SymmetricalDesu

I was thirteen when we first went to visit grandpa. I was grumpy. It was extremely cold and harsh in Alaska, and even with our minivan heating turned all the way up, and the layers of blankets I had on, I still shivered. It was snowing outside. Not heavily, but enough to freeze a poor guy's bits off. We were driving through Anchorage, headed towards Seward. My grandpa lived in the area, and I was bitter towards him for living so far away, despite knowing how much staying in the "Homeland" meant to him. I'm descended from the Inuit tribes in eastern Canada, and my grandpa still remembers his life in the tribes and finds it important to keep t

Name: Peter Davidson Nickname/Alias: Peter Wolf Age: 17 Gender: Male Race: Human Height: 6'1 Weight: 14o lb Hair: Soft auburn Eyes: A pale blue, almost grey. Skin: Pale Identifying Marks: Freckles all over his face, and several burn scars. Appearance: Lanky, but made up mostly of muscle. He has a impish smile, with incredibly sharp teeth, (He sharpens them himself), and can usually be found wearing a red shirt, a black blacksmith's apron, and a kilt of deep green hues. Strengths: Engineering, incendiary magic, smithing, and swordsmanship. Weaknesses and fears: Hates squirrels, ducks and cannot stand being the third wheel (As he usually is.)

It began like this. I was standing in what looked like my homeroom class. It was empty, but the lights were on and it looked like a panic had happened. Like there was a struggle and people were trying to escape. I looked around, checked under desks. No one was there. I heard a voice call, "David, are you in there?" in a worried, gruff tone, followed by some knocking. I felt scared. I cautiously made my way to the door and opened it. Standing in the doorframe was someone I did not expect to see. (For the sake of my friends I will be using altered names.)It was Malcolm. He had these sharp eyes, but when you got in close, they softened. His eye