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Chimeric

Chimeric

Senior Member








FORM

CHARACTER SHEETS




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Here you'll be posting your character sheets. I enjoy fancyposts, but you do not have to use one for your character sheets, you DO have to ensure that I can read it, no dark fonts or anything hard to read please. There is not a character limit at this time, but it's important that you make as many as you can handle. If you choose to post a work in progress or a placeholder please be sure to mention me in the ooc thread when you believe you have finished your sheets for me to review. As for what I need to see in your forms, I require the following (but feel free to add as much as you like about your characters or arrange it however you wish! Remember to include a writing sample);

Name
given, legal name, though they may not remember it​
Title
this is the 'current' name of your character if you will. It's the name they got when they came here, reflective of their mutations or supernatural creature they've been designed for​
Nicknames
Age
characters cannot be younger than 18​
Gender
Sexuality
Personality / Psyche
Appearance
please write about their appearance as well, you may use face claims, pictures, etc.​
Modification
the "experiment" about them, as they have new strengths they should also have weaknesses​
Background
They don't have to remember their background​







♡coded by uxie♡




Writing prompts for your writing sample
you may use a past roleplay post for your writing sample
  • Your character's day before being abducted.
  • Your character's trials and tests of their abilities.
  • Your character doing an activity, habit, hobby in their room.
  • Your character investigating their room.
  • Describe your character in a fight, how do they fight?
  • Describe your character's temperament, examples, how do they show it?
 
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Merrit Anderson
The Dragon

He walked a few blocks for the sake of it, the cool night air and the feeling of solid pavement beneath his feet helped him feel more grounded in the moment. The itching foot, his parents had called it. Merrit wasn't sure if the phenomena was something that had been born into him or had come later with experience, having spent most of his life being moved from place to place. Either way, he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. The empty pack of cigarettes on his nightstand had beckoned him to go outside with an excuse to roam which he couldn't resist.

A couple of fresh packs in his pocket, Merrit wandered down the street until he found a place to rest, propping himself up against an older brick building covered in far more than it's fair share of graffiti. A purple octopus playing the drums was still visible under the street-light. The absurdity of it brought a smile to his face. If spray paint had been his preferred medium, he'd likely have come back later to add to the wall. Perhaps the octopus artist would consider a giraffe with a saxophone a worthy addition to the band.

Putting the thoughts of animal-graffiti aside, he leaned his head back on the brick wall, head tilted up to the sky with his eyes closed. The city had it's perks, but a beautiful starlit sky wasn't one of them. Still, there was comfort to be had at night, with less people around and no one concerned about one more figure taking up space on the street.

With the grace of habit, Merrit pulled out the fresh pack of smokes and a beat up lighter that may or may not have originally belonged to one of his roommates. He rolled the pad of his thumb across the wheel, striking up a quick flame that flickered and died. His eyebrow raised at the sight, equal parts amused and exasperated with his luck tonight. It seemed to be running short lately—threatening to become a trend.

Instead of getting back up and heading to the store, Merrit pocketed the empty lighter and gave his surroundings a quick scan. A woman rushing out from a diner, a couple walking together on the opposite side of the street. The nightlife in this area wasn't particularly abundant, so most people passing through had better places to be. The only thing he might have to worry about was the scurry of something further down the alley that might have been a street cat or one of New York's famously large rats.

Not the kind of rat I'm worried about, at least.

He leaned forward and cupped his hands around the cigarette, summoning a familiar warmth to the palm of his hands. An orange glow emanated from his skin, not on fire exactly, but hot enough to serve as a substitute to the empty BIC. The light illuminated his face, revealing the dark circles under his eyes from six-months lack of sleep. Metahumans. A word straight out of a comic book and something he'd never thought he'd see on the headlines of every website, news channel, and political campaign out there. The hot topic of seemingly every conversation, not to mention how it dominated his own train of thoughts as well. It was one thing to know that you were different, it was another thing entirely to find out that there were others like you around the globe. Merrit took a deep drag, held it and let the warmth of the smoke seep into his body.

For whatever it was worth, the so-called professionals didn't appear to be making much progress getting the answers either. It was probably a good thing for Merrit, but truth be told a small, almost guilty part of him had been hoping for some sort of useful information to come up from having everything out in the open. Ever since the reveal it had felt like an invisible clock had started ticking in the background of his life and he was waiting for the buzzer to go off.

He exhaled, laughing under his breath. Watching as a plume of smoke escaped into the night air.


location info
mood: uncertain
outfit info
N?A
coded by natasha.

Merrit
The Reluctant Dragon
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    full name
    Merrit Anderson
    nicknames
    Fafnir, (please let me know if you've got suggestions!)
    age
    22
    date of birth
    September 23rd
    gender
    Male
    sexuality
    Demi-pansexual
    Time Since Capture
    1 year
    occupation
    University Student
coded by natasha.




Verity Meer
Unknown Variable
  • i
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    full name
    Verity Meer
    Nicknames
    V, Experiment S.S04F, Number 4
    Age
    23
    date of birth
    Sept 2nd
    gender
    Female
    sexuality
    Homosexual
    Risk Level
    WIP
    occupation
    WIP
coded by natasha.


Quinn
Still Hoping for the Best
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    full name
    Quinn [Last name pending], Codename: Kestrel
    nicknames
    Little Bird (please let me know if you've got suggestions!)
    age
    18
    date of birth
    July 3rd
    gender
    Female
    sexuality
    Bisexual
    Time in Facility
    She's been there for 10 years
    Danger to Staff
    Low-Risk
coded by natasha.
 
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Sondor
The Half-Light Angel
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    full name
    Sondor
    Nicknames
    Sonny, Dark Angel, Half-Light Angel, Eugene Gray
    age
    25
    date of birth
    Have fun with this one
    gender
    Male
    sexuality
    Omnisexual
    Morality
    Chaotic Neutral
    Danger Level
    Special Consideration
coded by natasha.
 

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    • We stopped checking for monsters under the bed when we realized they were inside of us.
      CASSIEL
      enter
    coded by natasha.



Within the bright, plant-filled space, there was a nest of pillows and blankets strategically placed in a corner of the room. Curled up in the center of the organized chaos was Cassiel, knees curled to his chest with his arms wrapped around them as his wings circled protectively around his small frame. He was facing the wall, his back to the window or camera that staff could use to monitor the experiment when he was spending time in his room. The reason for his secrecy was buried against his knees, the soft fabric of his pants soaking up the tears that were trickling steadily down his cheeks.

Some members on the staff didn't like it when he cried, they said it made him weak and so he learned early on that when his emotions became too strong to contain, it was better to hide the product of his sorrow from the ever-watching eyes. He swallowed down the sob that tried to break free, his large wings doing well to hide the shaking of his shoulders as they curled tighter around him.

Today's test had been harder than previous experiments.

The scientists had wanted to gage how lethal his sharpened feathers could be against a living organism and Cassiel had nearly tried to bolt from the testing room when one of the guards had brought in a fluffy rabbit. At first he had adamantly refused to cause harm to the innocent animal but the guards had "encouraged" him via their shock batons they loved to carry around. After several long minutes of painful shocks, Cassiel eventually caved in with a heart-broken sob.

It had taken him several long moments to change the structure of his feathers, as if his entire body was rebelling against the horrid task he was being forced to carry out. As he had approached the oblivious rabbit munching on a carrot and raised one wing, Cassiel had squeezed his eyes closed and turned his face away, but shutting out his sight did little to prevent him from feeling the warmth splatter on his pant legs or feel it dripping from the feathers of his wing.

The test was labeled a success and Cassiel was hosed down and dried off before being returned to his room. Once there he took the hottest shower his body could withstand, scrubbing at his skin with soap over and over against until his delicate skin was red and irritated but nothing could cleanse the vile feeling skittering over his body. His stomach had taken that moment to rebel and the shower helped wash the bile down the drain. When the water turned cold Cassiel got out and dried off, dressing in some sweat pants and a cozy hoodie, curling up in nest where he stayed for the rest of his break period.

'I want to go home...' A small voice whispered inside of him, but what good would it do? He couldn't even remember if he had a home to return to; his life prior to waking up in this hellish place was a dark void that stretched out in front of him. Even if he did escape, where could he hide with the giant pair of wings that signaled he wasn't human anymore?

Sniffling quietly, he tucked his face tighter against his knees as the tears continued to spill down his flushed cheeks; a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what horrid thing he was going to have to do next.

Would the torture ever end?
 
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  • Abraham Clark
    Pink Mist Project
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      full name
      Abraham Clark
      nicknames
      Pink Mist, Abe
      age
      24
      date of birth
      April 25th
      gender
      Male
      sexuality
      Homosexual
      time in facility
      2 Years
      occupation
      College Student
    coded by natasha.
 
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"It was consumed by rage when it forged my very bones..."​



  • Screenshot-2022-05-11-11-13-32.png
    Name: Tatsuya "Diaval" (had no last name, but wanted one anyways. Doesn't remember their name now though.)
    Title: The Leviathan
    Nicknames: The Lizard(used as an insult), Lord of Hunger(sort of a running joke. They don't seem to mind), Six(what they prefer to be called), Rage
    Age: 27(technically ageless)
    Gender: Genderless. (Mate if YOU had adaption would you stay stuck in one form for long?)
    Sexuality: Assumed to be asexual/demiromantic
    Height: 6' 6'' ft(can change according to their abilities)
    Weight: Six is unusually heavy, weighing at around 250lbs even as malnourished as they are
    Eye Color: Red due to their lack of pigment(can change)
    Hair color: Brownish grey(also can change)
    Hair Style: Six always wears their hair loose and messy, falling down to their shoulders. They know it makes them look like an escaped mental asylum patient and doesn't care.
    Scars: For a melee fighter, Six is almost strangely unmarred. They have pale, somewhat noticeable scars all over their ribs, back and stomach. They have circuit-like "branding" on their scalp and neck with something resembling claw marks along their arms and legs. The scars all appear faded, as if it has been years. This appears to be a by-product of their regeneration. Some patches of their skin is covered in scales.
    Date of Birth: Unknown
    Time Since Capture: Over 10 years. Give or take a few months.
    Mate: N/A(Not Decided)


Years ago...
"Wolves asleep amidst the trees..."
Their voice was cracked, lips chapped from days without water. They couldn't remember the last time they had eaten. Their voice sounded horrifying, grating like the snarl of a reptilian beast, yet Tatsuya couldn't find it in themselves to care.
"Bats all a swaying in the breeze....But one soul lies anxious wide awake...Fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths...."
One bloodied finger scratched meaningless symbols on the floor of their cell, their one remaining eye bloodshot and listless as they began to tilt slowly to one side.
"For the seekers, heartless, cold...Paid in coin of gold....He comes he'll go leave naught behind....But heartache and woe.....Deep, deep woe..."
They had forgotten the lyrics again. With a sudden burst of meaningless rage, their lips drew back from broken fangs to snarl and grimace as their barely-healed face began to crack under the pressure. A hunger spasm shook them from head to tail, the strange limb dead and cold against their emaciated ribs. Painstakingly they began to fall from the position they had been curled up in, bullet wounds on their spine stretching and grinding against fractured bones.
"As the seekers, brave and bold...Paid in coin of gold...He'll chop and slice you...Cut and dice you....Eat you up whole....Eat you whole."
Was this what death felt like? To starve to death once more?
Tatsya...no Tatayu?
NO. THAT IS NOT MY NAME. The beast roared inside their mind. The rage engulfed them once more, jolting their shattering body with a sudden burst of strength and dragging deep claw marks against the wall. Tat...Tatsuya. Yes. Right.
HUNGRY. FEED ME.
Did they actually say that out loud? They couldn't remember, couldn't see past the rage clouding their eyes. Staggering to their knees, they stumbled, claws leaving gorges in the floor as they staggered their way in a blind rampage. Their tail lashed behind them, slamming into the walls, the floor, cracking delicate bones and repairing them in a heartbeat.
"FEED ME." Six roared, Tatsuya disappearing in a heartbeat. "FEED ME."
They slammed claws against the steel door and allowed the rage consume them.
FEED ME!
Pain. Movement was pain. Breathing was pain. The experiments had carved something out of her, and replaced it with...with something. Something that clawed and bit at her senses. Even the hospital monitors seemed to agree, beeping in tandem to her headache.
Her ribs felt like they were splintering apart. She stifled a hiss, and tried to move her numb hand to retrieve a glass of water on the nightstand.
Her fingers were covered with downy feathers. She flinched away in disgust, trying to forget the sight. Her eyesight blurred, her eyeballs feeling too large for her skull. She let her head fall, curling up as much as she could without hurting, and tried to ignore the pain.
She didn't know how long it was before a voice finally spoke to her, and not at her. Spoke to her as if she was a sentient being and not a beast to poke and prod at.
"Awfully rude of you to ignore a new friend like that." The voice was scratchy and ragged, almost baritone, and the tone sounded amused. Something told her that this voice was most often used for growling and snarling, not speaking, something that told her this creature was dangerous and not worth the risk.
Yet she ignored it anyways. Looking up through pain-addled eyes, the figure slowly blurred into focus.
They were...strange to say the least. A smile that stretched too wide and revealed too many large, sharp fangs, arms spread out in welcome with each finger tipped with claws, and paw-like feet that were bare. They wore a hospital gown and nothing else, brown hair messily falling to their shoulders and covering mismatched eyes. One eye was red, the other an inky black. What appeared to be a reptilian tail trailed behind them, and their hands were covered with makeshift wrist wraps made from bandages. A single number was stitched on their collar. Six.
"Your experiment doesn't involve cutting out your tongue does it? Call me Six. What's ya name, quiet one?"
Somehow, she found the energy to speak. "Aethra. Call me Aethra."
"Well then I'll show you around, Aethra." Six didn't even seem to care that Aethra had feathers and bony protrusions poking out of her shoulders and back, or how her canines were too long and practically cutting into her lip. "There's quite the rowdy bunch around here. Call me Six." Six offered a large paw-like hand. "So, what do ya say, Aethra? Want a tour of the Seeker's facility."
As dangerous as it was to shelter under the Leviathan's wings, it was tempting the same way the scent of blood may be to a starving animal.
...Why not?
"...nice to meet you...SIx."
WIP
 
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Man, writer's block has hit hard with this one XD. It's mostly finished now (still have to do the appearance and extras, but everything else that's on there is basically finished). He's done!

Cooper Thorn
  • 01
    name
    Thorn, Cooper J
    nickname
    Coop, CJ
    title
    The Count; Count
    gender
    Male (He/Him)
    sexulaity
    bisexual
    age
    twenty-four (24)
    date of birth
    August 7th
    appearance.

    Height: 6’0’’

    Weight: 148 lbs

    Hair: Brown

    Eyes: Brown

    General: Cooper is fairly well-built, but he no longer has the physique of a rugby player. Due to his leg injury, he lost a fair bit of the weight and muscle he had built up in his peak. However, since his entrance into the facility, he has been steadily building up some of what had been lost. But it’s a long process in his case. He lets his hair grow shaggy (more due to laziness than liking its appearance). When he’s in the mood, he has the perfect, college-aged frat boy “I’m invincible and the world knows it” look down pat.

    Modifications: None. Needles are an absolute no-go! Or…they were.

    Style: There are a number of holdovers from Cooper’s days as a college athlete still integrated into his style. He wears letterman and leather jackets, often paired with loose jeans or athletic wear. Sneakers are a must. If the clothes aren’t something he could theoretically play a pick-up game in, they won’t be something he’s wearing.
    personality.

    Likes: YA Novels, Rugby, Exercise, Sour Candy, Honesty, Warm Days, Martial Arts Tournaments (but absolutely NOT MMA), Fuzzy Socks, Finger Foods

    Dislikes: Rain, Beer (claims he likes it though), Worms, Grass Stains, Laundry, Fancy Tableware, Debates

    Hates With A Burning Passion: Rhetorical Questions

    Growing up, Cooper was always confident in his brawn, but never in his brain. He has never felt like he had the intelligence needed to make a difference, and that has led to him being accepting of everything, for better or for worse. He doesn’t second guess people. He’ll take whatever anyone says at face value, and he trusts the world to have good intentions. However, this lack of confidence leads Cooper to accept even the things he knows are problematic. He also defaults to letting other people lead the way, devaluing whatever feedback he could give and following whoever seems to want to lead.

    Despite his seeming lack of academic gifts (and confidence), Cooper has a lot of wisdom to offer. He’s gotten through life so far with his unique brand of intentional naivete. He knows that if he looks for the best in people, he’ll find redeeming qualities in anyone. This viewpoint often leads to happiness in the end, even if the road to get there is rocky, so Cooper presents himself as very happy-go-lucky, no matter the circumstances.

    Cooper really enjoys team environments, though he isn’t very competitive. Throughout his schooling, he embraced the “dumb jock” stereotype as all he would ever be. And he had a lot of fun with it, laughing, partying, and roughhousing with people who didn’t care how smart he was. Except it was never really him; it just seemed to be the persona people saw as most acceptable for someone like him.

    His insecurities have ruled his life, though most people wouldn’t know him well enough to realize that (and he doesn’t fully himself). He acts the fool to prevent being called one outright, afraid that something will change and he’ll be once again kicked out of the bubble he thinks he belongs in. So he jokes about his insecurities, somehow believing that those jokes stop his doubts from becoming real.
01
02
03
04
code by @Nano



Cooper stared at the upsidedown poster peeking out from behind the right side up book he was holding. Except that wasn’t quite right; his hair hanging towards the ground and the redness of his cheeks told a different story.

His feet shifted and knocked against each other in an anxious rhythm as he tried to distract himself from the uneasiness quite literally in his stomach. The past month had brought countless tests on the sensitivity of his remnant emotions. He sat now with blood drawn from a rat, isolated into a dark room to scrabble fruitlessly at life as it knew death was coming. Uneasiness built to terror until he felt the exact moment the rat’s heart gave out from stress. The emotions calmed. The cycle repeated. The terror returned.

That’s how he found himself hanging upsidedown off his raised bed, reading a generic YA vampire novel to pass the time. He wondered if the other… subjects? Powered? Experiments? None of those words sounded correct, although the “Seeks” referred to Cooper by at least two of those three names. He wondered if any of the others--like him--took comfort in reading about the creatures they’d supposedly become.

A vampire. Feared throughout the ages; feeding on humans; turning into grotesque, bloated monsters occasionally. And yet they were liked. Romance novels and movies with glittery changes and absurd wars between vampires and werewolves. It comforted him to know that even though he was other, he wasn’t unthinkable. Someone might even think it would be cool to meet him! At least, they would if he ever got to meet anyone besides the Seeks.

Cooper curled up from his perch and into his bed, huddling in a cocoon of blankets, more determined than ever to force himself to pay attention to the words before him.
 
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ENTER PASSWORD
  • please


Profile
Name: Yusuf Anden

Title: Wendigo

Age: 26

DoB: 01/23

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Pansexual

Time in Captivity: 2 years

Soulmate: TBD
Visage
Height: 5'9" / 176cm

Weight: 143lbs / 65kg

Body Type: Ectomorph

Body Shape: Inverted Triangle

Markings: scars from experiments / surgery spread throughout body; patient number on right upper arm

Modifications: one piercing on each earlobe

Distinguishers: looks older than his age


Height: 10'3" / 313cm

Weight: 317lbs/ 144kg

Body Shape: legs, neck, and head of a buck; black and gray fur on legs and elbows; brown fur from shoulders up; loose skin on lower, back, and side of abdomen; lack of skin in center of torso; decomposing flesh in upper body; body-length arms; four fingers per hand; hoof nails on each finger

Markings: stretch marks on non-fur covered skin; patient number on right upper arm
Abilities
Current training objective: shift an isolated part of the body

Abilities
Upon command, subject can shift into Wendigo form. Average time to shift completely takes about 82.2 seconds. Subject reportedly experiences immense pain upon shifting.

The shifting process not only includes growth of bones and development of fur, but organs growing to supply the necessary functions for the larger body. Nerves and skin tear and break; antler bones grow from parts of the skull that protrude past head. Subject's senses typically are in disarray for about 206.5 seconds post shifting process due to physical shock. Memories from human form are preserved post-shifting.

Abilities in wendigo form include enhanced senses, enhanced speed, enhanced strength, enhanced agility, enhanced regeneration, ability to digest any object, ability to withstand extreme cold weather, and vocal manipulation.

Known weaknesses in wendigo form are heat and hunger; enhanced regeneration is dependent on whether or not subject is well fed. Abilities will be enhanced and body will strengthen (skin will grow, muscles will grow, etc) after eating an appropriate meal, but when too hungry, abilities wane, bones gradually grow more brittle, flesh begins to fall, and instinct begins to take over. Human meat is the most effective, with other meats being the second best for its diet. Vegetables, and nonliving substances may be digested in wendigo form, but do not assist in the body's wellbeing. Subject can only currently only last about 24 in Wendigo form.

Shifting from wendigo form to original human form takes an average of about 94.9 seconds; depending on how long subject was in wendigo form, subject may lose consciousness post shifting. Subject experiences temporary hypertension for about 6 - 29 hours after returning to human form. Occasionally has excess skin that tightens within 72 - 168 hours of return to human form, also dependent on time spent in wendigo form. The longer spent in wendigo form before returning to human form, the longer the subject will struggle with increased blood pressure, the longer it may take for any excess skin to tighten, and the more probable it will become for the subject to lose consciousness.

Post surgery, subject has experienced slight enhanced senses in human form. Senses are more sensitive immediately after returning to human form following a shift into wendigo form. Subject also has a similar diet of a wendigo following their first shifting; mammal meat is all that can sustain subject's health, however, subject cannot digest inanimate objects in human form as it can in wendigo form.
History

Yusuf's life has revolved around science since his conception.

He was born to two extraordinary pioneers in the medical field, both having met through projects they had taken up together over the years. Obsessed with chemical biology and discovering what the human body could truly be capable of, his parents found kindred spirits in one another: similar intelligence, similar morals, similar passions, and both had the understanding that no matter what, their work came first--even before one another.

Yusuf seemed to inherit their exceptional intelligence and passion for science, having decided early on in life that he wanted pursue both biochemical and chemical engineering.

He's always had a fondness for the unknown and solving the unsolved, and for some reason, the limits of the human body was the biggest puzzle he attached himself to. It definitely was an influence from his parents, but explaining what wasn't explained in the mind was a life long devotion of his. The mental health field has always been so unstable and had a lack of definitive answers, and he wanted to know what was actually happening in the brain--and what it was truly capable of.

It was an excitement that lead all of his interests, and experimenting was one of this favorite things about science. Just getting down and dirty, figuring things out on your own, just like a puzzle, was almost an addiction. Maybe that's what drew him to chemical engineering; after all, what was more exciting than playing around with chemicals, mixing and matching to see what could be made? Science was nothing more than an exciting maze.

Yusuf excelled in all of his academics and graduated high school at the early age of 16, and got his doctorate at 24. Apprenticeships began early on because of his parents and their connections, with an exceptionally rare opportunity joining them in their work for the government's pursuits in the medical field.

See, when Yusuf was only a toddler, both his parents were offered positions working on a confidential project, and ended up devoting themselves more than they ever had before. It was no surprise that they were given the job--their work in genetic engineering was very notable, after all.

Originally, they had waited to have a child until they decided they could afford to not put their work first anymore, but the offer came not long after, and it was just too good to pass up. As a result, the time to set aside science for their family never really came around. Yusuf's childhood home life ended up being quite lonely, but he still built something of a connection to his parents the few times they could bond.

Above all else, however, what he held for his parents had always been admiration. So, when they offered to let him begin as their apprentice until he could officially work with them--especially after he learned how much they fought to allow it--there was no way he could say no. The idea of his occupation being mostly set for life was a bit unsettling without knowing the specifics, but it was something his family vouched for, so he had little doubts that it would be something he would regret to dismiss.

His assumptions were definitely correct. Yusuf absolutely loved his job. He was given all the the tools he needed for it, and since the subject was right up his alley, he was eating every bit of it up. Similar to his parents, Yusuf immersed himself in this work, until it turned into borderline obsession. All of this spiraled into the ultimate reckless decision of his, although it was still one that he probably wouldn't regret either, not even now.

At 24, Yusuf volunteered himself as a test subject.

The removal, manipulation, replacement, and creation of memories had been something under the works for years, and was the project Yusuf had dedicated himself to. Once it seemed to finally be perfected, he volunteered himself as a subject as a willing contributor to the experiment. They had been just about ready to take it off his hands and have him only work on the development of weapons, something he had been assigned to simultaneously with his manipulative amnesia work. It would've been completely taken over by those with higher authority, and Yusuf couldn't just let it slip from his fingers--not with all the work he put in, and not with how attached he had gotten. He wanted to be right alongside its development until the very end, even if it meant he was no longer using his own hands to do it.

He didn't know what being an experiment truly meant, but Yusuf's volunteering was a welcome suggestion, especially with his only family in the country working on the projects themselves. However, as their son, his parents demanded to be part of his regulations, and unsurprisingly broke one of the key rules as staff: fraternizing with the experiments. They were dismissed from their positions and became subjects themselves. His mother passed about a year into experimentation, and Yusuf and his father had their memories of their past lives completely erased.

With that came the end of the Anden family, at the hands of the Balam Sanctuary.
Psyche
Human Form
Yusuf is a quiet subject; tends to psychologically challenge staff and tends to be quite disrespectful. Is typically obedient, but has made two calculated attempts at escape since his arrival. Staff is recommended to be especially cautious around him, as his obedience is most likely used as a tool to aid in his plans of escape. Cannot be left without much to do, and will get irritable if not being mentally challenged in some manner.

Wendigo Form
Despite his more calculating and intellectual human demeanor, in wendigo form, Yusuf tends to be more reckless and instinct driven. He will injure and disregard others and lacks a sense of comradery, even going as far as to hunt for fun without consuming the meat of the deceased creature. Yusuf in wendigo form attacks with great calculation and avoids simple brute force, unless is a more efficient option. Has a tendency to avoid making a mess on itself out of its prey; also tends to attack researchers in wendigo form. Is not as obedient unless coerced.

Virtues​
Intelligent
Yusuf has always been an extremely bright and gifted child. His intelligence is practically that of a genius; his memory, perception, and intuition is impeccable, and critical thinking is something that comes beyond easy for him. He's able to think fast and efficiently, as well as objectively--determining the best conclusion without letting his emotions get in the way is a skill he's exhibited since early on in his childhood. Yusuf's extraordinary mind also holds great creativity and innovativeness, which only servers his intelligence well.
Philomath
Yusuf has always been someone in search to learn. He wants to know more, always has constant questions in his mind, and is always happy to discover new things, even non-science related.
Diligent
When he puts his mind to something, Yusuf makes sure it is accomplished. His commitments have always been his top priority, and his work ethic has always been strong. He takes great care and pride in any pursuit of his, and always has high expectations to reach that he sets himself.
Thick Skinned
Part of Yusuf's objective nature resulted in him being quite unshakeable in the face of the the words and opinions of others. Even when he builds personal connection, it's rare for him to get his feelings hurt or take things like failures, setbacks, and insults to heart. This strong nature of his is also what contributes to him being so bold in all of his actions--he lacks the sensitivity to fear a negative outcome, or at least to let the fear interrupt his actions.
Patient
Despite his cold demeanor, Yusuf is actually a relatively patient and flexible man. He may get annoyed, but he's not one to exactly lose his temper or composure easily, and patience was needed for his meticulous work over the years. Plus, things don't always go as one plans, and that reigned with extreme truth during experimenting in the science field. He had to be flexible enough to tackle when things go awry, which resulted in him being much less stubborn in general than one may assume.
Vices​
Insensitive
It's hard to say if this is objectivity in excess, or if Yusuf just naturally lacks compassion, but thinking of others is something he's never really done. He rarely considers the feelings of others in his actions and tends to be unnecessarily harsh and rude, and tends to lack empathy. He's shameless in his blindly opportunistic nature, as well, and has no care for what others think of him, making it a vice he boldly flaunts.
Assuming
Yusuf knows how intelligent he is, and as a result, is quick to make assumptions about people and situations around him. Sure, he tends to be correct a lot of the time, but that doesn't mean this arrogance in forming preconceptions won't come back around to bite him. It's a bit of consolation to know that he isn't stubborn in these opinions, but that doesn't change the fact that he will act on his inferences, even if it is not completely confirmed to be the truth. This also extends to his interactions with people, making him quite judgmental, even if it extends into hypocrisy.
Obsessive
When Yusuf sets his mind to something, he will completely devote himself to it--this diligent nature of his is usually one for praise, but it tends to also result in obsession in his commitments. Yusuf will prioritize his work above all else, including himself, which also results in him consciously making reckless decisions that put himself at risk for the sake of work.
Manipulative
When Yusuf wants something, he goes after it. If something is in his way, he will not hesitate to get rid of it--and, a good number of times, that something is a person. Even if it's to avoid the smallest problem, Yusuf will not hesitate to utilize his intelligence in a more deceptive way, and is quick to manipulate and even take advantage of others for his own gain.
Humorless
He's just not funny. He's not funny himself, he doesn't find many things funny, and he just doesn't laugh. He doesn't take much humor in anything. Amusement is not something that comes easy for him; only intrigue and excitement.
Sample
Yusuf knows a lot of things he is unable to explain. He knows, for example, that his amnesia is a result of a brain trauma and or disease, although he isn't sure where he learned that information. He knows that the fingertips are the most sensitive nerve endings--although it certainly didn't feel like it at this moment--and he knows that taste and smell are simultaneously the second senses a baby develops. He also knows that eating the brain of another human, even if cooked, can cause a degenerative brain disorder called kuru; he knows that a day without eating brings the human body well within stage one of starvation; he knows that there is no way in hell the corpse in front of him his moving its finger to beckon him over like he's seeing rught now, because corpses don't move.

He's eaten human meat before, just never as a human. In his second form, he wasn't able to stop his instincts from taking over and devouring the first corpse they threw in front of him, although he tried to. He only lasted about ten minutes.

Right now, it's been five hours since he was sat in this empty room, and about a day since he's eaten anything at all. He was wondering what they were going to test by starving him, and he got his answer when they thrust a dead body onto him after locking him inside a new cube.

The feeling he got when they threw the body in front of him was unlike anything he's ever experienced. He may have severe amnesia, but this much, he was sure of. This vile feeling, one that made him feel primal and dirty, that made him feel like his skull was ready to bulge out of his skin, that made pain curl into his torso in a way that made him start to shake in his seat, it was one he wished he never was introduced to.

He was determined to not succumb to the demon they were trying to pull out of him. For five hours, Yusuf sat on the floor with his legs crossed and eyes wide open, humming absent mindedly to himself, with his arms folded neatly in front of him.

Staring felt close to temptation, but he knew that if he closed his eyes, it'd only bring him closer to his other senses, and his Achilles heel was that delicious stench filling up the room. If he kept his eyes open and on every speck in the popcorn ceiling, if he kept humming to keep his mind busy, he could wait this out. They could deem this as a failure, and he would be brought back to his room and away from the dead body.

Somewhere along the line, though, vibrations in his throat died off, and he started to see the color of the corpse's funk. A deep, taunting red that was leaning into pink, starting from the hint of tongue he could see peeking out of the ajar mouth, to the dark purple wounds in its back. Bullet wounds, most likely, although Yusuf could tell the metal had been removed just by taking a whiff.

Bad idea.

Its finger was twitching, now. It was beckoning him forward. He swallowed again for what felt like the millionth time in the past thirty seconds, but no matter how much he tried he'd never catch up to the salvation that spilled past his lips. The spit produced faster than he could manage, so much so that he was concerned for his body--that wasn't normal at all. He briefly wondered if he was even still in his human form. It certainly didn't feel like it.

"Ugh..."

Yusuf let out a groan as he twisted his body against the wall, fingers pressing against the wall like it'd bring him reprieve. He was in pain. He was aching. Every fibre of him wanted to sink his teeth into that body, to taste blood and flesh, but he couldn't let himself.

He wasn't sure how much time passed as he started pacing close to the wall. There were moments when his frustration built so much that he punched, sometimes at the room, sometimes at his own gut. His hands would run through and pull at his hair or pull down at the skin at his face, he'd cry out or shout, or even growl.

His mind started feeling dizzy from it all. He shouted mixes between threats and pleas, for them to take him out of there, to stop the hunger, to stop him, anything. There were also warnings, some that he felt like he couldn't breathe, that he felt like his body was aching, that he felt like he might faint.

Yusuf slid against the wall near the corpse. Getting a good smell eased himself, just barely. He inched closer with every sway to and fro, sometimes pausing to thump his head against the white paint, or to wipe at the tears in the corners of his eyes.

At some point, he found himself slipping his hands against the arms of the corpse. He lowered himself, pressing his nose against the flesh. It reeked.

Everything was dizzy. The room was blurry, the waves of red started to become more and more bold. He glanced down to look at the finger of the corpse, to see if it was still beckoning him, but it was gone.

He cried. Tears streamed down his face as he chewed the bone as slowly as he could manage, like every bite was sticking needles inside him. Really, though, it wasn't painful at all. It felt so, so good.

He took another bite, this time at the flesh of their arm. He felt like an animal, he felt primal--and it was liberating.

He barely remembered what happened afterwards. It was so fast--his hands and his mouth moved faster than his eyes, still watery, could follow.

Suddenly, he was drenched in blood. His hands, his clothes, even his hair was completely covered. His tongue swiped at the thick liquid on his chin as the door to the room opened. He was breathing heavy, and although he looked at them with contempt, didn't fight as they grabbed him and escorted him out of the room. In his wake, only twenty nails lay, drenched in blood.

Yusuf thought about if he'd get kuru and crazy, or if he already was. He thought about how feel his stomach felt, about how he was both more exhausted and energized than he's ever felt in his life, and that--and that, even though he wished he had lasted, Yusuf thought about how he wanted more. He wanted more.

He had just eaten, but he was starving.
Profile
Name: Loraine Pope

Title: Elemental

Age: 21

DoB: 08/10

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Time in Captivity: 4 years

Soulmate: TBD
Visage
Height: 5'4" / 163cm

Weight: 119lbs / 54kg

Body Type: Mesomorph

Body Shape: Inverted Triangle

Markings: scars from experiments / surgery spread throughout body; patient number on right upper arm

Modifications: one piercing on each earlobe

Distinguishers: crystals protruding from body


Height: 6'1" / 186cm

Weight: 194lbs / 88kg

Body Shape: deep purple/black body made of rock; white crystals protruding from head; rocks forming limbs are separated and get smaller the further out from body; no feet or hands

Markings: patient number on right upper arm
Abilities
Current training objective: increase weight manipulation limit

Abilities
Subject may control all nonliving. non-manmade, solid parts of the Earth, such as dirt, rocks, crystals, etc. Subject must be touching the ground when manipulating the Earth in human form, and has a weight limit less than or equal to twice the weight of her human body.

Crystals grow sporadically from subject's body, typically around her helix, shoulders, the outline of her vertebrae, hips, inner wrist, and the outline of her talus. Crystals exhibit the behavior of natural body hair that grow over time, but can be retracted back into the body manually by the subject. Control of bodily crystals typically cause subject physical pain, but subject does not experience pain from their natural growth or from the crystals being trimmed or cut with foreign objects. Crystals also appear in large sizes following a shifting from elemental form to human form, or during a time where subject uses their abilities.

Subject may shift from human form to an elemental form, which takes an average of about 16.5 seconds. Subject's skin hardens and mimics the strength of rock. Does not have functioning legs in elemental form, but has an ability to float to a maximum of 4 feet above ground. Crystals also grow to protrude from subject's face in replacement of the human face, which is noted to be the most painful aspect of shifting.

Subject's earth manipulation abilities are the same both as human and in rock form, although has more fluid and successful results when in rock form. In both forms, subject has heightened speed, strength, and regenerative abilities.

Subject takes, on average, 11.0 seconds to shift to human form, and crystals retract into face during this process.
History
Loraine has never spent more than two years in the same household.

As the child of a mother who lived victim to crippling addiction, her family lost custody of her early on in her childhood. As a result, most of her memories growing up were of her many foster homes. A couple were nice, she'll admit her luck there--but out of all thirteen, it was safe to say that the majority probably shouldn't even babysit, let alone be parents.

Whether it was a couple who just wanted the money and didn't bother providing more than one meal a day, or senile grandparents that had her sleeping with trash littering the floors, Loraine would sit and wait for the next discarding and transfer of guardianship with the same expression. Even in homes with quaint families that treated her far better, at the end of the day, it was made clear that she did not and would not ever be more than someone who was a mere guest, if not an intruder.

It was absolutely no surprise that she was exposed to drugs at a young age, especially considering her parents' history, and there was still no surprise when she fell victim to addiction at the young age of fifteen. She knew how it made her look, both to those at school and the foster families she was assigned to, even to her social worker, but at some point during her childhood she had stopped caring.

It took one visit to the hospital when she was seventeen for Seekers to find an easy target in a child flung around her entire life, who was believed to be a nuisance to anyone she came across. At least, that's how she saw it.

In the four years she's been held captive, Loraine has at least been set free of her addiction due to the obvious situation of confinement. Although her first instinct had been to fight at first, for some reason, a realization hit her early on in the testing: what was the point of leaving?

She had nowhere to go. She had no real aspirations in life. She had no one to return to. There was no real purpose of her life; no wonder she had been kidnapped in broad daylight without any fuss. No one wanted her--she hardly even wanted herself.

She came to accept her imprisonment, as painful as some of the testing was. Loraine decided there was no point other than to just let life go on in the blur that it was, until fate came to an end.
Psyche
Human Form
Following her frequent outbursts within the first month or so of capture, Lori has grown to be overwhelmingly obedient, even when given opportunities to go against the orders of the staff. She rarely fights or shows ill will, and is often simply quiet and still, even in her cell; often staring out the window or tracing mindless shapes into whatever surface is nearby.

Elemental Form
In elemental form, Lori retains the same memories and attitude as in human form.

Virtues​
Independent
Lori has been alone since before she can remember, and after everything she's been through, being able to depend on herself and only herself really became more of a way to keep her head above the water. Before being captured as a test subject, she was always sticking her nose in any decision that involved her and had to find work early on to make sure she could provide herself with necessities that wouldn't always be given. Life was always changing in the foster care system, so she also developed an ability to adapt to most situations--it's what really contributes to her composed nature, always prepared to keep her head on straight in order to tackle whatever comes her way.
Creative
Although she couldn't always indulge in it as she wanted, Lori has always been someone with a creative mind. She took a particular interest in the visual arts and was frequently doodling as a kid, and she distinctly remembers getting in trouble once for staying out too late covering the side walk in colorful chalk. Although there have been a few time periods where her artistry was stifled, that little spark in her has never really died, even after four years in captivity.
Kind
Kindness has always been a strong virtue of hers. She may not always be as empathetic of everyone, but Lori is always ready to help others without batting an eye, as if it's second nature. Even after everything she's been through, she's preserved a gentle and calming character deep within her that has yet to shake. She's also grown to be pretty open minded after coming from her more than humble backgrounds, which only serves her benignity.
Intuitive
Lori had to look out for herself early on in her life, and since then, as experienced all kinds of people and struggled in all types of settings--almost like a sixth sense, her intuition has grown extremely strong. When she has a gut feeling, Lori follows it on instinct, and it has yet to fail her so far. She also ended up being just as observant for the same reasons, always quick to notice things in her surroundings to aid in her intuition.
Assertive
A positive result of her independent nature is the assertiveness to pursue the things she's needed to over the years. Fear have little chance against her strong will and bravery. If she cowered at everything or everyone that was intimidating, Lori doubts she would have been able to stay afloat this long. This trait of hers also tends to be a bit surprising, given her reserved disposition.
Vices​
Insecure
Despite her being assertive, Lori has little to no confidence in herself and her self esteem is pretty much non-existent. She's grown up constantly being looked down upon for her background, and especially after her drug addiction, loving herself is something that feels pretty much foreign at this point. This is probably the biggest contributor to her pessimism. Lori is always expecting the worst out of people and out of any situation.
Stubborn
When Lori makes up her mind about something, she can be surprisingly stern about it. It's rare for her to change it or give in unless convinced, and even the latter can be a difficult feat depending on the subject. Part of this is because of her being aware of her strong intuition, and having too many experiences where letting people walk over her only resulted in her being some shitty situations.
Reserved
Before anything else, Lori is quiet. She doesn't open up to people easily, even with something as small as a group project--she's so used to just having her back that it doesn't occur to her to keep up communication. She's always going through things and making up her mind on her own, and only opens up when it comes to the solutions, and even then, only if asked. She's just not talkative in general, really. This is another result of her rough upbringing, full of people that just seemed to have ill intent towards her; people are just a gateway to betrayal for Lori. She's very slow to open up and trust anyone, and is always quick to judge others to determine if they're even worth her kindness.
Impatient
Lori has grown quite tired of everything. She's been through enough to develop an intolerance for most things, and is surprisingly quick to lose her temper. She's not that good at waiting, either. Lori may be good at keeping her composure despite how she's feeling, but that only results in her blowing up on others when pushed to the brink if she's not given enough time to cool off about it. Plus, she may keep her anger silent, but that only means her pettiness will be silent, as well. She can be pretty immature when swept up in annoyance.
Magnanimous
Despite her impatient nature, Lori is too forgiving of others the moment they apologize. Even if she won't like them after making her judgements, that doesn't mean she can't forgive and move on, at least for her sake--just as quick as her anger can occur, it can be swept away. This is a result of her kindness and her insecurities, making her easy to take advantage of if someone figures out her patterns. She rarely has the insecurities, making her easy to take advantage of if someone figures out her patterns. She rarely has the intelligence to catch on when this happens.
Sample
Every morning, Lori wakes up to the crystals on her body being a little longer. Some will press against the mattress, or get catch on her blanket, or scrape against the wall beside her small bed--it doesn't hurt, but the last time she let them grow out too long, one of them accidentally slammed against the wall as she walked through a door frame and fell from her body. The pain was excruciating, so now she knows to never let that happen again.

She wakes up to face the ceiling in a nearly empty room, and feels the pressure of her crystals on her shoulders pushing up from the mattress. She sucks in a breath and pushes it down, down, down back inside, until the pain of retraction is unbearable.

She lost track of how many days or weeks had passed just like this. She slept for what felt like forever, restracted some of her crystals when she woke, and stared at the ceiling until she fell asleep again. She only stood to grab the meal placed on the tray in front of the door every now and then, when her stomach hurt from hunger.

Maybe a few years ago, the woman wouldn't have been able to bear the stillness and the repetiveness, but didn't have much energy to yearn for anything else--and, most of the time, her attention gets caught on the shapes of the popcorn ceiling, enough to be occupied for hours on end.

She traces each indent with her eyes as though they were her hands, like she was painting on them with her fingers--sometimes the shapes would be a flower, and sometimes it'd be cat, and sometimes it wasn't anything but abstract shapes that needed some coloring.

She'd think about how the ceiling could look. She thought about all the things that could fill up the space, the people that would see it and enjoy it if they passed by the room--if it wasn't secluded behind a locked door, of course.

Each day, with the sting of retracting her crystals, she'd feel her mind lift from the heavy body holding it. She'd stare at what could be, as if a wild imagination could fill up the emptiness in the room.

Instead, though, it became heavier. She became heavier. It felt like she became latched onto the bed, at some point, but she never felt the blanket catch or the wall be scraped because she didn't move around them.

She's not sure why they've stopped entering her room for grooming or testing, but Lori stopping wondering about what they were doing a while ago. Really, her time here, on the bed, wasn't so different from how things were before. The weight she felt in the room only became noticable when she wanted to get up.

The next time someone entered the room to move her as a subject, she couldn't turn over to them. They could barely make out her body.

Purple crystals as long as her arms or as thick as her head were stuck all over. They were too big for her to move, and too heavy to retract. Lori only saw her own reflection when she flickered her eyes to the left at the sound of the door opened. The image was still, hollow, and empty. Her cheeks were damp.
 
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⇣⇣ scroll ⇣⇣


🌼​


❀ Name ❀
Marley Foster.
❀ Title ❀
The Bat.
❀ Nicknames ❀
Marles, Lee.
❀ Age ❀
21.
❀ Gender ❀
Male.
❀ Sexuality ❀
Soft Gay.
❀ Time in Facility ❀
One year.
❀ Occupation ❀
University Student.


❀ Appearance ❀
(Picture coming soon!)
Looking at him, one might assume he's a rather delicate guy. He's not very imposing, even when he straightens his shoulders, and the dark circles under his eyes contrast against his usually pallid pale skin and leave him looking tired and not entirely well. The freckles all over his face add some life to him, and his medium-length warm brown curly hair helps convince people he's not actively dying. He has bangs that frame the left side of his face and brush against his thick eyelashes. When he's hot or not in the mood to have his hair in the way, he pulls it up into a messy bun, though pieces of his hair still hang down even if he tries to pull it all back. Not always does he look ill; there are several days, that sometimes last for months, where he looks much more like a healthy college student. If he has been experiencing an episode of insomnia or particularly stressful time in his life, or if he's sick with any number of illnesses, then his face shows just how much he's been struggling clearly. His green eyes are usually bright, though, and he always has a kind smile to offer to anyone who could use some cheering up.

⇢ Height: 5'8

⇢ Build: Scrawny, but not unhealthy. He's thin and has prominent wrist bones, ankle bones and knees. He's not very muscular but he has a fit body, thanks in large part to how much he walks and the diet he has. His shoulders aren't particularly wide and his limbs are lithe; his physique is not overly manly.

⇢ Hair: Naturally curly brown hair that falls just past his shoulders. Sometimes up in a bun or ponytail, but never braided or dressed up fancy. Well, a few chunks might be braided, but he'd only do that if he was bored or feeling stressed. Usually he pushes over to one side and runs his hands through it . . . a lot.

⇢ Eyes: Green. Light green, if you want to get fancy.

⇢ Clothing Style: His go-to style is comfy. He doesn't ever try to wear things to impress people, mostly because he doesn't have time and he doesn't think it's really worth it. He's often in long-sleeved sweaters and jackets with a t-shirt or collared shirt on underneath it, because he likes layers. Skinny jeans, straight-legged jeans or jogger sweatpants are often his pant of choice, but he'll wear shorts when it gets hot outside. He tends to prefer muted or soft colors, like golden yellows and sage greens and sky blues and creams, but he also enjoys simple patterns like stripes and checkered and not bam, in your face! floral print. He does own trendier clothes, like cool jackets and button-ups and expensive jeans. Wearing those is a different story, however. He always wears Converse or Vans, or some cheap slip-ons, with whatever outfit he has on. He also accessorizes rarely - the most he'll put on is a bracelet.

⇢ Scars: He has a straight vertical scar going from his jugular notch to the end of his ribcage, right in the middle of his chest. There's two horizontal scars underneath it from incisions. The scar is from the surgery he had when he was sixteen, and it has since faded. He also has a scar on the back of his left hand from when he got bit by a dog, though it's even more faded than his other major scar, since he got it when he was a child. He has several smaller scars on his hands/wrists from cuts from cat claws. There are small horizontal scars by the outer corner of both of his eyes that are faintly pink.

⇢ Modifications: He has his lobes pierced. Normally wears studs.


❀ Personality ❀
Marley can be labeled very easily: the softie, the sweetie, the gentle soul. Always with a kind word to give someone, he enjoys making people laugh and smile, though he sometimes is shy and has a difficult time approaching strangers, getting flustered and embarrassed. Around people he knows, he is friendly and loves chatting but can occasionally be sarcastic and snappy. He's someone who focuses more on others problems then his own; he rarely addresses his own emotional troubles and tells himself it's fine, he's fine, it's okay, he'll be okay, it's not a big deal, even if it really might be. He tries to look on the bright side of situations and often thinks "well, I could be dead instead," and he doesn't realize that that particular thought is not entirely optimistic. He's stubborn and if someone he cares about is hurting, he will not leave them alone until they let him help them. On the flip side of that, he is wary to let people get close to him, because he has been damaged in the past and somebody in this place made him blind. His trust? Broken. But he knows its not the other experiments fault and doesn't want any of them to feel like he dislikes them.

While he is a softie, he really does not enjoy being stuck with the Seekers. At all. He's always been just a tad bit manipulative growing up, and he's not necessarily afraid to be sneaky in order to help him escape. He sincerely likes forming relationships with people and becoming friends with people. His first thought when he speaks with someone is not how someone can be useful to him, but when he takes the time to analyze things he does tend to start scheming. He's very carefully crafted the soft boy persona that everyone knows him as during his year with all the other experiments so that one day he can use it to get out, because surely no one suspects that the nice quiet boy is planning to run away, right? The only thing that's really stopping him is his blindness and his hope that the Seekers might be able to return his vision to him.


❀ Likes ❀
◦ Animals + plants.
◦ Talking to people he considers friends.
◦ Being happy and smiling.
◦ Reading. Well, he used to. Anyone want to read to him?
◦ Citrus fruit + things high in vitamin C.
◦ Playing games (card games and board games before, but now verbal games).
◦ Spooky things/some gore/horror (fictional, or scary stories).
◦ Stuffed animals and soft clothes.
◦ Writing on himself in marker even though he can no longer see. Just words, usually, on his hand or arm.
◦ Country music.


❀ Dislikes ❀
◦ BEING BLIND.
◦ CHIRPING. It's so annoying and embarrassing.
◦ Beans, quinoa, olives.
◦ Having cold hands + other peoples cold hands.
◦ Toe-socks.
◦ Pen clicking.
◦ Messy living arrangements.
◦ Lavender smell.
◦ Loud city noises + yelling + other various loud noises.
◦ His own name (so girly) + how he looks (so sick and frail).
◦ Running into things. Tripping over things. Failing at walking normally because he can't see anymore unless he chirps.
◦ People doubting his sincerity.
◦ People asking if he's okay.
◦ Being alone.


❀ Modifications ❀
Marley is the first experiment to have been modified in the way he has been, and only one thing did not go as originally planned.

The original goal of the experimentation was to create an advanced human capable of hearing even the soft rustling of clothes of enemy forces or the whispering of military plans from very far away. Being able to locate hidden enemies or find mines or hear drones overhead was also a primary focus of the experiment. Being able to "see in the dark" was an added bonus, although the repercussions of allowing a human to do so was quite extreme.

The researchers, upon discovery that their subject had lost partial vision in one eye after surgery had concluded, quite simply rolled with the situation presented to them and modified their experiment to include "night vision". They installed a modifier on the optic nerves of both eyes that alters the subject's vision to be able to use echolocation instead of regular sight. This resulted in the subject losing all natural sight completely in exchange for the ability to use echolocation and see in a completely different way from normal humans. The researchers covered up their mistake by dubbing the experiment "The Bat" and agreeing that, yes, this had been the original goal that they had hoped to achieve and they were quite pleased with the results.

Capabilities:
Because of modifications to the middle and inner ear, the subject now has, on estimation, the same hearing capacity as a bat. Able to hear well beyond the range of normal humans, subject can hear the softest exhale of breaths, he quiet buzz of cameras, the rushing of water through pipes, the whispers of those within the building, the mechanical hum of the air ducts, and more. More experimentation is necessary to discover the exact range of hearing subject now has, but results thus far have been very favorable and researchers have claimed the experiment as a success.

The larynx of subject has also been altered to allow for echolocation. Using a vocal range again similar to a bat, subject is able to use soundwaves to see although blind. Subject must chirp in various high and low frequencies in order to use this ability, but once subject has chirped, soundwaves bounce back and create a silhouetted vision, similar to sonar that sea vessels use. Using echolocation allows subject sight once more, as well as the ability to pinpoint the location of various objects (cameras, mines, medical instruments, weapons, toys, food, clothes, bedding, etc). Due to the various illnesses subject has acquired during his time here, testing has not yet concluded on the full abilities of echolocation, but the single fact alone that subject is blind but can still see using sound is already successful enough for a first attempt.

Pros:
+ Marley's hearing is wild. Humans can normally hear between 20 and 20,000 Hz on average, while he is able to hear upwards of 100 kHz, on estimation. He still is able to hear the regular range of humans but his hearing has been enhanced to include much higher frequencies. It's how he is able to echolocate. This enhanced hearing makes him very good at spying and eavesdropping on conversations, as well as figuring out what's going on inside the building. Want to find out if someone is talking about you? Marley can help you out!
+++ An addition to the above, he's able to tell who is approaching him or who is nearby based on the way they move and the various sounds they make. This is only if he's familiar enough with and interacted frequently with whoever is nearby.
+ He has literally no vision. When he doesn't echolocate (which he really does not like to do), all he sees is blackness. This is useful because it means he can't see the other experiments... less then favorable alterations. He also can't see blood or anything else gruesome or horrific anymore. He's become forcibly desensitized to gore because he just can't see it.
+ Silhouette vision. When he echolocates, his modifier is able to turn the echoes he receives into a visual image. This vision is colorless and consists of only black, white and various shades of gray. It resembles this and this, which allows him to see others and his surroundings with some success. The clarity of the image depends on how frequently he chirps, the frequencies at which he chirps, the closeness of what is around him and if there is something dense blocking soundwaves. Some of the chirps he has to use in order to see this way are done above the standard human hearing range, but he does not care about that and still hates chirping.

Cons:
- Blindness. He can't see anything unless he chirps. He can't see his fellow experiments, or the color of his clothes, or the words on a page, or anything on the floor that might be in his way, or the food he's eating. He has to use his hearing and his touch to navigate his world now. He can no longer read or play games or watch TV or see anyone's smile. It's a rather isolating thing.
- While his hearing is incredible, it also is quite a hindrance. Loud noises are absolute killer on his ears. Fireworks, screaming, car honks and explosions discombobulate him and can cause him temporary deafness. Fireworks and explosions are the main perpetrators of his temporary deafness, but he still is quite sensitive to other loud noises. He often startles or visibly jumps whenever there is a sudden loud noise.
- Echolocation can be blocked if Marley's mouth is covered or if he is gagged. It and his ability to hear also can be blocked if dense material is around him, such as concrete or stone or certain metals or certain hard woods.
- If he does not keep all the extra sounds tuned out, then he develops a very intense headache that can only be remedied by putting in earplugs and sleeping. Because he hates putting in earplugs, he makes sure to constantly be on top of tuning out sounds. If he is startled badly enough or if he is knocked unconscious then awakens again, one could get him to hear absolutely everything once more, but it would only last a short amount of time before he blocks out noise again.

Additional:
◦ Marley has not needed to have an inhibitor applied to his person due to his willingness to cooperate with the researchers, but one has been made for him in case he ever decides to rebel. It is a set of completely soundproof headphones that attach to his ears with a glue-like substance and that can only be removed with a special adhesive remover. If he cannot see and cannot hear, then he is not likely to be a problem.
◦ At night, Marley sleeps with white noise that helps to drown out the humming and buzzing and shuffling and murmurs of the building. His room has been extra soundproofed so that he's unable to hear certain things when he's inside of it, but this soundproofing does not completely stifle all the noises of the mechanical things inside of the building. The white noise helps with this.
◦ Because of the congenital heart disease he had up until sixteen, his immune system is compromised. It has gotten better since he was younger but he still gets illnesses more frequently than most others, such as the flu or strep throat or a common cold. Thanks to him being sick with contagious illnesses, he's had to postpone some of his testing and trials, which has impacted the researchers understanding of his new abilities. Not that he really minds that much.


❀ Background ❀
When he was born, his heart was already broken. A congenital heart disease is not something that is easily overcome, and from a very young age it was obvious that Marley would have a difficult life. Fatigue, blue lips, breathlessness, frailty, weakness. It's a wonder he managed to make it through his first year of life. Of course, his parents were devoted to making sure he survived, and he grew up knowing just how much they sacrificed for him. Medical bills are not cheap. He always hoped to one day repay them for all they lost for him, but sadly that would never happen.

He spent his early childhood in a small apartment, though his parents always wanted to move him away from the infectious air of the city. His parents doted on him and spoiled him with love and affection, and he never wondered about how much they cared about him. As a child, he did not know how his parents afforded all of his toys and stuffed animals and babysitters. He would not know, until he realized his aunt and uncle were involved in shady business practices and lent out money to his parents often. He didn't understand it when he was a child and still to this day he doesn't quite understand what went down between them, but harsh words were used sometimes between his parents and his aunt and uncle, and the relationship between them all became very sour.

Due to his sickly disposition, he was kept home during his schooling. Teachers and tutors came to his apartment and taught him, and though he wanted to go to public school to learn with all of the other kids, his body, his heart, would not allow him to. It was annoying, and he disliked it greatly, but he was a studious boy and he did well during his educational instruction. His parents praised him and gave him rewards for getting good grades, and soon enough he started to become spoiled. If he cried over how unfair something was, his parents were quick to appease him. His chest hurt, and his parents immediately pulled him to safety. He was feeling ill and they let him stay in his room, with his toys and games and television.

Sometimes, his chest did not hurt that badly. Sometimes, he was not feeling as ill as he pretended to. His parents did not need to know that.

During his teenaged years, his heart condition worsened. He always lived a healthy lifestyle and was as active as he could be. None of that helped to improve the defective heart he had been born with. His heart caused him many problems: he was known to faint when he got too stressed and he could not participate in as many activities as other kids his age could. He was always ill with a cold or a sore throat or some such thing, and he had to take care to not get others sick, which means isolating himself from people. He hated his heart sincerely, and he desperately wanted a new one. He asked his parents to let him get a heart transplant when he was sixteen. They were wary to go through with the surgery, because they had heard of several complications that could develop, but Marley was their angel. After he had a particularly dangerous illness, which resulted in his heart further decaying, they agreed to the surgery.

The operation was successful. His parents had to do something risky and stupid in order to let him get the surgery, and he had to lie to the doctor who would be operating on him, but none of that mattered in the end. He had a new heart that would not make him so weak, so pathetic. He had a new heart that wouldn't end up killing him.

Life was good after that. He still got sick frequently, because his defective heart had caused his immune system to become compromised, but his sicknesses never took him down as harshly as they had before. He was able to go outside more often and he was able to be more active, without fear of fainting or becoming tired too quickly. He basically got a new lease on life, and at sixteen, he couldn't have been happier.

At eighteen, his heart broke again.

Physically, he was thriving. Mentally, he was crashing. Emotionally, he was shattered. His parents, killed. What had they done to deserve it? Why had it happened? He could not understand it. The loss of his parents sent him spiraling into a depression that he was unable to climb out of. Anxiety, insomnia, nightmares, panic attacks. He had nothing without his parents. They were his entire world, all of his life. They took so much care of him and went through so much to make sure he lived the best life he could have. And then they were gone. His world was gone, in an instant.

He eventually got therapy, but he has not been the same since his parents death. They would have wanted him to continue living, though. He took time off from university to try to collect himself, and even though he was barely holding together, he continued on. And he kept continuing on. Because his parents would want him to live, to become whatever he wanted to be, to live his life to the fullest.

Except that was not what fate had in store for him. Waking up blind and hearing things he never heard before was terrifying. Waking up surrounded by strangers made him think he was going to be killed. Waking up only to find out he was now captured and experimented on against his will was infuriating. He's been stuck with all these insane researchers and mad Seekers for a year and he's desperate to get out, and everyone knows what desperation does to a person.


❀ Extra ❀
- Aesthetic.
- Was a university student in his second year of four year university. He was going to go to vet school after he graduated.
- Lonely and scared as hell but hides it.
- Had two rabbits and three cats that he adored with his entire being. He doesn't know if they're still alive.
- His house is literally FULL of plants but he makes sure to keep them out of his bunnies' and cats' reach.
- Often found anywhere where there are people.
- Still gets sick frequently. Often wears face mask when he hears about a disease among the experiments. Also has insomnia some nights.
- Takes allergy medicine daily. No severe allergies but he's allergic to nickel and pollen.
- Lowkey Christian but not very religious.
- Takes vitamins to try to boost his immune system.
- Usually on some medicine to counter whatever illness he has at any given moment.
- Always has snacks on hand. Trail mix, granola, almonds, dried fruit or meat, raw vegetables, snack bars, sometimes candy.


❀ Relationships ❀
FATED: TBD

and.... i gotta work on these eventually. but STILL open!! Would LOVE to give him some (more) friends :')))



❀ Name ❀
Marley Foster.
❀ Title ❀
The Bat.
❀ Nicknames ❀
Marles, Lee.
❀ Age ❀
21.
❀ Gender ❀
Male.
❀ Sexuality ❀
Soft Gay.
❀ Time in Facility ❀
One year.
❀ Occupation ❀
University Student.


❀ Appearance ❀
(Picture coming soon!)
Looking at him, one might assume he's a rather delicate guy. He's not very imposing, even when he straightens his shoulders, and the dark circles under his eyes contrast against his usually pallid pale skin and leave him looking tired and not entirely well. The freckles all over his face add some life to him, and his medium-length warm brown curly hair helps convince people he's not actively dying. He has bangs that frame the left side of his face and brush against his thick eyelashes. When he's hot or not in the mood to have his hair in the way, he pulls it up into a messy bun, though pieces of his hair still hang down even if he tries to pull it all back. Not always does he look ill; there are several days, that sometimes last for months, where he looks much more like a healthy college student. If he has been experiencing an episode of insomnia or particularly stressful time in his life, or if he's sick with any number of illnesses, then his face shows just how much he's been struggling clearly. His green eyes are usually bright, though, and he always has a kind smile to offer to anyone who could use some cheering up.

⇢ Height: 5'8

⇢ Build: Scrawny, but not unhealthy. He's thin and has prominent wrist bones, ankle bones and knees. He's not very muscular but he has a fit body, thanks in large part to how much he walks and the diet he has. His shoulders aren't particularly wide and his limbs are lithe; his physique is not overly manly.

⇢ Hair: Naturally curly brown hair that falls just past his shoulders. Sometimes up in a bun or ponytail, but never braided or dressed up fancy. Well, a few chunks might be braided, but he'd only do that if he was bored or feeling stressed. Usually he pushes over to one side and runs his hands through it . . . a lot.

⇢ Eyes: Green. Light green, if you want to get fancy.

⇢ Clothing Style: His go-to style is comfy. He doesn't ever try to wear things to impress people, mostly because he doesn't have time and he doesn't think it's really worth it. He's often in long-sleeved sweaters and jackets with a t-shirt or collared shirt on underneath it, because he likes layers. Skinny jeans, straight-legged jeans or jogger sweatpants are often his pant of choice, but he'll wear shorts when it gets hot outside. He tends to prefer muted or soft colors, like golden yellows and sage greens and sky blues and creams, but he also enjoys simple patterns like stripes and checkered and not bam, in your face! floral print. He does own trendier clothes, like cool jackets and button-ups and expensive jeans. Wearing those is a different story, however. He always wears Converse or Vans, or some cheap slip-ons, with whatever outfit he has on. He also accessorizes rarely - the most he'll put on is a bracelet.

⇢ Scars: He has a straight vertical scar going from his jugular notch to the end of his ribcage, right in the middle of his chest. There's two horizontal scars underneath it from incisions. The scar is from the surgery he had when he was sixteen, and it has since faded. He also has a scar on the back of his left hand from when he got bit by a dog, though it's even more faded than his other major scar, since he got it when he was a child. He has several smaller scars on his hands/wrists from cuts from cat claws. There are small horizontal scars by the outer corner of both of his eyes that are faintly pink.

⇢ Modifications: He has his lobes pierced. Normally wears studs.


❀ Personality ❀
Marley can be labeled very easily: the softie, the sweetie, the gentle soul. Always with a kind word to give someone, he enjoys making people laugh and smile, though he sometimes is shy and has a difficult time approaching strangers, getting flustered and embarrassed. Around people he knows, he is friendly and loves chatting but can occasionally be sarcastic and snappy. He's someone who focuses more on others problems then his own; he rarely addresses his own emotional troubles and tells himself it's fine, he's fine, it's okay, he'll be okay, it's not a big deal, even if it really might be. He tries to look on the bright side of situations and often thinks "well, I could be dead instead," and he doesn't realize that that particular thought is not entirely optimistic. He's stubborn and if someone he cares about is hurting, he will not leave them alone until they let him help them. On the flip side of that, he is wary to let people get close to him, because he has been damaged in the past and somebody in this place made him blind. His trust? Broken. But he knows its not the other experiments fault and doesn't want any of them to feel like he dislikes them.

While he is a softie, he really does not enjoy being stuck with the Seekers. At all. He's always been just a tad bit manipulative growing up, and he's not necessarily afraid to be sneaky in order to help him escape. He sincerely likes forming relationships with people and becoming friends with people. His first thought when he speaks with someone is not how someone can be useful to him, but when he takes the time to analyze things he does tend to start scheming. He's very carefully crafted the soft boy persona that everyone knows him as during his year with all the other experiments so that one day he can use it to get out, because surely no one suspects that the nice quiet boy is planning to run away, right? The only thing that's really stopping him is his blindness and his hope that the Seekers might be able to return his vision to him.


❀ Likes ❀
◦ Animals + plants.
◦ Talking to people he considers friends.
◦ Being happy and smiling.
◦ Reading. Well, he used to. Anyone want to read to him?
◦ Citrus fruit + things high in vitamin C.
◦ Playing games (card games and board games before, but now verbal games).
◦ Spooky things/some gore/horror (fictional, or scary stories).
◦ Stuffed animals and soft clothes.
◦ Writing on himself in marker even though he can no longer see. Just words, usually, on his hand or arm.
◦ Country music.

❀ Dislikes ❀
◦ BEING BLIND.
◦ CHIRPING. It's so annoying and embarrassing.
◦ Beans, quinoa, olives.
◦ Having cold hands + other peoples cold hands.
◦ Toe-socks.
◦ Pen clicking.
◦ Messy living arrangements.
◦ Lavender smell.
◦ Loud city noises + yelling + other various loud noises.
◦ His own name (so girly) + how he looks (so sick and frail).
◦ Running into things. Tripping over things. Failing at walking normally because he can't see anymore unless he chirps.
◦ People doubting his sincerity.
◦ People asking if he's okay.
◦ Being alone.


❀ Modifications ❀
Marley is the first experiment to have been modified in the way he has been, and only one thing did not go as originally planned.

The original goal of the experimentation was to create an advanced human capable of hearing even the soft rustling of clothes of enemy forces or the whispering of military plans from very far away. Being able to locate hidden enemies or find mines or hear drones overhead was also a primary focus of the experiment. Being able to "see in the dark" was an added bonus, although the repercussions of allowing a human to do so was quite extreme.

The researchers, upon discovery that their subject had lost partial vision in one eye after surgery had concluded, quite simply rolled with the situation presented to them and modified their experiment to include "night vision". They installed a modifier on the optic nerves of both eyes that alters the subject's vision to be able to use echolocation instead of regular sight. This resulted in the subject losing all natural sight completely in exchange for the ability to use echolocation and see in a completely different way from normal humans. The researchers covered up their mistake by dubbing the experiment "The Bat" and agreeing that, yes, this had been the original goal that they had hoped to achieve and they were quite pleased with the results.

Capabilities:
Because of modifications to the middle and inner ear, the subject now has, on estimation, the same hearing capacity as a bat. Able to hear well beyond the range of normal humans, subject can hear the softest exhale of breaths, he quiet buzz of cameras, the rushing of water through pipes, the whispers of those within the building, the mechanical hum of the air ducts, and more. More experimentation is necessary to discover the exact range of hearing subject now has, but results thus far have been very favorable and researchers have claimed the experiment as a success.

The larynx of subject has also been altered to allow for echolocation. Using a vocal range again similar to a bat, subject is able to use soundwaves to see although blind. Subject must chirp in various high and low frequencies in order to use this ability, but once subject has chirped, soundwaves bounce back and create a silhouetted vision, similar to sonar that sea vessels use. Using echolocation allows subject sight once more, as well as the ability to pinpoint the location of various objects (cameras, mines, medical instruments, weapons, toys, food, clothes, bedding, etc). Due to the various illnesses subject has acquired during his time here, testing has not yet concluded on the full abilities of echolocation, but the single fact alone that subject is blind but can still see using sound is already successful enough for a first attempt.

Pros:
+ Marley's hearing is wild. Humans can normally hear between 20 and 20,000 Hz on average, while he is able to hear upwards of 100 kHz, on estimation. He still is able to hear the regular range of humans but his hearing has been enhanced to include much higher frequencies. It's how he is able to echolocate. This enhanced hearing makes him very good at spying and eavesdropping on conversations, as well as figuring out what's going on inside the building. Want to find out if someone is talking about you? Marley can help you out!
+++ An addition to the above, he's able to tell who is approaching him or who is nearby based on the way they move and the various sounds they make. This is only if he's familiar enough with and interacted frequently with whoever is nearby.
+ He has literally no vision. When he doesn't echolocate (which he really does not like to do), all he sees is blackness. This is useful because it means he can't see the other experiments... less then favorable alterations. He also can't see blood or anything else gruesome or horrific anymore. He's become forcibly desensitized to gore because he just can't see it.
+ Silhouette vision. When he echolocates, his modifier is able to turn the echoes he receives into a visual image. This vision is colorless and consists of only black, white and various shades of gray. It resembles this and this, which allows him to see others and his surroundings with some success. The clarity of the image depends on how frequently he chirps, the frequencies at which he chirps, the closeness of what is around him and if there is something dense blocking soundwaves. Some of the chirps he has to use in order to see this way are done above the standard human hearing range, but he does not care about that and still hates chirping.

Cons:
- Blindness. He can't see anything unless he chirps. He can't see his fellow experiments, or the color of his clothes, or the words on a page, or anything on the floor that might be in his way, or the food he's eating. He has to use his hearing and his touch to navigate his world now. He can no longer read or play games or watch TV or see anyone's smile. It's a rather isolating thing.
- While his hearing is incredible, it also is quite a hindrance. Loud noises are absolute killer on his ears. Fireworks, screaming, car honks and explosions discombobulate him and can cause him temporary deafness. Fireworks and explosions are the main perpetrators of his temporary deafness, but he still is quite sensitive to other loud noises. He often startles or visibly jumps whenever there is a sudden loud noise.
- Echolocation can be blocked if Marley's mouth is covered or if he is gagged. It and his ability to hear also can be blocked if dense material is around him, such as concrete or stone or certain metals or certain hard woods.
- If he does not keep all the extra sounds tuned out, then he develops a very intense headache that can only be remedied by putting in earplugs and sleeping. Because he hates putting in earplugs, he makes sure to constantly be on top of tuning out sounds. If he is startled badly enough or if he is knocked unconscious then awakens again, one could get him to hear absolutely everything once more, but it would only last a short amount of time before he blocks out noise again.

Additional:
◦ Marley has not needed to have an inhibitor applied to his person due to his willingness to cooperate with the researchers, but one has been made for him in case he ever decides to rebel. It is a set of completely soundproof headphones that attach to his ears with a glue-like substance and that can only be removed with a special adhesive remover. If he cannot see and cannot hear, then he is not likely to be a problem.
◦ At night, Marley sleeps with white noise that helps to drown out the humming and buzzing and shuffling and murmurs of the building. His room has been soundproofed so that he's unable to hear certain things when he's inside of it, but this soundproofing does not completely stifle all the noises of the mechanical things inside of the building. The white noise helps with this.
◦ Because of the congenital heart disease he had up until sixteen, his immune system is compromised. It has gotten better since he was younger but he still gets illnesses more frequently than most others, such as the flu or strep throat or a common cold. Thanks to him being sick with contagious illnesses, he's had to postpone some of his testing and trials, which has impacted the researchers understanding of his new abilities. Not that he really minds that much.


❀ Background ❀
When he was born, his heart was already broken. A congenital heart disease is not something that is easily overcome, and from a very young age it was obvious that Marley would have a difficult life. Fatigue, blue lips, breathlessness, frailty, weakness. It's a wonder he managed to make it through his first year of life. Of course, his parents were devoted to making sure he survived, and he grew up knowing just how much they sacrificed for him. Medical bills are not cheap. He always hoped to one day repay them for all they lost for him, but sadly that would never happen.

He spent his early childhood in a small apartment, though his parents always wanted to move him away from the infectious air of the city. His parents doted on him and spoiled him with love and affection, and he never wondered about how much they cared about him. As a child, he did not know how his parents afforded all of his toys and stuffed animals and babysitters. He would not know, until he realized his aunt and uncle were involved in shady business practices and lent out money to his parents often. He didn't understand it when he was a child and still to this day he doesn't quite understand what went down between them, but harsh words were used sometimes between his parents and his aunt and uncle, and the relationship between them all became very sour.

Due to his sickly disposition, he was kept home during his schooling. Teachers and tutors came to his apartment and taught him, and though he wanted to go to public school to learn with all of the other kids, his body, his heart, would not allow him to. It was annoying, and he disliked it greatly, but he was a studious boy and he did well during his educational instruction. His parents praised him and gave him rewards for getting good grades, and soon enough he started to become spoiled. If he cried over how unfair something was, his parents were quick to appease him. His chest hurt, and his parents immediately pulled him to safety. He was feeling ill and they let him stay in his room, with his toys and games and television.

Sometimes, his chest did not hurt that badly. Sometimes, he was not feeling as ill as he pretended to. His parents did not need to know that.

During his teenaged years, his heart condition worsened. He always lived a healthy lifestyle and was as active as he could be. None of that helped to improve the defective heart he had been born with. His heart caused him many problems: he was known to faint when he got too stressed and he could not participate in as many activities as other kids his age could. He was always ill with a cold or a sore throat or some such thing, and he had to take care to not get others sick, which means isolating himself from people. He hated his heart sincerely, and he desperately wanted a new one. He asked his parents to let him get a heart transplant when he was sixteen. They were wary to go through with the surgery, because they had heard of several complications that could develop, but Marley was their angel. After he had a particularly dangerous illness, which resulted in his heart further decaying, they agreed to the surgery.

The operation was successful. His parents had to do something risky and stupid in order to let him get the surgery, and he had to lie to the doctor who would be operating on him, but none of that mattered in the end. He had a new heart that would not make him so weak, so pathetic. He had a new heart that wouldn't end up killing him.

Life was good after that. He still got sick frequently, because his defective heart had caused his immune system to become compromised, but his sicknesses never took him down as harshly as they had before. He was able to go outside more often and he was able to be more active, without fear of fainting or becoming tired too quickly. He basically got a new lease on life, and at sixteen, he couldn't have been happier.

At eighteen, his heart broke again.

Physically, he was thriving. Mentally, he was crashing. Emotionally, he was shattered. His parents, killed. What had they done to deserve it? Why had it happened? He could not understand it. The loss of his parents sent him spiraling into a depression that he was unable to climb out of. Anxiety, insomnia, nightmares, panic attacks. He had nothing without his parents. They were his entire world, all of his life. They took so much care of him and went through so much to make sure he lived the best life he could have. And then they were gone. His world was gone, in an instant.

He eventually got therapy, but he has not been the same since his parents death. They would have wanted him to continue living, though. He took time off from university to try to collect himself, and even though he was barely holding together, he continued on. And he kept continuing on. Because his parents would want him to live, to become whatever he wanted to be, to live his life to the fullest.

Except that was not what fate had in store for him. Waking up blind and hearing things he never heard before was terrifying. Waking up surrounded by strangers made him think he was going to be killed. Waking up only to find out he was now captured and experimented on against his will was infuriating. He's been stuck with all these insane researchers and mad Seekers for a year and he's desperate to get out, and everyone knows what desperation does to a person.


❀ Extra ❀
- Aesthetic.
- Was a university student in his second year of four year university. He was going to go to vet school after he graduated.
- Lonely and scared as hell but hides it.
- Had two rabbits and three cats that he adored with his entire being. He doesn't know if they're still alive.
- His house is literally FULL of plants but he makes sure to keep them out of his bunnies' and cats' reach.
- Often found anywhere where there are people.
- Still gets sick frequently. Often wears face mask when he hears about a disease among the experiments. Also has insomnia some nights.
- Takes allergy medicine daily. No severe allergies but he's allergic to nickel and pollen.
- Lowkey Christian but not very religious.
- Takes vitamins to try to boost his immune system.
- Usually on some medicine to counter whatever illness he has at any given moment.
- Always has snacks on hand. Trail mix, granola, almonds, dried fruit or meat, raw vegetables, snack bars, sometimes candy.


❀ Relationships ❀
FATED: Nicola Emilio!

and....Open!! Would LOVE to give him some friends :')))
It had been a tragedy.

The happy couple had been something akin to role models to Marley. They were proof, to him, that one could achieve happiness, even if they were part of this life. They were proof that this sort of lifestyle wasn’t always full of darkness and death. They were proof that things could be okay.

Until they were set ablaze.

He hadn’t been particularly close with either of them, but learning about their deaths reminded him of how cruelly his parents had been murdered. He hadn’t attended the funeral a year ago because he simply couldn’t go. It was too much for him. He didn’t want to slip and fall into a dark place again. He was glad, in the end, that he hadn’t gone, because he didn’t want to hear about their baby, their innocent child, who had also been caught in the flames. That death was something he couldn’t even fathom. So senseless. So atrocious. So depraved.

He also hadn’t wanted to come to this memorial. He considered skipping it earlier, after he woke up this morning and realized what day it was. He almost did. It would be inconsiderate to do that, though. Both Anna and August were going, which meant he needed to go as well. He had quickly gotten dressed in whatever black he had handy and then, after taking his allergy medicine (the rain always bothered his sinuses), he left his parents mansion and took a car to the private hall.

The allergy medicine took a few minutes to kick in. He, thankfully, had stopped sneezing by the time he got to the front steps of where the memorial was being held. He thanked the driver for putting up with him, after sniffling, then left behind a hefty tip as he exited the vehicle. Maybe the guy could use the money to help sanitize his car, or get some food, or whatever. He waited for the driver to pull away before he looked up at the building. Impressive. He didn’t want to linger and look stupid staring at it in awe, so he went in with a group of unfamiliar faces also dressed in black.

There were so many people inside. Marley surveyed the room then decided to move to one side of the hallway, so as to not be in the way. Okay. Anna and August were maybe, potentially, already here, and Mila would be here soon too, but he could probably mingle with whoever didn’t look too terribly threatening . . .

Except they all looked threatening, and grumpy, and miserable. No one would want to talk to him, to some stranger. He didn’t want to talk to any strangers either. Especially not if they were an Avancini. Don’t get him wrong; he didn’t think of them as his enemies, at all. Most of them were just people who belonged to a different family, who all had different people they cared about and different morals and other human things like that.

But he also didn’t really want to talk to any of them. Most of them didn’t know about him, about who he was in his family, which had saved him a couple of times before. He did not want to risk any of them seeing him here and figuring out who he was. What family he belonged to. He preferred to keep his anonymity, his mystery. Whatever any Avancini’s thought of him, he preferred they think that, and not that he belonged to the family that they all hated. He almost couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten during the few encounters he had with some of them - they all thought he was a stressed college student, which, granted, he was, but seriously. He almost wanted to thank the bags under his eyes for helping him look exhausted even when he wasn’t really feeling that tired.

He looked around the room for somewhere to hide and spotted an unoccupied corner. Perfect. Yes. That would be good enough. If he wasn’t in a group or in the middle of the room, he’d be less easy to spot. Less easy to tell what side he belonged to. Talking with either Avancini or Adamski would be stupid risky, so he navigated the room carefully, keeping his eyes down. He passed several tables containing snacks and drinks, but he didn’t stop to grab anything. He’d feel more comfortable eating when he wasn’t surrounded by danger.

When he arrived to his corner, he decided it was his absolute favorite corner in the entire room. There were people blocking it off and he could just sink down to the ground and act like he wasn’t feeling good or mourning and no one would bother him. Honestly, if he did sink down to the floor, then he wouldn’t even be spotted between all the legs. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it for any messages, then heard a dumb nickname and familiar voice.

Oh no.

Oh God.

Not here.

He pulled up an easy smile as Nico approached and slid his phone back into his pocket, then offered a small wave to his friend. His friend, who didn’t even know who he actually was, as was evidenced by the question they just asked. His friend, who Marley knew killed several different people, who might kill him if he found out what family he belonged to. But he didn’t really think Nico’d kill him, right? Because he helped them learn important things, and they had animal playdates, and they were actually surprisingly close. No. They definitely wouldn’t kill him if they found out the truth. (Right?)

Better to keep it a secret, though. Far safer that way. For both of them, honestly.

Marley shrugged one shoulder and studied the room, as if looking for someone, then sighed and turned his attention back to Nico. “I was invited, Nic, but my date has abandoned me. I had no idea this place was full of dangerous people.” He pouted and averted his eyes. “If I had known that, I would have rejected the offer. But, hold on. Wait.” He looked Nico over, wide-eyed. “Are you a hardened criminal or a wolf? I feel like being a wolf is better than a hardened criminal, so I hope you are one of those. I’d hate to have gone to the house of a hardened criminal. But I guess it would be good, too, if you were a hardened criminal, so that you could protect me from all the other dangerous people here.”
 
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  • saira reynaud












♡design by dreamglow, coded by uxie♡
 
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  • Name: Nicola Emilio
    Title: The Blade
    Nicknames: Nico
    Age: 22
    Gender: Agender
    Sexuality: Pansexual
    Time in Captivity: 1 year
    them.png
    Appearance
    Years of combat experience and getting forced into dangerous situations has hardened Nico’s body, making them respectably built. If they wanted to, they could definitely whoop your ass, but their cooked-spaghetti posture and lazy smirk makes it hard to remember that. Nicola, at least on the surface, doesn’t appear all that threatening. If you were to meet them in a coffee shop on a lazy afternoon, you likely wouldn’t think much of them, let alone believe that they’re someone to be feared. Other than the fading pink scar on their left cheek, they just look like every other person on the street.

    Height: 5’7

    Build: Deceptively strong. Although not stocky by any means, their lean frame makes them a pain to hit, even without the annoying quips they love to throw out when in the middle of a fight.

    Hair: The color of beach sand, with brown strands occasionally peeking out. Their hair is usually tied back into a low ponytail, because Nico can never be bothered to do it up. Sometimes they fidget with it when they’re bored, but otherwise they don’t bother with it.

    Style: Pure and utter chaos. Forget color coordination or even style matching; Nico’s wardrobe is a mismatch of neons to pastels to solids, and they rarely (if ever) put in the effort to dress up. Whether it be a bright pink shirt with dinosaurs or a dark brown jacket with extremely suspicious stains on the sleeves and lapel, Nico’s clothing style, if you could even call it that, is a nightmare for anyone with even a remote interest in fashion or appearing presentable.

    Scars: Other than the extremely obvious one on their cheek, Nico’s body has a motley array of healed cuts and fading scars scattered all throughout their body. A stray bullet wound there, a fading scar here… A single glance at their bare chest is all you need to know that Nico’s past hasn’t exactly been kind to them.



(Taken from a previous roleplay, so not perfectly indicative of this iteration of them)

On the anniversary of Louisa’s and Andrej’s death, most were busy with work. Distracting themselves with menial and oftentimes bloody tasks. Nicola, on the other hand, awoke that morning with a splitting headache and a large red mark on their forehead, courtesy of their floor. Sunlight just barely squeezed past the clouds of smog and mist, yet somehow it managed to find the perfect path between all the buildings in the city, the clouds and Nico’s damn curtain to pour straight into their eyes. Blinking blearily, Nico had but a few moments of peace before a bat was bashed straight through their skull, cracking against their head and leaving a dent in their brain, making them realise that they were far too sober at the moment to function normally… not to mention extremely hungover.

Rising to their feet was no small task, especially considering their head was in no mood to operate. At that moment Nico felt annoyance seep through their very being, alongside extreme weariness. They were annoyed at the world, annoyed at themselves, and annoyed at the sun for making their day just that much more miserable. It didn’t have to, but it did; and now Nico was suffering for it. With a groan they finally rose to their feet, though only with the help of their nightstand, and slowly, they made their way over to the bathroom.

Dark, dingy and cold was their bathroom’s vibe that dreary day. Nicola palmed the wall beside the door, before flicking the switch. They slowly approached their sink, before grimacing as they looked into the mirror. Two dark brown eyes stared back, framed perfectly by large, heavy bags underneath. Not only that, but their posture was slouched and their hair was unseemly. Nico was tired, that much was clear to them.

Sliding the mirror glass to the side revealed their bounty of stolen goods; medicine bottles and prescriptions not meant for them, neatly arranged in a line by order of how good it made them feel. The bottom shelf, on the other hand, was a lot more disorganized; stuffed to the brim with little bags of happiness. Those were for… special occasions. Idly, Nicola thumbed through their stash, taking bottles and packets before putting them back. In the background their brain worked away at their memories, trying to figure out why today was so important. And as Nico finally decided on one bottle they liked, it clicked into place for them.

Right. Today was Andrej’s and Louisa’s death-anniversary.

Gray seemed to soak through the criminal as they remembered last year. Back then they’d only had a few bodies under their belt and even fewer years in the Avancini family, yet they could remember the news screaming about two dead. No one seemed to react well to the deaths, least of all the Avancinis themselves. Nico knew of the Avancini-Adamski rivalry-- it’s what drew them to the Avancinis in the first place-- but they had no idea there was a marriage between the two, and they certainly didn’t know of any fucking peace treaty. They had said nothing, however, instead letting their anger simmer down. It was one of the few times they’d practiced self-control, and to this day they were grateful that they did. So when the couple died, along with their goddamn baby, Nico only felt mildly upset. Even then that feeling didn’t last though, replaced by euphoria the next day. It wasn't as if they were close with them anyways. The couple probably wasn't even aware of Nico's existence. So Nicola felt no sadness over their deaths. Just... gray.

It truly was a shame, though; killing a kid was no laughing matter to them, least of all one that wasn’t even a year old. They could understand a toddler, those things were grating as all fucking hell on the ears, but a baby? Annoying shits only know how to cry and defecate; they were little more than a waste of time.

Colour traced the edge of their vision as Nico came to, pill bottle in hand. Popping the cap, they downed two capsules dry, letting the memories fade into just a pleasant fuzz.

Nicola spent the rest of the morning searching for something black to wear, though only after feeding Sharon of course. They were basically attending a funeral, so black was apparently expected of them. But much to their chagrin, the only black they could scrounge up from the depths of their closet was a thin, sleeveless sweater and black pants. Looking at themselves in the mirror showed a sleek body, but nothing somber. Nicola looked more like a young kid ready to hit the town than someone attending a funeral. Throwing on their gray leather jacket did help cover up their arms, but they still didn’t look like a mourner. And to be fair, they weren’t, but this was supposed to be a sad event.

Nico pondered wearing something white, just to see how the Adamskis would react, but when the face of a disappointed Emilio appeared, the thought quickly dissipated to the back of their mind. Glancing at their wallet Nico grimaced as a much different thought entered their head, this time one of buying a coat from the clothing shop two blocks away. If they showed up in a gray coat they would definitely blend in, that much was clear. But the little monkey in their brain, the one that clapped and shouted in glee whenever Nicola did something exciting, was screaming at them to ditch the coat and go with something eye catching.

Emilio’s stern expression and Nico’s little brain ape fought it out, like an angel and a devil perched on their shoulder. It was only when Emilio’s face morphed into a proud smile did the monkey go down, much to the disappointment of Nico. With a sigh, they grabbed their wallet with a frown.

‘Looks like I’m buying a coat.’

---

A few minutes later, Nicola was standing outside the meeting venue, hand stuck into a sleek new coat. A lit cigarette stuck out the side of their mouth as they stared up at the hall, unamused, as the palace of white and gold stared back down at them with cold, unfeeling windows. Nico lingered there, pinned under the beast’s gaze. They twirled a shiny plastic umbrella in one hand, the other moving to take out the cigarette, though not before blowing out a plume of smoke. ‘Wouldn’t be proper and all that jazz,’ they thought to themselves, before letting the stick fall to the ground and unceremoniously stomping on it, making sure to rub it against the pavement. They stared back up at the building with those same, brown eyes. And with a quiet sigh, they approached the entrance.

The inside was, unsurprisingly, just as glitzy, glammy and pompous as the outside. Large, looming columns rose up from the ground, and glittering chandeliers that were no doubt worth thousands upon thousands of dollars passed overhead as Nico wandered in, looking like a lost lamb. Unfamiliar yet somber faces walked by, both of Adamski and Avancini blood. The hall wasn’t full by any meaning of the word, yet Nicola felt like they were being suffocated by all sides. Pristine white morphed into dark red, columns turning to teeth and chandelier becoming solid and pink, as the very hall seemed to warp and disfigure into a cavernous, neverending mouth.

Nico shook the thought from their mind, but they could already feel the dread settle in. Their head screamed at them, telling them this wasn’t a place they belonged, and that they were better off blowing this place and it’s occupants sky high. Fitting in would be futile, their head whispered in a sly voice, their hand already twitching to caress their precious pistol. Unfortunately, this was supposed to be a place where Adamski and Avancini could mourn and whimper together in peace, even for a brief moment. So Nicola, like a fool, had ditched the gun in favour of a combat knife instead, tucked carefully under the tail of their jacket.

Classy as ever.

Nausea curled comfortably in the pit of Nico’s stomach. They decided that they couldn’t linger around the pungent Adamski blood any longer, and so they busied themselves with the task of searching for even the slightest hint of a familiar face to bother in the blending cesspool of Adamski and Avancini. To their delight, they found one. In one corner, tucked away from the group was a familiar head of dark brown hair, coupled with a face dotted in freckles. Target acquired.

Weaving through the people with a surprising amount of precision, Nico swam through the crowd like a shark hunting its prey, drooling at the mouth for any semblance of familiarity. Colour returned to Nicola’s face as they approached their target-turned-tutor, a smile twisting their scar. “Noodle boy!” they called out, chipper and seemingly oblivious to the crowd around them. “I never thought I’d see you in a place like this! What brings you to this den of wolves and hardened criminals, hmm?” Nico’s face settled comfortably into their familiar smile, wide and treading on the edge of threatening. To anyone else, it would look like a lion approaching a meek little deer; slobbering at the mouth and playing with their food. But both Nico and ‘Noodle boy,’ as Nico had taken to calling him, knew that that smile held no malice. Nicola was legitimately excited to see the man.
 

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Spirits that take the form of giant skeletons and are fifteen times larger than an average person, said to be created from the ghosts of the people who died in battle and were not buried. The peoples' desire for vengeance causes the Gashadokuro to roam after midnight, grabbing lone travelers and biting off their heads to drink their spraying blood.​


  • Name: Matsui, Kouta

    Title: Gashadokuro

    Nicknames: Kou

    Age: 19

    Gender: Male

    Sexuality: Bisexual

    Time in captivity: 10 years

 
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608cac51c1902818fd9525eaee689adc.jpg


Large and scary, standing taller than the tallest man, and sometimes taller than trees, Oni possess extreme strength and constitution. They are ferocious demons, bringers of disaster and punishers of the damned in hell.​


  • Name: Watanabe, Meiji

    Title: Oni

    Nicknames: Mei, Wata

    Age: 27

    Gender: Female

    Sexuality: Pansexual

    Time in captivity: 4 years

 
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Credits-

Forgive the lack of coding/ugly application, I am granny lol
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<3
Art owed to

Light_oooo​

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“Since this life delights you,” an annoyed Dionysius replied, “do you wish to taste it yourself and make a trial of my good fortune?”
​


Name: Reese Lowry

Title: Damocles

Nicknames: Reese's cup (by old friends)

Age: 28

Gender: male

Sexuality: pan, still learning about it
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​

Personality
Damocles seems to be an every-man, all around type of person. There isn’t a single human he can’t talk to or get to lean in his favor at least once. That being said, he really appears to dislike small talk and won’t fake disinterest as soon as it hits him. He comes off as a flippant individual and even seemed to enjoy his stay in his room early into his captivity. He excels at daydreaming and distancing his mind from the moment to the point of needing a rough shake to be brought out of his trance. His intelligence isn’t above average, in fact it could be argued he’s a functional illiterate.
​
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Psyche​
Despite this his observation skills are notable and given enough time to study something of interest, he can use his knowledge to his advantage. Like a human diary, he spends more time jotting down information in his mind and imagining the scenarios. His torpid state can easily be broken if his family is mentioned or if a friend is in danger. The lengths he’ll go to make a joke are at best concerning but he never tries to offend- not to someone he likes. They sort of just slip out, sometimes his jokes are actually him being serious but testing the waters of what his company can handle. Comedy is a subconscious coping system for him. As a father of a 6 year old, his temper has cooled graciously and unless his dear ones are in harm’s way, there’s little to nothing you can do to break him. Still, he’s just a guy and being made to sit in a room for too long causes him to retreat inward and do some abnormal things for attention. His biggest desire is fairly obvious.​
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He wants to see his kid again.​
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​
Appearance​
Damocles stands about 5’11 and has no memorable build to him. His hair is black, typically worn short but since his capture, it’s been left to grow out and worn in a side braid sometimes. It’s rather silky, that was all his parent’s gene pool would allow. His eyes before modification were a murky dark green but since has lightened to an icy glare. He used to wear glasses regularly, but since capture he only is allowed to wear them when moved from his room. He’s a bit upset that the modification didn’t give him the power to grow a beard. ​
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​





"I put my hands on either side of her face and I told her, 'Who loves you? Papa does. Who else loves you? That's right, you do. You do, peanut butter cup."






TL.jpg



Picture by me

​
Modifications​
His experimentation routine brought on horrible coughing fits- it didn’t take long to find that when he was in the presence of dense pollution, his body took to absorbing it. His modification was likely meant to discover if humans could survive the potential future of a broken world with smog and radiation, but in the end they only created an Air purifier. ​




Damocles earned his name on the night of his only escape attempt. His body absorbed a massive amount of smog created using several methods to generate it in a chamber. It’d made him ill to the point that he thought his life was ending- it was like breathing through a straw, like he’d inhaled two packs of cigarettes at once. At that moment, the pollution seeped from him like tar, then it became more like mercurial black sand. Above the lab staff, within the chamber, a large blade-shaped shadow began plummeting down on them at the present staff, and the prisoner himself. Once the entire chamber was destroyed, Damocles found he had no energy to even run, but his lungs felt amazing and his body was light and buzzing after cleansing itself of the toxic air particles, but those particles had created a 40 foot long shape of his doing, they had formed into a weapon above their heads and crashed down upon them. He laid in a cloud of debris and glittering black sand like the raven sky full of stars.

He was punished intensely, but they had managed to see the full extent of his abilities. Sadly his limitations are many and unless he has ample access to dense pollution, he can’t create more than a single bullet from the dirty air particles. He’s always tired and breathless when it’s all said and done. ​
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​
Time in captivity
2 years​
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Background
"It was never gonna work, was it? I don't think I was narcissistic, I wasn't trying to be. I just had a lot of feelings and you weren't willing to listen."

"When I put her little hand around my finger, I understood what a best friend looked like. It was terrifying to ever think she could grow up to hate me like you did."

"I just hated that paperwork-- every day was effing paperwork. I loved it, though didn't I? It's like a drug when it all comes together and you see the money roll in."

"How will I support her when everything wants to take her away from me? When the world looks like it's trying to end? My world was already crumbling so why does there need to be natural disasters."

"I just wish I could remember everything. Getting old means thinking way too hard and getting sentimental about stuff you didn't care about before, like at all. Now I'm filled with an existential dread and there's no one to tell- and even if my daughter were here, what would I tell her? Daddy's scared, he's sad and there's nothing she can do about it."


"And they all were so untrustworthy. When I try to picture their faces, I can't. I just remember how much they hated me, telling me I used to be a good man. What do they know? I don't even know them anymore. I'm locked up in here-- tormented. It looks like I got what I deserved and you know? It's liberating to think I was the Asshole all along. And now I can smile about it, because I can't even remember."

"For once I'd like to just make the right choice. Marry young, try to steal the power of a king... No, I made one good choice one time. It was you, Peanut butter cup."
​
Abilities and limitations: Projectiles formed of black air particles, hand held weapons only as dangerous as his knowledge of how to use them, and sometimes barriers or blockages formed of the same black sand. His weaknesses come from his modification- his body can’t help but absorb dirty air particles, smog, smoke or any form of air circulating pollution and to feel relief in his lungs and body, he must expel it somehow. If he doesn’t, he risks death by poisoning. When he’s expelled the muck, he’s left exhausted for a short time in which blowing at him could knock him over.
​
​
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​

It was comforting to see Zoom still worked- or whatever variant this one was. Through painful silences followed by gutting comments aimed at his fathering and lifestyle, Reese pushed the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. There was a sour wrinkle of his brow for a moment, then his mouth opened to speak- “When are you just going to get it together? I’m sick of living in fear of what your ‘employees’ will do to me.” A woman’s voice cut into his inhale.

“Nah, they wouldn’t, I mean– they won’t do a thing to you. You’re not going to be bothered.” Reese offered softly, letting his leather desk chair squeak in a shrill manner as he slunk further down.

“REESE. The lawyer is late, you were late, the world is falling apart and you STILL can’t stop telling me lies. What’s your ‘legit business’ going to do when a meteor finally crashes into the earth? And for Pete’s sake, you heathen… Stop staring down at the camera. You look like a nark.” Even as she challenged him, Reese was wanting so badly to use his talent for daydreaming and seek a route of escape from her ire. He scrubbed down his face with both palms and restrained himself.

“Let’s just give him a few more minutes, please? We need to get this sorted as soon as possible, for Margret’s sake. I don’t want her birthday ruined by Mom, Dad and the oceans splitting.” He told the inflamed face on the other side of the screen. Even as the lights flickered and the connection wavered, the woman glared with disdain. It was at that time that a stern knock on the front door of his barren penthouse echoed across the polished floors, rattling his spider plants on the foyer table. “Hold on, hold on. Maybe that’s him. Probably couldn’t get his computer to work.” Reese put up a hand and while slowly turning away, narrowed his glacial stare in the door’s direction. “Don’t walk away from me.” The low, demanding tone of his ex-wife had become muffled as intuition brought dread as company.

The frosted double doors of the penthouse continued to be pelted by knuckles. He could clearly see the shadowy figure on the other side, uninvited and refusing to leave no matter how long he made them wait. “Oh my god. Are those the Mickey mouse sweat pants my brother got you for your birthday? Would it kill you to dress for the occasion, you warthog?” The woman sneered, giving an exasperated sigh soon after. Reese kept his pace to the front door, sporting a neat suit and tie on the top and worn out Mickey mouse sweats on the bottom. He hadn’t planned to stand up for the whole call, not realizing that would be his last with the woman. Not realizing that would be the last time his daughter spent the night over at his place, safe from the golden veins of the city. Though what once was the buzz of nightlife in his father’s domain now glowed a sickly yellow- not a place he wanted Margaret to grow up in but he didn’t have much say in the matter now.

“What’s the password?” He asked the dark figure at the door. “Birds can and should obtain sovereignty.” was the response.

It seemed like a clever, reasonable response.

Needless to say, he should have kept the door shut. Not that it seemed to matter either in the grand scheme.
 
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Warning! The following character sheet has been made with a "What the heck, lets go for it!" approach. Readers are advised to read the disclaimers below it after their initial dismay.

  • Shiki no Uta
    Engl. cov. by Sapphire



    01
    name
    Boryan Cappello
    02
    nickname
    Borko, Boryo, Top Cat
    03
    title
    The Help
    04
    AGE
    27 years
    05
    gender
    male, intact
    06
    sexuality
    pan-demi-sexual
    07
    threat level
    cat
    08
    time
    5 years
left
right
coded by natasha.


Disclosure:​
1. I do not condone the acts of bestiality or fetishizing animals, humans included.​
2. I am not a furry. Neither do I encourage those that have a twisted passion for animals and perception of themselves.​
3. In the early stages of this character's creation in my mind, I couldn't find an artwork that fit my vision. It was then that I saw the cat art on Pinterest and thought that it might be an interesting concept to experiment with. It is my belief that it is a good match for his surrender to fate, self-disparagement and project purpose and further provides a direction for character development. It has been heavily hinted in the character sheet, but allow me to clearly state that he possesses the power to shift back into a human, but that will be a future achievement that a certain someone will have to help him with.​
4. No, I am not a fan of the omegaverse. Each time I encounter it, a neuron malfunctions.​
5. These types of scientists are real. Believe me.​
​

One night six years ago


"Hey" the teasing voice of a woman hooked the "y" and reeled it up. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're thinking about other girls."
"...Heh" a short puff followed and a deep rumbling voice replied. "Silly. You know there's only one girl on my mind."

In the quiet hours of one warm May evening, two shadows were winding down the empty dim alleys of their hometown. They knew these paths like the back of their hands and now, when the air was still and the streetlamps flickered, the darkness was soothing as it followed them on their journey.
Their time together had begun four years ago and today, in what had become a habit, it took but one brief phone call to arrange their meeting. Tonight's host was Boryan Cappello, whose looming figure and unflinching gaze masked well his blossoming age of 21 years. And the invitee, the apple of his eye, was she, Pamela Sidney, one year his junior, who had accepted in a heartbeat the invitation that had been thought and repeated in silence long in advance.
The shuffle of ice, the ticklish smell of spices, a dinner for two. The restaurant he had chosen had nestled its small cobblestone garden one pebble-jump further than their usual outing area, thus the two could remain undisturbed by the prowling eyes of familiar faces. Throughout their private meal the star of the evening had shown her rays with child-like eagerness. Her peppy voice had twirled around the table as she spun tall tales of this and that, of hes and shes and wheres and and-thens. Observing how the candle flame glimmered in her deep dark eyes, the man had remained a humble listener, humming or shortly letting slip a comment in agreement from time to time, all the while keeping closed a box under his chest.

"Oh, I know." her index finger poked his cheek while her other hand was coiled around his right arm. "It's just that my lion's been lacking a roar today. What? Did you catch a cold?"
"Something like that." he looked away from her and towards the road ahead.
The dinner had ended not long ago and they were walking to her apartment with not a person, nor stray to meet on the way. Boryan knew where they were going, as he had scouted the route several times beforehand, yet despite this rehearsal, the closer they were to their destination, the more his sides were beginning to stiffen.
"Hmph, men. You know, no one's gonna call you out on admitting you're sick ~ her new topic steadily melted into the background.

There it was. The yellow acacia tree at the corner. A brief stillness followed a soundless forced exhale. The force that had been tethering his gut shot up to his throat. With one swallow, he forced in back down, yet only to his chest.
~Really loved the place. Wasn't all fancy, but ten plus on the cute. We gotta take it from the Boids Rule guys. They are sooo dumb anyways~
They were drawing nearer as she prattled on. The soles of his sneakers brushed against the concrete once or twice. The arm she was holding felt cold and forlorn.
~You know what? I got it. Lets make the restaurant floor into tiles. It'll be so creative~
One more step. The orange light from the street lamp shined down through the branches, creating an intricate patchwork underneath.
~Or, you know, we can just open a new one and make it as unique as-"
"Pamela."
They stopped under the acacia tree.
"Listen up. I have some news."

The man gently pulled his arm out of her clutches as he maneuvered to stand in front of her. Looking down at the girl, whose lovely doe eyes were lifted expectantly, the power from before climbed up and bit down on his neck once more. The thought of her and what he was about to say. It rattled his insides the longer their gazes remained locked.
"Well? What's with the suspense? Did... Did someone die?" her tone was impatient at first, yet became milder with the last question.
"No, no one has died." Boryan sighed, both from the statement and for his own sake.
"Oh, perfect. Then there's nothing to worry about."
"Someone might, though." he quickly intercepted any attempt to move on to another subject. "Listen, things are getting worse by the day. Roger's men keep slipping by our patrols and going rabid after our people."
"You don't say. I live there, remember?" she lifted an eyebrow.
"I do, sweetheart." he narrowed his eyes and looked behind his shoulder. "It's a miracle we didn't run into anyone on the way."
"Awww, concerned about me, baby?" she leaned in and tilted her head whilst looking him in the eyes with a smile. "So sweet, I'm getting cavities."
"I am. That's why I want you to hear me out." his gaze returned, this time austere.
From his tone and choice of words, Pamela understood that this wasn't going to be their usual playdate skit, thus the young woman straightened up, no longer bearing her flirty smile, and listened attentively to the continuation of his.

"This isn't a scuffle anymore. Every day, I see one worst case after the next and their number keeps on rising. Meanwhile, there hasn't been a night without a brawl. The boys and I've been holding our ground, but they keep on coming with everything and anything they've got. Tony wants us to run, if we see we're in for it, but Roger's made it clear. He doesn't care if we send his men back in bandages or bags." he paused after the condensed description of the two months he had spent as both an underboss and unlicensed medic for the men he had grown up with, then continued in a more collected manner. "This is a gang war, Pam. A full-out war and we're in the dead centre of it. Was 'bout time, given how lots of the world's gone up in smoke. Good news is not all of this city's in flames." he allowed himself to blink, even keeping his eyelids closed for one second longer in preparation for his declaration. "Unfortunately, I'm the only one our block has. People who know how to treat wounds and make casts are scarce as it is, let alone anything more complicated or with enough authority to keep everyone else in line. If we want to chase Roger out of town, I have to stay and lead. Which sends me at the top of the enemy's hit list, right bellow Tony. You asked if I'm concerned about you. I am. Which is why it's come to this...... We have to break it off, Pam. I know they already know about us, what with all our photos and profiles, but the longer you stay here, the longer you stay with me, the greater the chance of you accidentally taking a bullet. And I wouldn't be able to live with that. Roger has all of his focus on the big picture here. They won't notice, if you slip away to another area. We'll have to keep our couple status online for a while longer, though, so the guys will have enough time to hide your tracks, in case those bastards decide to go after you. But if..." once more, he paused and his tone changed, now carrying a determined note with a hidden string of hope. "If you don't want to call it off. If even now, when our neighborhood going to hell. Then wait for me. It's a lot to ask, I know. We won't see or text each other for God knows how long, maybe have a short phone call once a month. It's a huge risk. But I promise you, even when all looks bleak, I won't be with any other woman. You'll be the only one in my thoughts and dreams, same as right now. Once this is all over, we'll get a place and settle our lives back to how we used to be."

The box he had crafted carefully within his heart for some time had opened at last. Contrary to what he had expected, Boryan, had felt calm, which had allowed him to speak clearly of his concerns and decisions. After the first words had broken free from the collar of unease that had been strangling him, the rest had flown with ease, not once revealing how many nights he had lost sleep thinking of how, when and where to say all that he had. Once the man had nothing else to add, silence ensued. A number of scenarios had played out in his mind, giving him the opportunity to play his next move in each, yet none of them had prepared him for what followed next.
A crack at the corner of her lips. Her cheeks lifted. Eyes crescent. A single restrained "ha" escaped and opened the door for several more that no longer obeyed the rules of sympathy.
"Wait for me? HAHA. What is this? HA. Some old soap? Pfft, HA. Or a book for middle-school girls?" Pamela gasped between her laughter, then continued with the smile on her round peach face. "Want me to give you a keepsake? Or, what, maybe write you poetry or whatever it is those slobs do? You want to break up with me and then say we can keep it long-distance with one short call per month?" then she raised her voice. Who the hell do you think you are?! You think you're some bigshot, huh?! Oh, so now that you're "Top Cat", you can make me your side bish?! Half the day you're in that dumb old building with them geezers doing hell knows what or at that basement sowing up bastards that smell like their nana's casket. You know what I've been through?! I've had to walk those streets alone! And don't even try to say your men are looking out for me. They don't know which way their ass is pointing! But nooo, you have to go to uni. Didn't even have the time to meet me at night! Now you want me to move who knows where and do what? Wait for you?! What sorry excuse of a w***e would wait for you?! You warthog! Ever seen yourself in the mirror? Your mugshot is a nightmare. You look like you are two seconds away from shooting someone in the leg and then telling them they own you money. No one will ever love you, you hear me!!! Nobody! Your mother has no choice! Your brain-dead friends are afraid of you! No one ever wants to be around you! I'm the only person that ever pitied your disgusting face and cared to give you a chance! And what for?! Wait? Make it look like we're together?! I'm a grown woman and guess what! All I gotta do is give one look and have a man in bed! No man is ever gonna tell me what to do and where to live, especially one that's never gonna have a real job! You're a failure, Boryan! You and your friends! You'll always look like a criminal! You want us to break up? Well, guess what. We're done! We're through and I'M the one who's breaking us up! Don't call me. Don't text me. I see you or any of your friends ever again, I'm calling the cops and accusing you of assault and rape! You ugly bastard!"
With her last sentences, Pamela stormed past him and off down the street, shouting every word to the top of the sleeping residential buildings.

In the silence that came after, Boryan did not know for how long he stood under the dipping branches of the acacia and its yellow flowers, or how he made it back to his apartment, or even why he was standing in the middle of the living room with his shoes still on and the lights turned off. His roommate Alex wasn't home and wouldn't be for the next two days, thus there was no one waiting or to be expected. It was as though the man had teleported from that moment to this one in an instant and yet he still did not motion to the light switch. The windows provided what little illumination the night could give, painting the room in shades of almost black-blue with the distant corners fading into a known abyss of darkness. Because of the time, there was but not a sound to be heard neither from outside, nor from within. Not even the rustling of the neighbors as they moved and the thumping of their cat as it jumped to the ground were present. The once bustling urban dwelling where music, laughter or roaring engines filled one's ears had become a motionless pool of serenity. Something so familiar now presented an unexpected side to itself.
Finally back in reality, the youth made his way to the bathroom where he turned on the lights. The sudden change stung his eyes and mind, which resulted in him squinting and turning his head away ever so slightly. Why he had walked into the bathroom, he did not know. There were no coherent thoughts, only wordless urges were guiding his movements. For several seconds his eyes adjusted and he lifted his head, only to see himself in the mirror above the sink. This was him. A young man with a clean shave, slicked back black hair and simple clothing. Was it the sharp firm jawline? The dark low eyebrows hanging above two sharp brown eyes? Or the line that hardly ever broadened up into a large smile? What was it? What was it?

Crack.

A circular pattern of shattering appeared on the part of the mirror where his fist made impact. The sharp pieces fell to the ground, yet the object stayed on the wall. Even the non-living defied him, remaining in place to continue displaying a now distorted version of his visage. Boryan took a few steps back and when he felt the door to his spine, slowly slid down to sit on the cold white tiles. He reached and took out the phone that was in his back pocket and only then noticed the blood that was dripping down from all sides of his right hand. The wounds stung, yet weren't serious. At least he didn't think they required immediate attention, in spite of the constant stream of red that was spreading down his arm and onto his phone. Something that grabbed his attention more was the violent shaking of this same hand. His awareness of his own body increased from there. He was short of breath. Gasping. It felt like a knife was cutting between his ribs. His mouth was dry, brisk heaves barely audible. And his heart was pounding so loudly, he could hear it in his cranium, and his jugular vessels pulsed so strongly on his heck that it felt as though they were about to burst. As he was being overwhelmed by all of these sensations, thoughts were emerging in his mind once more. And then his eyes became warm with the realizations that came like a hammer striking down an anvil.
Pamela didn't want him. She turned her back the moment the opportunity came. And why wouldn't she? Maybe she had been wanting to for years? How could he blame her, but how could he just pretend it didn't matter? She was his sweetheart. In these four years they had given their everything to each other. They were each other's first love. She made him feel like he was both ordinary and exceptional. He could be himself around her without restrain, could talk to her for hours, yet also stay quiet and watch her figure. They went everywhere together, tried many new things and had so many memories of places and people. He had done everything in his power to appreciate her, to let her know how much he loved her and that she was nothing less than a queen, the queen of his heart. However, it seemed like the queen did not fancy her kingdom. Was to too unsightly, too constraining, too busy or something else? He didn't know. And he couldn't think about it. Not anymore. Whatever the answer was, it didn't matter. She was gone and she liked it.

Barely capable of reading the words, Boryan opened the contact list on his phone and paused. Who was he trying to call? He couldn't call his friends, because he didn't want to bother them, especially the crew, since they had enough on their plates as it was. He couldn't call his parents, because he didn't want to worry or upset them. His mother would be distraught to the point of convincing his father to drive to his apartment this very instant. His father would tell him that things like these happened and that he did his best. But did he really? Did he truly do his best? The imaginary scenario of them coming over and their voices made his face redden more. The hand that had been holding the phone pressed the button to turn the screen black and slid down. The last realization struck the final nail in place. There was no one he could call. Because he didn't deserve it. He was alone. He would sit on the cold white tiles without a single soul knowing how he felt until the sun rose or at least until the last tears fell from his tired eyes.
 
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Name: Rorie Grace Sutler

Title: The Syphon

Age: 22

Gender: Cis-Female

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Time in Captivity: 1 Year

Personality: RRorie.jpgorie is very reclusive and prefers to be by herself. She is very quiet, guarded, and passive-aggressive when triggered. Though her voice and presence tend to seem meek, she is the complete opposite once her shell is cracked. Behind her walls, she's a fun-loving woman and adores being around people. Unfortunately, she tends to self-sabotage herself out of gaining friends due to her eminent fear of feeding off of them in a frenzy.

Appearance: Standing around 5' 2", Rorie is a small-framed woman who is slender in build. Her porcelain complexion is adorned with a splatter of freckles along the bridge of her nose and up across her cheekbones. Her face is framed by dark brown hair that ends at her chin, and bangs that stop just above her brows. There is a moon tattoo right above her collarbone.

Experimentations & Modifications: Upon experimenting on Rorie's body, there was an odd adaptation that was discovered. Her genetic changed nearly completely. Instead of feeding on regular substances like foods and liquids, she now had the ability and need to feed off of the life-force of others around her. With a simple touch of her hand, her victim will start to feel extremely drained within minutes. If her hand is not removed, all of their life-force will be syphoned out and they will drop to the ground, lifeless. There is another ability that comes with this new modification. Being able to absorb energy allows her to take the energy of a hit and redistribute it into a punch, kick, etc. of her own.

There are major drawbacks to her abilities, just as there are upsides. After redistributing syphoned/absorbed energy, she becomes extremely hungry and lethargic. It takes a lot out of her to do so, and when she isn't able to feed for a while, she has the possibility of blacking out, or going into a frenzy. A frenzy simply involves her frantically attempting to syphon energy from the person closest to her. Due to this, she is forced to wear gloves, so she doesn't accidently syphon from an innocent staff member, or another experiment.

Threat Level to Staff: Considerable (Without Gloves Worn)

Background: Rorie doesn't remember much. When experimentation started, she ended up losing a lot of her previous memories of her life before capture.



​
Soft breaths turned into panicked, choked-up coughs. Jolting straight up, the dark-haired woman looked around frantically. Where was she? This room was foreign to her. Barren walls devoid of posters or pictures, minimalistic furniture displayed around her, and no trash or clutter across the floors. It was disturbingly clean and new.

With a scrunched nose, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up. Her bare feet touched the cool stone floor, causing a shiver to creep up her spine. She looked around for signs of where she might be. Maybe there would be something familiar?

She stepped forward to a dresser at the foot of her bed. There was a simple set of white clothes prepared for her. Slipping into them, she exchanged her old and raggedy ones for the new set.

"Hmm...comfy." She murmured to herself.

Pushing herself away from the dresser, she moved to the desk across her small room. There were a few of her personal belongings resting atop it. She picked up her notebook and began flipping through it, eyeing the crappy doodles she made when she got bored. After a few moments, she closed the book and held it close to her chest.

"Good to see you're awake, Experiment 4325." A voice sounded over the speakers.

The woman jumped, startled by the sound. She looked around the room and searched for the speakers, but to no avail. Her grip tightened on the journal.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" She spoke up, her eyes flickering around tensely.

"It matters not. Are you ready for your first experiment?"

"I never agreed to this! Let me out!" She snapped.

"You have no choice. This is for the better of others." The voice replied emotionlessly.

The door opened suddenly, three guards in hazmat suits rushing in. Two held electrocutions staffs while the third held a batton. The woman attempted to fight back with the only weapon available to her: the journal clutched against her chest. She swung it at the guards, but was immediately shocked. Dropping to the ground, tears streamed down her face. A loud cry of pain left her lips as something sharp pricked her neck.

"Just relax. It'll make it easier on all of us, including you." One of the guards spoke up.

Her vision began swimming until everything went black.



Name: Gael

Title: Whispering Death

Nicknames: N/A

Age: 26

Gender: Cis-Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Personality / Psyche: Boop.jpgGael is silent. He doesn't speak and tends to keep to himself, as to not disturb people. Through his years at the facility, he finds his presence to be disturbing to some due to his eerily silence and sharp stare. He comes across judgmental with his gaze, but in truth, he's quite open-minded. This man is very reserved and doesn't bother batting an eye when threatened, made fun of, etc. He simply looks the other way and will ignore any attempts. His patience is virtually endless, or so many think. Rumor has it, nobody has ever seen him lash out. Or has ever lived to tell the tale.

If one does manage to get close with Gael, they'll find that he speaks through other means such as telepathic connections or notes in his journal. He is very trustworthy, loyal, and will always be willing to lend a helping hand. And he's rather goofy if given the chance!

Appearance: Gael is 5' 4” and has a slender built. His skin is ivory with a clear and smooth complexion. Resting upon his left eye is a large, white scar that he can't remember the origin of. His eyes are an icy silver, matching his locks. There are few scars across his body, but they are prominent if visible. There are two along his right bicep, one crossing his back, and a singular scar on his face. He can be seen wearing a plain white turtleneck, white pants, and white shoes (when uniforms are optional).


Modification: Beneath the turtleneck he wears are some gnarly scars from experiment WD or Whispering Death. During experimentation, the scientists tampered and modified Gael's vocal cords to be stronger and more deadly. His voice has been amped up to an extreme. With a simple-spoken whisper, he can inflict a massive headache upon his victims. One can only imagine what a scream could do. Curious? Well, let me enlighten you!

When Gael screams, it causes near-immediate incapacitation and/or death, depending on how powerful the scream is. They range and vary depending on his emotions and intentions. When angered, he can produce a more deadly, potent scream. But it does have quite the repercussions! After using his modification, he is left with an extremely sore set of vocal cords and can develop the following: migraines, nose and ear bleeds, ringing of the ears, severe fatigue, and possible fainting.

Background: Gael doesn't remember anything before being brought into the experiment. He only knows life within the walls of the facility, so he doesn't fuss much.
 
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Name: Deon



Title: Soothsayer



nicknames: Weaponized hippy (probably someone in the facility), bug eyes



Age: 24



Gender: Female



Sexuality: Omnisexual
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Personality: Outwardly, she seems a bit dreamy and aloof, even a little frail. She has a grace about her, but it's just the way she carries herself. soothsayer always wants to take someone's hand, walk in their shadow or guide them along like a familiar or good omen. Her general attitude is one of resigned acceptance for what's to come and yet so much hope swims in her eyes. When she isn't fully awake and feeling groggy, she can take an interesting turn to brusque and playful, but with a soft sleepy voice. Others could even say she seems drunk, but it's purely the fatigue in her soul and body. Humour is a friend to her in those times, but she knows when to be serious and it's rare to see her animated and rowdy.





psyche: Haunted, sleepy, longing. Soothsayer's eyes pierce the veil and beyond, only shutting to pray that a door will open. She doesn't have a fierce lion buried under the soft linen of her soul, just a permanent exhaustion, a forever question of what more is to be and when will it start. What will trigger it? She has more questions than those without her abilities. She has a heart that sways with the tide, begging to be swept by an outside force. When someone pulls on her, she doesn't question it- she will bound over obstacles with skirt hiked high in order to reach the open door.
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Modification: "100 paths" as it's called, an experiment commissioned for the coveted gift of foresight. Soothsayer's abilities didn't turn out exactly as hoped, the toll on her mind seen as a huge con against the pros. It all began with a rat, then several rats, then people treated as rats, then- Soothsayer.

When she emerged from the maze, all became clear. Her ability is to play out 100 different yet similar scenarios in order to search and find the ones that lead to victory, to survive. By testing the realm of the possible and impossible, she can live several realities at once, choosing the path she wishes to take. Once she has, all other realities lived will be as if they never occurred. She can't possibly remember them all, but she can focus on the one single trigger that leads to the correct path of victory. If she fails to act when the trigger is presented, she will lose that reality and in doing so, lose her chance at winning. In simple terms, if she is in a maze, she can stare off into 100 possible ways to pass through it. If there is a way out within those 100 futures, she will find it. However, she has no control at all if something will stand in her way, if she is rejected or if an outside force is too strong. If she can't locate the trigger, be it a colorful sticky note or someone's odd pair of shoes at exactly 4 'o clock, she's kind of screwed.

*Credited to the 100 paths of Nezumi- Juni taisen*



Time in captivity: 6 years
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Background: She only remembers sickly lights in the isles of some kind of store, sweating as she tried to count change in her shaky hand. She'd have to put the ramen packet back- just take the milk. And the frozen peas, put that back, just the milk for now. She was in a maze long before the Seekers put her there.



Appearance: Not slender, not wide, just sort of... soft. She has delicate hands but her thumbs are torn from nervous picking. Her eyes are large and pool-like, watery in that sense. She seems to dress in flowy, loose fitting outfits with the ability to curl up in them. Her form is not as perked or curvy, taking on the shape and silhouette of what she has on at the time. Her hair is dark brown, thin and can become a mess if she doesn't brush it. When she smiles, it isn't so much a grin but more of a slow and dazed upturn of her lips, a charmed expression. Her height is around 167 cm, and if she can have control of it, she will be seen without shoes. she just likes having liberated footsies.
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  • Dead men tell no tales? Why, I find them to be rather chatty.
    Freyja
    enter
coded by natasha.
 
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cetussssblue.jpg





Name: Corisande



Title: Cetus




Nicknames: Whale lord, lord of whales




Age: 23



Gender: 'I am one of the meanest creatures that inhabit the sea. I am three hundred miles in length, and enter this day into the jaws of the Leviathan'"




Sexuality: “All consuming”
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Appearance: "A light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning".

Cetus, or Corisande, used to look much different pre-seekers. He now has been physically and cosmetically altered by accident or maybe as a direct result of his modification. His hair grew long and bled into a deep crimson, his eyes also took on the same hue. His height is around 6’2 and his build is now slender and willowy. His hair was long, well past his lower back until just recently before entering the Fated program. His division snipped his locks and slicked them back neatly, as if trying to make him “presentable and current”. Mannerisms are delicate.



Personality: "this is the dragon that was cast out of Paradise, that beguiled Eve, and is permitted in this world to make sport of us. How many monks and clerics has it dashed headlong!”



Cetus could at first blush be tagged with “Harsh, threatening, Antagonistic” but spend two minutes with him and you’ll see he isn’t as edgy as his declarations and threats would have you think. Change and chaos of any kind is welcome in his eyes and any bad choices in his line of sight sound like a good time. That being said, as time goes on it becomes clear he isn’t as much of a loose cannon as he'd like to think he is. It’s all essentially an act for himself to keep some form of hope alive.
Below in the torpid waters of his heart, Cetus actually still retains his need for order and connection with someone but circumstances haven’t allowed for it. As well, he’s been burned many times and especially when he got to the facility, he found even less reason to open his heart.
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Psyche: Cetus, before being brought to the facility, was fairly mild in nature and casually charitable. He used to believe that the more good he sent out into the world, the more it would improve. Nurturing, cultivating, repairing and mending lives were part of his daily routine, built into him from a young age. And he was young when he was taken from the streets.

Since being held against his will, a very different person emerged. Cetus no longer has anything to care for, nothing to strive towards and Isn’t allowed any goals or personal connections. Something in his heart soured, in contrast to most others in the Seeker’s facility. Experimentation after so many years, the methods of which have been cloistered away ln files somewhere, brought him to the brink of violence against his captors. Where once was at least a desire to understand what they were after, now remains a searing need to see them all pay, and pay with their lives. However, in recent years that disdain and malice has boiled over and Cetus has had time to meditate on his situation. He’s far less violent and more thoughtful, choosing to laugh at his situation when the alternative is to suffer alone. He’s developed a rebellion on his own sorrow and chooses to channel that pain into a possible escape.




Modifications: Cetus may summon “spirit shapes” or light phantoms. They have been known to be a variety of figures be they human or animal but most commonly they take the form of sanguine whales. Much like sky sprites, they glow and are bright enough to cause one to shield their eyes but their visuals aren’t the danger. When Cetus truly wants to, with enough energy stored up from the surrounding area, he will send out a spirit whale which swims through all solid matter, effectively crashing down on anything in the way. The energy burst feels heavy, objects can break, it can crush humans if one isn’t careful. The colors aren't always a red hue, sometimes they can be green or blue, or pink.

The drawbacks and limitations of his abilities being, if he hasn’t been properly fed or absorbed ambient energies, (Which his inhibitors block) he cannot form the shapes who have control over the weight of impact of his creations. They fizzle out, and even when he does manage to summon one when free of his inhibitor, it can take him days to recover.



Time in Captivity: 6 years



Background: Like many brought in by the Seekers, his story is mainly a blur. He does remember needing to be home at a certain hour or someone would be very angry, or worried. Maybe that’s what he told himself, just in case no one was in fact, waiting for him. For now, his old life seems irrelevant and it may never come back to the front of his mind.
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Atlantis is one of the sensationalized Divisions who don’t serve much purpose outside of creating spectacles of their experiments. If they can dazzle funders and dig their heels into the backs of other divisions, that’s their self proclaimed prerogative. When they learned they could channel “light phantoms” through Cetus, they gleefully titled him to match their uncreative and trite collection of Greek myths, as if that hasn’t been run into the ground. They at first gave him stage training, hoping for a performer of sorts but Cetus became too closed off and petulant, so they simply forced him to use his light show a few times and canned him after. He’s little more than a passing entertainment for them as they see if he can find a partner. They treat it like a viewing of “love island.”
 
  • Welcome to the panic room, where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you.
    Dream
    enter
coded by natasha.
 
Don't worry. I wasn't serious when writing this character. At all. Have fun reading~!
  • Basics
    Surname☆First
    Beaumont
    Jack
    FC: CHILLED MANGO SAGO CREAM WITH POMELO (杨枝甘露) (GAME: THE TALE OF FOOD)
    Codename
    |
    The Cup of Fortune
    Age
    |
    24 years
    Birthday
    |
    8 December (Sagittarius)
    Gender
    |
    Male
    Time
    |
    4 years
    Threat Level
    |
    Moderate
    Division
    |
    Atlantis Division
    Appearance
    Height
    |
    177cm (5'10'')
    Weight
    |
    69 kg (152 lbs)
    A body carved so finely, it would make Pygmalion turn around and Galatea jealous. With eyes a hazel candy, hair - a thick dark chocolate and smile hooking every fish, this young man is every bit the dreamboat that little girls in hoodies and big socks squeal at in the middle of the night. Standing at an average of 177 cm in height, he may not be a Hercules, but his flexibility, dexterity and agility make him more than qualified to substitute when Hermes is on vacation. And if he were to ever guide the souls of the dead to their eternal afterlife, the journey there would not be mournfully silent, but instead carried on the wings of his dazzling melodious voice.

    When speaking of cloth and attire, Jack has worn it all. From the sickeningly bright to a full black, from medieval to futuristic. All in the name of the role and the plot, yet not without his consent, which he gives readily. Fashion is something this man takes seriously and while he pities the ignorance of those without style, finding it even childishly adorable, he will not tolerate the pretentious lot, who loudly boast themselves to be of superior status, yet posses little knowledge and even poorer judgment. At present, Jack is at a stage of having a taste for rich colours and lighter tints, without too many dangling accessories, yet definitely possessing something that stands out in what could otherwise be a slick and clean design.
    Personality
    “O, Thalia, Terpsichore and Euterpe.
    O, Polyhymnia, Melpomene and Calliope.
    Blessed have you, Muses of the arts, this youth,
    whose voice is sweeter than the sweetest fruit,
    whose charm will cause all breaths to pause
    and talent brings a round of applause.”

    Living in the spotlight is no simple task. The expectations of the masses in the theater and those behind the curtains. The constant need to maintain one’s body youthful and elegant whilst simultaneously going through intense training regiments. The long nights and even longer texts in need of memorizing. And the brightness of the projectors. It’s not a life worth living for most, still, disillusioned lambs wander into the den, only to loose a leg or two before escaping. Yet for Jack, it is and always has been a natural habitat.

    With a steady stride and body at ease, he walks into a room with the confidence of a man that knows he’s carrying this show on his back. Aware of how much he’s worth, he will meet the crowd with a smile and converse about anything, without a care for the acceptability of the subject. As someone who likes the sound of his own voice, Jack will not hesitate to share his opinion about himself and others, and if the lights are dim and voices low, he may chuckle in your ear a hint of the latest gossip or how cute you look tonight. The people that admire him he greets with open arms, but if you were to cross him, he will, without a wrinkle on his brows or change in his expression, shoot you down with a single line or two before ignoring you entirely. Time waits for no one, so why miss the next train to happiness by wasting yourself with the attention of people that don’t give you any sweets?

    A once optimistic little youth and now the embodiment of Dionysus, Jack has settled into a comfortable lounge chair of an attitude, where he lives each day as if it were his last by seeking pleasure and avoiding pain.

    But “what is pleasure”, you may ask? For Jack, pleasure can be acquired from a long menu of physical and socio-mental actions. This is why he will insist on eating proper meals and talking to others about the most trivial of things. If it is a question of his comfort and well-being, he will do as he pleases, all in the name of short-term satisfaction.

    One of Jack’s greatest sources of joy is performing. Whether it be a thrilling dramatic improvisation, a heart-stringing song or a passionate dance, using his body and soul as an artistic display will give him a “high” unlike any other, even when he’s alone in a room. Of course, going in front of an audience and feeling their excitement will further send him soaring above the clouds. However, a provoked reaction from others doesn’t always need to be positive for him to feel elated. Whilst the fans as a whole are deserving of his spotless service, when interacting with individuals he is particularly curious about, Jack may intentionally become dramatic or push the wrong keys on the piano just to see what will happen with a grin. And when it comes to Cetus, you can bet your money on the fact that he will not only press the wrong keys, he’ll play the song backwards while laughing.

    Cetus hails from the same division as Jack and, once upon a time, the latter thought he would be his performance partner. The Atlantians had certainly hyped up the idea of forming a duo for him, but when they finally started working together, Jack was thoroughly disappointed. For someone that was 2-years his senior in the Seekers programme and 1 year his junior in age, with a splendid visible ability that didn’t require warping people’s minds, Cetus had very little talent to speak of and was unwilling to put in the effort to improve. He also had anger issues that seemed to grow exponentially as the two of them trained together. Jack adores working with people that share the same passion and detests those that pull the team effort back. And to him, Cetus was an ungrateful slacker with a habit for tantrums. As could be expected, Jack complained. Loudly. The Seekers begged him to have patience and try to pull Cetus out of the ditch he had fallen into or at least help him not look like a shriveled plant on stage. Since none of the positive encouragement methods worked, however, Jack resorted to poking and prodding him whenever the opportunity arose to get any new emotion from the red Rapunzel. Reenacting Tom and Jerry scenes was hilarious for quite some time, but with Cetus steadily descending into a constant state of fury, they separated the two and only reunited them occasionally for the sake of measuring how much one had progressed and how much the other had regressed. Jack didn’t consider this as a failure, since he had completed his part of the assignments flawlessly and if Cetus didn’t want to follow his example, that was his problem to deal with and Jack’s topic to discuss with whomever and wherever the Muse struck him.

    While his approach with Cetus may sound a little harsh, especially considering his nonchalant selfish indulgence, Jack is not a hypocrite when art is on the table.

    Yearning the sound of the cheering crowd and the sparkle in their eyes, this young man will give his all on stage. No matter how long or intricate the script is or how complicated the dance steps are, he will practice, correct and repeat until the piece is flawless. Loosing sleep or falling down from muscle cramps means nothing to him, if it means reaching the goal in time for the show. This same principle applies to all non-artistic tasks he takes seriously. In fact, the guy who likes drinking that pumpkin spice latte while doing nothing might surprise you with how much of a hard-worker he can be when the circumstances require it. This isn’t something he intentionally hides, but rather an aspect of his that naturally becomes buried under his otherwise bombastic self. Jack doesn’t usually pretend to be someone he’s not by wearing a mask, although his career suggests he’s well capable of it. Instead, he prefers to blend the role with a bit of himself in every that he does, in an attempt to create a portrait worthy of being hung on the wall. Yet it is precisely this pursuit of perfection that has caused him the most suffering.

    If he can’t deliver a top performance, if he can’t reach the highest levels of the chart, if he can’t get the job done, Jack believes he’s not worth keeping alive. There had been nothing in his life outside the facility that he had been good at, other than memorizing lines, acting, dancing and singing. He can’t fix a clogged pipe, can’t help with electrical problems or even change a flat tyre. Some people didn’t even think he had a job, but rather considered his career a type of hobby, in other words, a waste of time. In the facility, the Seekers continued developing his artistic skills, even granting him abilities that have to do with him being the centre of attention. If he begins to fail consistently, Jack will spiral into an abyss of self-criticism and loathing, becoming a nervous wreck that thinks of itself as a worthless piece of trash. What’s worse is that he knows what will happen to him once the Seekers decide he’s reached his expiration date. There won’t be any sedative. No analgesia. He will feel every bit of pain as he is dragged down into the pits of Hell, only this time there won’t be any waking up from the nightmare. His greatest fear and rare horrifying dream is being dismembered while still alive, because it’s the method the Seekers hypothesize will definitely kill him.

    With the constant fear of failure quietly sitting on his shoulder, it’s possible to understand why Jack didn’t put up much resistance when the Seekers assigned him firearm training and eventually entered him in small military operations and assassination missions. With his ability, he could easily disarm anyone and disorientate a group for long enough to either kill or abduct them himself or for others to move in and seize the flag. The Atlantis Division had been worried that their precious Glass of Fortune would crack under those circumstances. Luck was on their side, however, since Jack not only kept his sanity, he also discovered his talent for shooting with a gun. To him, the death he delivered to his targets was a blessing, a pleasant farewell. It was quick and ofttimes much less painful than what they could have faced and definitely better than what he had experienced.

    In the “special rooms” of the Atlantis Division, Jack found it funny to play a game, during which he would resist as much as possible the experiments that were meant to kill him. Electric shock. All kinds of poisons at the highest doses. Drowning. Gassing. Beaten bloody and broken. Freezing. Heatwaves. They would try and try again to see how far they could go, to determine where the line was between life and death. And every time, Jack would take all the pain and suffering, fall unconscious and, after waking up with a fully recovered body, smile and ask how long he lasted, before falling unconscious again for an extended period of time. Any other approach would only cause him more pain. Resigning to faith, he could only laugh and enjoy the time he has, doing what he loves, before they serve him the next glass of bitterness that he would have to swallow.
    +
    Likes
    singing, acting, dancing, performing in front of a crowd, the cheer of the audience, strong flavours, monstrous food or ingredient combinations, fashion, spa treatment, massages, card games, board games, DIY castles, crowds, his powers, hugs, any form of feedback, getting a reaction out of Cetus.
    -
    Dislikes
    dying for the Nth time, bugs, lack of praise, lack of attention, lack of affection, watermelon, his sleep being disturbed, smelly clothes, clothes on the floor, not changing your clothes, missing deadlines, being late
Code by Nano
 
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