Profile of Ruel

What little cream there is left upon him is a fair depiction of what's left unstained of his record. It dabs his nose, muzzle, chest, and the sliver above his eyes—and that's about it. A smattering dusts his nape and brightens his ears but, beyond that, he's a rich palette of reds and russets and blacks. As if ink had been left to seep into his fur, spilling from his hind paws to his head, his forepaws are the brightest points of his body. His eyes are a bright, rosewood brown. His gaze is oft haggard, sometimes from the wine he sips at night, sometiems from the business deals he spends his time pouring over late into the night.

Whilst exhausted is hardly a personality trait, it has become one of late. Or at least, he's started to feel as though it has. He has little time for eating or drinking, let alone dining with others or maintaining social relationships. His obligations are to those within his employ—the wolves that take his seed money and return it to him with interest. Some are honest wolves but not many, and it is the bulk of his associates that provide the large, expansive hall that he purchased last year. And the wine within his cellar. And the books within his personal library. It is a palace for a family of one.

But he prefers it this way, or so he asserts. With no intentions to marry, the solitude matches Ruel's secretive nature. Not many come calling, however. The parents that are aware of his wealth have attempted to solicit his attentions from time to time, but Ruel has politely deflected them all. Life has too many woes to dabble in having a wife and children only to watch them die. Or be stolen from. Or be drafted into a war.

And so he dedicates himself to his work. His father passed within the last autumn and his mother ails away within a care center for aged and ill-of-health elders. He has no siblings and no debts—save for the ones on his conscience.

Ruel was born to Edgar Darcy and Milly Darcy (nee. Breckenridge). He was the only one they were ever able to conceive, even after two years of trying. Since they met and fell in love later in life, they decided to be thankful for what they had: a healthy boy that could learn from his father's financial estates. As a child, he enjoyed books and structure. He found comfort in the acounting ledgers and enjoyed the ritual of washing his paws before ever touching a book or scrap of paper. While he longed for siblings and friends, he found that he struggled to connect with others. Not for lack of trying or out of any true social unorthodoxies, however. He simply never met a wolf with which he felt that spark of connection. That sense of being best friends, or anything more than acquaintances.

That constant, subtle loneliness manifested into a man that is strictly independent, closed off, and careful. He has several business dealings—very few that the crown would approve of—but such is his business and his alone.