|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Skyler Dustpaw's Character and PersonalityOverview
Designation: Commander Skyler Christiansan Dustpaw, of the Marcelonian Security Fleet Starship Nexus-Class 4126 AERO.
Nickname: In MSF uniform, you may address him as Commander or Dustpaw (If you are his superior), Normally though you may call him informally by Skyler, Sky, or really close friends may jokingly call him Skyfoxeh. Whatever you prefer.
Race: Northern Marcelonian Foxtaur Liquidshifter
Faction: Neutral/MSF/Hero role
Birth date: August 23rd, 4106
Title/Rank: Commander (Marcelon), Gaurdian (Earth)
Weapons: Typically uses his own body in combat, assuming forms useful to the task. However, if needed, he carries a standard Marcelonian Energy Beam Rifle.
Abilities: Capable of shapeshifting into numerous vehicular and organic forms to assist in stealth or combat missions. He doesn't see much of it, so luckily he gets to use his ability for more light-hearted tasks. In normal form, he has been known to run, and his knowledge of tech often leads
Unsung Songs - What's in my heartThe stars are shining bright
On a cold dark winter's night
As the snow falls from the clouds
Burying the frozen ground
There's things I wish I told you
And things that I couldn't do
But when the fire goes low tonight
The moon will be my only light
Spread my wings and take the flight
Into that winter's night
fly among the stars so bright
And hold you in my dreams tonight
Fly away past the storm
And to the distant golden shores
Where dreams are made of simple things
Of the places, faces, and the names
Of those so close who went away
And I will dream of the day
When I climb up to Heaven's gate
And pray that it won't go away
And even if I don't get there
I make a promise and I swear
I'll see your face one last time
And then we'll see the new sun shine
So these words I leave to you
And we'll fly among the skies of blue
And although you've gone away
You're in my heart and there you'll stay...
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
Keep in Touch!