and angle it the right way to catch the clinking metal discs flying his way. When a person approached he was meant to greet them by laying a paw upon theirs, with an extra lick for women. And, most excitedly, he got to participate directly in the act of magic making. Standing on his hind legs, wobbling but slowly gaining confidence in that skill as well and holding different objects in his raised paws. They called him Magician's Apprentice Charlie and he loved how his act made kids laugh, even though the attention always caused him to be nervous and drop a few items in the process. 

There were people and people. His man showed him how to tell them apart. Those he could run up to, pull on their sleeves towards their little performance spot, those rushing forward he had to let be and finally those from which he should hide upon seeing. On the streets he often witnessed acts of kindness and violence, goodhearted restaurant owners giving them the leftovers once the place had closed or the fights between people. Once Charlie had grown into his full size, he took it upon himself to protect his man from those with bad intentions and barked ferociously at anyone who dared to get too close to their hiding spot at night. 

He got good at his act. Now he could hold his upright position for the duration of an entire performance and knew additional tricks. One particular task included laying his paws on top of a human's hands and walking around in circles, which his man called the "dance" command. 

Their first winter on the streets was referred to as very mild. They had only a few days of frost, but it has been tough enough. Once they tried setting up a small bonfire to warm up, but soon after a bunch of men came running and they had to flee from their hiding spot. They moved to a more secluded area, a tunnel where more people like his man have lived. They seemed nice, but his previous experiences have taught Cyrus to stay wary of all sorts of anyone who might try to approach his human at night, so he often ended up panicking and barking to the displeasure of other inhibitants. His man often told him to stay quiet, but in the end his instincts took over and by the time next winter came they had to look for a new shelter.

Once he met a dog who seemed really interested in him. Elderly mutt who had a kind and gentle voice and knew her way around the city. She led him to a district he has never been to, one that looked entirely different from the place he was familiar with. It had wide streets with little to no traffic and more greenery than he has ever seen in his life. She showed him the houses, the single or two storey structures that looked so different from the monumental blocks he was familiar with. Each of them looked unique from each other, so colorful and decorative it made him laugh at the sight of it. Then she said "You're lucky. You look like you could actually fit here. Just knock on one of those fences and they will take you in, and you'll live the best life, way better than the one you have right now". There was a certain edge to her voice, like a hidden sorrow or perhaps envy, but he was far too caught up in his own daydreams to like it. At that moment he imagined himself and his man in a house like this, turning it into a place of magic and wonders, with flying carpets and lights you could turn on with just your voice. He didn't understand what she meant by saying his human couldn't come with him. After all, they were the magic partners, bound by the ancient pact of forbidden arcane craft - he couldn't just leave him like this. He never saw the female again.

Another December rolled around, and with it came the snow and the cold. It was entirely unlike what he experienced last year and while the sight of the heaps of white covering the dark and dirty streets made him excited - the nights were becoming increasingly harder for them. With Charlie not welcome in the tunnel community, they were forced to seek other places to hide, but were yet to spend a single night in peace without being chased out. Eventually his man became too tired to continue the search. Charlie licked at his weary, red from the bite of the frost face and got a weak smile in response. Despite his own dense coat, even he could feel the cold making him shiver. Seeing this, the man pulled out the magic cape they used for performances from his bag and wrapped it around him. It didn't offer much in the way of protection, but with no other choice and energy they settled down for sleep.

Sometime throughout the night, Charlie was woken by a honk of a car passing by. Out of habit he checked his surroundings, but when he returned to nuzzle next to his human, he was thrown off by how cold his hands felt to the touch. He nudged the man with his nose, but no reaction came. He tried harder, only to be answered with a soft grunt. Listening in for breath, he could barely hear the faint wisps of air leaving the man's mouth. Alarmed by the clear signs of something bad happening, Charlie ran out on the street to call for help. Luckily, the city never slept so even in the middle of the night there were people scurrying along the sidewalks. He ran up to them, tugged on their sleeves and barked just like during their days when he was trying to draw their attention to the performance. Eventually he managed to stop a few of them, leading back to his man. 

The following events happened in a flash. They looked at the magician, talked between each other and soon a van came, painted in bright yellow paint with a loud siren car and blinking lights on the top. A bunch of people came out and loaded his man in the back, promptly driving away. Charlie tried chasing after the car, but it was way faster and he lost the track after a few intersections. Terrified and confused he decided to go back to the spot they last slept in, hoping for his man to return soon. However the next morning a bunch of other people came, with leads and nets, clearly searching for something. Realizing that he could no longer stay there he had to give up his wait and move on. 

He considered trying his chances at one of the luxury houses in the fancy district he once visited. However upon returning he was greeted with the sight of a bunch of dogs barking at him ferociously from behind the fences. In that moment he decided that he did not want to be locked in a giant cage, no matter how many high-end amenities it had inside. So he turned away and went his own way. Only then, when he finally noticed the gift of freedom he had, he decided to make the best of it. 

To have a life full of magic and wonders, with plenty of stories to tell.

Nowadays you live in an abandoned house at the edge of a quaint little seaside town. It has a facade of an elaborate design, with columns and sculptures along the edges. Large windows stretch all the way up to the high ceilings, letting in a lot of sun that lights up the ornate dark tapestry on the inside. It's clearly past its prime, with creaky floorboards and freaky paint falling off the walls, but you try your best to keep it in a good condition. There is some graffiti on the lower floor and more signs of destruction from the time people were hanging out in this place - but since you moved in the number of their visits has decreased. There are rumors spreading across the town that the house is haunted, but you've lived here for a few years now and you're yet to notice anything of the ordinary. And even if there was a ghost lurking around, you sleep soundly knowing that you have a steward with a loud bark who's ready to chase all intruders away.

Sometimes you have guests over. There are enough bedrooms and a small ballroom to hold a decent banquets for your dog friends. Those who come are mostly strays, who don't mind that the feasts are not always as lavish and luxurious as you'd like them to be, nor that their piano has been playing out of tune for a few years now. You celebrate till the night, when the entire house is plunged into darkness, when some decide to stay the night and others retire to their hideouts. 

There are also days when you enjoy the peace and quiet. You go for a walk around the garden, which with your clumsy gardening skills doesn't look any less of an overgrown mess than it was the day you arrived. For the hundredth time, you make a mental note to look for some rose seeds and learn more about gardening. Nonetheless, the mansion still looks majestic, despite the effect of time. You're lucky only a glimpse of the walls can be seen from behind the tall fence surrounding the grounds - otherwise who knows who else might have also fallen in love with the beauty of it and decide to take it away from you.

You walk up the wide flight of steps and through the main entrance, gently supporting yourself on the railing. The doorknob easily gives under your press and you are faced with a large hallway. Looking up, at the opposite side you see a portrait. It's your portrait. A man in his fifties, with long dark hair, ornate suit and a piercing stare. Underneath it hangs a brass plaque, with three words etched in the shiny surface:

Count Cyrus Saartre.

G R O U P    H I S T O R Y

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O T H E R

• He had changed his name from Charlie to Cyrus when he heard one of the human visitors at the mansion read the plaque under the painting out loud. He assumed the name was of great importance to the place and found it fitting to take it on as a sign of beginning new life

• His head and leg fur can grow out really long, to an afghan hound length so he regularly invites the Junkyard stylist Nirvana over to the mansion to help him with a trim

Character Art © Alba-ster | Background thetwinsuns, do not copy, trace or use in any form of roleplay, game or for other means