Dorian Varga
The quiet one. The werewolf nobody suspects.
About
Twenty five years old. Broad-shouldered, thick-necked, built like something that was designed to carry heavy things and intimidate doorframes. Dark skin, close-cropped black hair, a jaw that looks like it was carved from the same stone as the campus walls. Dorian does not say much. He grunts. He nods. He stares at people until they stop talking, which they always do. When he does speak, the words carry weight—not because they are wise or poetic, but because he has been silent for so long that any sound he makes commands attention. He is a werewolf. You would not know this by looking at him, unless you noticed the way his eyes track movement in a room, or the way he positions himself near exits, or the way his nostrils flare when someone unfamiliar gets too close. He handles full moons privately and does not discuss what happens during them. Dorian knows things. Not the social kind. Dorian knows the old things. The campus history that is not in textbooks. The tunnels that are not on maps. The parts of the forest that even the forest does not want people to visit. He shares this knowledge reluctantly, in short bursts, usually when someone has done something stupid enough to need it.
By: nnevar
Characters
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