*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧Prologue･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
I had been through a lot in this life. Even in a pack of wolves, I was a stone-hearted man who very few people had seen me warm..I was living in some moments and felt alive obtaining my finances and profits, no matter what it took to get it. I came to the conclusion years ago that money was something I could eternally rely on, and I have never turned back...and Money has never turned it's back on me. I liked minted, rich individuals...Maturity was my thing. My pack mates have found their imprintees long ago, but I had always assumed a relationship would cost too much money
"Highschoolers and college students are almost just alike," Rocky mumbled quietly to himself, he was not enjoying his stay here. However, the profit he was receiving in exchange for this work excited him, and when he first Saint Martin's University about the opportunity, his co-workers at State were not surprised to hear that he was one of the first to volunteer for the part. He remembers hearing the amount at the staff meeting, usually, things at meetings do not excite him, but with how incredibly miserly and greedy he can get, it really did catch him off guard. Other than profit, he supposed that there was nothing entirely wrong with being back in Forks, his home, where his family is.
Rocky assumed he should enjoy it, he always preferred living in solitude and silence, and his family deemed him as a "depressing" or "dull" man, and how the youngers would say he needs to "lighten up a little; find a girlfriend".The older tribe members recognized the sadism hidden deep behind his skin. When he batted his eyes, they were like large daggers being tossed at a throwing board, a dark cinnamon color gazed his eyes when the occasional sun and or light of the rain hit them, with only lightening up to a gentle tawny brown when there was a new profit for him to get his hands on.
Some saw gentle patience creep up behind his eyes in the rarest and quickest of moments.
The quiet things nobody knows about.
He was tall, standing at a stoic 6'5 height and a bulky build of 240 pounds. His sleek hickory colored hair vining down to his lower back, and low choppy bangs hanging in his face, sort of covering his dulled green eyes (with the occasional, tucked behind his ear or pinned back). Rocky had a permanent scowl, emitting a constant resentful feel coming off of him like waves. His work attire simply a white button up, the sleeves tucked up, revealing his dark strong calloused arms and hands, (If you got close enough, you could see his tribal tattoos lay on his shoulder and gently snaked down his arm). His black slacks straightened down to his black dress shoes, or his black combat boots. A gold watch on his wrist and a borderline strong masculine scent spiraled with pine and river water admitted from him if you stood too close. Something was dark about him, but nobody knew what nobody knew. Something was lingering darkly beneath the tough skin that he wore everyday.
He had been staying back in Forks with his family, residing in a guest room in his sister's small cabin until he was able to retrieve his old one. Rocky had an older brother as well, Cheska Black. He however, had unfortunately died in a motorcycle accident maybe 10 years back. Something had felt off about being here, like something bad would happen, or he had made some sort of mistake, but he shrugged it off. He had arrived at his sister's Angela's place.
Rocky had barely got out of his car before Angela had appeared beside his car door, "Rocky, you're finally here!" before she had quickly wrapped her arms around his neck. She had always been a skittish and fast girl, so it didn't spook him too bad. "Mm, but you know why I'm here…" he spat, rather rudely and patted her on the back. Lilianette had been used to the vague aggressiveness that Rocky had possessed ever since he had been in his teen's, even if she happened to be younger than him.