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Name: Mortemer

Nickname(s): Mort

Animal: Coyote

Age: 32

Gender: ♂ 

Likes: 
• blueberries
• milk and artificially milk-sweetened things (like chocolate)
• cloudless nights
• night in general
• sleeping
• hot nights
• his mug
• reading

Dislikes:
○ Cold
○ Coffee
○ the sun
○ bright lights
○ loud noises
○ being alone

Personality:
    This is rather dependent on the time of day you choose to interact with this canine

 _{Day  (6 a.m. - 6 p.m.)
    Grumpy: rather quick to shoot you a glare should you be doing anything that's displeasing to the senses (including laughing too loud). A telltale sign that he's uncomfortable is a twitch of the eye.
    Sensitive: anything you say, positive or negative, will be taken to heart. Choose your wording carefully-- Mort has a habit of interpreting things his own way.
    Forgetful: but if the previous trait is any bother to you, whatever you say will most likely be forgotten within a matter of minuets; if you have anything important to say, you might want to pick a better time.
    Blunt: only if you've managed to peeve him off enough; this is a last resort tactic for him to find a way to get you to leave him alone as he rubs his aching temple, throwing a mean word here or there to see if he can get some peace.
    
 Night (6 p.m. - 6 a.m.)
    Relaxed: by this time, either he's finally awoken from his slumber or the caffeine has finally set in. The coyote is no longer on edge and would probably fancy a stroll with you. 
    Social: though not one to pry into your business if he can help it, Mort tries to keep a conversation up with a mass of questions. If you catch him with food, he's more than willing to share.
    Open-minded: If you're feeling insecure about yourself or something you did and can't seem to shake the feeling, this old dog is willing to listen to your fears. Not one to judge, Mort will silently be on the listening end of the stick and nodding patiently. And if he can, he'll try to put in some friendly advice.
    Blunt: this is one of the few things that doesn't change from either side, save for the fact that he can't really identify when he's pushed the boundaries of compliment/statement and a rude remark.}
        

History:
<sub>As an only child raised in a way that got him anything so long as he was performing "good behaviour," Mortemer grew up in a bright and dry town boardering a desert. Most nights were spent stargazing with his stern mother and boisterous father, catching moths and other nocturnal bugs of the sort to add to a growing collection Mother didn't completely approve of (at least not in her house). But when dad couldn't play and mom was out on a business trip that probably would take the rest of the week, Mort found himself in solitude with nothing but a stick and the ground to his name. If anyone were to stop by, relatives or otherwise, Mortemer was often directly upon them to satisfy his desire for attention. It wasn't until primary school that he realized that mom and dad weren't going to be there 100% of the time to fill up his need for affection; so he threw himself at any willing participant.

Unfortunately for him, Mort was found to be the obnoxious peer that was a bit too weird to cope with between his clingy nature and odd collection of dry bug skins, which really didn't lave him anywhere in school save for the library and a lone swingset. This went on into his adolescents, an unchanging routine of ducking into the library during a recess up until grade 8. It wasn't until he was just about out of secondary school that he came in contact with a small female; Lilith by name. He'd found that she'd taken a book he wanted and when he attempted retrieval, a quiet conversation turned into getting to know one another through a multitude of authors and stories. It didn't take much for him to grow attached to the female, constantly clinging to her whenever he got the chance as one of the few people that could handle him, even going so far as to embrace his hobbies. By the time he was just about out of public schooling, with swelled feelings built up over the years, Mort decided it was time to confess.

She said no. Plainly and quickly he was shattered, silently slipping away from the tangible awkward as the year drew to a close. Mom and Dad made great timing, choosing to move away from their hometown as their child began college life. These next few years would be nothing more than study of literature and astronomy, his first tastes of the poisonous nectar known as coffee being here, when dad would bring him a cup of joe on sleepless nights of work. While he had his nose stuck in study, Mortemer never noticed the growing distance between his parents, and when mom came to him with the news of divorce, the coyote barely batted a lash. It wasn't until after finals and schooling that the news it him, the young adult choosing rather to pack up his bags and flee once more instead of dealing with the problems head on. Since then he's been bouncing around living off of unsteady income resulting from freelance writing and odd jobs.</sub>

Village: Orange County

Bells:  0

Extra:
◘ My shirt's not pink-! It's salmon.
◘ Nocturnal
◘ He actually really wants a daughter
◘ But is super picky about his spouse
◘ If he's not in his home sleeping during the day, you can find him crashed out under a tree probably
◘ Mort actually hates the taste of coffee so he tries to sweeten it down a lot with milk and other sugars
◘ the blossoms on the side of his mug are supposed to be blueberry
◘ Mort still has his colelction of dried insects somewhere in a box