Lyra
Two crystalline blue eyes peered back and forth anxiously from the depths of a large cage. They belonged to a hunched over frame, white in coloration with long fur. She looked fairly normal, although some could probably tell there was something odd about her. Her eyes-- those bright blue eyes flashing here and there, appeared normal from a distance. However, the pupils were irregularly shaped, which ultimately lead to them being quite sensitive to light. She kept her eyelids partly closed, a bit squinted at all times, to block some of the irritating white light that seemed to spew down from those big bulbs overhead. Boy were they annoying!
She was also deaf. She couldn't hear a thing that went on around her and it appeared to disturb her. She kept her back up against a far corner of the cage and refused to move. She hadn't touched her food and water, or the little toy they provided her. She was too busy watching, listening with the silent depths of her mind. She made good use of her other senses, though. She could smell everything, pick out every little movement. She felt the ground beneath her rattle with each step the humans took. However, she was entirely silent.
There was a paper on her cage which listed her name Lyra, along with an explanation of her impairments. It spoke of her condition, her nonexistent hearing, and her sensitive eyesight, in case she may arouse the interest of any human walking past.
Nickölai & Chernobyl Bröncov
The rough, burly man shoved the door of the pound open, walking in with large strides. His 6"4, muscular frame walked up to the front desk. I'd like to get a dog. His dark green eyes stared the woman at the front desk harhsly, his words loud. His voice had a strong russian ring to it.
Chernobyl followed the man through the door more slowly and cautiously. She was medium sized, unlike her father. Her father wasn't fat in the slightest, most of his weight was in his muscle. The man liked to take dogs to the fighting ring, and you had to be quite strong to do that, considering a good fighter such as a pitbull could get pretty excited.
The girl's blonde, wavy hair fell down past her shoulder. She'd inherited her hair from her mother, and that was about it. Her eyes were also a dark green, and she would grow to be muscular like her father. She walked slowly past her father into the room with rows of dog cages. In every cage was a poor soul, a dog that most likely hated cages. Some barked viciously at her, others clung to the back of the cage. Some greeted her with friendliness, some were sleeping. She walked past a white female, paying no attention. However, she did a double take when she noticed the dog only stared with oddly shaped pupils. She crouched down in front of the cage, reading the paper.
Lyra. Female. Deaf, eyes very sensitive to light. and a few other things. She looked into the dog's poor eyes and smiled slightly. Hi there, Lyra. I'm Chernobyl.
The woman at the desk looked up at the voice and nodded. Very well. Follow me. She stood up quickly, walking into the same room Chernobyl was in. She flicked her hands towards all the cages. You can choose from any in here. Then walked back to the desk, continuing her work.
Chernobyl watched her father read the paper with hopeful eyes.