Name: Cocoa

Species: Maco Shark

Age: 17

Home: The beach

Background:

Cocoa grew up in the north, well to say the least, that's where he was found. You see, he was left by his parents, of which he knows nothing off, in a piney area that was freezing up for the night to keep everyone out as the stars wisped around the northern skies. Baby Cocoa was memorized by its beauty, reaching for those divine clusters of light that danced as to impress their only audience. But tears were wept, and cries were heard, as the cold chewed at Cocoa's young soul and body. Fortunately, he cried so loud that a fairly old couple, of which happened to be otters, came and found out what all the ruckus was about. They saw Cocoa, and Cocoa saw them, and at the sight of the lone infant, they took him swiftly, but gently, giving warmth to a dying flame that was about to go. Growing up, under the care of the old couple, he found himself seeming to be loved, well nourished, and always finding trouble. But as his ignorance left, and his innocence dwindled, he noticed he didn't quite belong. He didn't look like his mama or papa, he wasn't like all the furry animals, he had skin, sharp teeth, and a fin unlike the others. His skin that was silky and slippery, a beautiful hazel color, while his teeth were pearly white with a menacing glare. Other kids, from his community, would always find ways to make him feel worthless, always tugging at his line that kept him hanging in just a while longer... Until it snapped. He was brought somewhere by his friend Jacob, someone who understood him for who he was and not his appearance. Jacob brought him to a old factory, saying "Don't be scared, we're just gonna go in and have a looksie." Of course, Cocoa wasn't a coward, so he followed along, between the alleyways and the corridors that lead him further and further away from his home. It all went black, for a good while long, he had seen the skies of his youth dancing in front of him again, that was until he awoke. Cocoa was greeted by a smoldering hot sun that showed no mercy to foes like him. It was quite sandy, and very hot, through it all, it was actually a pleasant change from the freezing grasp of death that the north offered him. The waves, though, is what caught his attention, as he looked endlessly at them as they whispered to him there secrets with there trusting blue attires and seemingly endlessness horizen's that held the sky in place with there orangy-pink hazes with dashes of white and blue in them too. This was all so calming, all so attentive to Cocoas needs, making him forget his worries. But he had to get up, he needed to know where he was. All he remembered was going into that factory. He began to brush his legs off, as they were covered in sand, brushing off the crusty sand. As he looked down, he did so in terror, as not only his legs, but his hands, arms, and body as a whole was... was purple, no blue, no not quite purple, but not quite blue, a mix of some sort. Looking at his hands, at himself in waves that clashed bereave his feat, trying to tell me to not look, he saw himself, with his blueish purple self and he cried. That night, he must have cried the sea itself, so much loss, so much anxieties in a world unknown to him, and to top in all off in a body that wasn't quite his. His sleep, his dreams, his hope is what kept him him from losing his minds, finding a happiness that was not his.