CHARACTERS Nougat's Nuggets (Character Storage)

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Original poster
Invitation Status
  1. Look for groups
Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
  2. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Elementary
  2. Intermediate
  3. Adept
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
Storage of characters I've made because I love them and unfortunately if I just leave them saved in google docs I can't see any of the pictures (Also in their original posts the codes got messed up). Most of them were made for very specific stories lol although if I have time I might make more general versions of their sheets.

They're also all fairly old so don't roast me thank you.

Eksi Endrimm
The dreamworld is an expanse of islands. Here, the citizens of this world organize and distribute dreams, while maintaining the delicate balance between dreams and nightmares. There are three creatures who inhabit this world, being nightmares, Óneiro, and Bermimpi. Óneiro are the actors in a dream. Without work, they shall fade away. They are accompanied by Bermimpi, which is connected to their lifeforce. If they die, the Bermimpi dies. If their Bermimpi dies, the Óneiro will go insane and become a nightmare.

Tristan Koyanagi
A zombie roleplay.

Camellia Lee
A roleplay set sometime after a nuclear war, in a small community.

Aria Lee
Superhero rp

Kian Brady
A roleplay set sometime after a nuclear war, in a small community.

Stuart Allaway/Mika Faust
A zombie roleplay

Caelum Hinton/Ari McLean/Briar and Bain King
After a strange outbreak occurs in a high school which causes all of the adults to die, the students are quarantined in the building by the government. Their only interaction with the outside world are bimonthly supply drop offs. The students soon formed gangs to increase their chances of survival.

Briar Mason
Humans go back to explore earth after generations of living in space.

Yuneksia Endrimm

Faolán Brennan
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Where do you dream little one?
Tucked up, cuddled up,
under eiderdown
in trundle beds?


Eᴋsɪ Eɴᴅʀɪᴍᴍ
G ᴇ ɴ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ

S ᴘ ᴇ ɪ ᴇ s

A ᴘ ᴘ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ

He's a mess. It's an unfortunate thing, really, that his natural expression is somewhere between complete apathy and just general tiredness. Despite being fairly tall, he never seems to be able to will himself into standing up straight, and he is often slouching. He can be more energetic if he enjoys a person's company, but that's usually reserved for Tazi.

The dark clothing he wears, wrinkled and just a bit too long at the ends, do nothing but emphasize the extreme dullness of his features. His skin is pale, cool-toned skin marked with various bold, sharp symbols.

He looks, almost, as though much of his colour had simply been stripped away. His hair, a pale and dull looking brown, is often pushed back and tied up, but when it isn't, it's a wispy mess that curls at the base of his neck. His eyes aren't much more for colour, pale and nearly colourless---though if it were several shades darker it'd be the same colour as that of the wisteria flower. He rarely even seems entirely alert, with the way his eyes are half-closed half the time. Not to mention his tendency to just stare into space sometimes. His lashes are quite long, which only serves to hide his irises even more. Of course, this is only if you do manage to see his face. He likes to cover it.

Of course, what is an Óneiro without an oddity? Well, if you consider it, his appearance is quite odd, but the thing that really takes the cake is his tail. Far longer than he is tall, the scaly thing is lined with needle thin spikes. Not to worry though, if he hits something with his tail it hurts, so he likes to walk with it draped over his shoulder. Besides, even if he did accidentally whack you with it, it probably wouldn't even hurt. He matches with his Bermimpi, they both have tails. It's cute.

B ᴇ ʀ ᴍ ɪ ᴍ ᴘ ɪ

Tazi is, without a doubt, his best friend. His familiar is the one who he asks for advice (nevermind the fact that he can't reply). Wherever he goes, Tazi will be right there.

Tazi's looks, a bit, like a silver fox, though perhaps a bit bigger and a bit worse for wear. But, even if Tazi is missing a bit of fur and is a little frayed at the edges (Eksi thinks it's because they're both annoyingly nosy---Tazi is just more open about said nosiness), still a great comfort on those jobless days. They're both absolute wrecks, really, which is great.

Though they are fairly in sync with their movements (You may sometimes find that you don't even see Tazi sitting beside Eksi, as they both sit in that same slouched way), their personalities do differ slightly. Most of this comes down to the fact that Eksi's mask of complete and utter apathy is quite the opposite of Tazi's very clear show of emotions. Well, of course he'd probably gladly punch a council member in the face if he didn't get consequences (You have to admit that they aren't doing much), but for the most part he doesn't seem particularly aggressive. Tazi often seems to greet people with raised haunches and a show of snarling and fangs, as though threats are something that should be handed out liberally. On the other hand, they often seem to share the same opinion of things. Tazi just makes more of a show from said opinions.

P ᴇ ʀ s ᴏ ɴ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ʏ

One would almost think that he was not afraid of death. When he isn't given a dream to work in, he'd shrug. "Next time," he'd say, as though he hadn't already those two words so often before. He'd been far too close to the threat of disappearance for comfort. He stays just barely afloat, being lucky enough to have a dream thrown his way on occasion, but not quite so lucky to actually have a steady job. Yet he hardly seems to care about his imminent death. It has less so to do with the fact that he really isn't worried, however, and more to do with the fact that he's extraordinarily good at not talking about what he doesn't think is anyone else's problem. He will, however, ask Tazi for advice when he's alone, as though his Bermimpi can actually reply. Really though, Tazi is much better company than the other Óneiro. Nasty competitive bunch.

Or maybe that's just him, self-projecting. Really, everything he does is such a competitive thing. He doesn't show his worries because some part of him wants people to think he's confident, that he's above them somehow and will most certainly survive (he's really not. He's quite terrified really). If he had a chance to steal a job from someone he most certainly would. Surviving with the constant fear that he might die soon really isn't a good lifestyle for him. He's really a big bundle of anxiety, he just hides it with a carefully built mask of indifference and aggression. Unfortunately, he is perfectly average and not quite lucky enough to get a steady job. At least he has just enough luck that he hasn't died just yet.

One might say he has a negative outlook on life. Frankly, whoever can have a positive outlook on it, besides those council members who really have nothing but positives in their lives, are insane. Really, a constant fear of not getting enough dreams to act in really dampens his mood. He does try to have a more positive outlook though, really.
"I haven't died yet," he'd say, sounding rather unenthused by that fact. You know, every day he's alive is actually opening up his life for more chances of something spectacularly terrible to happen to him. Not that it ever has, his life really is the most mundane of all mundane lives. Of course, with the agonizingly boring cycle of his hoping for a dream every day, maybe the spectacularly bad thing that happens to him one day will be his own fault.

There are good things about him. Shocking, really. It's hard to notice good qualities under the many layers of him that you can see. If he says he's going to do something, you can be absolutely certain that he will. If he forgets, you can always ask. He might act annoyed but he'd always try to go through with the things he says. It's one of those little parts of his own moral code that he doesn't like to break unless it's absolutely necessary.

He's loyal to a fault, really, when it comes to friends. He doesn't have much, mainly because the closest he usually shows to affection is putting his feet up on your lap if he's sitting beside you and complaining about things. You're well on your way to that level of friendship if he doesn't constantly seem annoyed in your presence. Friendships are important, you know. He'd always try his best to help his friend, and cares about that over doing what one might consider ethical. He might even break his own moral code for them in a dire situation. If you're his friend, well, you're clearly worth helping, in his eyes at least. Even if you are the personified form of trash.

B ɪ ᴏ ɢ ʀ ᴀ ᴘ ʜ ʏ

His life begins, and continues, to be mundane. As is the life of an Óneiro. You work, if you don't work you panic, and then you die. There was a time, probably long ago now, that he wondered if the act of disappearing was really such a bad idea. At least, it'd be something different than staring at a wall, as he liked to do. Then he realized that he'd rather play with Tazi than not exist.

Not that he himself had much choice in the matter. Eksi, being nothing but a common Óneiro, had little choice in the matter of his own survival. He was one of the lucky ones. Whenever he felt that, surely, he'd be gone soon, a job comes to him. He'd known plenty of people who didn't quite so fortunate as he. For that, Eksi was grateful, though it was really stupid that he had to be grateful to be given a chance to survive for just a short bit longer.

Eksi was perfectly average, and that was the problem, really. He didn't stand out nearly enough to be offered a steady position in a recurring dream or anything of the sort. He was not so exceptional that a few more dreams were tossed over his way than for others. He was not nearly lucky enough to be one of those council members, who just sat on their fat asses all day without a care for the world.

He couldn't manage to appreciate the council, no matter how hard he tried. He found himself, instead, feeling rightly jealous of them. They sat around all day, never had to worry about disappearing. Comparing their lives to his own just made Eksi's life seem pitiable.

Lately, however, things have been changing. Perhaps he isn't quite aware of it---The dreams he ends up working with are simple little things. But he's aware that something is changing. Some vague shadow on the horizon of an already dark world. Oh, he's probably far more nervous than he lets on. He always is. But you know, if the council members actually need to work, then it's almost satisfying. Always look for the positives in a negative situation.

R ᴇ ʟ ᴀ ᴛ ɪɴ s ʜ ɪ ᴘ s

Avien Sarka - It's not often that Eksi makes a friend. Maybe it has to do with his pessimistic outlook, or the fact that he likes to barge into people's homes without so much as a hello and use the people he likes to be around as headrests. Whatever the case is, he's generally alone with Tazi. However, even he has friends outside of the one creature who has little choice but to put up with him. He'd dare to say that Avien Sarka was one(not to his face though---it'd be embarrassing if Avien corrected him). Avien, the lucky shit, has lived a fair bit longer than Eksi has, which might explain his lackadaisical disposition. Beyond the fact that they happen to both be Óneiro, you would be hardpressed to find any similarities between them. Which is perfect, because if Eksi ever met someone like him, he'd probably want to punch them.

O ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ʀ

He has a habit of chewing on things. Not random things (it would be odd to see him randomly grabbing someone's tie and chewing on it). He bites his nails sometimes, or loose items of clothing, like wristbands.
He is quite a hypocrite, really. He really hates when people invade his personal space, but he'd burst into someone's room without a thought. It doesn't matter so much, of course, because he doesn't care about what you do behind closed doors as long as it doesn't directly involve him. Well, he might judge you, but he wouldn't be bothered.
He has quite a bias against Council members, really, just because he thinks they're quite useless. But he at least tries to give other people a chance. He's not an incredibly friendly person to strangers, but he wouldn't blatantly tell them to screw off.

Do you remember your dreams little one?

Nightscapes crowded with

adventure and beauty...

and your very own nasty

Filaments, scenes, images

nonsensical and real.

I had several ideas for what he would do if he were not in this world as, again, he's a fairly old character. Shall add them here.
  • In a real world setting he would probably be a mechanic.
    He owns the shop because it was a family business (not his family's though, the owner just didn't have any kids and Eksi was the only employee he had because they did not make a lot of money).
    Approximately 28 years of age, owns an absolutely humungous dog named Tazi that he adores. Personally he is a fan of motorcycles but he doesn't own one because a van is more convenient.
    Absolutely abysmal texter, nothing he writes is legible.
    Not unopposed to having a sugar daddy evidently because there was meant to be a similar arrangement in his og rp.
    He would very much like to own a house in the middle of no where with a big yard for his dog.
    A daily drinker but rather opposed to smoking.
  • In any universe where characters have actual families, he has a sister named Ella. He's older. They are both the same unnecessarily tall height and can also pick each other up.
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22 years Emancipated Born March 3, 2142 Male

His father was half Japanese, but his mother was most certainly of some European region, and the entire family lived in Canada his entire life. Pretty neat set-up, eh?

When he'd gotten there, Tristan had found that there was little he could do that others could not do better. He'd considered being a marksman for a bit, but despite having hunted for much of his life, Tristan was not that confident in his shot. However, he was a quick runner, who could run long distances well, so it was decided that he might as well become a scout, who searched for non-huntable or really growable food, as well as other supplies that a person might need, and that they might not have enough of. Though he's found that he is quite good at running around to deliver messages when the people can't be bothered to find their chosen recipient. Man, he's trained to run around doing menial tasks his entire life.

Before the outbreak, he'd been going to the University of Toronto. He wasn't too sure of what he wanted to do in the future. However, many of his classes would have pointed towards political science, which might have been an interesting enough things for him, if he'd had the chance to think about it.

Standing at 5'11", Tristan takes great pleasure in the fact that he can, occasionally, look down on others. His brother, who had great interest in researching random words in hopes of finding some use for them in the future, had a long list of words he liked to describe his older brother when he could. Lanky was one. Gawky was another. The one time that his brother called him scrawny, Tristan had put him in a headlock and refused to let go. Tristan does have a thin build, and he always seemed to have trouble building much muscle mass. But the descriptions were mainly just his younger brother being a dick. The fact of the matter is that he did have muscle. He had, after all, trained his entire life to do long distance running, which is quite a bit of physical activity for such a 'scrawny' person.

For the larger part of his life, Tristan had grown his hair out, the shaggy black mess often falling over his face. It was quite a wonder that he never blindly smashed into a zombie. Along with the oversized, ratty clothes he enjoyed, Tristan had a rather unkempt look, not that that really mattered when he was in the middle of an apocalypse. At Luxembourg, however, he decided that he may as well cut his hair somewhat shorter. It was kind of a bother to deal with it on windy days, anyway. His hair still falls in his eyes now, but it's much more manageable.

However, unless he has a reason to dress nicely, he still greatly prefers his sweaters that are long enough to hide his hands, with fraying edges, and his dark baggy jeans that are losing colour all over. Looking like a formless blob is fun!

The smile on Tristan's face is a near constant presence, even when he feels like he would much rather jump into a mob of zombies without a weapon than actually deal with life. For the most part, he smiles because he really can think of a reason to smile, however, and why not share your happiness with the expression on your face. The other part… Well, why not keep smiling while he's at it. Apparently, smiling helps to decrease stress. If that's true, then Tristan was the least stressed person on the planet.

Tristan is just the sort of person who'll never dwell on things. Remembering past events? There were too many deaths, honestly, from family to friends to strangers that he'd ignored on his own search of escape. Honestly, if he looked at the past too often, he might just go insane. You'll find instead that he'd often not mention any negative things that happened in the past, which is always helpful when you somehow manage to rile him up enough to have him fight you. Really, it's just better that way. He is, and probably always will be, just someone who follows along with wherever the current takes him, and remembering problems which arise due to that just wouldn't be fun at all.

That is one thing people seem to notice about him, in any case. Sometimes, Tristan can almost seem like he has no decision making skills of his own, as he'd just agree to whatever people say, and follow along as he's told. Which isn't true, of course. He follows everyone because it's much easier to do so, and besides, he finds himself to be a poor decision maker. He probably get himself killed if he strayed from his preset path.

Not that he's an idiot. He may have spent way too much time on athletics and let his grades slip when he was still in school, but hey, at least he was passing the few classes he paid attention in. Most of his thinking power goes towards figuring people out and memorizing the things they like and other information he'd probably never need. Hey, being a good friend is important, you know? You never know when you're going to need someone's help. He might not be so good with helping people when they're in need, but he tries, and it'd be cool if they tried for him too, right?

Tristan was born in the busy city of Toronto, Canada. For five days a week, he'd go to school. He'd play sports with his friends (Basketball was a favourite among them, even though when he played, he'd always end up messing around, launching the ball across the court to his friend on the other end). He'd talk to people who weren't exactly his friends, but didn't hate him either. When he got home, he might play some video games with his younger brother, or, if the weather was nice, they might do something else. Road hockey, usually, though occasionally his brother's friends would decide on a game of manhunt, in which case they'd chase each other around until they collapsed, lungs burning. Every day, he'd take some time to go for a run, usually coming home when the stars began to blink into existence in the sky. Every week, he'd go out with his running club. When the season came he would take some time off school go out to a forest or a lake or some other place to go hunting, which most of his family liked a lot. It was a fairly mundane existence, but a comfortable one. Tristan rarely had any problems to deal with, with an exception to the fact that his marks were average at best, as he always tended to pay more attention to the athletics side of school than the academic. He managed to make it through elementary well enough, in any case. He has no notable experiences in his childhood.

He used an athletic scholarship and OSAP to pay for university, which was alright. He had no idea what he planned to do, just taking classes that vaguely fit into his interests. Still, he paid very little attention to them, though game theory might have been one of the more interesting to him (which didn't mean he wasn't doing terribly). But, in the end, none of that mattered.

Before the outbreak, his family was taking a little vacation to Europe---his mother's choice, as she was born in Scotland and found reason to reappear there again when her mother became ill, and neither Tristan nor his brother seemed particularly enthused to visit relatives they'd never met. The two very stubbornly stayed behind in the home that smelled a bit of mothballs, and as the rest of the family had left to go do whatever there was to do, the brothers were playing video games.

The rest of the family never reappeared. Tristan was there, in a strange land, with no one to help him but his twelve year old brother. He tried to keep a clear head for his sibling of course. He was lucky enough that they could find some weapons within the home. His brother got a cross peen hammer. Tristan went with a serrated kitchen knife and the rifle of his grandfather, which was well-kept despite the lack of hunting the old man did at his age.

The siblings travelled together for a while, but really, with two brothers who liked to fight often, one just barely an adult and the other not even a teen, things were bound to go wrong. Tristan was much faster than his brother was, and that was really the deciding factor.

They had been walking down a small street, that had looked deserted to them. Tristan walked in the front, his rifle hung on his back, knife in hand. It had been deadly silent. But, then he'd heard it. The shuffling of the zombie as it moved, the groans---he wasn't sure where it was before. So he'd stopped, looked around nervously at the cars in front of him. It was no where there, however, but hidden in the hedges beside him. When he saw it, finally, some creature far too close for comfort, his first instinct, unfortunately, had not been to kill it. He'd always been far more comfortable killing things from a distance. Instead, he'd stumbled back a few steps, and then turned back to run.

He should have grabbed his brother. Should have pulled him along. Even if he'd injured him in doing so, that couldn't possibly have been worse than expecting his brother to keep pace with him. His brother, who was much younger than him, who'd given up on the long distance running Tristan adored the moment he was given a choice, had neither the endurance nor speed to keep up with Tristan and evade the zombie Tristan had---stupidly---left to live. And Tristan had run, until he heard the pained cry of his brother. He turned, just in time to watch as the zombie tore the flesh from his shoulder.

He didn't let his brother get eaten alive, of course. He could never do that. He'd wasted a few precious moments, fumbling for the rifle. How clumsy you get, when you're terrified. He eventually opted instead to run back, close that short distance that had saved Tristan from being bit. He'd taken his knife, and put it through the zombie's head as it was preoccupied with his brother. So there lay his brother, screaming and bleeding. Tristan knelt down with him. He'd taken his old jacket, and tried to use it to staunch the blood, somehow. He'd whispered---lied---to his brother, telling him that it would all be okay. But that wasn't true. He would soon have become one of those things as well, and between clenched teeth and laboured breaths, his brother had told him so. Tristan really couldn't bear the thought of it. He did care about his brother, after all. So, while his brother stared up at him, Tristan took the rifle, and shot him in the head. And his brother had died, quickly. Tristan could move on. He wasn't sure that was the right decision. Maybe it would have been better for him to just run away, and let his brother live out the rest of his unnatural life as an ugly, rotting creature. Maybe he should have just run, which he was quite good at doing. But he didn't, and it was too late to fix it. This wasn't a game.

He ran after that. Tristan ran a lot. He ran until his lungs burned and he felt like he'd die, because if he stopped then he really would die. If he stopped, and focused on something besides his breathing, then he might think back to how he really wasn't able to help anyone in his family at all, and he'd never be able to play video games with his brother, that always led to fake fights when one won and the other accused them of cheating, and his mother wouldn't be yelling at them to be quiet, the sense of irony lost on her, and his father wouldn't be sitting in the chair in the corner, clearly lost in his own world as he did work in what looked like the most uncomfortable sitting position ever. He couldn't help them, and he found that he always turned away when he saw a person screaming for help, because he couldn't help, because he was quite helpless and quite selfish, and maybe he should give up and die but he was too much of a coward to face his own mortality.

He was found, eventually. They offered a place for him to stay, where he'd be safe, and he'd be able to fall back into the preset path that was his life. It sounded like a good deal, so he went with them.

Unfortunately, life just seems to have it out for him. Tristan found himself pulled into the rebel's group, which he went along with because he quite quickly realized that Leven was not as good a place as he'd been led to believe. His time in Leven was short lived, and he soon found himself on the road again, but this time with the group of those he'd met in the old safe haven. They travelled until they found Luxembourg. He has to say, he quite enjoys this place. He'd be sad if it got overrun.

Tristan has a tendency to make odd choices in weaponry. In Leven, it had been a shovel. He did soon switch that out for a much more conventional rifle, that he'd lovingly polished and took a great deal of care of. But in London, he'd 'conveniently found' a nice titanium crowbar, that seemed quite new. It's really not that great of a weapon. If he hits something that's too hard the vibrations will kill his arms. But he tried his best to fix that, and make it easier to hold, by making a good paracord wrap. It looks great, too. His rifle is usually left at home, where his room is supposed to be.

Cédric Dahl - Ahhhh, Ceddie. He's one of Tristan's roommates, and he's a pretty nice guy. It's hard to communicate with him because of the language barrier, but that's alright. Also, he has a horse! How awesome is that?

Saorise Kaufmann - Are you sure that she's younger than he is? She's a much better leader, capable to making decisions he never could.
Ronan Kearney - They… didn't talk much. She and Rio were adorable like a basket of puppies.
Dallis Sterling - Cool girl, nice accent, great nicknames, though a different set of morales than him.
Rómulo Seung - He has a nice face, and Tristan derives enjoyment from seeing him get angry.
Nicolas Rio - His sarcasm is glorious, really.
Preston Wiles - He doesn't look like someone you could trust, but he really is, in Tristan's opinion. He disappeared. Maybe he's dead. Oh well.

× He still goes out to run as often as possible. He wants to be in shape, you know? It's important for him to do so.

× He cleans his rifle way too much for someone who never uses it. He used to love hunting, so he used rifles a lot. But you know, he's in a safe place, and shooting zombies isn't very fun anyway.
× He likes card games just because even though he always smiles when he has a good hand, no one ever seems to realize that he has a good hand. Weird how that works, eh?
× Expect him to sing music over a century old, in a voice that doesn't quite reach all the high notes and is so loud that you might start to fear that the zombies will come for the sole purpose of making him shut up. Why? Because it makes him happy and that's what matters.
× It is immensely difficult to make him truly angry, to the point that it's almost stupid. You can insult him and punch him and threaten to burn everyone he loves alive, but it's hard to actually make him yell back or try to punch you. If he thinks you deserve it, though, he do something like put dirt and worms and other insects in your bed, maybe a zombie hand if he can find one. When confronted, he's just smile in that really blank, idiotic way he could and play dumb. Why? Well, because he is fairly certain he'd lose a real fight, and he's never really that willing to get hurt for the sake of protecting his pride.

Again, old boy and also someone I really like for some reason so I like to throw him into a variety of different ideas.
- In a universe where the world did not end in a horrific apocalypse, he's a university student. Studies psychology, very active within the campus community. He's an RA, he does track, and he does multiple different clubs every year. Shockingly has not failed despite how little time he seems to dedicate to actual schooling. His professors quite like him as well, which is great because his biggest motivation in life is making everyone like him. Ends up being a child psychologist.
- A big thing about him is wanting to fit in in places that are somewhat unfamiliar to him, whether that is a different country during the apocalypse or just in some other town. I feel like in other universes he would actually be from a small town fitting his more outdoorsy interests, but moves to a much larger town for schooling. He quite likes it there however.
- Later on his brother will move in with him because their town is too small for a decent high school.
- Actually was making an rp once where people had superpowers, I feel like if he were in it he would have nothing. However, his mother and his brother would. They have water based powers. There was one instance where his brother almost drowned him as a kid but he doesn't hold it against him. Luckily while Tristan can't control water or anything interesting, he at least seemed to be able to not drown for a much longer time than average. However, he is apprehensive about powers. He is very aware of this and tries to push pass that. His brother still often likes to prank him.
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Color code #8bb381
"How crude."
Camellia Cora Lee ━━━
25 // Born November 30 // Female // Beautician

Personality ━━━
Now, you may have the wrong impression of her when you first meet her. She always tries to be polite and kind to new people. After all, she doesn't want to come on too strong and chase them away. Besides, with how slim she is, really looking like she probably only eats a salad a day, and even her name, which she shares with a flower, she doesn't really seem like a tough person. And really, up against her in a fistfight, she would probably lose terribly and immediately. But she does have nails and a nice set of scissors and hairspray and the like that could make do for weapons. Her overall presence itself is loud---Camellia is opinionated and pushy and has never been afraid to show that side of her. There is no trace of a demure lady in her, if you want to be her friend then you'd better expect being hit on the head with heels when she's annoyed, and maybe a bit of cursing.

Camellia has always been quite particular about how things were, and although she was rarely angry enough to yell or anything of the like, she'd be quite obviously displeased if something didn't go exactly her way. Whether it was about how something was set up, or a decision of any sort, a frown would always appear on her face when something didn't go exactly as she imagined. She made plans automatically in her head, and perhaps it never quite occurs to her that she lives on a planet with many other human beings with their own plans in mind. Which isn't to say that she was uptight---well, she wasn't that uptight. She made plans, yes. She'd decided what she wanted to do when she was 10. That doesn't make her uptight. She's just… organized. And there's nothing wrong about knowing what you want to do.

What she wanted to do was to be a beautician, exactly the job she received in this town. She always enjoyed the beautiful things in life. The morning dewdrops on a new spring leaf, or lazy afternoon sunlight drifting its way into a home, casting rainbow lights upon the walls. She liked to use that. Occasionally, she got just a bit too overboard with things and made very elaborate make-up/hair/outfit sets, that no one would actually wear out, but it was always nice to see them for a few hours. Otherwise, as she is quite serious about her job, she always makes sure that all her customers walk out the door looking beautiful and healthy and happy. She wouldn't have it any other way.

Biography ━━━
She was born as the last memory of summer had left, when the skies above were a dull gray that threatened the coming snowfall. In her family, in which there were already two children, a flu had been circling along. Her mother had been quarantined in her room as her husband dealt with the damage. The nine months has been extremely stressful, with a son that never seemed to be able to get his hands away from cords and outlets, and who seemed to believe that everything was climbable, and with a daughter who seemed to believe every wall was meant to be drawn on and that her daddy wouldn't mind a permanent marker moustache, both of whom cried and screamed when taken away from their favourite pastimes. Still, when Camellia was a child, she was a bubbly, sweet baby when she wasn't sleeping the day away. She didn't cry quite as much as her siblings had, and as soon as she learned to walk, her parents tried to teach her what she couldn't go near and what she couldn't draw on, and even though she still got into trouble occasionally, she was never quite as bad as her siblings.

When she was a child, she took ballet lessons. These proved to be one other thing she'd enjoy, and she continued to dance as she grew. She loved the grace that came with the movements, and though it was quite hard work, she always did her best.

Yet that was never what she wanted to do. She made her decisions very quickly, and tended to stick with them. And what she wanted was to make other people pretty. She felt much more accomplished managing to do that, and people would be affected by what she did for longer. Besides, then she could make herself look pretty off the stage. Win win. So that was how she decided what she wanted to do, at the age of 12.

She was practicing how to give someone a perm when the end of the world began. One classmate of hers, whom everyone lovingly referred to as their local conspiracy theorist, had been telling them all for years that a nuclear war was bound to happen. At that time, he'd seemed even more obsessed with such happenings, constantly reading the worldwide news, finding hints of impending doom that no one else noticed. Everyone in the school thought he was just being overly paranoid. But as it turned out, he was right about much more than they thought.

He must have been one of the first civilians to see the news. Before the power had all died, even, he'd begun to drag Camellia and a few other of their friends away. "We need to leave," he'd insisted. And when the power died, and they looked outside to see the beginnings of panic, that was when they decided to listen.

Of course someone like that boy would have a family bunker. He'd already had everything prepared, having bedding and books within, making sure everything was comfortable. And he had many of his friends' possessions there. Over the years, he'd borrowed there things, but never seemed to remember to return it. And he'd always made such strange requests, asking Camellia for clothes(claiming he needed them for art references), or make-up, or whatever book she liked most. And since his friends did trust him, they almost always gave him what he requested. As it was, when Camellia first walked in, she found a bag with a neatly folded pile of her clothing, along with her favourite books and some make up and other things he'd borrowed from her at school.

That was where they hid during the battle. And it would have been absolutely perfect, if not for one thing---They didn't have enough food. The boy have been the one to stock the food in the bunker, enough for many people to last for quite some time. However, he hadn't stocked quite enough, and he realized that a short while in. If he'd guessed the length they'd have to stay there properly, then yes, they'd have enough food. Just barely, but they would have enough. But he didn't consider afterwards. It would surely become more difficult to get food when none would grow. He should have considered it.

So for a while after that, he didn't eat his rations, and only drank a bit of liquids. But when if came down to it, he knew that he would eventually die like that, and it would be quite the painful way to die. So he opted for a quicker way out.

Imagine the shock when they found his body. It hadn't taken long for them to find it, of course---he'd brought a hunting rifle too, in case there had been any possibility of finding animals out there. The noise was enough to lead them to him.

Many of them wanted to leave then. And they did. Camellia had no idea what could have happened to them. There was no longer much worry about not having enough food.

Eventually, her friend's parents told her was it would be safe to go out again. They packed a supply of food in with her possessions, gave her a coat, and wished her good luck. So Camellia set off without aim, perhaps in search of her family, whom she'd been worried about for so long. Her brother was such a klutz, and her sister so headstrong, they would have had trouble dealing with hiding for so long. And her parents, oh, they were always such wonderful and kind people. They didn't deserve to have such a shocking thing happen in their lifetime.

However, Camellia never did find them. She instead found a village of people, working together to survive. And, you know, at that time she was beginning to lose all hope of ever seeing her family. She'd walked all the way to her old home, you know. Not a single person was on that street. So she decided to stay instead, and became their beautician. At least she got to follow her dreams.

Relationships ━━━
NAME - Harem Hunk - She dislikes the Harem Hunk. Or, well, perhaps not dislike. She interchangedly calls him Handsome or Old Man/Kiddo(dependent on how old character is), because while she agrees with the general consensus that he had a nice looking face, he's also quite a sleazeball. If she'd ever date a guy, she'd much rather date one who didn't chase after every girl who showed the slightest bit of interest in him. She has standards, and he falls far below them.

COLE KÜHN - Doctor - Ahhhh, Doctor Kiddo. He's so helpless in terms of being a doctor. The most Camellia's ever really gone to him for was a bandage, and even that she put on herself. But it's amusing, isn't it? It wouldn't be if some terrible sickness came about that his books couldn't help him with, but it was cute.

Speaking of cute, the Doctor had quite a cute face, and beautiful hair that anyone would be jealous of. Couldn't you just imagine him as a beautiful snow fairy prince? Camellia really wants to try that. She'd do his hair and make-up, and dress him up, and them make the Big Shot take pictures of it for her. She hasn't actually succeeded in doing that yet, but still.

KIAN BRADY - Nerdboy - Bookkeep, as she'd called him the few times she'd seen him(along with Kiddo like she calls everyone younger than her, or Cutie or Kiki… Just whatever she wants.) was her only competition in getting her job. Of course, because she'd actually gone to school for it, and was already carrying an entire set of supplies for said job thanks to her friend, Captain Conspiracy, Camellia was the one who ultimately got the job. She doesn't think he has any animosity towards her, then again, she doesn't talk much with him. Though she'd love to do his make-up. He looks really cute, it'd be fun!

AMELIA - Priest - Camellia isn't the slightest bit religious. No one in her family was. However, she feels quite respectful of this woman, who is so extremely kind and a good leader. Even without the connection of religion between them, Camellia can respect someone who manages to be so outright caring to everyone, no matter how incredibly annoying some people could be. Camellia finds herself agreeing with most things that the Priest says. Though, respect is an awkward thing. She just feels rude if she calls her anything but Priest or Miss.Amelia. She can't even bring herself to call her Kiddo, because even though the Priest is a year younger than Camellia, she has the air of being someone older.

Will keep writing. I'm lazy.

Other ━━━
She is quite loud, actually. An inside voice? No one needs it. Actually, if Kiki dislikes her, it probably would have more to do with the fact that she likes to greet him by slapping his back and saying a rather loud hello, generally with a random nickname attached to the end.

If you haven't realized this yet, Camellia loves to give people nicknames. It's fun and it's sometimes amusing to see their reactions. Though, if she can't think of one, she generally calls those younger than her Kiddo, and those older than her Old Man or Grannie.

Camellia, as mentioned before, used to do ballet. She doesn't really do it now, because for one thing, she doesn't actually have music, so that's quite odd. Though you might see her humming a tune and dancing around when she feels particularly happy.

She has a few possessions she brought with her to the village. That being about five outfits(saving her a few trips to the tailor), a coat, a set of barber shears, three books, and make-up. She also has some musical scores that belonged to her friend, not that she can read them. She'd just grabbed them without a thought. Her friend had been so careful to make sure she had what she needed.

Appearance ━━━
Her hair, which is mostly an ashy black, besides the parts which frame her face, is almost always tied up into two neat buns. When let down, her hair reaches halfway down her back, but the only times you'd see that would be when she just woke up or was just about to go to sleep. It's actually quite wavy when let down, and can get obnoxiously big in humidity, which just makes her thin frame seem even thinner. She is extremely slim. She always was, but it went almost to extremes during the time spent in the bunker, in which food was rationed to be just enough for them to live through the days. She's been told that she looks thin enough to snap in half. It wouldn't be as odd, if she weren't also quite tall, at 5'11". Not that she herself minds it. Her face, always neatly made up, tends to look quite serious, but she is easily amused, and at that point a grin will appear, which brightened up her entire expression. She had no piercings or scars to show.

Camellia tends to prefer darker clothes. Emerald green, for example, which matches her eyes. Or midnight blue. She looks better in darker colours, in her personal opinion, though it does make her pale skin look even paler than it was.


Aria Lee



Hero Alias:

Civilian Wear:
She quite enjoys shopping in her free time, so she has a fair amount of clothing, many of which she no longer wears because its no longer the style she prefers. Currently, she is a fan of soft pastels, particularly pinks and blues. She tends to run colder than most people so she often wears large sweaters and leggings. Overall, she prefers to dress for comfort.

Hero Costume:
Her costume focuses more on function over form. Gray, lightly armoured but flexible enough that she can easily run and jump. The fit is very androgenous.

She wears a dark, featureless helmet which dulls outer sound for her. It also blocks anything she says, although there is a speaker she can turn on if she'd like to do so. The visor contains a helpful electronic display which warns her when people are behind her. It is modular so that she can lift up the visor, which is enough to speak and hear normally. She likes the head protection so she tries to keep it on.

Method of entry:
A child of a small-time criminal whose powers had terrible consequences, Aria had been checked on over the years by the hero who had been a part of that case so many years ago: Recoil, a hero with the ability to redirect energy attacks away from herself. Admittedly, Recoil might have gotten a bit attached to her and offered to help her refine her powers. This eventually lead to Aria becoming Recoil's sidekick. When the Junior Division was created, Recoil was quite eager for Aria to be a part of it so that she might have a chance to prove herself.

Powers & Abilities:
Sound manipulation – the ability to manipulate sound; that is, waves caused by vibrating objects. There are several aspects of this which she prefers to use.

Sound nullification – nullification of sound waves. Useful for stealth purposes.

Echolocation – tracking her surroundings via soundwaves. As a result, she can usually see through illusions since they don't deflect soundwaves.

Soundwave detection — She can track soundwaves, which can subsequently be traced back to the origin of the sound. Can be used to track objects.

Frequency manipulation – manipulation of the frequency of soundwaves. She often uses very high frequencies for sonar purposes. Other frequencies could be used for offensive purposes such as disorienting enemies. Different frequencies can also cause internal injuries! But she tries to avoid that.

Sound amplification – amplification of sound waves. Often used for offensive purposes. It can have very destructive properties, although she tries to avoid that. Typically she uses it to disorient people.

Directed sound waves – She can direct sound waves. Useful for minimizing property damage and injury. Also useful if she wants to direct a message to one specific person or a small group.

  • For better or worse, she has rather good hearing. It means that she can do things such as echolocation, but it also means she often dedicates some of her attention to blocking out external sounds. She does so with very little effort when it comes to sounds she generates or otherwise expects, but you could catch her unaware.
  • You can potentially disrupt the medium that the sound is going through.
  • She usually hesitates when on the offence.

Her costume contains useful items, such as some simple, low effort noisemakers like bells and a tuning fork. Helpful to an extent if she's tired. She also carries a small amount of medical supplies.

To make up for her hesitance when using her powers for offence, Aria also carries a combat knife. In short range fights it is particularly important that she have something to use when she's nervous about her powers. In long range she usually gets over it before it causes any issues, mostly because she feels she would have time to change whatever she does to be less damaging. She's been debating the inclusion of a long range weapon, perhaps a projectile that can benefit from her abilities, but her abilities are already decent for a fairly long range, so it's something she's still debating.

Knowledge — Aria does a lot of research on soundwaves in her spare time! In particular, she's read up a lot on resonant frequencies in order to avoid causing unnecessary injury and destruction. She is also trying to develop new applications for her powers through studying. Besides wave physics, she also knows a great deal about biology and anatomy, since, as Recoil says, if the wave is too strong then at least she can aim for somewhere nonlethal!
Quick reflexes — Likely due to her sensitive hearing and ability to detect soundwaves, Aria has better reflexes than the average person.
Quick — Combined with her small frame, it makes her an irritating target.

Aria is a very soft-spoken person, with a mild temper and seemingly boundless patience. Getting her to be angry seems like an impossible endeavour at times. When she does feel more negative emotions, she tends to separate herself from people. She's working on expressing herself in a healthy manner though.

In some ways, she is incredibly optimistic. Aria tries her best to see the good in those around her. She is always willing to reach out to people that others might avoid or look down on. At the same time however, Aria does not have a very high opinion of herself, which is quite evident if you manage to get her to talk about herself at all.

Despite her views on her own abilities, Aria is a very determined individual. When she puts her mind on something, she will continue to work on it until she manages to accomplish it, although every failure is just another black mark in her mind which her eventual success cannot make up for. But she knows that Recoil will be very proud when she tells her!

On the flip side, she feels that her determination may also have resulted in a bit of an addictive personality. She tends to get very absorbed in the things she is interested in, which often results in a great deal of money spent on things she will no longer touch when she's bored of it. She's very mindful of others though, so she can generally control herself by thinking of what a nuisance she might be to those around her.

Lina Lee was a petty thief. Her masterful use of her sound manipulation abilities allowed her to slip in and out of her targeted locations with ease, hiding her presence by nullifying the sounds she made and disorienting anyone she came upon with low frequency sounds. One day, however, something went wrong.

Perhaps she was in over her head. Perhaps she was just having an off day. Whatever it was, what should have been a routine theft for her ended up in the death of several shop employees and customers whose innards were, as described by the Legion hero Recoil, essentially soup in human-shaped cans.

Recoil was sent to track Lina down, her ability to redirect waves of energy being considered a strong defense against the criminal. However, it didn't seem as though this was necessary at all. When Recoil went to Lina's home, all that was there was a dead body, a crying 7 year old, and a note asking that someone please make sure Aria did not lose control as Lina did.

At least, that's what Aria was told, years down the line. She can't remember the events of that day very well, and in her memories, her mother was not a criminal, but rather a sweet woman with a brilliant smile and the warmest hugs. To everyone else, however, her mother was a murderer.

Recoil had apparently wanted to take her in. Circumstances, however, did not allow it. Aria was instead placed in a group home for troubled youth.

Though Aria's name was not released to the public, it didn't take a genius to draw their conclusions about her relation to Lina. Even those who did not realize it had reservations about those with sound-based powers after what had happened. As a result, Aria was ostracized by those around her. She herself struggles with her powers and its potential destructive power, and she spent much of her childhood trying to make as little noise as possible.

She was 9 when she saw Recoil again. It had recently rained, and the sidewalk was littered with worms. She'd taken it upon herself to transfer the worms back to the dirt so that they wouldn't dry out. She was lagging behind the rest of the kids as a result, which would likely have consequences, as they were always told to return home promptly after school, but she thought that being sent to her room would be preferable to having to spend time with everyone, anyway.

As she dropped a worm onto someone's freshly manicured lawn, someone crouched next to her. "Make sure to wash your hands when you get home, kiddo."

She had looked up at the words and startled, nearly falling into a puddle. Before her crouched Recoil, in her classic, flashy red costume. A hero of the Legion and the one who had found the body of Aria's mother. She looked so out of place, crouching on the cracked sidewalk of Aria's suburban street.

She was faced with a dilemma at that moment however, between greeting the hero like a normal human being or staying silent so that to avoid destroying anything. Like a house. Or Recoil's eardrums.

Recoil seemed to realize her dilemma after a few moments of her opening and closing her mouth like a sad fish. "You worried about your powers?"

She cracked a smile at Aria's fervent nod. "You know, I happen to know a great way to train your powers. If you wanted to, I could help ya out with that."

And with a bit more nodding, the two of them were off to the group home. Aria didn't even get in trouble for being late, as apparently bringing home a hero excused her from being late. With that, plans were made to train Aria.

And so it went. Aria's abilities developed rapidly under the guidance of the hero. When she was 14, Recoil asked if she would like to be her sidekick, which she accepted, although she did not seem incredibly enthusiastic. A few years later, she approached the prospect of being in the junior division with the same level of apprehension. But she'll do her best!

Other Information:
  • She plays several instruments. She's quite good at learning instruments, possibly attributed to her powers. She was in the string orchestra, band, symphony orchestra, and the jazz band at her school. However, she's a bit concerned that she might be subconsciously adjusting the pitches with her powers.
  • Her hobby is online shopping. She was somewhat of a recluse in her preteen to early teen years so she developed a habit of scrolling through shopping sites in her free time.
  • She is a horrible cook. This is fine for her because she also will eat anything. Waste not want not and all that.
  • She unexpectedly really enjoys heavy metal.

"If we could only fly."
× KianAodhBrady ×
23 // Born January 15 // Male

× Personality ×
At one time, his timidness overtook everything else in his personality. He despised confrontation, and found that it was much easier to stare at the ground than at a person's eyes. Kian still finds it easiest to just fade into the background and not be noticed. However, he's really trying to not do that anymore. He speaks up, and although he does tend to turn very red when too many people turn their attention to him, Kian tries to say his opinion more, and to tell people if he's uncomfortable with something. He does tend to stutter a bit, and often goes back to correct his voice when he thinks it came out too high.

Surprisingly, he dislikes when others try to do things for him. Despite not being very strong at all, being quite small in stature and not being outspoken at all, Kian is determined to do everything he can on his own before he ever asks others for help. Kian doesn't enjoy the idea of owing anyone anything. In this way, he can be called prideful. If any single person in the village is capable of doing whatever task Kian needs to be done, he is certain that he'd be able to do it as well. He knows how to take care of himself.

Beyond that, he's not that confident about his abilities. Kian loves to read. He used to read anything, from high fantasy novels to science journals. As such, he has a lot of random information in his head. There are some subjects that he found himself being much more interested in, of course, and these subjects are the ones he finds easy to talk loudly about. Though he usually stops himself short and apologizes for wasting whoever he was speaking to's time. He tries to use whatever he knows to help people out, but really, he doesn't know that much. There are people who know more than he does, of course. Most of the information he knows is not important for what they need to do. Really, he doesn't think they really need him there at all, because he can be quite useless. All he does all day is organize papers, read, and draw.

Art used to be his favourite class, actually. He enjoyed trying to be creative, although he wasn't very good at it. He could spend hours on it. Drawing people, mostly. His lines were always faint, barely seen. When he was in the eleventh grade, he took make-up and hair class too, though he made a serious effort to hide any evidence of his taking that class, so his father couldn't criticise his choice in electives. He loved art, as it was quite a calming practice. He could spend hours on doodling. Art was his destresser, and he could be stressed quite often.

He still finds himself feeling stressed at times. He finds that he is generally quite alright when left alone---though, like all people, he still finds himself enjoying the presence of company at times. But you can leave him to his own devices, and he would surely be happy and would enjoy his time spent doing whatever it is he wants to do. He does tend to get stressed out anyway though, because there goes everyone else in the village, who are contributing and all being good friends, and there Kian was, holed up in some dark corner of the library with his books and the records which he was probably updating a bit too often. But then he goes out and he gets stressed because he isn't doing enough. It's a vicious cycle, really.

× Biography ×
Kian Brady did not enjoy life. His mother left when he was six. Whether or not it was do to the fact that his father was a violent jackarse of an alcoholic who could do nothing but criticise everything you did was up for debate, but if Kian were to take a gamble, he'd say that that was the reason. He didn't have the slightest clue as to what his mother ever saw in this man that led her to having a child with him. He didn't see whatever shred of good she must have seen, that led her to staying with him for so long. Maybe it was more obvious before Kian came along. What he knew was that his father was a terrible man, who harboured some strange, unexplained hatred of the world, and that included his small son who bore a striking resemblance to that timid wife he once had. And beyond that, there was his own mother, who had not considered taking her child away from whatever she was running from. So Kian found there to be very little reason to find enjoyment in the life he'd been unwillingly brought into.

As a child though, he never really noticed there was much different with his life besides the fact that he was missing a maternal figure. Didn't every father leave you alone until midnight, to come back the odour of alcohol emanating from him, who would, only if you messed up, hit your so hard your ears rung? Kian messed up a lot, so that happened a lot. His dad scared him. At some point, he realized that your father shouldn't be the most terrifying thing you can imagine. Then he started to imagine things. He'd imagined for a long while that some distant relative that would come in and take him away. For a while, he'd even spent a while researching them. He probably has half the names of his living relatives memorized by heart. But that was stupid, really. That kind of thing didn't happen in real life.

Not that his life was that bad, really. Honestly, compared to some people, he had a damn good life, and he better start appreciating his father more for bringing food to the table(and emptying the cabinets of booze, and well as occasionally forgetting the food to the table part, and paying the bills to the electricity or water. But that didn't have such a nice ring to it.), and to stop being such a disrespectful shit(Taking an extra second to put down your schoolwork when going to bring your father a beer counted was apparently an extremely disrespectful thing to do). Sometimes, his father apologized and hugged him in tears(that was the worst part). Really, Kian ought to be grateful that he even had a roof over his head. Yet, he always had trouble feeling the thankfulness he ought to have felt. There were many things his father did, that a father shouldn't do, but Kian tried very, very hard not to complain. Because, you know. He should be grateful.

He didn't have much friends in school. Kian kept his head down a lot. His hair was really choppy, though he did try to keep it neat. He was a child, after all. His motor control wasn't the best, and it's difficult to cut things you couldn't see. He got better when he got older. To most, he seemed strange, from the way he acted to the fact that, even then, his softer features and slight figure made him look distinctly more feminine than other boys. When he spoke, it tended to take a few tries before anyone could actually hear him. He rarely spoke in the first place. Sometimes people didn't even notice him. He was far too conscious of his own movements and thoughts and words. Everything he did, he felt, was certainly an error. He was a fairly useless person. Then, he'd berate himself for his self-pity. Other people had if worse, after all. He had a much better life than some.

Kian didn't go out much. He stayed at home, in his room. He considered getting a job, but his father rejected that idea. He didn't have friends, so he didn't have a reason to leave. Though Kian found it easier to make some semblance of school friends in high school, where he made a conscious effort to raise his voice(it felt like he was yelling all the time, sometimes he probably was). Not in most classes, in which he tended to sit in the back and stay still and silent. But a few, like art class, where the occasional person would compliment his sketches so suddenly that he couldn't do much but stare at them in silence. But those were only classroom friends. He spoke to them in that single class in the day and ducked his head while walking by them anywhere else. So for the most part, Kian was quite alone, and he was used to it being that way. He preferred being left alone than the possibilities of being bullied there were. The most he'd ever had to deal with was being told that he looked like a girl, and that was usually said much more kindly by classmates than his father.

His father continued being the single terrifying presence in Kian's life. Kian wore sweaters and long pants, even in the sweltering heat that came near the end of the school year, hiding bruises and burns. It was better though, because his father's tendency to bring women home from the bars he frequented meant that he was occasionally preoccupied at night, and Kian was good at staying quiet in his room, using a flashlight to do his schoolwork, because his lights had burned out long ago, and he couldn't reach to change them. His room, which was bare besides an old bed and his pile of textbooks, with the orange of a streetlight casting strange shadows on the floor, was the closest to a sanctuary in his small world. However, Kian was selfish, like most people. He'd given up on his dreams of a relative coming in like his own knight a long time ago. He'd seen them, on occasion, family gatherings which his father made him go to to keep face. None seemed particularly interested in getting the boy away. What you wanted to happen, you had to make it happen yourself, didn't you? He dreamt of the busy streets of a large city, with it's droves of odd people, where he could surely find his place---it might not be a good place, but a place, where he could fit in himself and not jump at shadows. He had plans. He was never quite sure how to go through with them. But eventually, Kian found the pieces to be falling into place.

There were not many significant points to his life. The first one occurred, of course, when he was six and his mother disappeared. Another one might have been that one time he actually joined a sport. He was surprisingly good at volleyball, so long as he was willing to put the strength into hitting the ball. His father said he did a good job, and that was surprising. Kian had never even realized that he'd been to any of the games. The third significant moment in Kian's life was when he met Cole. That came soon after Kian found that his plans and ideas were beginning to come true.

His school was planning a trip to New York. $114, quite easily paid by most of the school's population. It was probably easily paid by Kian's father too, considering how much he spent of drinks in a week. But Kian didn't want to ask him for money. He didn't want to let his father know that he was going anywhere. So, he forged his father's signature of the form he had to sign, and spent a while doing little things, like taking care of children. His father didn't notice if he was gone for a while, he'd realized. Kian probably could have gotten a real job without asking. The last few dollars he needed, he took from his father's wallet. His father was generally quite careful with his money, making sure his wallet was securely in his pocket, but when a man was passed out on the couch, it wasn't too difficult to sneak a few dollars from his wallet. Like that, Kian had money for his trip.

He packed some clothing into his bag, tucked in some attempts at a résume that he'd made at the library, and threw in whatever else money he could find. He sat alone on the schoolbus, holding his backpack tightly against himself, excitement and fear threatening to show on his face.

He'd waited until everyone was definitely completely focused on the teacher's drones before he left. It was a group completely full of students, no one even noticed one of them slipping into a group of passing people and walking away. He felt bad, really. Kian's teacher would get in trouble for losing a student, despite the fact that others rarely even realized that he was there. But he didn't feel bad enough to go back.

The most important thing, really, was to find a place to stay. Did he have relatives in New York? Kian felt that he did. Still, he'd feel unendingly awkward, appearing before people he hardly knew and asking them for a place to stay. Kian was very certain that he'd figure out what to do. He'd researched the homeless shelters in New York already, and soup kitchens, if he didn't have the money to replace what little food he had. He'd learned where the public libraries were as well, which was important, at least for him. Really, Kian was quite prepared, he felt. However, that was when he met Cole.

Kian had found his way to a graveyard. He still isn't quite sure of how that had happened. He just needed a place to be alone for a moment, and found himself walking between the small headstones. He needed to contemplate his actions. However, he found little time to do that. Just as he found an area that didn't seem disrespectful to sit down at, he'd felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and that was when he was met with the sight of a girl---as he'd thought he was at the time---with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He introduced himself as Nicole, and explained his predicament, of how he'd been separated from his class on a trip, and how he needed to get to this one certain place---the same place that Kian had just left. Dimly, he remembered that there was going to be another school there.

"I can take you," is what he said, before heading back the way he came. Going back once should not be an issue. He was doing a good deed. They found their way back, and Cole rejoined his class. Except, even though there was less than a single moment in which his class' attention was on him, Kian couldn't bring himself to leave. So he didn't. Kian stayed there for the entire few days of the trip, talking mostly to Cole, who he found was fairly enjoyable to speak to. They exchanged emails, and headed home. Kian had not counted on that. His father was angry, that Kian had disappeared for four days and hadn't been there to fetch his beers and cigarettes. But Kian could live.

He spent the next few years with just that one friend. Which was alright. He was glad to have that friend, who he could take a bus out to spend time with him and be away from everything else. He could honestly say that he was glad to have met his friend.

He was, however, not with his friend when the world ended. He was about to go. He had bus tickets bought, and he was planning to go and visit his friend. But the panic came, and Kian found himself helplessly swept up with the crowds.

He hid there, for so long, just waiting for the sounds overhead to stop, waiting for the chance to leave again. Hugging his knees to his chest, staring at the shadows around him, he'd never felt more alone.

Eventually, however, they could leave. Kian was still alone, in open air. He didn't know whether or not his father was still alive. Some odd little part of him hoped that he was dead, vapourized so that not even a single ash was left. A little part. An awful part.

It's really a wonder he managed to survive. Kian doesn't know how he lived through the cold, wearing just jeans and a sweater. But he did, and he had a clear destination in mind. Back to New York, a place that was little more than a mountain of rubble. He walked some, and convinced people to drive him short distances. He made it to the graveyard where he met Cole. And just like Kian had hoped, had prayed, there was his friend.

It's such a wonder they had ended up in a village. Kian, who'd been living in some disconnected state, barely remembers it. He remembers that they had found a white van, and furnished it for room to sleep. When they ran out of gas, they siphoned it. They searched for food. They were close to freezing. But they lived, and they eventually found a place to stay. Kian got a job there, not the job he'd originally wanted, but a job that made him feel like he was doing something important. He'd found a relative---which was an odd thing, but not terrible. That was alright.

× Relationships ×
COLE KÜHN - Doctor - His best friend, who was really Kian's only support. He definitely enjoys his company the most, and Cole is probably the only person he actively seeks out every day. Kian is completely unaware of whatever feelings Cole has for him---he genuinely would never expect anyone to ever like him.

AUGUSTUS MORRIGAN - The Big Shot - Kian's extremely distant relative, whose name, honestly, Kian mostly recognizes over being obsessed with online family trees. He doesn't really have strong feelings over the older man, although it makes him feel a bit uncomfortable that there is a rather clear disconnect between him and the rest of the village. But really, he doesn't mind his relative so much… He probably wouldn't hold too many long conversations with him, but that goes for most people.

× Other ×
× His voice is actually a bit raspy---it makes him sound distinguishable from a girl, as his voice is really just a bit lower than that of a girl's. He stutters when nervous, and his sentences often trails off in the middle when he feels as though he's bothering others.

× He has a certain liking towards five minute mystery books. They're quite fun to read. He reads everything, though, really.

× He has a nervous habit of scratching the back of his hand. Or playing with whatever loose items he's wearing. Or scratching his neck. He does a lot.

× Appearance ×
Kian can look quite delicate at times. Which large, dark eyes, which are often downcast and never quite meets the eyes of others, he could look a bit younger than he really is. His eyes contrast with his fair hair, which is soft and fairly straight, tending to fall over his eyes like a protective veil. It's less choppy than it once was, as he let Camellia cut it---once. She cut it too short for his tastes, though he probably should have said how he wanted his hair anyway.

He's smaller than most of the people he spends time with---He's certainly smaller than the average height male, at 5'3", and with a small frame to match. The way he stands, with hunched over shoulders, staring at the ground, makes him look even smaller. But he prefers it as such.


we are the k i n g s.

"Humans forget. They always do."

19//Born February 20//Male//German born Scottish


Foster The People - Pumped Up Kicks
I've waited for a long time
Yeah the sleight of my hand is now a quick-pull trigger
I reason with my cigarette
Then say, "Your hair's on fire, you must've lost your wits, yeah?"



Stuart works as a caretaker for the young children who are still unable to do anything useful. An easy job. All he needs to do is ensure that they don't die, and that he has the same amount of children as he did at the beginning of the day. Frankly, he doesn't even remember all their names. He just calls them all shorties, and most people seem to just think it's a term of endearment. Besides, he's been taking care of Mika for years, taking care of children isn't really much different.


All the other kids with the pumped up kicks

You better run, better run, outrun my gun

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks

You better run, better run, faster than my bullet



Soft fair hair, a pale blond that is cut surprisingly neatly when Stuart doesn't care much for how it looks at all. He had shaved all of it off one year, because it bothered him, though he ended up growing it back out after that because he'd never really noticed how cold it could get. In this situation, especially, Stuart finds it pointless to keep his hair neat. He's not trying to impress the monsters, after all. If his friend, Mika, were not so insistent on fixing up his hair, Stuart wouldn't bother. But it's funny when his friend seems interested in things, so he just goes along with it. Which is why, in the middle of every month, he sits down and spends some time relaxing and reading a book while his friend cuts his hair. He has a side cut, the other half of his hair being long enough to fall neatly over his eye.

His eyes are grey, a stormy colour that seems a bit more flat when he's angry, but more often than not holds a slight twinkle of amusement unfitting for the situation in which everyone has found themselves. But his eyes, though they may be called the windows to his soul, never seem to be as expressive as they should be. When he smiles, the expression rarely reaches his eyes, and the smile itself, close-lipped and mocking, is always much too practiced, not at all genuine. This, of course, goes for every little expression he ever shows. Every frown, every laugh, every tear, seems to be something that he'd practiced over and over to get just right. He had 19 years, after all. He has had quite a lot of time to practice, and everyone should be just as practiced as him, if not more.

He has few scars or any other marks to mar his pale, smooth skin. He has, in fact, few physical imperfections to show he's had much issues in his life at all. His teeth are straight and white, he stands tall and broad shouldered, with the confidence of a man who feels that nothing could hurt him. Despite having been in this wasteland since he was just a young teen who saw how easy is was for his family to die, having had their lives taken away by something much less than a zombie, he retains this confidence in himself. Of course, it doesn't help that his childhood friend worships him in every way.

He is, in fact, as close to perfect as he can believe one to be. The king, dressed in his robes of black and white, as is his choice of colour in his clothing. His clothing seems much too expensive to bother wearing in a land where he can be moments away from being stuck out in the darkness, with monsters hiding in the shadows. Rather out of place, even, when he could be just about to be ripped apart by the zombies.


Frank Sinatra - My Way

Regrets, I've had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption

I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway

And more, much more than this, I did it my way



As he grew up, Stuart found that everything was really quite amusing. The rat race of school was hilarious, the way that all those students in Gymnasium tried so hard to beat each other so they could become the adults who tried so hard to get pieces of paper to be exchanged for food and unnecessary goods. Sad, perhaps, was a better word, but why would Stuart be sad for something that didn't affect him? He thought things were funny instead. He found it hard to sympathize, after all, when it was the people themselves who brought such suffering on their terribly short lives

To most, Stuart makes a conscious effort to keep a steady, respectful tone, keeping that slight distance that some of them seemed to prefer, yet he often had that somewhat snarky smile on his face while doing so. Among peers, his behaviour changed. Not by much, but you find him less likely to cover up his opinions through kind tones, finding some enjoyment in seeing how quickly a smile could disappear with just a few words. He was good, still, at pretending. At his careful laughs which were neither too loud or too hesitant, his smile which never seemed so happy, his feigned empathy which served him well with fitting in with the rest of his peers.

He finds it fun to hold little experiments at times. Stuart loves to learn. When he finds himself asking a question that he cannot find an answer to, what better way to solve that than by conducting an experiment? He'd ignored Mika once for a year, just to see how he'd react to that. The kid looked like he would burst into tears during the entire thing, but never once tried to bother Stuart. It was a fun sight to see. His most interesting experiment was seeing how long it'd be until zombies would ignore a dead body. That one was more difficult, because even he was uncomfortable at the chance that his bait would be thrown too late. But he had done it well enough, and many of the zombies seemed to still follow the basic instincts of a predator, preferring the easy game over the chase.

Observant, Stuart always seemed to be able to find the right moment to talk to a person about their troubles and worries, and was patient enough to sit with them and listen until they had finished talking about all their grievances. Partially, perhaps, because he liked hearing the stories. Everyone had so many problems, really. Many were easy to fix, really, and he liked to see how long it'd take for them to figure out the answers. Of course, he never really felt sad for them. It's difficult to when he did not share their experiences.

Stuart was never a big believer in labouring for his goals. Stuart, after all, had a perfectly capable and kind friend to do it for him. Stuart never had to dirty his hands. It's easy to convince his friend to do him favours, so was there any point in doing bothersome things on his own? Essentially, whatever he could get someone else to do may as well be done by them. There is no need to strain himself pointlessly. Despite that, he doesn't find himself to be a manipulative person. The only person who he usually gets to do as he asks is his friend, who would certainly do what anyone asked of him.

People have found him to be, generally, amazingly calm. It is Mika who is prone to explosions of emotion. Stuart was the one who told him to stay calm and work to get through it. He can laugh off the things that happen, because they often happen to other people, and he has no sympathy for other people. Even in the face of danger, if he has someone with him, he will not worry. They can die before he will. If they die, then he will worry.


For what is a man, what has he got?

If not himself, then he has naught

To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels

The record shows I took the blows and did it my way



His family moved to Germany before he was born. Probably for a job opportunity. They lived in a large home, much too large for a young family of two to live. A third would be wonderful. So, how wonderful it was when they found out that a third would indeed be coming along. They were quite excited, and were simply filled with love and joy when their lovely, healthy baby boy was born. On that day, their lovely family grew from two to three. Such a loving family it was, who gave their first child everything he wanted. Their son, of course, was perfect and quite deserving of such treatment. That was how it was for a long time.

He met Mika in Kita. The young Stuart saw the boy, with scuffed shoes and mud on his face. He decided that he was as good a person as any to keep the company of.

"Do you mind?" asked Stuart, rolling the toy car in his hand as he smiled at the other boy. The reply came as a nearly indiscernible nod. Stuart decided that was as fine an answer as any.

From then on, for reasons unbeknownst to Stuart, they became friends. Mika was different. He barely spoke. His emotions came in volatile bursts. Stuart was quite interested in him.

They became close, one might say. Mika was attached to Stuart, and Stuart never bothered to discourage him of that. He saw little point in that. Mika liked him, and he liked Stuart's family, despite the fact that his parents did not share those sentiments for the scruffy boy whose clothes were often muddy and a bit too big. He trusted them, for reasons Stuart didn't bother trying to understand. Of course, his family was far too boring to tell grand lies, though they did keep the bigger arguments under wraps. Stuart supposed there was little reason for Mika not to trust them.

Mika was helpful. He was able to keep Stuart's younger sister company, and stayed fairly quiet when Stuart was studying. Occasionally Stuart would help Mika with his work. Sometimes he just had nothing better to do. Besides, it was almost pitiful, watching the other boy struggle on such simple subjects.

Mika spent more days at Stuart's home than his own, and so it was natural that that was where he was by the time the zombies had become a real threat.

Stuart's parents were genuinely selfish people, though they tried to conceal that through smiles and kind words. Less than week of hiding behind dark windows and blocked doors, and they were beginning to fear quite a bit for their own lives, with the presence of the extra boy who was using up their food, never mind the fact that Mika rarely ate in the first place. They wanted Stuart to give Mika a knife and tell him to go home. Stuart was fine with that, of course. He didn't care much about what happened to Mika, and he almost did as he was told.

It was then that he realized something terrible. Mika was interesting enough company. However, his family was not. They were rather suffocating, in fact. While Mika was a tad clingy, he was quite willing to let Stuart do whatever he wanted. So, he decided not to do what they asked. However, there had been a little thing about the zombies that Stuart had been curious about, and it was only a short time after this that he decided that he may as well conduct an experiment.

He waited until he had a chance to talk to Mika alone. Simple enough, as Stuart's parents didn't speak to him, and his sister disappeared soon enough when Stuart approached them. The key to a good conversation with Mika was to say something nice first. It wasn't as though Mika wouldn't listen otherwise, but it was funny to see his face light up. He looked more like a child when it happened.

It was simple enough to push the conversation to something more serious. Mika always let Stuart lead the conversations. "I'm worried we're going to run out of food soon." That was a lie. Enough perishables to last a year between the two of them, and Stuart didn't intend to stay so long. He quickly deflected Mika's offer of eating less---it would be a bother for the most interesting thing in Stuart's life at the moment to die of starvation.

He steered the conversation towards leaving. More specifically, the fact that they couldn't leave with his family. The only two possibilities, he said, was for them to be ripped apart by zombies, or for them to starve. Not necessarily true, of course. Stuart's sister was an astoundingly good athlete, and had been able to hold her own well against schoolyard bullies. He could always trust his parents to be ruthless and resourceful when needed. But Mika hardly needed to know that.

Stuart wasn't sure if what he said was going to work, of course. Mika, despite having a strange tendency to start fights he couldn't possibly win, lacked the ability to kill even the most annoying pests. It was annoying, really. But he left the conversation with a slight suggestion and hoped that Mika would somehow manage to do as he wished.

Then it was time for the next step in Stuart's little experiment. Offering to be the good son, he went off to fetch drinks for everyone. Red wine for his parents, orange juice for him and his sister. The day before that, he'd taken some of the sleeping pills his mother kept, a bit more than what three people would need, and crushed that into a fine powder. That went into the drinks. While his parents did comment on the taste of the wine, by the end of the meal the glasses were empty.

His parents went to bed early that night, already seeming half asleep as Stuart helped them stumble into bed. He closed the door to their room behind him, and went back to the living room, where he found his little sister asleep. Stuart lifted her up and carried her back to her room, tucking her in and closing her door behind him as well. Mika was in the kitchen when he went to bid him goodnight. Once it was all done and over with, he went to his own room, leaving the door just barely open. Stuart fell into a comfortable, dreamless sleep with relative ease.

He woke up with the soft creak of a floorboard. There was one floorboard between his room and his parents' room which was particularly loose, and he'd learned over the years to step over it if he wanted to sneak about. Mika never knew to do that. In a normal circumstance, his parents would surely have woken up the moment Mika stepped onto that creaking floorboard. It's a good thing Stuart had been careful of that. You see, he could have just left things be. It would be funny to see how it would work out if they have seen Mika. But Stuart had helped, as he was quite aware that Mika could be rather helpless on his own. Stuart lay in his bed, unmoving. He could hear the sound of his friend shuffling about on the other side of the wall.

He was getting quite excited, to be perfectly honest. Giddy, almost, at the prospect of what was to come. Stuart was a boy who enjoyed those thrilling moments, and there was little he could think of than what was to transpire on the other side of the wall. Who would think that Mika would be so easy to control? Most surely wouldn't jump to the idea of murdering a family just because of a few words from a friend. He hadn't said a thing, really, about killing them. Yet Mika had gone to that conclusion anyway. Perhaps Mika knew him better than he thought.

Stuart listened to the sounds in the other room, barely daring to breathe in case it would drown out a sound. He was quite certain that the younger boy was crying. Though he couldn't quite hear sounds to indicate such, Mika could cry much too easily, in Stuart's opinion. It could almost be a bother at times, but at that moment Stuart was really quite amused at the idea. Just picturing him with tears in his eyes while he killed two people, isn't that just so funny? Especially when he barely knew Stuart's parents at all. They were quite good at putting on smiles around other people, and Mika never seemed to realize just how ingenuine the couple was.

Mika spent an extremely long time in that room. Really, how much time did it take to kill two sleeping people? He must have been in the room for an hour at least. Stuart was almost bored. He was nearly tempted to get up and go check up on him. However, he contented himself by simply getting out of bed, bringing himself closer to the wall that divided his room and his parents' room. He could still hear the sounds of his friend moving inside, and he couldn't help but wonder what the boy was doing. But he decided that he could figure that out later.

Eventually, Stuart heard the sound of the door close. The floorboard between his room and his parents' room let out a high pitched creak. From his open door he saw a slight shift in the shadows as Mika passed by. Careful not to make too much noise, Stuart moved across the room, towards the door. He pushed it only a fraction wider to watch Mika as he reached his sisters door.

Mika stayed there for an inordinately long time. From what Stuart could see in the darkness, there was no movement. No particular sign of life. How long did that last? It felt much too long. However, when Stuart was ready to go back to bed and just see what happened in the morning, he heard the door click open.

With Mika in the room, Stuart decided that he might as well get the bags he'd had packed. A coat, some clothes, and as much food as he could fit into it in one bag. In a second bag, he'd put more food, as well as some of his clothes that Mika could wear.

With the bags, he's hidden his baseball bats. He greatly enjoyed the idea of breaking bones with them. He tossed the bags on top of his bed rather carelessly, not particularly worried if Mika heard anymore. Taking one of the bats with him, he headed out his room and walked across the hall to his sister's room.

"This wasn't what I meant, you know," he said as he came to a stop at the doorframe. It was amusing to how quickly Mika jumped away from the girl he was smothering, and the way his face fell. Of course, it had been exactly what he meant, but Mika didn't need to know.

Stuart walked over to Mika, patting him on the head lightly like it were some sort of comfort. Mika looked up slowly, looking at Stuart with a tearful expression that was, honestly, quite amusing. Stuart wiped away the tears that had been steadily falling and smiled at him. "Go get cleaned up, Mika, we need to leave soon."

The other boy nodded, and left. Once he heard the sound of water running, Stuart went to check on his little sister. He noted the light rise and fall of her chest and sighed. Useless. Lifting the bat he had in his hand, he brought it down heavily on her head. Did he have to do everything himself?

By the time the other boy returned, Stuart had wrapped his younger sister in her blanket. He'd set her in with their mother, in the wagon she insisted on keeping despite never using it. He was glad she did. However, he kept the father in his room.

"I don't think we'd be able to get out so easily," explained Stuart. "There are a lot of zombies outside. So, here's my plan. We have three bodies now, so we could try to use them as bait. If we threw my father's body out the window, we may be able to bait the zombies around our house into going there. Then we can go out from the opposite side of the house. If we run into trouble, we have more bait at hand.

The boys went forward with the plan, lifting the body of the father and tossing it out the window. They watched as it fell, attracting the attention of nearby zombies. Stuart noted a couple ignore the body. However, most seemed content with the easy meal. The boys headed for their exit. Stuart walked in the back, as Mika wheeled along the wagon.

They had gotten down the driveway, halfway down the street, when they felt the need to throw the sister's body, which the monsters tore into with a fervent vigour, and at the end when they threw out the mother's body. Unfortunate, as he was quite interested in how long they could keep a body until zombies ceased to be interested, but he could get another chance.

They travelled for around a year. It was actually rather fun. The first time they came across someone, it was a man in a car. The car was mangled beyond repair, and the man seemed quite glad to see other people there who could help him. They broke the windows of the car, and then just left him screaming at them behind them. He was quite stuck, and bleeding. Stuart didn't worry much about the man exacting revenge.

The second time they came across someone was two months later, a girl who was even younger than they were. The girl had just insisted on following along, and Mika had a soft spot for her. She was annoying. Stuart let her hang around for two days before he got tired of her. While Mika slept one night, Stuart went with a walk with the girl. Once he was a safe enough distance from the light sleeping boy, he knocked her down and broke her legs with his bat. He imagined that her screams did a fine job of attracting the zombies to finish the job for him.

They moved on.

The two boys had been wandering quite aimlessly up until that point, doing little more than breaking windshields and taking what they needed from stores. Occasionally they would attack small groups of survivors if it seemed like a low-risk venture, or guide them to zombies when asked about where to go. However, they eventually heard about the safe zone in Luxembourg. With little place else they could go, the boys decided to try their luck in Luxembourg.

It was a bother, of course. Stuart was enjoying being able to do what he wanted for once in his fifteen years of life. However, Mika certainly seemed like he wanted to go there, and it would be boring to travel alone. But as far as places go, Luxembourg was not the worst. He was quite glad, certainly, that he didn't need to deal with his family anymore.


Nothing But Thieves - Ban All the Music

Cut me off from the rest of the world

It's my addiction

It turns me on



A polypropylene bat. Durable, good for breaking windshields and bones. He'd bought them as an amusing little weapon for his own fantasies before the incident.


This is, this is it

They're tryn'a take it from me

Got this, this is it

Won't let them take it from me

Play an illegal song

And turn it up louder



Mika Faust - He's interesting enough. Stuart has known him since they were children, and Mika often ends up being to subject of Stuart's experiments.

Naoto Shulz - Stuart met this strange person when he was just a young teen. A friend of Mika's, who strangely always seemed to be carrying orange pixie stix that she gives to Mika. It's as though the other boy is a child, which it amusing. He always seems stupidly competitive, and rather in a hurry.

His Family - They were bothersome people, really. The world is better off without them.






"Forever and always."

18//Born November 30//Male//German


Bad Suns - Sleep Paralysis

Oh, carve your name in a tree

Or just run your fingers through wet concrete, yeah

Leave a mark, a mark worth leaving

What's self worth? The moment's fleeting



Mika does inventory of food and other supplies that the community has. It really is a simple job, with a lot of repetition. It's simply counting and writing numbers, and that's exactly why he excelled at it. Routine is the best thing for Mika, really. When it comes to repetition, mika won't make mistakes. However, it is not a particularly fulfilling job, and Mika occasionally takes up little side jobs that are just more interesting to him. For example, whenever disposing the dead must be done, he'd gladly volunteer his time. Mika isn't a squeamish person, so as long as he's wearing his sick mask, he'd have no trouble taking care of the dead.


Oh, I've been having this dream

Mixed with sleep paralysis I can't scream, no

But I can watch, I watch them leaving

I wake up and I believe it



Unlike his best friend, Mika had resolutely stuck to the same hairstyle for the past 5 years. It takes a certain amount of determination to keep looking for the hair bleach to keep turning his rough hair from a dark brown to a golden blond. His hair is terribly dry and coarse, though, and he finds that whatever hairstyle he wakes up with will probably be the one he has the rest of the day. He hates that about his hair. Stu has really nice, soft hair, and it's nice to play with it. Mika doesn't find the appearance of his hair to be the most important thing, however. But it feels very normal to do something like bleach his hair and get angry when it doesn't work out well, so that's just what he does. Mika finds that following his schedule from before to the best of his abilities is the best way to make himself feel at ease.

His eyes, an oak brown colour, meets the gaze of others unwaveringly, and you may sometimes find yourself engaging in an impromptu staring contest with him. He really doesn't tend to break eye contact before the other does, which is not for any particular reason, but is just something he tends to do. He smiles much less than Stu, and it seems even less because when he goes out he likes to wear a surgical mask(He doesn't enjoy the idea to breathing in zombie particles). However, his smile seems much more real, a smile more like that of a child trying to convince you of his innocence than the mocking smile of his friend.

He has a tendency towards baggy, colourful graphic shirts and hoodies. They do quite a good job of hiding his thin frame, on which you could easily count his ribs when he breathed in. He'd rather uncomfortable with that fact. He likes to wear sweatpants, which are comfortable and warm, although he isn't particularly against jeans, which his friend tends to wear. Really, though, Mika would wear anything if he were comfortable enough in it. Hell, he'd wear a dress. One thing he will always have, though, are his platform shoes, which are worn down and lighter in some areas and make him a full inch taller, bringing his size from 5'8" to 5'9".

He has a few scars on his body, and a chipped tooth(not to mention the fact that his two front teeth overlap just a little). He has always been one to end up bruised and bloodied at least once a week, and had more than his fair share of broken bones.

The most noticeable thing about him, though, might be his hands, which are dry and often bleeding. That would just be because he washes his hands much too often than a normal person should. Not necessarily for cleanliness, he doesn't think. Just something to do, you know?


Nothing But Thieves - Neon Brother

If you open my chest, see that two hearts are beating

Fallen out of sync

There's the one I accept and the one I believe in

Which one drew you in?



Of the two friends, Mika had always been found to be the slightly odder one. The one who, while harmless enough, would be easy to imagine pulling out a weapon and killing everyone who had ever wronged him. Not that he would, of course, because Mika rarely cared when anything you could consider wrong when it happened to him. Or, perhaps not cared, but it's quite a different perspective when something happened to himself. So, rather than not caring, perhaps he just never noticed. You can say that he's gullible, because indeed, he'd been convinced to do many things before that he'd never do on his own.

He'd always been quiet. When he entered places on his own, he'd immediately look for a secluded corner to stay, though he would follow along with whoever he was with otherwise. He kept to himself, and rarely chose to speak up. However, when he was spoken to, he could easily and quickly answer back in a clear voice. So, it didn't seem that he was shy at all. Just dispassionate about most things. He lacks to capacity to say jokes, or to understand most of them(or if he did understand them, he clearly was never amused by then, as jokes were often met with blank stares). He's not serious, per say. But he doesn't care for jokes. He doesn't like the feeling when he laughs, it feels unnatural.

He is happy though, plenty of times. This one time, Stuart had ignored him for almost an entire year. Mika was terrified that he did something wrong, and made his only friend hate him so much that he left. But then one day Stuart came up to him and started talking about how he'd figured out where his father kept his drinks, like nothing had happened at all. That made Mika really happy. Stuart is the single important presence in his life, and he'd have hated it if he did something to make him angry.

Mika didn't have much pride in himself. He wasn't too great at things. He was very weak, and didn't have the determination to become any stronger (he had little determination to do anything), he was terrible at speaking to people, and he was too slow academically to keep up with Stuart. He has little confidence in working independently, and is quite certain he'd mess things up if he didn't do exactly as he was told. He will listen to Stuart first before listening to anyone else, of course. Stuart was much smarter than he was, so Stuart would know what to do.

He was prone to irritability and anger. When he was younger, he would sometimes just jump at someone and start whaling at them. That would last perhaps a few seconds before the other person, who was, more often that not, bigger than he was, would throw him to the ground and beat him. Stuart always thought it was hilarious when he appeared at his house with black eyes and bruised skin. Now, he is quite good at not doing that. When he's angry, he'll try to just scream instead, or throw things at walls. He just got overwhelmed too easily. But he was good at being quiet and not saying anything and just fading into the background. That was what he was the best at.

He doesn't understand much. Not just in terms of academics. Mika, who isn't interested in most things, isn't interested in learning more about what others wanted to know. So, sometimes when people talked, he didn't get what they were saying, but it was alright. He didn't mind that because he didn't often care about what they were saying. But he was a really good listener when he tried. When someone told him something to do, he'd probably do it. It was much easier to live life in that way. But man, he could be good at listening. He could listen to you even if you're talking about the most boring things, because even if he doesn't understand, it's comforting just to listen to the gentle rise and fall of conversing voices. And if he did understand, that was cool too. If he understood, he could follow along, and do things if he was told to do things---which he always did. It was much easier.

To some, he may seem to be too trusting. Mika just seems to have the unfortunate luck of trusting all the wrong people. He would surely be one to follow a stranger home with no question, without even the offer of free candy to make him follow. He seems to have a hard time understanding how terrible people can be. Luckily, he has Stuart. Mika at least takes the time to consider if Stuart would do what he was going to do, and always dislikes those Stuart dislikes. He is mildly jealous when Stuart likes people, but that is an entirely different matter. Otherwise, Mika generally has no strong opinion of others, unless they do something kind for him.


Do you see something real or just some kind of mirror?

Staring back at you

It's a punch and a kiss and I'm trying to remember

Which one is the truth?



Germany had been the home of his families for as long as any of them could remember. His mother and father lived in a small apartment, however, barely scraping by. They did not need a third. So, how unfortunate it was when they found that a third would be coming along. Still, they dealt with it. It couldn't be so bad. Alas, in the emergency c-section that follow 8 months after his conception, the baby boy's mother died from complications. So, instead of the expected family of three, there was only two. Despite it all, his father took good care of him. Sometimes he got off track, and took care of himself over his son. That was understandable.

He met Stuart in Kita. The young Mika was playing with wooden cars, when a pale hand found its way into his vision, picking up the blue car Mika abandoned.

"Do you mind?" asked the blond boy attached to the hand, looking much more elegant than Mika in his neat clothing and polite smile. Mika had replied with a nearly indiscernible nod.

An hour spent with the boy was enough for Mika to become entranced by him. Stuart was different. Different, at least, from Mika. Different, perhaps, from the general populace. His smile, perhaps, which Mika soon realized was less polite and more amused. In any case, Mika was captivated by the other boy, whose gray eyes seemed to hide secrets he would never know.

Stuart was his best friend. His only friend, one could say. Mika never approached others, and they never approached him. Stuart was the only one, and that was okay. Mika spent many of his nights at Stuart's home, playing video games with his younger sister and reading books in Stuart's room. He had tough books, English books. Stuart was smart. Mika went to realschule, but he struggled a lot in it. He never did like school. Stuart was nice, he helped him with his schoolwork.

Mika spent more days at Stuart's home than his own, and so it was natural that that was where he was by the time the zombies had become a real threat.

It was nice, really. They had heavy things to block the doors, and Mika helped cover up the windows with sheets and boards. He enjoyed it there, really, even with the groans and screams coming from outside. The Allaways lived in a big neighbourhood, and the sounds seemed ceaseless. But if he had been back home, his father probably would never have thought to block the entrances, not that they had many heavy things to do so in the first place. And they had food here. His house didn't have enough food for two people, definitely. His father tried, Mika thought, but he didn't usually remember things like food or clothes or keys for Mika to get inside. Stuart's family had a lot of good food, and books---Mika didn't like reading that much, but Stuart had a collection of comic books. He didn't read them much, so Mika did instead.

He would have very gladly lived there until he died. There was really no better company to be with in the end. Stuart's parents were always kind, and he liked to play games with Stuart's younger sister. However, things don't work out like that, and there came a day when Stuart pulled him away from his family to have a serious discussion. It was a nice talk, however. "You're a good friend," he'd told Mika(or something along those lines), "I'm glad that you're here." Such a kind, wonderful thing for him to say, don't you think? Stuart was just so kind to him.

The conversation soon turned towards the topic of their current situation. "I'm worried we're going to run out of food soon," said Stuart, a light frown gracing his features. In one way, Mika was touched. Stuart, after all, had never revealed his worries to him before.

"I could eat less," offered Mika, although that wouldn't make much difference. He ate one small snack a day, if that, already. Usually not something that the others would eat in the first place. Stuart, in reply, shook his head. He draped an arm over Mika's shoulder, leading him further into the room they were in.

"You'd starve, and we'd still run out of food eventually. We need to get out of here." There was a long pause before Stuart spoke again. He seemed to be struggling with what he was going to say next. "But we can't leave with everyone. We might be able to make it out there, but they'd be too slow. I don't want to see them be ripped apart by those creatures. If we just leave them here, they'd end up starving. I don't want to see that happen either, but those are the only possibilities." Stuart sighed, and Mika could do nothing but listen in silence. What Stuart said was certainly true, as Mika couldn't imagine a time when Stuart was wrong. So, the Allaways were going to die. His friend had never sounded so distressed before. Mika had no idea how to help him. "If only we could find some way so that they wouldn't die so painfully…"

Stuart had pat him on the shoulder then, before moving away. "Sorry for bothering you about these things, Mika. It wasn't really your problem. Tomorrow we should see if the backyard is clear so we can go out for once." At that, Stuart had left to join his family for dinner, leaving Mika with some rather terrible thoughts.

It would be better for them to die quickly, wasn't it? That was what Stuart said. Quick and painless. And they couldn't be sad. Mika wouldn't want them to be sad, or scared, or anything, he wanted them to be happy. For them to be sleeping, that would be the best, wouldn't it? They wouldn't know. So Mika's plan started that night. He found a cleaver in the kitchen, looking dangerous even there on the counter. It was heavier than he expected, and he almost dropped it when he lifted it up. Was that the way he wanted it to happen? He wasn't sure. It was scary, he didn't think he had ever been so terrified in his whole life, not even that time when a boy he'd tried to fight followed him home with a group of friends. He spent quite a long time thinking about it, nearly giving up several times. It must have been hours before he decided that he should, and at that point he was wondering if it would be better to just do it another time.

Still, he forced himself to enter the dark bedroom where he surely didn't belong, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. His hands trembled, but he reminded himself that this would be a much better way for their lives to end. He wasn't sure how to go about it. Of course, he'd never done this before. Perhaps considered it, with some people. Not the Allaways.

How should he do it? Mika had no confidence in himself to do this. A quick hit to the head should work, right? Mika wanted to hurry. He didn't want to deal with this any longer than he needed. Mika watched the sleeping adults for a moment, How peacefully they slept, with no knowledge of what Mika planned to do to them. Of course, it was not such a good plan in the first place. He hadn't considered what might happen if they woke up. Yet he decided that it would be easy enough to deal with their expressions for that moment, and at the moment he had the advantage. If there was one person he wouldn't be able to stand the expression of, it would have to be the little sister.

The father was first, as he slept closer to the door. Mika moved towards the sleeping man, wincing when he kicked the bedside table. But the father didn't stir. He took a deep breath. He lifted the cleaver over his head. Brought it down. It the was a bit off its mark, as he'd closed his eyes a second before. It fell across his eye.He pulled, harder than necessary, and the cleaver was dragged out. He tried again. Eight times, in total. He just wanted to be sure. The father head was a strange looking mixture of red. Not at all similar to the sharp, stern face that looked just slightly like an older, unsmiling version of his daughter. When he was ten, the father had helped fix the chain on his bike.

Surprisingly, in this whole scene the mother had not awoken. Despite the fact that Mika must have shaken the bed, bracing his knee against it when he retrieved his weapon. Though surely you couldn't ignore such a thing happening beside you. Surely heard that crack of bone, that disgusting squelch of a cleaver being pulled from brain matter could not be ignored. Yet she seemed to sleep so peacefully, her breaths even, looking quite neat and proper compared to the scene beside her. Mika crept towards her side of the bed, the grip on his weapon tightening. The mother was very kind. She always made good food and drove the boys to places that were far away. She always drove Mika home, since it could be dangerous walking all the way to where he lived, especially when you seemed not to pay attention to your surroundings like Mika. He only hit her twice, the first straight across the forehead, The other fell diagonally, intersecting with the first cut and ending just under her left eye. He decided that would be enough.

He'd stood there, silent, for some time, before he finally decided that it was quite hard to look at them like that. Mika rearranged them, moving the two closer together, as he decided they might like, before covering their heads with their blanket, like he'd seen people do on tv. He hoped they were happy in heaven, or wherever it was people might go when they died.

It was the little sister's turn, then. He walked to her room, thinking hard the whole way. He really didn't want to kill her. Besides Stuart, she was really his only friend, though she was only in the fifth grade. Mika wasn't so great at video games, but she let him play anyway. But if he didn't kill her, then she might die horribly later. He entered.

Her room was a pastel pink with light brown furniture and white lace everywhere he looked. When he walked in, he accidentally stepped on a case for a new game she'd bought just before it became so dangerous. She was always really messy. She had stuffed animals on the ground too. In her bed, she slept peacefully, curled up on her side. How should he do this? He didn't think he could do what he just did to her. He set down the bloodied cleaver on her desk which was still covered with math homework. But then what should he do?

He moved to her bed. Beside her, on her pillow, was her stuffed chick, which she stubbornly kept though it was worn in places and had to be sewn in places where holes had appeared. She had had the toy since she was born, and refused to throw it out. She carried it almost everywhere with her. Mika picked it up, picking off a stray piece of lint. It was quite small, smaller even than the palm of his hand, and missing quite a lot of the stuffing it once had. It was as he held it that an idea started to form in his head.

He turned the girl onto her back. Then, very gently, as he didn't enjoy the idea of hurting her, he put the stuffed toy in her mouth, pushing it to the back of her throat so that she might not be able to breathe through her mouth. With two hands, he covered her nose and mouth and pressed down. He hoped that she would eventually quit breathing. He himself took deep breaths as he pressed down, as though to ensure that he himself would not die of suffocation. He was not certain if this would be any worse that the way he had killed her parents. But he hated the idea of seeing her broken in the same way. She was a lively girl, and even the stillness of sleep seemed discordant to how Mika usually saw her, let alone seeing her with a bashed in head.

All too suddenly, he heard the sound of a calm voice behind him. "This wasn't what I meant, you know." Mika jolted, letting go of the sister and looking behind him. There stood Stuart, leaning slightly against the door, two bats in hand.

Of course. Of course this wasn't what he meant. Mika thought back to the conversation they had. He'd never said to kill his family. He was just talking about his worries. Mika was an idiot, really. Always jumping to the first conclusion he made. Of course, he'd always been one to fight when he was angry, but how could he do this? He loved the Allaways very much, and he never thought of murder before. Had he? He considered that for a moment. He didn't think he'd ever hated anyone so much he wanted to kill them... A fleeting thought in the back of his mind, the thought of hitting people with something harder than a fist. Perhaps imagining the windshields he liked to smash as something more alive?

What a monster he was.

He stood there for quite some time, it seemed, staring down at the ground as he considered what a terrible person he'd become, or perhaps he'd always been. Wasn't he the one who really deserved to die? He'd cost three people their lives, and took away Stuart's loving family. He'd killed three people who deserved to live much more than he did. He could feel nothing but a terrible sadness for the people he loved and a deep seething hatred towards himself, who could do no right.

But he suddenly felt a hand ruffling his hair, and he looked up to see Stuart looking down at him. His friend wiped away the tears that Mika hadn't noticed and smiled kindly. "Go get cleaned up, Mika, we need to leave soon."

Mika nodded, and hurried off the the washroom. He used what water there was left in the pipes, simply standing under the spray as he tried to rub off the red he hadn't noticed on his hands until then.

When he returned, Stuart passed him a bag and a bat. The body of Mrs.Allaway was in a wagon, as well as a bundle of blankets that he was quite certain was the little sister. He looked at Stuart curiously.

"I don't think we'd be able to get out so easily," explained Stuart. "There are a lot of zombies outside. So, here's my plan. We have three bodies now, so we could try to use them as bait. If we threw my father's body out the window, we may be able to bait the zombies around our house into going there. Then we can go out from the opposite side of the house. If we run into trouble, we have more bait at hand.

It seemed like a fair plan. Mika opened the window, and helped Stuart lift the body out of the bed and push it out the window. They watched it fall to the ground, attracting the attention of the nearby zombies. As a few lunged towards the easy meal, the two went for their exit. Mika pulled the wagon with the two bodies in it, and Stuart walked behind him.

They were halfway down the street when Stuart stopped them. He stopped to unwrap the little sister's body, leaving it there for the nearby zombies to eat. There were less zombies in the neighbourhood than he'd heard at the beginning, yet they still had to leave the mother's body at the end of the street. Mika left behind the wagon as well. There was little need for it when they had nothing to carry in it.

They travelled for around a year. They had to do some rather terrible things to survive. The first time they came across someone, it was a man in a car. The car was mangled beyond repair, and the man seemed quite glad to see other people there who could help him. They broke the windshield to help him out. But then Stuart told him that they wouldn't be able to get the man out without endangering themselves---the man was trapped. So they'd left him behind, screaming at them to help him. Mika felt bad.

The second time they came across someone was two months later, a girl who was even younger than they were. Her older sister had died just a half hour before they met. She was really nice, Mika liked her. She had nice stories about her family. They seemed like nice people. The two of them talked a lot about what they'd do when this was all over---she insisted it would be, and Mika enjoyed the idea of going back home.

She disappeared one night. Mika had only slept for an hour, yet, when he woke up, it was like she'd never been there in the first place. Her bag was gone, as was the knife that had seemed much too big for her to hold. The spot beside Mika where she'd slept the night before left no indication of her having ever been there. Stuart said he didn't know where she went. Maybe she got bored of Mika. He just hoped that she was safe, wherever she'd gone.

They moved on.

The two boys had been wandering quite aimlessly up until that point, doing little more than breaking windshields and taking what they needed from stores. Occasionally they would attack small groups of survivors if it seemed like a low-risk venture, or guide them to zombies when asked about where to go. However, they eventually heard about the safe zone in Luxembourg. With little place else they could go, the boys decided to try their luck in Luxembourg.

Mika was glad that they found that place. He was tired of running from monsters. He hated a lot of the things they had to do to survive. He really just his normal life back. While Mika couldn't possibly return to the way he'd lived before, he could get as close to that as possible in Luxembourg. He was glad that Stuart agreed that they should live there, though. Mika would never have stayed if Stuart didn't. They've been living there for three years now, and it's been nice.


Nothing But Thieves - Six Billion

The end is the same for everyone

That should be enough, for us to be as one

Watch me fall apart all for you

Watch me fall apart, trying to please you



A polypropylene bat. It fits into his hand quite comfortably, and is durable enough to have lasted him an entire four years. It's easy to incapacitate zombies with it. Occasionally Mika does wonder why Stuart had these, as he'd never shown any particular interest in baseball, but he's glad that he did.


Watch me fall apart, trying to please you

That's all I want to do

Watch me fall apart, trying to please you

That's all I want to do



Stuart Allaway - Mika's best friend, who he's known since he was a child. A truly wonderful person, who Mika is lucky to call a friend. Mika really isn't sure why Stuart liked him enough to be friends with him in the first place.

Naoto Shulz - Naoto is a really nice person. When Mika was 12, he was passing by a place and saw that they had a lot of candy there. It was really nice candy too, and without really thinking about it, he ended up taking a bag and walking away with it. He got caught quickly, and he was terrified of getting into trouble, but he got off with a warning. Since then, he'd think that they were friends. Mika is glad that Naoto is alive.

The Little Sister - Stuart's little sister, to be exact, who Mika was quite good friends with. They played video games together and when they had candy, Mika always gave her the lemon ones and she gave him the orange ones. He killed her.

Father - Not Stuart's, but Mika's, who Mika really did love, really. They would have gone to get him, but Stuart said that Mika's neighbourhood was too far. The locks on his door were flimsy anyway, and his father might have died before he even realized what was happening. Hopefully his drinking had numbed the pain.

The girl - She was nice, but she disappeared quickly.


Stuart used to have a cat. It was only his, so it was his responsibility to care for it and make sure it didn't mess up the house. As such, the then 11 year old had decided that the best way to do that would be to lock the cat in a cage. It was funny, actually, because he had this metal pole that he would poke into the cage and the cat would try to attack it. He found that it was pretty great when the cat tried to jump on top of it because he could knock it off really easily. Mika liked to play with the cat and one time he took it outside to play and it ran away.

Mika loves animals very much. They're cute, much like little kids. The problem is that he is rather absent minded, so if he had either he surely forget to feed them, or forget that he had them there. But if you remind him then he is good enough at taking care of both. He's much more careful with them than he is with himself.

Stuart generally likes people who he finds interesting. Otherwise he'll probably lose interest in a person rather quickly. It's actually a wonder he's still friends with Mika, as the other boy has barely changed in all the years he'd known him. However, occasionally he does offer a few surprises.

Usually, Mika will like you if you give him presents. He particularly likes orange flavoured snacks, cigarettes, and beer, in that order. Another way for him to like you would be if Stuart liked you, even if he might get jealous of Stuart seemed to like you more. If Stuart disliked you then Mika would definitely dislike you as well.

Stuart is against activities such as drinking and drugs, at least for himself, as he likes to keep a clear head. He also doesn't fight, because it's a bothersome risk for little enjoyment. However, during the year of travelling he did with Mika, he did find busting kneecaps and breaking windshields with his bat to be amusing, the second one being one of Mika's pastimes.

Mika likes cigarettes and beer, with them both being a great way to keep calm during stressful times, and both being easily found in his old home. He's impartial to bourbon, and generally would take things if offered as well. He sometimes would try to hit people for no apparent reason when he used to get angry, even though he'd always get beat up. Despite that, he was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of killing the human-like creatures, but it helped that Stuart called them monsters.

Stuart has a tendency to roll his eyes a lot when he'd bored or annoyed. But then he would assure the person he's speaking that he is neither bored nor annoyed with them. Luckily, kids don't usually take notice of such things which makes his job a good one.

Mika has a tendency to scratch the knuckle of his right index finger when he's thinking, which tends to make them more cracked and bleeding than they already are. He also tends to pull on his own hoodie strings when he's nervous, or fidget with anything he might have at hand. Yet he's surprisingly good at staying still when he needs to.

Stuart has a silvery voice, sounding quite clear and light when he speaks. He rarely raises his voice, generally sounding quite level and calm. Now, if you take the time to listen carefully, you'd find that he generally sounds either amused, or just the tiniest bit disdainful. He is fluent in German and English. However, with his parents being Scottish, and his English tutor also happening to be from Scotland, his accent when speaking English sounds a bit off from either a Scottish or German accent, although he could never tell the difference between his accent and that of his father's.

Mika has a low, rough voice, which he dislikes quite a lot because he thinks it makes him sound ill. Not that anyone had ever asked him that. Much like Stuart, it is quite rare to hear him raise his voice, though for him it has more to do with lack of interest than anything. Having grown up in Germany, of course Mika is fluent in German, though he did do rather poorly in class. As for foreign languages, however, Mika took English in school, but found himself to be struggling quite a bit. If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was that he doesn't have to take English class during the apocalypse. However, as a result, his English is quite poor. He can speak simple sentences, but if you speak too quickly in English he won't be able to follow along.

Mika can name many positive things about Stuart. He's so kind, really, to everyone. He's smart, and athletic, and a good planner. He's even good at music, being able to play the piano and the cello. He used to paint, you know, because his mother had enrolled him in classes. He's really good at playing games like cheat because Mika can never tell when he's lying. And he has really nice eyes, the stormy sort that won't look too out of place in a jar of marbles. Of course, as his friend, Stuart also has good things to say about Mika. Mika can be interesting.

Stuart is an alright cook. He might not be able to produce five star meals, but he makes food that you can genuinely say tastes good. Mika, on the other hand, doesn't often try to cook, since they didn't usually have enough food at his home to do so. He can make scrambled eggs without dropping eggshells in the pan though, and that's good enough for him.

Actually, Stuart is quite good at many sorts of household chores. He could sew the rips in his little sister's and Mika's clothes after that one time when they had severely messed up in a biking race. He was usually the one cleaning up after them as well. Mika can't do any of those things. His house is always a big mess, which is why he always went to Stuart's house instead(As well as the fact that Stuart's parents didn't like the idea of him going to Mika's house). But Mika knows how to cut hair, to some extent. Rather, he's meticulous when it comes to making sure Stuart looks nice.

Stuart is a punk ass bitch


Ex nihilo nihil fit

Mika: #AA686D

Stu: #488AC7
Putting them all together bc they're kinda cringe but I love them and will reuse them fs after revamping everything lolol


Behold, beautiful me!

"One more year!"

b. August 30

"Darling, you'll fall for me anyway."


"I would have thought you knew already. I am the leader, after all."

The Geeks

"I'll be whoever you want me to be~"

Caelum is an actor, through and through. He has, as you might call it, a flair for the dramatics. In fact, during the Geek Shows, he helps organize and is always in the play, though you'd probably find him wandering around beforehand.

On a regular market day, you will always see him, with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. He isn't scared of just going and talking to people at all, it would seem. He's always friendly, always loud, though luckily he does know that most people don't enjoy it if he pretends to flirt with them, so friendly is as far as he goes. You can call him frivolous, as many people have, but it isn't exactly true.

Since the virus, the single most important thing to Caelum is... Himself. Second is his gang. Any friends he used to have before the gangs came about aren't important to him anymore, no matter if they used to talk more than he's ever done with his gang members. Not that he would stop talking to other gangs. He always will. It makes his gang less likely to be attacked, if they are friendly. Not to mention the Geek Shows that make them big hits. People don't want to wipe out the Geeks. So he is smart, in that way. Fake friends are better than real enemies. But really, as nice as he may be to other people, he will kill someone with no hesitation during drop offs if they get in his way, and he will kick people out of the gang the moment they become a hindrance. His gang is important, no one will ruin the life he had built. If they do, they'll regret it.

As an actor, Caelum had always been good at pretending. He can cry, laugh, smile, act like he wants to stab you in the face, all in the blink of an eye. It's difficult to tell how he really is, because he can be so different. Is that bright, smiling boy his usual demeanor? Is it the serious leader that has managed to really gain the respect of his followers, time and time again? The one who will do anything for revenge? Or is he really like the boy he appears to be on stage, quiet, friendly, and completely, absolutely normal? Maybe, not even he knows.

"The beginning, middle, and end---well, not so much the end. I'm not a senior yet!"

Caelum was always the sort of child who would be constantly laughing with his family, dancing and singing and putting on plays for them. Among his two siblings, he was the loudest and the brightest. He fit in with them too. He would play soccer and with action figures with his older brother, and play dolls and dress up with his sister. It was really perfect.

The thing is, though, Caelum was shy with people. Strangers scared him. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what would make them mad or sad. As a small child, he would hide behind his parents' legs, looking out just enough to see the person he was supposed to meet. When he grew older, he gained the habit of looking down. The sky hurt his eyes too much.

When he was about to start high school, his family moved. His sister was heading off to university. While they hadn't wanted to move while Caelum was still in elementary, they decided it would be fine for high school---the school he was going to was a prestigious school. His siblings had made it in, but it was far from his old home. None of the people he knew were going to be there, besides his brother. Which was fine, they thought. He could just make new friends.

In high school, he chose drama and vocals as his electives. He always got the same comments: 'Caelum needs to be louder and participate more in class.' His parents, of course, didn't understand this. He was still always so bright, and loud, and happy at home. How could he be different at school?

It came to the point that his grades dropped. He never changed out of the classes, because his family would question him more. So his grades dropped. He asked to transfer schools after that year. His parents didn't like it, but they agreed. They told his brother, one year his elder, to transfer too. To give Caelum company, they claimed.

Caelum was sure his brother hated him for that. The summer before his second year, Caelum rarely spoke to his brother. Caelum spent the summer in his room, music blasting from his speakers, lost to the world. He dreaded the first day of school. But then it came. He woke up early that day, shrugging on his backpack and riding with his brother to school, in silence.

10 minutes into entering, everything went to hell. Caelum was confused. Heartpounding, nervewracking confusion. When they were stuck in the school, he didn't stay in the gymnasium and cafeteria like the others did, at the beginning. He slept in the foyer, the screams of those driven insane being his lullaby.

He didn't see his brother again for a long time. By then, he'd established his own gang. Being at a new school had it's perks. No one knew who he was. No one know what he was like. He found the drama room a little while after The Varsity and The Pretty ones kicked everyone out of the gymnasium, and The Vixens kicked them out of the cafeteria. He met people there. Most were drama students. One was a boy who had taken care of the backstage things. They were scared, so Caelum stepped up. "Want to form a gang?" he asked them. They readily agreed. They needed the food. They needed the leader. And that was how they became The Geeks.

Fast forward. 300 days later. By then, The Geeks had grown. They had the music students, the art students, the drama students, and even english students, all of those who had creations they wanted to show. They had a good catch of food, and plenty of good things to trade at the market. Then there was some talk.

"Did you hear? Someone is graduating today!"

"We saw him at the booth this morning. He'll probably have to come back later tonight. We should watch."

"Yeah, let's go there now.

Graduating was a big deal. It showed that you made it. Through all that shit you had to go through, you stayed strong and you made it. But on that day, there was a slight murmur of confusion, the groups who had gathered shuffling in confusion. There was no group who wasn't present, waiting until they could make a big entrance, shoving people aside like bodyguards for their graduating student.

Then a single person walked forward. His head was down, a hood pulled over his head. When he pulled it off, his hair was white, falling over his shoulder in an unkempt mat. A scrap.

He walked to the booth, and like many before him, picked up the set of keys that hung there, finding a space on the booth walls to scratch in his name. Then he pressed his thumb into the ID scanner, confirming his leaving. He turned back, and for that moment, everyone could see his face. Gaunt and pale, with dark, hate filled eyes. He looked nothing like he once had, but Caelum could recognize him. Like a brother's intuition of sorts.

Caelum wanted to call out to him. He wanted to push past his gang, go up to that boy who he had so many fond memories of, playing games as a child. He wanted to give him a hug, something Caelum remembered he always hated. He'd hold him there. Just for a little while longer. He had time to stay. Just a little while longer would be fine for Caelum. He wanted to whisper, because he knew his brother always hated public spectacles, and he would want to be just a bit private with it, he wanted to whisper, "I'm sorry." But he never did. Instead, Caelum stood with the others, watching as his brother took those steps to the containment capsule, with no one there cheering him on. He watched his brother, hoping that he would look back, at least once, and see Caelum. Even if Caelum looked so different now, surely his brother would recognize him. Surely Caelum could convey his regret with silence.

But his brother never turned back. And then he was gone.

But, Caelum still smiled. At the market the next day, everyone could hear him, as he joked and made sales. Just the same as before. Hey, life went on. One day, he'll graduate too. He'll write his name in the booth, another person strong enough to make it through. He would walk to the containment capsule with the cheers of his gang members behind him. He'd turn to give them one last smile and wave, and then he'll go back out. He'll see his family again. They'll be happy. He was sure of it.

"I'm single, in case you wanted to know~"
Mother ❣ Emilee Hinton ❣ Status unknown
- His mother was a kind woman. She never tried to push Caelum down, always listened when he was wa child and had a nightmare. Caelum loves her very much. But at some point in life, Caelum stopped telling her things. He doesn't know why, but he did. He wished he hadn't.

Father ❣ William Hinton ❣ Status unknown - William, while a bit more strict than his wife, very clearly loved his family. When William had time, he would always wait and watch one of Caelum's little performances when he was a child. While he was quiet, Caelum had always seen him, trying to give his siblings advice and awkwardly comforting them when they went through bad break ups. He was a good father.

Sister ❣ Reagan Hinton ❣ Status unknown - When Caelum was younger, he liked playing school and dress up with his sister. Occasionally they also played soccer and the like with their brother, but that was mainly it. As they got older, Reagan and Caelun spoke less---she had her schoolfriends, he had himself. Luckily, she is in university, so she wasn't at the high school. That doesn't mean she hasn't contacted the virus, though.

Brother ❣ Daniel Hinton ❣ Status unknown - The last time Caelum saw him, he graduated. Caelum remembers him as the silly guy with the bright eyes, who did well in school and had so many friends. He would joke around with Caelum at home all the time, and was willing to help when Caelum didn't understand things. On their first day at their new school, Daniel had left immediately, disappearing into the thick of the crowd. Caelum lost him. He didn't see Daniel again until he was graduating, and by then, his eyes were filled with hate. He wasn't the same person as he was before. Caelum hoped he'll see his family again, and his brother will be smiling again, silly and bright eyed.

Acquaintance ❣ Ari Lux McLean ❣ Alive - Ari is just one of many people who Caelum often speaks to at the market, though perhaps a bit more for him, because Ari regularly goes by to pick up the trash. Ari, apparently, used to build the sets for plays, and when Caelum had gone to the drama room and started the gang there, Ari had still been sleeping there, though he soon left, despite The Geeks moving out of that room. He's now part of The Skaters.

Acquaintance ❣ Orion Anwir ❣ Alive - What a sweetheart. He must be the kindest Varsity there is. Chivalrous to his girlfriend, kind to others... But everyone has something they don't want others to know. He simultaneously makes Caelum laugh and frighten him at the same time. After all, Orion is definitely stronger than Caelum... At some point, Orion might realize how easy it would be to shut him up.

Gang ❣ The Geeks ❣ "You know, it really all depends..." - Caelum is the founder of The Geeks. Hecares about them, if he really has a friend, they'll be in here. He works with them and lives with them, he really has to like them. He could technically kick them out if he dislikes them, of course.

"Oh, I didn't know you were so interested about me?"
Fear of Abandonment
- It's something that had plagued Caelum's mind for a long time. He's scared of the thought, that he will just be alone. He wants to be remembered. Even if he died tomorrow, he wants to be known, remembered. He wants people to be able to hear his name and recognize it, he wants people to aspire to be him. It's a selfish want. But all wants are.

Nicknames - Usually, rather than names, Caelum just calls people beautiful, or handsome, or maybe sexy if he feels like it. It helps make people feel more included when he doesn't know their names, he thinks. The nicknames aren't based on gender or looks, really. He calls guys beautiful sometimes, and girls handsome sometimes, and sexy is really just for a few people or when he's in a really good mood. It's just confusing if he were to yell out, "Hey beautiful!" in the middle of the market. Though maybe it would be amusing to see the momentary confusion.

Bisexual - No shit, Sherlock. Boys and girls can both be really cute, and it's good to keep your options open, what with people dying or graduating everywhere---well, that isn't why he's bisexual, but good reasoning. He seems to fluctuate between liking guys and girls based on his mood. Which is fine. It isn't like he's going to get someone.

Geek Leader - The geeks will inherit the earth. --- I Fight Dragons. Just in case you didn't get the message. Caelum is the leader of one of the gangs, known as The Geeks. They have a smooth operation going on. At the main event during the Geek Shows, the musicians provided the background music, always keeping it light and airy and peaceful. The artists provided the scenery, bright images of the outdoors. The writers made the story, that normal day outside, where there were no borders and fights to survive. Then the actors brought it all to life.

A Jar Full of Stars - When Caelum had been packing for his first day of school, he put in a glass jar, filled with little paper stars, and strips of paper to make more. They were, after all, lucky stars. His sister had taught him and their brother how to make them. It's a calming practice, you could say. He keeps them beside his sleeping bag, and some of them glow softly at night.

"One word: sexy."

Some people find him to be extremely feminine. Which is true, Caelum won't deny it. Though, at the beginning, he did look different. Before the virus, he had pitch black hair, and light blue eyes. He's always had a light build, slight and small, and now that he's stuck in the school, he has become quite pale.

Unlike most people, Caelum wears a wig. He has a few, exchanging rolls of Geek Show tickets for them. While at the beginning, they had been brightly coloured, the tips coloured with the various paints from the art room, he'd slowly let the colour fade out. Now, they're basically white, with faint bits of colour here and there. His real hair, however, which is cut short, is pitch black whenever it's seen.

Speaking of colour. Caelum, at some point, started using charcoal to line his eyes, everyday. He's a very committed guy. To his looks, anyway.

First banner art by Jounetsunoakai. Still trying to figure the others.

.ari lux mclean.
It's cold. I think it'll always be that way.


«Each breath brings me closer to death.»
b. September 1


«You saying I look like a girl?»


«They'll keep me while I'm useful.»
The Skaters


«I'm a fucking boatload of sunshine and rainbows.»
Since the virus, Ari has become a huge pessimist. He's seen people kill, he's seen people stab their best friends in the back. He can't trust anyone.

He hears people talk about graduation, like it's some big thing. He thinks they're insane. How can they even be sure that, after the person disappears behind those steel doors, they aren't immediately shot? Everyone knew that the country had been at crossroads, trying to decide whether or not to kill them all. Why would they let them back into society, just like that? And even if they did let you out, how would your life be like? People would see your white hair and shy away, because they know you had the virus. Most people in the school had horrible injuries, including Ari. How would they successfully merge back to their old life, when they had spent so long looking fearfully over their shoulder in case one of those people that they had seen every day at school decided to kill them? So he is quite a cynic, and quite a pessimist, as people would say. He'd rather say he's a realist.

He does try to keep his thoughts to himself though. He tries to maintain a good relationship with people, because he'd prefer dying on his own terms, rather than being ambushed and beaten to death. So to those who could very well be a threat, he is fairly polite. He humours them. It's not like he has any ideas of his own anyway, so it's easy to agree with them. However, to people such as scraps, who have no loyalties or people to protect them, he can be quite rude. It's an automatic reaction. To the people who aren't going to hurt him, he tends to be a bit more condescending.

It doesn't mean he is a bad person though. Rather, he hates how they don't try to be stronger. He tried. They could. If they aren't going to protect themselves, if they're just going to hide in the shadows forever and be scared of every creak in their broken school, then Ari isn't going to try being sweet and polite to them. They didn't deserve it.

When had this begun? When had Ari begun to think that people were only important if they were in a united front? When had he started believing that everyone would die, and it was only a matter of who died first? At some point, near the beginning when the drop offs began, he believed they had a chance. They would all get out eventually, they would see their families again. Everything will be back to normal. But with each passing day, those dreams seemed to fade away. Even the faces of his parents seemed blurry around the edges. No. No one will be waiting on the other side for him. No one had someone waiting. No one.


«It's fading.»
His parents never loved each other. This isn't some kind of cliche story, where the parents hated each other at first, and gradually got to love each other. This isn't some sob story, where because of their lack of love, they couldn't love their son either. The two were friends. They were good friends, they trusted each other. For some brief period of time, they even thought they were in love with each other. But they weren't. They realized this, eventually, but at that point, they had Ari, a rapidly growing little child who deserved to have both parents living under the same roof as him. So they stayed together, and though they were but friends and slept in separate rooms, they loved their son as dearly and fiercely as the other. While his mother taught him to admire the butterflies and the flowers, and take a moment to see the good in life, his father taught him to listen to the sounds around him, to hear the good in life. He appreciates it. He really does, even if he never quite picked up on it.

As a child, Ari had a bit of a temper. He was the sort of child who was possessive, who always wanted to get his own way. When people said he was wrong, they'd always get a defiant reply, although he was a bit nicer to adults. Not polite, still, but good enough so that he didn't get into too much trouble. He was smart like that, even at that age.

When he grew up, he had less of a temper. Instead, he chose to ignore people. He tried to work hard, even if he easily got frustrated when he didn't understand. When he wasn't working, he'd go out on his skateboard. No matter how much people might try to talk to him, he'd just plug in his headphones and move on with music blasting into his ears. It was all fine that way.

When he got into high school, he was immediately lost. He didn't have any reason to be there, no. He didn't know anyone. He didn't know anything. He was confused. He stayed quiet, he stayed alone. It was saddening, to see people walk past him with their groups of friends, a feeling which seemed to wrap around his lungs and squeeze, squeeze until he choked.

One day, in the middle of his freshman year, his school started working on a play. It was one of those extremely large ones, that required not just many actors, but a lot of people working behind the scenes as well. One of which ended up being him, being one of the people who built the sets. There was something calming about it. He didn't have to think of things himself. He had room for error. When he messed up, all he had to do was tear it down and start again.

It helped him make a schedule. He rode his skateboard to school, went to classes. At lunch he ate for fifteen minutes then spent the rest of the time at the weight room, seeing as no one else was there. Go to the drama room after school. Work for two hours. Go to the skate park for half an hour after. Go home. Eat, homework, sleep. Repeat. It was calming. He liked that.

So, naturally, when the virus hit, it really put a damper on his plans. He was with a teacher earlier. He was at school an hour early, so he was helping a science teacher bring things to his room. When he finished, he walked away to go to his locker.

Twenty meters from the east wing, it exploded. So he never had to see that teacher die a painful death. Ari knew some people saw things like that. He never even had to see the body. They never found it.

Ari watched as people broke. As their supply of food started running out, as he saw more and more of them, the seniors in particular. It was almost enjoyable. Amusing, watching them sobbing and wandering the halls like ghosts. But it was nice when the drop offs began too.

On the first one, he could already see the desperation. People grabbing at food, clothes, supplies, stealing from each other, fighting over the things they weren't sure they'd see again. Ari did too. He could run, and be ran fast to that pile, grabbing as much food as he could before he ran away.

People began fighting over what they had. Their shouts began to fill the halls. They waited in the quad, waiting for that helicopter to drop of another crate. Ari waited too. But he was more prepared. See, at that time, before the gangs were created, Ari slept in the gymnasium. He had his own little corner, right beside the storage room, a good half of a meter between him and the other people. So, on the day after the drop off, he walked into the storage room and grabbed a metal bat. So no one could take his things. He made sure of it.

He was one of the first murderers.

Ari didn't mean to. He really didn't. If given the chance, he would argue his case for hours, plead it, beg for the forgiveness of the person. He'd taken the bat because he felt it would scare people off. He was on edge, people could tell. When he held the bat, his grip on it was so tight his knuckles turned white, he jumped at movement.

So it was that guy's fault, right? He shouldn't have walked up behind Ari. Shouldn't have reached for the food Ari had worked hard to collect. The guy was a small guy, as Ari saw later. A lot smaller than Ari. So he shouldn't have tried. The food he already had was enough. Ari needed his food.

So Ari had killed him. He hit him square in the chest with the bat first, winded him. Then he hit him on the head. It was rhythmic beating. Up goes the bat, down with a sickening crunch. Crunch. crunch. crunch. Faintly in his memories now, Ari thinks he hears pleading. Stop, please stop... He doesn't know if it was from the guy or a friend. He thinks he hears someone, egging him on. Hit harder, he tried to steal your food! He's against you, he'll be the reason you die. Continue, continue, let everyone know they should fear you! He doesn't know if it was someone else who said that, or him who thought it. What he does know is that eventually the boy stopped moving. Ari's bat was sticky with blood. People were watching.

He turned and headed back in with his food.

After that, Ari stopped going to the gym. He went to the janitor's closet, which by then had already been stripped of its supplies. So he slept there for a while. It was comforting, being in a small place like that. Like he was in his own little world. Things that happened outside of it wasn't true. It was just that place. But still, every night he went out, wandering the halls in silence, desperately wishing he was out in the cold air. Maybe that was how they found him.

They cornered him one night. He couldn't see them, but he heard them, their voices ringing with anger, pain, and accusation. Now, he can't remember the words too well, except for one, a mix of whispers and screams, voices mixing into one. Murderer.

They hit him. He wasn't sure how many people there were, all hitting him, shouting at him. He wanted to hide again. He wanted to curl up in a ball. He wanted to be back home, in bed, he wanted this to be a nightmare that he could wake up from and just get into trouble with his parents for being loud. He wanted to scream. Save me. Save me. SAVE ME. But there was that voice again, that unknown voice, scornful and venomous. But why should anyone save you? You're a murderer. No one saved him. No one should save you.

It was as simple as that, that Ari gave up. He went limp and let them punch him as much as they wanted. He didn't move, didn't make a sound, even when he saw a small flame nearing his face. He only moved when he felt it.

For a moment, he didn't. He didn't feel a thing for a moment, like his nerves were on overdrive. But then he did. Intense, white hot pain, something that was so hot it almost seemed cold. Burning cold. He did nothing but scream, a piercing, animalistic scream that echoed in the halls.

He faintly heard them yelling then. What the hell are you doing? We were just trying to scare him. Run, run before someone comes by. He faintly heard the pattering of feet, running far, farther away.

He was glad the sprinklers still worked. The cooling water was like heaven. After that, he passed out. He dreamed of his family, when he was younger. When he'd have a fever, and be coddled by his parents. He always ended up just laying in bed with a cool washcloth on his head, a contrast against his burning skin...

He'd wake up for brief moments. Hazy moments. Faintly, he realized that he wasn't in the same place anymore. Faintly he'd notice a person, wandering about. He paid her no mind. He went back to sleep.

He finally woke up again, properly, one day. He saw a girl. Did you... he began, but then stopped. It didn't matter. Thank you. After all, it wasn't as much a matter of whether she'd saved him, but rather that she hadn't killed him. It was a perfect chance to have just one less person to deal with. Then he left.

He went back to the janitor's closet, for a moment. His things were still there. So he took them, then he left.

He felt as though he missed a lot. All around him, people spoke of a gang. He didn't get it. What was going on? It was difficult to piece together, because he never spoke to people and people never spoke to him. Eventually he did get it. But he wasn't sure when and he wasn't sure how.

He chose to sleep in the drama room. There was already people there. But no matter. He went to a corner far away from them, and there he stayed, for a short while. Alone in a sense, up until someone else appeared.

Want to form a gang?

Automatically, Ari had refused. He didn't want to get close to anyone then. It was pointless. He didn't need that, he didn't need help, he just wanted to be alone... How did he end up becoming a Skater? He isn't sure anymore. It's all fading.


«My parents are probably divorced and on different sides of the country now.»
.Father ϟ John McLean ϟ Status Unknown.
- He was a good guy. He tried to be a good father. Ari liked him well enough. It's too bad he'll probably never see his father again.

.Mother ϟ Grace McLean ϟ Status Unknown. - Ari probably liked her too. He probably has fond memories. He isn't too sure, his memory seems quite bad. He forgets what she looks like, he has nothing to remember. He misses her, he thinks.

.Acquaintance ϟ Caelum Silas Hinton ϟ ALIVE. - Nice guy. Always smiling, as far as Ari can tell. He calls Ari Skrillex. Suppose it's hard to lie and call Ari handsome. He doesn't mind though. He can't. The guy is the Geek leader, so he does have a small amount of power above Ari. Ari could have joined the Geeks, but he can't imagine it, acting like them.

.Saviour ϟ Nettie Blanchett ϟ ALIVE. - An acquaintance. Ari doesn't mind her company, she's a good person. A straightforward one too, so Ari never really has to question what she thinks of him. He would wait for her on the outside if he remembered. The story of them meeting is simple enough. Ari needed help. She gave it. She had a chance to kill him and have one less person to fight, or at least leave him to die, but she didn't. So Ari trusts her more than he trusts others.

.Gang ϟ The Skaters ϟ No One Gives a Flying Fuck if They're Dead or Alive - Ari's gang. He doesn't care for them, they don't care for him, life works out.


«I'm not very interesting.»
Fear of Hurting Others
- Since that certain incident, Ari is scared of hurting people... Too badly. He's stopped bringing the bat to drop offs, but he still brings his skateboard and knocks people aside. Some people get out of his way anyway---a tall person who's killed a man is nothing to mess with. He's scared, though. Scared of hurting himself or anyone else. Sometimes he thinks of dying, he thinks of just going to the uncovered windows, the ones that look over the quad, and just jump. Then he tells himself how awful that is, and he goes back to what he was doing before.

The Bat - Ari still has it. He cleaned off all the blood, running a rag over it until it shone. He never used it again, after. He keeps it beside his sleeping bag.

Skateboard - Obviously he has one. He's a Skater. Like all the Skaters, Ari uses this as a weapon. He even duct-taped the broken off blades of a pair of scissors to it, mainly just to scare people. Due to that little added bit of it, he really just skates by himself so no one gets stabbed. He doesn't mind though. He likes being alone.

A Voice - It encourages him one second and tries to break him the next. It's evil and Ari should get rid of it soon. But it can be nice sometimes. It's nice to have someone to talk to, yes? He does, in fact, hear more than one voice. Usually not all at once, but when he hears them all, then he gives them names.


«Should've been a Freak.»
The most prominent thing on his face is the scar, ugly red skin on half his face. He tries to hide it from most people. He looks down, his hair falling over it. Which is the same as his behaviour had always been. So it's not weird.

His eyes, though, are are a venomous green. It isn't bright. It's dull, especially so when he just stares you down blankly. One eye is covered though. His hair is shaved on one side, the other side falling over his face. It is an issue when running and fighting, but Ari has learned to deal with it. Now, it is purely black, though before the virus it had actually been been fair, a strawberry blond(which isn't to say he didn't dye it black a lot anyway. He got sick of people calling him names). He has an angular face, and a few piercings, along with some spacers. He used to periodically change the colour. Now he doesn't, of course.

Ari is tall. He was around 6'3" the last time he checked, a year ago. He has a lean body, never being one to spend all his hours at the gym(just, you know, most of lunch), preferring to actually be outside. With a slight tendency to just glare at people, it's a bit unnerving to look up at him.

He has three pairs of jeans that he grabbed from the drop offs, in varying shades of gray. And black. Mostly black. They're black. One of them is too short for him, so he actually has a reason to wear them like an idiot. Lowriding is not his fault. He only has one shirt though. Luckily it didn't get burned when he did, since closets can be annoying and he just wore pants to sleep. He does regret wearing that shirt to school though.

It was the shirt he'd woken up in. He'd just thrown his green stage crew hoodie over it, and gone to school that day. A little while after the gangs were established, he traded his hoodie for a jar of peanut butter. He thinks Caelum looks like he's being eaten alive by the sweater, but the kid seems to like it. So now everyone can read Ari's shirt. 'FREEDOM,' it proclaims on the front in large, bolded letters. 'EMBRACE THE LOVE AND PEACE VIBES,' it adds on the back. He really regrets that shirt.

I made the banners, but the art is by Andi Bonin(Id Boomer)


"I've always wanted to be a king."

"I probably look older than my age. Being here does that to you."
b. December 31


"Better to show you than to tell you."


"We're better people than you may think."


"If you think you can change me then, well, think again."
"You think I don't deserve it all?"

King used to have everything. Whatever he asked for was his, he didn't have to throw tantrums or work for it. It was always his. So naturally he became a spoiled person. He expects things to be handed to him on a silver platter. He deserves for that to happen. He is a good person. He deserves it. At least, once upon a time, King was sure of that. He was the a great person. Everyone paid attention to him, everyone knew him. Once upon a time... But now, he knows that one wrong move, and he'll be killed.

"Ah, just one moment. Don't worry, I'll get this."

Despite how spoiled King may be, he will work when there is a need for it. Of course, until the virus he never actually saw such a need. He knows though, that if he is useless, then he'll be a scrap. The lowest of the low! Like hell he'd let that happen. So King works pretty hard to keep his place. He has always been at the top before. He refuses to fall to the bottom.

"What's the point of staying when I get nothing from it?"

Don't take it personally when he abandons you. King has always been one to head towards power. Towards fun. So don't feel bad. He always ends up abandoning people. Occasionally he doesn't. He hasn't left Freaks, though if he ever got a better offer, he'd leave in a heartbeat. He goes through a lot of girlfriends in that sense---to be fair, none of them loved him either. So no hard feelings. If they're so hurt about being left he'll give them a piece of glass. Nice and shiny.

▶Hopeless Romantic◀
"Maybe one day I'll find my beautiful princess and ride off with her to the sunset."

Didn't see that one coming, now did ya? But it is true. King, since he was younger, was in love with the idea of love. Well, he's seen it happen. He'd gone to that wedding those two people had, because he was almost friends with the Freak. She was a pretty cool girl. He's seen a love that never died no matter the hardships. King would like to think that that would happen for him too. That he'll find that perfect girl, they'd get together, they'd have a happily ever after. While surely no one would notice, the name "King" has been scratched into the walls of the Lover's Chapel, along with another name, a different girl each time, enough that he's pretty confident that he could fill half a wall with just those names. He's sweet and as romantic as he can be with girls that he thinks he likes... But he always ends up getting bored.

▶Brave To A Fault◀
"To hell with waiting, attack!"

Or maybe a idiotic, brash, stubborn guy who never thinks fits him better. Really, the amount of times when he's run into a fight, waving his bicycle chain in the air, or started screaming profanities and threats at other gangs are too much to count. King is willing to risk his life for things, mainly because he never even realizes how dangerous it is. I wouldn't call him brave. He's just an overconfident idiot. He'd die, even in the outside world.

"Really, have you ever seen a person greater than me?"

Why not? King is better than most people he sees, anyway. He had money. He's done crazy shit and lived to tell the tale. He has a badass weapon and his armour is a fucking skeleton. He's pretty damn good looking. He isn't some piece of trash like most of the people at this school are. When he gets out, he'll pull himself back up to the top again. Anyone who might have ever looked down on him will grovel at his feet, worship his very being. It'll happen. He has plans.

"You looking for a fight? I'll give you a fucking fight!"

Sometimes it's all his gang can do to hold him back, covering his mouth before he starts cussing at the people who can destroy him in an instant. King can get angry without warning, and when he gets angry he can do pretty stupid things without any plan whatsoever. He'll die eventually, whether he's in the school then or not. You could call him brave for that, right? He certainly isn't afraid of consequences.


"Walk a mile in my shoes before you say you hate me."
▶One Cold Night◀
"A fairy tale beginning."

Amy, this is Vincent. I'm sure you two will like each other.

As those words were uttered, Amy stared at Vincent blankly, not a single bit of emotion on her face. Unlike him, who'd never been good at hiding his thoughts. He stared at her with thinly veiled disgust, before walking away like he hadn't been there in the first place.

She'd spun around to look at her father then, a look of anger spreading on her face. "Did you see that? You couldn't possibly think I'd like someone so rude!"

But her father just gave her a look, a look that said, I'm only doing the best for you. So Amy sighed, stomping out into the raging storm outside.

The two met again one day---well, Amy's father insisted she go. Vincent, too, had a reluctant expression as he sat across from her at the restaurant their parents had paid for.

"Should we humor them?" he asked soon after sitting. She stared at him, furrowing her eyebrows ever so slightly.

"Humor... Who?"

"Our parents, stupid,"
he said with a sigh, and continued before she could say anything else. "It'll make them happy. Then they'll die and you're free to go on your merry way."

She hesitated for a long while, but eventually agreed.

A few years later, Amy stood in front of a mirror, carefully rearranging the sash of her wedding dress. She never did fall in love with Vincent. But she learned to tolerate his presence, despite how annoyingly superior he liked to act. He was smart. She had to give him that.

But walking down the aisle, her parents smiling so supportively at her, Amy's heart felt heavy. She smiled as brilliantly as she could, saying her vows gently, holding his icy hands in hers. But she left early, slipping out the door as everyone danced and enjoyed themselves. Vincent noticed, though, following her out. He found her in the hall, sitting on the floor. Her dress spread out around her, a giant shield. Her head was down, and Vincent could hear her soft sobs.

He stopped just before he'd step on her dress. "You cry really loud," he informed her, putting his hands in his pocket as he stared down at her.

All he got in reply was a wavering, "shut up." She didn't even look up at him. Vincent sighed and knelt down where he was.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. He reached out to her, though he couldn't quite touch her from where he was. But that was enough for her to suddenly move closer to him, barreling to him with such suddenness that he was almost knocked over. She buried his face in his chest, soaking his suit in tears. Troublesome.

"I want to be with someone else," she finally said, her voice muffled and shaking. Vincent said nothing in reply, simply closing his eyes and stroking her hair softly.

She never did go with someone else though. She stayed with Vincent. He was wealthy and made Amy's parents happy. She wasn't necessarily happy, but she could give her family that.


"Mirror mirror, on the wall... Who will hurt the most of all?"
They eventually had two children. Two boys with cheeky grins and bright eyes. They both looked a lot like Vincent, though with softer features, and fair hair like Amy's. Growing up, they often tried to be each other, spending hours pretending to be the other(though they always messed up; they were twins, not clones).

They were always showered with gifts, because their parents were always a bit too busy to care for them. While the younger brother was always eager to show off his new toys to his friends, the older brother was happy to stay inside, playing on his own. Bain was always calmer than King. Even then.

Still, despite their differences, they were truly the best of friends. No matter how often King disappeared with his friends, he'd always go back to his brother, knocking on the door and calling out until the door opened. They could spend the whole weekend playing games together, with no one else around. After all, they'd had each other since they were born, and of all the things King used as entertainment, Bain didn't seem to be one he could just throw away. They should be as close as close could be.

It did bother people, on occasion. Not that they were close. It was nice to have siblings who only play fighted, even if they so often came back covered in mud. No, it bothered then that King was so close to his brother, that whenever he had an issue he ran crying to his brother, always went to him first, would eventually choose him over his own friends. So they were worried he'd always be like that. Having a companion was good, but it wasn't so good to rely on them for everything. They won't always be there.

But they didn't have to worry, because at some point, King changed.

"Light it up, you only have one chance."

Their parents always tried to give them the best. The last school they were in together was a private school called St. Patrick's Academy, a few hours from place King is now trapped in. For a little while, King tried to be good. He really did. But he hated it. The stuffy uniform, the strict rules, the hours of no fun... At some point, he just decided to change.

He wore his uniform wrong, leaving the tie behind and wearing a chain on his pants that jangled with every step. He wore dark boots that clomped as he stomped around. There was a little while where he had dreadlocks---though he shaved it all off in a few weeks. He often walked into the dorms stinking of pot or alcohol. He threw huge parties with his friends, where half the people ended up passed out---He got the supplies, they got the venue. He certainly wasn't as famous as his friend for what they did, but he was known well enough.

Bain, though, Bain stayed as perfect and quiet as always. He was infuriating, with his perfect tie and his perfect hair and his perfect grades. Despite spending years of their lives as great friends, they just plainly started avoiding each other. If they spoke, it generally ended with King yelling at him and leaving. Their parents must've loved Bain so much better. Not that King cared. They could throw him out for all he cared.

The last straw was when they held a huge party. Hundreds of students sneaked out in the middle of the night, going to their little boat party, just far enough away from the school that the noise couldn't possibly reach them.

"I think I'm gonna light up the boat at the end," his friend had yelled. He grinned at King, and he'd grinned back. At that moment, it sounded like a great idea. It was too bad his friend couldn't pull it off. It would've been awesome. If he did it before the party was noticed. They never would have gotten the proof. But, as it was, his friend just shrugged, heading back towards the school. So King took matters into his own hands. The boat was all ready to be lit up. All he needed to do was throw the match. And he did.

He got into a hell lot of trouble for that. If they couldn't pin the blame of the party on his friend, then they could at least pin the blame of the burning boat on King. But still, he smiled, even as his parents walked in.

They could've sent him to military school. King knew that was what his friend's parents wanted to do. It would've sucked. But, instead, they tossed him into a lame school full of nobodies a few hours away from where he lived. At least they had the decency to give him a chauffeur. What shit. Fucking shit. And meanwhile his perfect brother stayed at their old school, too busy being perfect to care about the unfairness King had been dealt with.

The school was way too focused on sports. Don't get him wrong. King would be able to play stuff fine. He was good at a lot of crap. But they didn't have time for wild parties. They had parties. King had gone to one once out of boredom. It was complete and utter shit. Just a bunch of people drinking cheap wine and wandering around a house. King could hold a way cooler party. Then again, their area had no good places for that. If he made a party, it would have to be where he lived. Even if these people had cars though, they were probably such crap that they wouldn't even make it down the driveway.

But anyways, he never even had time to do anything. When he got to the school, King walked in with his chauffeur, so he could get the schedule for him. They walked for a few minutes. When they neared the office, his chauffeur threw up his lungs. He got some on King. It was disgusting.

"Red is blood, of anger, of love. Here, life and death inevitably begins, and ends... With red."

Everyone went to the cafeteria and the gymnasium. King didn't, though. He wasn't going to sleep in some giant room with a bunch of people. That was disgusting.

Instead, he went to the quad. He'd dragged a mat from the gym there, and he'd lay there every night, imagining that the stars were above him, instead of the gray canopy that effectively kept him trapped.

Occasionally he'd wonder what was going on with his family. Why weren't they coming for him? Why weren't they coming to save him, before he became like those students who wandered the halls with vacant eyes, smiling at something only they saw. He didn't want to be like that. For the briefest of moments, he wanted to be back with his family. He wanted to be able to run up to his brother's door, hitting it with his face and yelling his name like he used to until he finally opened the door, as calmly as usual, and let King in so they could play video games together.

But then King remembered they hadn't done that in years. He remembered that if his family didn't send him to this school, he wouldn't be stuck in the first place. Surely, where he lived, being so far from this school, he'd have been safe... It was all their fault, wasn't it.

He firmly held onto that belief. Clinging to it like a lifeline, whispering it like a wish. It's all their fault. After all, if he believed it, he couldn't possibly miss them... At some point, that thought stuck in his mind, chained itself at the surface so he'd always think of it. He started to believe it. It was their fault. Even if he got out... He'd kill them. He was going to fucking kill them.

He only forgot about it for a moment when the food came. He fought like everyone else, shoving and tripping people, trying his best to get them out of the way, stealing food from people when they were weak. It was a dog eat dog world. He couldn't feel bad for them. But he was at a disadvantage again when the gangs began to form. He was alone. He couldn't join much. Varsity only made room for the sports teams. He wasn't a girl, so not the Vixens. He wasn't a Geek, he wasn't a Nerd, he wasn't a Skater. So all that was left was the Freaks. They looked like a fucking cult, but King could deal with it. He hated the leader "Jackal" from the moment he saw him, but he could deal with that too.

He didn't want to. The Freaks, they seemed like they were basically the rejects. They had each other, but they were probably all losers, posers, lame attention seekers who were all woe is me. But don't be mistaken, you had to fear them too. But you had to pity them, because no one had a worse life than them, of course not! Can't you tell from all the eyeliner they wore, and their black clothes, their piercings, and the music they listened to? Their lives were so much worse than yours!

But King sucked up his pride and went to Jackal. "Please let me join you," he pleaded, his head hanging, his white hair a mark of his shame. Jackal let him in... But he must have seen something in King. Maybe he thought it would be fun to see King's face flush with anger. He spent a while humiliating him. He made him do things that made King want to reach for his neck and squeeze. Squeeze that puny, pale neck until his stupid eyes bulged and his face went as blue as his hair.

But he didn't, because King needed to be there. And eventually, Jackal was done with all that crap. King became another one of the blue hairs, in their dark clothes and their pale faces, painted in white. Oh, he still hated Jackal with a passion. Whenever he saw him, he still wanted to take the bike chain he'd taken and hit him with it until his teeth were bleeding and he was begging for forgiveness. King couldn't though, of course. He wasn't an idiot. He didn't have any choices on where to go.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Despite everything, King managed to make friends. Well, anyway, he met a lot of girls, that he thought were really cute. He made one real friend and a hell lot of acquaintances. She was a pretty girl, a Freak like him. He didn't date her, of course. She already had a boyfriend, this Geek whose hair looked kind of like rainbow sherbet. They were cute together. They deserved each other.

No, King would just sit with her, and him sometimes. Talking. It was almost normal, just three people sitting around. They were usually sitting together, and King would always end up laying down, putting his feet up on the wall, throwing something in the air to distract himself while they talked about anything. Usually they talked about getting out, but sometimes they talked about other stuff. The Geek swore that Caelum had some mild obsession with stars, and they'd talk about the stars after, without fail. They would wish upon the stars, but they couldn't. You can't wish on what isn't there, and even if all that hid them was the thin canopy, it was like they didn't even exist. Then they'd go back to leaders and talk about what a tool Jackal was, and how weird Jaws was, following him like a shadow.

Though, of course, King would always eventually have to leave, going back to the darkness of the Freaks, so they could have some moments alone. He didn't mind it though. He didn't mind a little while of darkness.

One day, the topic of discussion was marriage. King doesn't remember how it started, but he suddenly found himself in the middle of a discussion about marriage. Specifically, the marriage of his friend and her boyfriend.

"Oh, I could make roses out of paper! And I could paint them, or use crayons... Oh! Or I could use juice and stuff, then they'll be all waterstreaked---"

"Tell you boyfriend that he's disgusting me with his flower talk."

"Oh, shut up, King, you're the disgusting one. Wasn't it just last week that I walked in here and you were---"

"Shut. Up."

"I'm just saying. I don't know how you became friends with my girl."

"I'm not
your girl, you're my boy."

"Yeah, I know, sweetie~"

"And I'm the disgusting one. If you guys stop talking then I'll help pick out a dress, how about it? My sense of fashion is amazing."

"You look like skeleton!"

"You look like a f---"

"King, I will break you if you say another word. Anyway, we already picked out my dress. But we have a job for you."

A few days later, they stood in the classroom they spent so much time in. She wore a real wedding dress, something they must have used for a prop in something. He wore a striped suit that was slightly too big, his rainbow sherbet hair a giant puff. Freaks and Geeks, and even some other people from other gangs, crowded the room, with varying expression of disbelief at the couple who did this.

And King stood in front of them, holding a textbook they painted black. He tied his hair back, and looked for his cleanest clothes. He was trying hard to be presentable. After all, they couldn't have a dirty minister.

They looked to each other with love in their eyes as they whispered their vows. When they kissed, the classroom was filled with cheers. Even if everyone expected them to have to leave each other, at some point, just because one of them will eventually graduate. Until then, they'd be together.

▶All Good Things◀
"As they say, all good things must come to an end... But what if you don't want it to?"

For a short while, King was completely alone. His friend, after all, was on her "honeymoon" with her husband. Which King didn't mind. He refused to be around them when they were being cute and loving to each other. They were disgusting enough together as it was. So he spent time alone in the darkness. His sleeping bag happened to be in the middle of a 12-foot pentagram, and it made him feel awkward, like he was something they were about to sacrifice, but King could deal with that for a while.

Then, finally, their honeymoon was over. King wasn't going to ask what happened because he knew he'd be disgusted. He just sat in their classroom, where everything happened, and waited for them. When they appeared, they had smiles even more radiant than when they were married. At least he knew that she wasn't pregnant. No pregnant lady could be happy in this school. So he sat and exchanged hellos, then waited for what they wanted to say. But what they did was not what he expected.

"We're graduating."

For a moment, King felt his heart drop. Which was awful, really... They looked so happy, holding each other and smiling so radiantly at King. It was the dream, to be able to leave that place. It was what they talked about so often, and King knew that both of them would be gone before him. He was younger than them, after all. He just didn't expect it yet, didn't expect...

"Both of you?"

"Both of us. We're leaving tonight."


Geeks and Freaks stood up front, clapping and cheering for their comrades who made it through. King stood with his arms crossed, a grin on his face. As the steel doors opened, he suddenly moved up to them, placing his hands on their shoulders.

"Oi, if you hurt her, I'm gonna hunt you down when I get out, Geek." He'd said it with a laugh, clapping the guy on the back. It was the last thing he ever said to them.

And just like that, King was alone. All alone again, with nothing to do. He spent a lot of time in their old classroom, that had been nicknamed the Lover's Chapel by the students. He actually always took girls out on dates there. Though he figured he wasn't going to have a relationship like them. It was still nice. He liked being in that room.


"There are three types of people in this world: People I like, people I don't care about, and people who deserve to die."
▶Mother//Amy King//Unknown◀
"I hope she's dead."

She has the sort of relationship with her husband that King would not wish on his worst enemy. He hopes she's thrown up her guts all over one of her dresses. She deserves it. After all, she's the one who decided that they should send him here. She just wanted to get him out of the way. She was probably embarrassed by him, since he wasn't perfect like his brother.

▶Father//Vincent King//Unknown◀
"He cared a lot about work, from what I remember."

The man seemed to spend a lot of time working. Well, so did King's mom, but he did it more. And he didn't buy presents either. He probably would have sent King straight to military school. That would have been better. King would be happier if he had, life would have been better, really.

▶Brother//Bain King//Unknown◀
"Fuck him, I don't give a damn anymore."

At a time, they were as close as close could be. As years went by, King spent more time messing around, and Bain spent more time studying. While King joked around more, Bain smiled less and less. King did a lot of things wrong just to get a rise out of people, but Bain never did that. He stayed good, and perfect, and that's why King hates him.

"I wasn't kidding. If he hurts her, I'm going to kill him."

See bio. He cares about her, she was a pretty cool girl. She can survive out there. King trusts that she'll be able to make a life for herself out there, and enjoy herself. But really. If her husband hurts her than he's going after him.

"Bunch of posers."

The only cool one was his friend. King dislikes them. They annoy him and act all mopey and annoying all the time. If he could, he'd leave.

▶Leaders//Bobby "Jackal" & Jaws//Alive◀
"The idiot and the intimidation."

King truly hates Jackal. Normal stuff. A lot of people probably hate him. Of all the Freaks, he's the biggest loser, the biggest tool. Oh, he thinks everyone should feel bad for him, of course. Obviously, his life is awful! Look at those dark clothes of his! Oh, but don't look down on him, since he's so clearly better than you are! He's a whining baby who went from dressing like a prep tp that just because he thinks he has a bad life. King doesn't have much of an opinion of Jaws though. He hasn't done anything bad, but he's quiet, and he hangs around Jackal all the time. No sane person would do that.

▶Supplier//The Burnouts//Probably close to death◀
"Ah, well, they ain't bad, in any case."

King buys things from them. What they make generally smells disgusting, but they work. Really well. King can spend a whole day in space with what they have. He likes it, so he's their loyal customer. After all, even Burnouts need a trade, it's just not something a lot of people know of.


"There's a lot of things about me that's hard to explain."
"Well, it doesn't matter much now, does it."

Though, honestly, no one believed him when he said it one time, they figured he was trying to piss off his parents. He might have been, but he really doesn't usually care. Though, for the record, he's only written his name with girls in the Lover's Chapel. He just prefers it that way.

▶Bike Chain◀
"The uses are great."

A bike chain is King's weapon of choice. he found it in one of the classrooms. There was also a mini wheelchair and the front of a car stuck inside a wall. He'd have liked it. King also wears the chain on his pants. It's easy to pull it out and whip at people. Quite fun.

"A good comfort."

King has a phone. He has headphones. He kept them well conditioned just so he could listen to music in it. He has a weird music taste, compared to his gang, but he likes it. Music is quite calming to him. It keeps him from snapping.


King could certainly be considered a good looking boy. Even with his hair hanging to his back in that alien blue colour. He got girls, and his brother would have gotten girls if he wasn't so uptight. He has large eyes, framed with long, light eyelashes, though he's lost the innocent expression of youth long before the virus struck. Pale like everyone else, but King is unscarred, his skin smooth but for his hands, that are rough and calloused.

He does have piercings though. Spacers, several lip rings and earrings... And he has tattoos, simple lines like tracks that cover his body. The piercings to bother his family. They thought it made him look unkempt. Imagine if they saw him now. Dirty, baggy, dark clothes, his boots covered in dirt, wearing biology skeletons when he fights. The tattoos, even, he got here, something that will probably come back to bite him in the ass, but he, unlike some, didn't get much choice in it.

Art by Andi Bonin
The Geek, the Freak, Bobby, and King's friend from St. Patricks by Lex Thomas.
Jaws by Bun-chan

Screw it.

Bain Isaac King.
『Trust me when I say there's something more.』


「I feel much older.」
b.December 31

「Well, maybe I could look like a girl if I want.」
Male ♂

「We know we don't belong.」
Whatever you call them, they're cooler-than-thou.

「I'm a load of contradictions.」
「I have never hated anything more than I hate you. Now let's get some food.」
Bain has always been good at keeping a calm, cool voice. It's a large reason that he was a good addition to his group, many of whom were loud, brash people who spent most of their time before partying. Although he can very easily seem like something else, it's rare for him to feel any emotion strong enough to affect his decision making. As such, he is helpful in tense situations, you could say.
♔A Self Serving Liar♔

「Give me your heart, and surely I'll come to love you.」
When it comes to dangers, Bain, like most other people, cares much more for himself than for others. He would much rather watch everyone he knows die, than die himself. Really though, anyone else who says otherwise is a liar. Like him. He lies, mainly, to make him seem like a better person than he is, someone who can be easily liked by others. His lies are webs, woven of truth and flowery words, so you never notice the thorns beneath. Often he tells himself that he simply lies to spare the feelings of others.
♔Academically Gifted/Athletic♔

「I've spent years working.」
When you used to look at the twins, there was a clear divide between them. King was the wild one, who tried as hard as he could to rile people up, liking attention no matter the kind. Bain, however, worked constantly at his academics and extracurriculars. He wanted to know as much as he could. He wanted to do as much as he could. He wanted to be the best at as much as he could. If he was, then people praised him and he liked that. Though he never really was the best. But he was always good enough to be recognized.

「Just trust me.」
Bain holds himself like a person completely sure about both his appearance and mind. Which he is. He is confident, he always has been, in himself. He was look at himself and feel good about the things he does, Even if he knows that he is bound to make a mistake, to fail, because that's what everyone does, he is always sure he can fix things. You could call him an optimist, but he's only optimistic about himself.
♔Getting Wilder♔

「With the world against us, there's no reason to be careful.」
If you ask his gang, the stress of having to run really gets to them. So when they can, they drop everything, grab some beer and have a party. Which applies to Bain just as much. He has no reason to sit down and study anymore, or constantly train for events that he doesn't care about. And in the case here, you might end up dying no matter what you do. Sometimes it just seems right to do something thrilling and intense. They can do what they want, and no one can ground them or put them in jail for it. If they tried, they'll just die.
♔The Strangest Sense of Humour♔

「How do you not find that funny?」
Or you could say morbid. After a while travelling with him, his group has gotten used to his sudden bouts of laughter when seeing corpses. It probably scared them the first time though, when they'd watched a boy, maybe thirteen or so, getting shot by a group of adults. It was pretty hilarious to see the body spasm in some attempt to hold onto his life. So as soon as the adults had run away, Bain burst into laughter out of place for him already, as he never was one to laugh. Even more so out of place because of their situation. Not all deaths. Of course not. Sometimes he just gets amused by things. It doesn't have to be deaths either. But it's easy to believe that he'd laugh even as he died. For him, "laughing in the face of death" can become quite literal.
♔Difficulties Concentrating♔

「I... Ah. I'm sorry. I was thinking about something.」
It was the very bane of his existence when he had school. At times, especially when he doesn't need to move much, he can lose his concentration quite easily. When he had to take notes in class, his thoughts easily wandered, and he'd have to spend extra time later on just learning all the things he'd missed. When speaking to people, he tends to stop listening if they're the only ones talking. At random moments his reactions are sluggish at best. At times he feels strange, almost like he's tired but with no desire to rest. It all keeps him from being able to be better, and it frustrates him to no end.

「Have you given me a reason to trust you yet?」
Bain was always naturally wary of people. Since the virus, the wariness has increased by a tenfold. Everyone has a reason to kill. Some people kill merely as a stress relief, some people kill out of fear. He's seen the people in his group break down and fight, seem people get shot down just by being too close. He has no reason to open up to people. So though it certainly is good to be close to someone, so they'll trust you, Bain will never really trust another person.

「Just the story of a boy.」
「The same by appearance, not by the mind」
In a certain family with parents who had no love for each other, a pair of twins were born. The younger was a boy who was completely open to everyone. He trusted everyone, and energetic boy with a wild smile of joy. He never had been one to listen, but he saw the good in everyone and was willing to speak to whoever he saw.
The elder boy was entirely different. While, at the time, he'd looked like his brother in every respect, he was much more quiet. He had a polite smile, and adults must have liked him an awful lot better, as, unlike his brother, he never caused trouble. He never made friends either, though. See, Bain was just the sort of person who, while not shy, didn't particularly enjoy the idea going and meeting people. Even from a young age, he knew better than to act as though everyone was his friend from the start.
So for his younger years, Bain spent a lot of his time alone in his house, playing with toys or reading while his brother went out with the friends he made. Except his brother always came back. He always came back halfway through the day, and Bain could count on him to start yelling through his door. It was endearing in an annoying way. So you could say that Bain had one friend.
When they began school, Bain was quick to concentrate on studies. Bain learned that, when he did well at something, anything, then people would praise him. For that moment of time, he got the attention of his parents and other people. So he worked really hard. At no single point was it for him. He, of course, did it for a good job too, but at elementary that really wasn't important and that was when he started. People being proud of him because he did well made him happy. It also made him happy when he got more A's than his brother, but that was a different matter altogether.
His brother never tried in the first place, anyway. Which isn't to say that he didn't do well. His brother always did well, just not as well as Bain. The difference being that, even in the beginning, Bain spent hours on anything, practising instruments and studying equations, running laps, to perfect them. While his brother did nothing and could almost do as well as him. It bothered him to no end, though Bain never said anything because jealousy was a bad thing. They were just too different.
"Come on, let's play. This is boring." His brother had said that more than one, his voice pleading as he tried to get Bain to stop whatever it was he did. Occasionally he managed to rope Bain into one of his games, which was several hours wasted. It bothered Bain. But he tried really hard to just ignore his brother, usually. So maybe a little bit of time hanging out with him would be good. Just a little.
"Alright then."

「I can never be perfect but I can certainly try.」
Fast forward to several years. Bain joined as many teams as he could handle, he played piano outside of school and played violin quite well inside. He spent most of his time working, and his free time he liked to spend on his own. Which was fine by his brother, because at some point he stopped going to Bain for company.
It wasn't as though his brother needed his company in the first place. Bain felt mildly glad when his brother finally found a proper group of friends to settle with. His friends were all a year or so older than him, going to the school the twins were going to go for high school. It was good, because then he'd know what the school was like. Well, that was what their parents said, but it isn't like they were ever there.
Bain's brother often came home late. Bain was often in his room them, but he could hear him, with his theatrically loud shushes as he and his friends paraded into the house like a herd of elephants. He never had to worry about sneaking in. Bain was the only one in the house, and he never cared. His brother was old enough, he could make his own choices. Occasionally Bain would care. He'd talk to him. All that would happen would be that his brother would get angry and leave. So caring was pointless.
Besides, he had more important things to worry about. Getting good grades was important, and that was what he intended to do. His brother could deal with his issues on his own.
Then they reached high school. It never really changed for Bain. He took his computer, his books, and some supplies to the dorms. He shared a room with his brother, though his brother didn't spend much time there anyway. In the mornings, Bain would go to school for practices at whatever team he was in. He'd spend half his lunch to study. After school he'd go to the music room for half an hour. He'd practice violin or piano, whichever he felt like, for half an hour, and because he didn't spend much time on that, he felt proud when he improved. Then he'd go to his dorm room, and do his schoolwork. He ate and did what he felt like once he finished. Every once in a while his brother would come in, to shower or get clothes or do something he didn't want to do someplace else. Bain usually ignored him. When they spoke his brother just tried to start an argument. It wasn't worth it.
At some point, even their parents had started to notice his brother and how he acted. It required a few calls home from the school that requested an audience. But they learned it. Bain's brother really was quite an attention seeker. At that time, he had dyed his hair black, cutting it himself in a choppy style. He had piercings and spacers. Really, no one would have trouble telling the brothers apart anymore. They didn't look too much alike.
His parents really didn't do much then. His brother was even more of a bother afterwards, perhaps deciding that he could get away with more. At least he never tried to drag Bain into it, although it was hard not to hear about what his brother was doing at school. He had a lot of parties. From time to time people made the connection of their relationship and started asking if he was going, and all that.
Then one day he decided to go. Not for any particular reason at all. He heard that everyone was going to the nearby lake. He finished all of his work early that night, and he knew without a doubt that his brother would be there. Best to just check up on him. If his brother got into trouble, that would be an hour spent trying to talk him out of it. So Bain had gone, although it really wasn't something he enjoyed. If there was a corner out in the open, he'd have gone to it. As it was, he just tried to stand as far from the bonfire they'd made as he could and still be able to see his brother. His brother really was an idiot. Bain was underestimating his stupidity until then.
Naturally he was quick to flee when teachers arrived. Thirty minutes after he left, he found himself sitting in the office with his family. He sat in silence, just there for the sake of being there, as he listened to a list of everything his brother had done wrong over the year.
Maybe Bain should have felt bad for his brother, but to be honest, he was quite relieved. He didn't have to spend any time at all worrying over him, and his brother could do with some time somewhere else. Which would have been nice, right? Maybe he could do better at things then. His grades weren't really as high as he'd like.
Too bad things just don't work out the way he likes.
Over the summer, his brother was rarely home. Neither were his parents, though his brother was gone for a much different reason than them. Bain spent the summer in his room. He was almost into his next year of school. He only had a few more years, he had to make his choices carefully so he could go do what he wanted, whatever that was. Really, it was quite good that no one was there. He didn't need anyone around when he was working. They only got in the way. Not that he kept himself from having arguments with his brother. Bain, after all, had suggested they get his brother a chauffeur, and then essentially keep him locked in at night so he wouldn't disappear. It was all for his own good. Bain didn't really want him to ruin his life. Which didn't keep his brother from complaining the moment it was decided. Bain was quite glad to leave for school, a week early as to move everything there. He could get some studying done there.

「I think he just destroys everything he nears.」
When Bain learned of the virus the caused a schoolwide quarantine where his brother was, he'd been reading a comic book. Nothing good ever comes when you slack off like that. Though really, Bain didn't worry too much about it. The military was there. They could deal with it just fine, he was sure. They already had it nicely contained. No one in his school worried about it much. They lived a few hours away from McKinley. On the news, everyone was assured that the virus was perfectly contained, and they wouldn't have to worry. So they didn't.
The day it hit them, it was a spirit day. Everyone was outside, in competitions or just walking around, showing their parents around. Almost everyone had a parent there. Even Bain's parents decided to go, something that hadn't really happened before. It was a moment of excitement and fear when they said they would. Bain would be happy to see them. He just wanted everything to be perfect. You could say it was, at first. The sun shone bright in a cloudless sky, but a cool breeze blew, the slightest hint of the approaching fall. All around, people reunited with family, while teachers prowled about, ready to talk about the students' behaviour to their parents.
When Bain found his parents, he met them with a hug and a smile. Though they didn't hug him back, it was nice to him. They'd come to watch him. The year before, the only reason they went to the school was to listen to the principal recount whatever his brother had done.o
Bain was in a relay race. The anchor. He'd been practicing hard for it, as sprints weren't really in his area of expertise---long distance was easier. And he did it. Their team won, something that really shouldn't be that proud a moment. They were a few high schoolers who beat another few high schoolers in a race. But Bain was happy. His parents were proud of him and that was enough.
"Well, we have some time before I have to do anything else, do you guys want to---"

It was as Bain spoke that his parents' faces twisted into something of indescribable pain. Eyes wide like they were seeing something he couldn't, they collapsed to the ground, hand over their mouths. Then the next moments they were dead. All around them on the schoolyard, teachers and parents died the same way. The yard was covered in red, and all the students could do was stare in shock and horror.
Then the soldiers came. It was not the same as what they heard for the McKinley students. The students stayed put for a moment, because they were sure they would save them, but if they neared the soldiers would shoot them out of fear. So they waited there instead, for an order to move. But it never came. Instead, they attacked.
It was a while until Bain actually moved. Not a voluntary movement, still, but rather someone grabbing onto him. "Get a hold of yourself, man! Come on, let's go." The person there was not one he wished to see. Gates. Bain had thought his parents would at least pull him out of the school, even without conclusive evidence that he did anything wrong. Maybe they thought that once Bain's brother was gone, he might cool it a bit---things didn't work out that way. So Bain almost didn't go with him. Almost. But in this case, he was either going to trust him or get shot. He chose to trust.
Gates had always been a good leader. Even Bain could admit to that. He could calm everyone and make people smile easily. You felt you could trust him, even if he made the shittiest decisions in the world. He just had a sort of unbridled energy to him, and everyone is just swept along on the ride. So it was of no surprise to Bain, that as days passed, the group of St. Patrick's students who had gathered around him grew. As they travelled, constantly running from the soldiers, their group grew. Even if most of them were students of their school, some were just kids they met along the way. They all easily trusted Gates, who saved them all. Bain wouldn't understand, if Gates hadn't helped him. But he did. And he did.
They ran for an extremely long time. On the way, people died. They fell for the tricks of the soldiers, or weren't fast enough, or weren't quick enough. Bain always kept himself with people all around him. Right in the centre, people couldn't shoot him from there. He'd protect himself.

「At least, outside, we can see the stars.」
One thing everyone knew of were the McKinley students. The originals. The ones who, for some reason or another, weren't hunted. They got to stay in their safe little school, the military even gave them food. They weren't being shot at by any scared adult who caught sight of them. They, including his brother, was frustratingly lucky. Except they didn't have Gates.
The group tried their best to be in buildings as much as they could. It felt safer, to have a roof over their heads, in an open place where anyone could shoot them. So they went to buildings, so oftentimes when someone caught sight of them disappearing into a home, they'd end up in terror and confusion, crouching and hiding as the windows exploded in a shower of bullets. They had guns too. Every single person in the group had a gun. But they couldn't fight against people who genuinely wished for their deaths. So they hid.
But most of the time, Gates would be there, laughing and smiling. Whenever they found something, beer or good food or anything, he'd use it as an excuse to throw a party. Forget the fact that they were in danger. At that very moment, they were alive. They could move, they could dance, they could celebrate. So that's what they did, when they could. They'd pull out their phones, find their favourite songs, and dance to the sounds of all the different melodies mixing together.
Even Bain joined in. After all, he concluded, he probably won't have a future. That was all he used to worry about. Now would be a good time to think of the present instead. In his mind, he'd dug a hole for himself, mining his whole life in search of diamonds and gold. And now he was climbing out. It was better to do that. Even if Gates still always complained about how uptight he was.
He had a right to be, though. Even if the group couldn't find a real place to stay, they never worried about getting caught and just played their music as loud as they could, their shouts echoing in the night. They needed someone to watch over them. Which is what Bain tried to do, until the time came for them to rest. Bain rarely slept at night though. It was the only time for silence. So instead he's watch the stars.
The stars were one thing that never changed. Though everything and everyone on the ground seemed so different, the stars stayed above, watching over them in a detached way. It was comforting, in a way. Bain could watch the stars for hours, though nothing changed in them. It was one thing he could enjoy.
But in the day, it was back to running. After all, it was the day when the military would be hunting, and even though some might think the day would be the time to rest... You don't know when they might find you then. It was better to rest at night.
Even without discussing it, it seemed that the group had a very clear destination in mind. They never strayed that much from their path as they walked. And a long walk it was, seeing as even by driving, that town was several hours away. It was the town where everything started, the town so far that they'd been assured they'd be safe from them. And there was the school, where it started. McKinley.
The town was teeming with soldiers, of course. That was expected. For the longest time the group hid in the trees, the shadows. It would have been safer, in a sense, to stay in their old town. But they had to see the school. In some way, it would solidify the fact that yes, this was happening to them. It wasn't some dream that they could pinch themselves awake from. It's just that after that, they had no where to go. That's why they stayed. Though for Bain, it was also because... He really couldn't help but wonder how his brother was doing. His brother was total shit at caring for himself, after all. It was really a good thing he was stuck inside, right? Instead of Bain. Because Bri always needed to be taken care of. Though he'd probably need someone to be there for him when he gets out. It'll be confusing for him. So it was good they stayed.
So the group hid in the forest near the school. They watched each day as the soldiers milled about, catching teens. At some point they'd made an announcement, claiming that if you gave yourselves up, they wouldn't kill you. If you ignored them, then it was considered an attack. Ha. Some of the people did, their group became substantially smaller. But according to Gates, they just shot you when you got near... He'd seen his own brother get shot. It was better to hide, and that's why Bain stayed. He didn't trust the soldiers anymore.
Then there came a day when the soldiers left. They packed up, all the helicopters and trucks and tanks just went away. And for a while, it was like the town was a ghost town. No one dared to move, because this was surely a trick, and they'd come back and kill them all the moment they crawled into the light. But they never did, and eventually they started to come out, blinking at the harsh light. It was not just the group who was there. There was a lot of teens, who perhaps had the same idea as them to see the school for themselves. But when the soldiers were gone, everyone else started to leave to, off, perhaps, to find family and friends they'd lost touch with after the virus.
Except for Bain, and Gates, and everyone else in their group. They looked at the school, silent and still from the outside, though they knew the inside was still filled with the lives of many. Stuck there, waiting for food that would never come.
"We have to let them out."


「They're all starting to disappear.」
♔Mother◦Amy King◦Deceased♔
「She was a good person.」
Bain never found the time to give her a proper burial. She is most likely still on the school grounds, eyes wide, seeing some unspeakable horror that Bain will never know. She was a good person, though, always the first to congratulate Bain on his achievements. It's unfortunate that she had to be his mother. If she lived somewhere else, with a kid far enough to have time to run, she might still be alive.
♔Father◦Vincent King◦Deceased♔

「I never really thought he could die.」
Bain didn't speak to his father much. He was kind of like celebrity to him, someone you knew of, but in a distant sort of way. Speaking to him was rare and felt almost like an honour, even if he knew it should be normal. Bain always held this certain sort of politeness that he held for adults he didn't know, so that they could later comment on what a sweet and good boy he was. You could say that his brother was closer to him, but it was more like his brother had no regard for manners. Now his father is dead, and Bain can blame himself for it.
♔Brother◦Briar King◦Alive♔

「We stopped talking. I don't like him.」
Bain called him Bri. His younger brother---though really, after a while, Bri really hated being called his younger brother. He also started hating being called Bri. How unfortunate. Though Bain would never call him King. That was just stupid. If he was called King then, in theory, he could be called King too. His brother was going through a really stupid phase. Let's hope he's over it. Bain really doesn't want to deal with that when he sees him.

「I'll admit that he's a good leader.」
Gates. The leader. He brings smiles to everyone's faces with the ease he always had, despite the grim times. Yes, he does incredibly stupid things sometimes, but he helps get people out of their stupid problems. Sometimes he stops smiling, and needs to be alone. They respect that, even if it's not like him. Bain blames it on the death of his brother, who went to surrender to the soldiers and was then shot. Unfortunate but undoable. Gates has one red eye---Bain never understood that, it happened after a little while. It's unnerving.

「I'm an open book, ask me what you want.」
「I liked when I could look at the little things and ignore the big changes in the world. I think I'm trying to hard to hang onto that.」
If you looked through his phone, there is barely anything on it. No games, not much music, nothing really extra besides something that he could have used for schoolwork. There is, however, an awful lot of pictures. Occasionally of people, pictures he took when no one was watching. Mostly of places they passed, of the sky and the clouds, like he were on some road trip and he was going to make a scrapbook of them later. It's a pointless practice that he enjoys. He keeps his photos to himself though, don't actually touch his phone.
♔Fun Facts♔

「In what way are these fun...?」
He's a bisexual aromantic kind of person. He'll assume. He's had one girlfriend before, during one summer when he was a camp counsellor. He broke up with her after a week because he couldn't really concentrate on what he was supposed to do when she kept going over to talk to him, and really, he didn't even want a girlfriend. He didn't feel for people that way. He can, however, talk about both boys and girls in the same relative way. He never really has any crushes, but he sometimes likes the way people look. It's just that he just wants to be friends, he has no interest in romance.
Of all the things he can do, Bain can't really dance. He can kind of move to the beat of a song. That's it. He doesn't enjoy dancing to any extent, and so he never really bothered to learn. Though according to his mother, it was quite important and the fact that he was willing to do almost anything else she asked but not that was just weird.
He sometimes thinks of the virus as a blessing in disguise. He never did know what he wanted to be. He had no motivations, no dreams. He just new he would try to get a good job in the future, that'll earn him a lot of money and would make his parents proud. It takes a load off, this virus. He probably won't get much opportunities even after he phased out. So he'll be fine. It'll be easy. He doesn't even have parents to make proud now.
He has a soft spot for animals. He kept trying to help animals left on the side of the road. He had a pet cat for a few weeks until Gates made him let it go.
He enjoys music. Like any normal person. People think his music is weird though, since it's almost entirely covers of songs or instrumentals. The genres vary. Some are pretty good for dancing though. He enjoys music because it fills the silence. It comforts him.
「We hold our rifles with the ease of soldiers.」
It doesn't have any bullets anymore. This one time he panicked and used it all. No one there has bullets anymore though. Not in the rifles they hold, at least. Bain knows at least one guy with a backup. Bain kept his gun, however, because he feels safer with it.
♔Afraid of the Dark?♔

「The monsters are coming, don't you hear?」
In the dark, everything you hear is magnified. Every shape is bigger, taking form of nightmarish creatures. It was in the night that his group always slept comfortably, except for Bain, who tried his best to stay up and watch. He can never get a restful night's sleep in the dark, when he was still in school he got sleeping pills. Nowadays he just quickly finds a good moment to rest. When he was young he set up little lights around him to represent stars, and he still did that at school. He still has the lights. Though he has no where to put them as of yet.

「I really don't care.」
His hair was once platinum blond, pale to the point it was almost white. So there wasn't too much change there, really. He still kept his hair short, although he didn't care so much for making sure it was styled neatly. He just cuts his hair quickly every month or so. Gates likes to joke about his constant bedhead, not that Bain really cares. Gates doesn't look too great himself.
His eyes are a pale blue. The sort of eyes that always have a sort of coldness to them. The kind of eyes that don't always display much emotion. Indeed, Bain often has blank eyes. He observes. That's the correct word. He isn't seeing things. He's observing things. He usually doesn't get involved, after all observationists don't need to get involved.
His smile is a calculating one. It always is. A smile that might make you think that he's up to something, even if, in reality, he might have just thought of a joke. The sort of smile that doesn't seem too happy, because it never quite reaches his eyes until he laughs. Unlike his brother, who always had a smile that was wild as a fire and did seem truly happy, whether or not he was. They are quite different, although they both have the same---though Bain did end up having a rounder face, just slightly softer. Though Bain is also taller by an inch or two. They can create a great list of how they're different, now.
Bain's clothing choices are simple enough. Jeans, t-shirts, and a jacket. The jacket has fur on the hood, he can almost pretend it's helpful during the colder times. His t-shirts usually have words on them. No pictures, pictures are stupid.
Frey by Yuumei
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Briar Mason
Female || 31 || Life Support Systems Engineer

As a life support systems engineer, Briar's job is quite simple. For any given species, she must create and maintain a stable environment in which they can survive. Her first position was at a zoo, where she helped design enclosures for new species and and maintain their current habitats. She had briefly worked on a cruise line, which was her least favourite job; as interesting as it was to try to accommodate whatever species were on the cruise, many people there were rather condescending and reminded her too much of her family. She rather liked the aspect of being able to leave her planet, however, and from then on she jumped from one crew to the next, drifting further and further from her home planet.

5'4". Her preference towards layered, structured clothing hides her lean musculature, so people are often surprised by her strength. Briar is quite pale, as is common with humans from her planet because they live on the ground of a planet blanketed with tall, dense foliage. Her particular subspecies of human features denser bones than average, making them a bit more durable, but their bones are also more more narrow than average, so most of them have a small frame. Some people on her planet also have soft, downy feathers on their extremities, including Briar — although she typically wears clothing that covers them. Their eyes are slightly larger proportionally than average, though nothing that she thinks is too noticeable, and perhaps as a consequence, members of her subspecies typically have acute eyesight and can see a bit better in the dark. They also tend to have better hearing, as well as a larger lung capacity (granted, these are not things you can really see). The planet she lives on also features a species that co-mingles with humans who share many of these characteristics, so she imagines interspecies relations may have helped with that, and the fact that these characteristics are quite useful for their planet continued the process. It's a shame they did not inherit the other species' wings, but the humans mostly live on the ground, anyway. Many humans are rather good at climbing as a consequence; although they have vehicles that can bring them up to the towns of the anorung, it is easier to traverse their space if you are capable of climbing and swinging over the gaps between buildings.

In a sense, she's running away. She didn't particularly care where she went. Certainly, running off to Earth might be a bit of an overreaction, but Briar deserves to be dramatic sometimes. Besides, she is admittedly curious about what they might find. And a small, small part of her may be cautiously optimistic that they will find good results and she can make a name for herself as part of the team who returned to Earth.

Briar is, first and foremost, an actress. She's had a great deal of practice growing up. She plays the optimist, the kind and sharp-witted girl who aspired to live up to the expectations of her family. Drop the act, and you are left with an utterly apathetic woman, who gets up every day more out of obligation than the desire to live. She'd given up on living up to her family's impossibly high standards long ago, although their opinions always make themselves known in the back of her head. It's difficult to run away when their thoughts seem to follow her wherever she goes.

Once she's more comfortable with you, Briar is genuinely nice, if a bit abrasive. She is forgiving to the errors of others while being incredibly harsh on herself. The slightest fault in any of her work will be on the forefront of her mind for days afterwards, and she'll beat herself up over even perceiving missteps. Not in front of others, of course, because there's no greater fault than causing trouble for others.

For a person from a culture that values music and sound as much as they do, Briar is shockingly quiet. She's always preferred to listen than to speak. Besides, the trills and hums that she often likes to use, picked up from the anorung kyjiri who had raised her for much of her childhood, are not something that are generally understood outside of her planet. Even the humans on her planet can get confused at times.

Xerlos was a thriving planet, not only bursting with colourful flora, but also a wide range of fauna. Among them were the anorung, an aerial species with somewhat humanoid characteristics, once you looked past the brightly coloured feathers and the wings attached to their arms. They were a friendly species that happily welcomed their land for as a place to visit and rest. When they heard about the humans, who tragically lost their home, the anorung were quick to offer them a place to stay.

Due to the density of the plants, the anorung rely heavily on sound; communicating with trills and song. The humans never completed adapted to it, but they too, learned over time to communicate with their new neighbours. In turn, humans taught them about the worlds they have explored; the anorung had not travelled as far as the humans had, and they greatly valued the stories they learned. Over the generations, the species comingled, slowly inheriting each other's characteristics and cultures. They never quite blended completely. There were simply too many differences between them, even if their clashing edges dulled over time. Even when it came to where they lived, there were differences — the anorung lived up high, making their homes in the dense foliage that characterized the planet. But humans could not fly. While they loved to visit the cities built in the trees, most of the humans did not find it feasible to live there. So instead they went down, building their homes on the ground. It was quite dark in many areas, but nothing some lights couldn't fix! But that was long ago. This story takes place much later.

Briar was born in a family of geniuses. Business moguls, inventors, top-rated actors — the careers her family members chose varied, but they always came out on top. In comparison, Briar was disappointingly average. Whatever she did, there was always someone better, and her family never let her forget that. She grew up being criticized by her parents and taunted by her siblings, only to have to smile sweetly next to them at galas and business dinners to pretend they were all one big, happy family. Even then, she was faced with nosy people who pried into her life and thinly veiled insults when they compared her to the rest of her family and realized she just wasn't on their level. Briar greatly preferred the company of the anorung in her community; while they shared much of the values as humans after generations of living together, Briar's family was always much more focused on the humans of their community; comparisons were fewer when they had only heard of her family in passing. And she loved the being high up among the osiwo, seeing the bright sky that was hidden where humans lived on the ground. However, this only made the humans around her more critical of her, the odd child who preferred the company of another species over her own.

Their words tore at her for years until she promptly cut them off once she reached adulthood. She ran away from them, as far as she could, and when faced with the opportunity, she would run away even more. Her work as a life support systems engineer was fine. She did good work, although never anything particularly groundbreaking or noteworthy. It is important work, in her opinion, even if often underappreciated, and even if she is not particularly smart or talented, she can at least look back on her work and say that she did something good. At least she was helping in a way, keeping things alive, whether it was baby unanturas at the zoo where she briefly worked or other humans, always looking to explore more of the universe.

More importantly, her career allowed her to keep running away and explore the universe beyond her shockingly homogenous planet, such as allowing her on the mission to Earth, a place that had only ever been a story, told by parents who were told by their parents and their parents before that (not hers, though. They never bothered with those kinds of things). It was really as far as she could possibly run, so she had not hesitated to sign up.

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Name: Yuneksia "Yunek" Endrimm

Guardian Name: Psychopomp

Magical Epithet: ______

Appearance: Like his world, Yunek seems drained of colour, his pale hair and skin almost blending into the thick snow that blankets the land around him. In any other land he looks rather like a ghost, flitting around in the periphery. In contrast, his appearance post-tranformation seems to hold all of the colour his world has lost. The grotesque armour with constantly shifting patterns does not endear him to the citizens of his world, who tend not to like anything that does not blend in. But when he wanders in the Forest That Steals, where countless people have disappeared, he can always feel curious eyes watching him in the shadows. Perhaps this state is perfect for guiding the trapped souls to freedom.

Auric Colors: Blue dominant. White/Brown auxiliary.

Academic Affiliation: Starswallow Academy

3 Sentence Vibe Check: His world is a quiet one, tinged with an undercurrent of fear due to the constant disappearances of people with seemingly no rhyme or reason; everyone had long agreed to keep to themselves, pretending the victims had never existed at all, lest they be next. Yunek, however, could never leave well enough alone, which may well be because he had spent much of his 16 years of life alone and thus never had anyone teach him social etiquette. Since gaining magic, he has been working towards saving those who are lost and preventing more disappearances, though he is rather doubtful of his ability to save them on his own -- but he would be willing to sacrifice a lot, if that were the price to save them all.

Your ideal posting speed: once every 1-2 weeks?

Companion: Tazi. It appeared before him one day, melting out of the dark shadows of the Forest. It often disappears when others are around, but he can still feel its presence in the shadows. Otherwise, it tends to stay right by his side. Yunek appreciates the company, even if he occasionally wakes up feeling suffocated because it decided to use him as a bed. He can't help but feel Tazi might be able to change its form; sometimes it seems far bigger than it should be.

Miscellaneous: He throws a mean left hook, but physical violence is generally a last resort for him -- he prefers to avoid conflict entirely if possible.
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  • Faolán
    Hollow One
  • Info
    Name: Faolán Brennan
    Allegiance: Hollow of the Roots
    Birthday & Age: June 30th, 21

    Faolán is plagued by the memories. He had first seen the memories of the Roots, of its desperate fight to survive and gain strength. He empathises with its desire to grow and live. If he only knew the feelings of the Roots, he would have whole-heartedly aided in its goal.

    But the sacrifice's final moments keep pushing to the forefront of his mind. His desperation as he fled, the stuttering of his heart as he stumbled on the uneven ground. The quiet acceptance at the end, an understanding that, from the moment he had so foolishly stepped into this dimension, he had sealed his fate. And as he continues to recall these memories, he cannot help but feel for him.

    Faolán is not this man. He is simply an imitation, destined to lead others to his fate. It does him no good to think about the sacrifice, and yet he cannot help but wonder what could have been, had the man not strayed from the crow's path or, perhaps, had never stepped through the mirror-portal at all. What life would he have had, had it not been ripped away and given to his clone? It is useless to think about. He knows nothing about the man besides his final moments. And yet, he finds himself lingering on these thoughts.

    Still, these thoughts are much better than the other foolish ideas that linger in his mind. He dreams, occasionally, that he truly is the man whose face he wears. Untethered from the roots, existing as himself rather than masquerading as another. He ignores these silly fantasies, pervasive as they are. Best not to dwell on them, lest the Roots realise that something is amiss.

    Abilities & Limitations
    Necrotic Venom
    If one were to study his hands, they may notice that his nails are ever so slightly more curved down than normal, and come to more of a point than the usual human nail. It is something he could easily excuse as just some strange anomaly he was born with. But they're sharp, and strong enough to easily pierce human skin. His hands, particularly the tips of his fingers, produce toxins that rapidly cause necrosis in organic matter so long he can provide a path into the organism. If used on fauna, it is an effective and rather painful way to incapacitate them. Used on flora, such as trees, and it can be used to create obstructions and traps.

    However, though he has control over the initial site of necrosis, he doesn't have control over the spread. He has to be careful when selecting the site of the scratch, taking into consideration how quickly he can bring them to the Roots. A dead human will be of no use, after all.

    Additionally, the fact that this ability requires close contact with the intended target is another drawback. He isn't particularly faster or stronger than the average human, so if he has already been registered as a threat, it would become difficult for him to use this skill. He is stealthy, but not supernaturally so.

    Fatal Flaw(s): Water. The witching hour.

    Physical Characteristics

    Height: 188 centimetres; however, he tends to slouch.
    Hair: A pale blonde, almost white, that falls in fine waves over his eyes.
    Eyes: Light blue, deepset, and downturned. Paired with the permanent dark circles under his eyes, he has a rather melancholic air to him.
    Body: Lean and long-limbed, which would give the impression that he were taller than he is if Faolán did not subconsciously try to appear smaller at all times. He is quite pale.

    - Not that it matters for him, but he burns easily in the sun.
    Sisyphus - Have A Nice Life
Coded by Ardent

Rejection backstory:
Faolán wondered, sometimes, if he was inherently unlovable.

His older sister, his guardian in every way that mattered, abruptly ran away when he was 14, leaving him with parents whom he barely knew. He could hardly blame herHis relationship with his parents was tumultuous; his father criticised his every move, and his mother cried if he so much as hinted that he disagreed with anything she said.

Chafing under their attention, Faolán left home at 18, mindlessly following a girl whom he had met during an event with his sister school. She was confident, outspoken, and everything that he was not. He was happy to let her lead him around.

But she soon grew frustrated by his passivity, at his inability to find a job (never mind that there were no jobs to be found, the recession that began earlier in the decade causing everyone to fight over what scraps could be found). The first time she'd hit him, he walked straight out the door. But he realised quickly that there was nowhere he could go and turned back before he'd even reached the end of the street. He chose instead to lock himself in the bathroom and drink until he was numb. And thus, life continued.

One day, he opened his door to reveal his sister, unchanged from the last time he'd seen her. She told him of a place he could run away to, where he could be happy. She left him with a mirror, then disappeared. He knew that was not his sister. Still, when the crow appeared from the mirror, he stepped through without hesitation, cautiously optimistic that he might find happiness on the other side.
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Wong Fei Yin (黃飛燕)
Guardian Name

The Tenth Dragon.

Magical Epithet
Wouldn't you like to know?

Tall, long-limbed, and pale. Her brother jokes sometimes that she looks like a ghost wandering the dark halls of their city. His teasing aside though, Fei Yin knows she's pretty, and she takes care to ensure she remains as such. Her skin is perfectly clear, not a blemish in sight. Her brother complains about her hogging the mirror, but her skincare regimen doesn't take that long. When she leaves the city and enters Hong Kong proper, she always makes sure she's covered up with an umbrella to block the sun to boot. She is leanly muscular, both from being a dancer and from the copious amount of walking she must do to navigate her city.

Perhaps due to a subconscious concern of scaring her face, her transformed appearance features an intricate mask which covers her entire face. The mask is shaped like a dragon's head, with azure scales, red whiskers, and long golden horns. Her hair, normally short and dark, is longer in her transformed form, turning into a long braid the same shade as her mask.

She has a striking tattoo of the Azure Dragon covering almost her entire body, with its head situated on her upper back. Its eyes, at times, appear to glow, and sometimes she seems to see far more than a human should. The motif continues for her clothing, with a scaled halter top and skirt. Her legs are scaled as well, ending with shoes fashioned after the four-clawed feet of the dragon.

Her appearance is notably more modern than that of her neighbour's family, who look rather like ancient shamans. As opposed to her, most magic users can generally wander around and just be seen as odd.

Auric Colours
Main: Yellow
Auxiliary: Orange, indigo

Academic Affiliation

3 Sentence Vibe Check
The dark alleys of the Kowloon Walled City hide more than crimelords and questionable workplace safety practices, as 19 year old Feiyin had the unfortunate luck to discover. The dancer and model surely would have found her life tragically cut short after being attacked by a goeng si, but she was luckily saved by her neighbour, a girl whose family everyone had always thought was insane for their superstitious mutterings. Without much choice of her own, she's found herself dragged into a millenniums-old fight between humans and creatures whom she had only ever heard of in stories.

Your ideal posting speed: once every 1-2 weeks!

None at the moment. Her neighbour, Cherry, has several such companions (or at least her family does), and had even offered to ask one to watch over Fei Yin as she learned how to use her powers, but she has high hopes of meeting one on her own. She'd really like a pei yau after meeting Cherry's, as she was quite adorable after she stopped seeing Fei Yin as a threat.

  • The existence of magic was not known by the general populace until recently. Unfortunately, as technology continued to advance, it was bound to happen eventually. Though it was just beginning to get out that creatures of myth existed, Fei Yin was the first magic user to be noticed by the general populace, after cameras caught her fighting a malicious fox spirit in Kowloon. This incident rocketed her into the spotlight, where originally the magic users worked in the shadows.​
    • Her guardian name(s) are a her sudden burst into stardom. The Tenth Dragon is a bit of a dumb joke based on where she was first caught on camera; Kowloon can be directly translated into english as nine dragons.​
    • Her other name actually came first. Long before she was seen on camera, the residents of Kowloon Walled City had already noticed her, and it was they who dubbed her as their city god. She rather dislikes this one, not only because the name is long, but also because she'd just prefer not to be deified. Cherry thinks it's hilarious though.​
  • She is from a parallel Earth where Kowloon Walled City still exists! There's like an excessively long list of factors causing this and some after effects but it's not necessary for anyone's understanding so we'll leave it there lmao​
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  • Corin
    The Outsider
  • Info
    Name: Marie Rosiane Corin Isabelle
    Nickname: Corin. Cor. Coco (only from her parents, up until last year). Rinny (only from her brother, up until last year).
    Allegiance: Outsider
    Birthday & Age: December 24. 19.

    Everyone in Corin's town, a small lakeside municipality in southern Quebec, Canada, could agree that she was going nowhere in life. But let it be known that Corin never half asses anything! Why only screw over herself when she could ruin everyone else's lives?

    She was being nice, sneaking out with her younger brother at the stroke of midnight to celebrate his birthday. He was the one who wanted to visit the lake. He was a good swimmer. So when a few of her friends appeared, the lake being a common late-night hang out for them, she saw no problem with taking some time to chat.

    But people drown so quietly. She didn't know how long it had been before she realized she could no longer see her brother. She didn't know how long it was before they gave up searching the dark waters and knocked on doors to borrow a landline. Not that it mattered. What mattered was her brother died, and it was her fault.

    The town whispered everywhere she went; in contrast, her dad never looked her in the eye at all. Every interaction with her mom ended in screaming matches. For a time, she tried to escape by hiding out in her friends' houses, but their pity was as grating as the gossip.

    She needed to get away. And when he found her, wandering drunk along the lakeshore, he presented her with the opportunity. He understood her, he said. He offered her a chance to leave, to escape. Follow the crow and she'd be free, no fuss no muss.

    Despite the likelihood that this man was insane or a human trafficker, Corin took the mirror. And when the crow appeared, she did not hesitate to chase after it.

    Physical Characteristics

    Height: 153 cm. She usually wears platform boots which add a few centimeters.

    Hair: Freshly bleached and dyed green just before she came to Grimsby. Her natural hair colour is black. A few months back she'd done a dismal 5AM hack job with kitchen scissors, but it's grown out to be a bit of a mullet.

    Eyes: She has large green eyes which, prior to adding a tattoo and dying her hair, many said were her most striking feature.

    Body: She has a few tattoos, mostly small ones on her limbs. The most notable and the first professionally done is a half finished tattoo she has on her neck. She'd gotten it started a year ago, but canceled her next appointment after the accident and never went back. She has one lip piercing. Her nails are short and ragged due to a habit of biting her nails.

    -She's the lead guitarist in a punk rock band she made with a few friends! They suck. They practice in her friend's garage, as his mother is deaf and thus is the only one who can tolerate the noise.

    -Has a remarkably extensive cassette collection which ranges from black metal to smooth jazz. She always has her Walkman with her.

    -A strong swimmer. She used to teach swimming to kids at the community centre. She wasn't hired this year, of course.

    -A decent cook. Her family owns a restaurant so it would be a shame if she wasn't.

    -Speaks English relatively fluently despite living in a town with a largely Francophone population. Her mother, a native English speaker, insisted on it. It serves their business well in the summer months, when tourists from other provinces come on vacation.
Coded by Ardent
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Pamet Kuori
He typically tells people that he is 16.

Male, currently. This is unlikely to change in the near future.

A young man with dark, wavy hair which is cut in a neat hairstyle. His skin is pale with few blemishes. He has full, straight brows, full lips, a straight nose, and a well-defined jawline. He has deep-set blue eyes as well as a tendency not to blink, which can be a bit unsettling if you talk to him for too long. He is of average height for someone of his approximate age.

Pamet prefers a somewhat more formal style of dress than others might at his apparent age. He has been told once that it causes him to stand out a bit, but he would rather not buy a new wardrobe, so he didn't make any changes.

Of course, this is not his true body, so it would be remiss to not discuss his true appearance. His true form is not shaped like that of a human at all. His true appearance could be compared to a sentient oil spill; dark and formless, spreading out to take up whatever space he is given. You could walk straight through him if you would like, although it certainly would not be a pleasant experience for either of you. However, he does not much like this appearance of his, so he is unlikely to show up like that.

Pamet is a very open-minded individual. He is always willing to consider new opinions and try new experiences. He is surprisingly well-liked at school due to his helpful disposition, although he has also been told that it can be difficult to approach him at first since it is quite difficult to tell how he is feeling. Pamet is even-tempered, rarely being riled up by the events around him. It is, however, debatable if this can be considered a character trait. Generally, his emotions are dictated by what he eats, and he dislikes both the taste of negative emotions and how they make him feel, so he tries to avoid them.

Despite how helpful Pamet can be when it comes to schoolwork, he falls short when it comes to dealing with any sort of emotional matter. It quickly becomes apparent that Pamet lacks a great deal of empathy and struggles to understand the feelings of those around him. He only seems to get an inkling of what it means if you were to break down feelings into their most logical components. He can also be rather short-sighted, often doing things without considering the consequences of his actions. He has also been told that he can be rather nosy, as he doesn't seem to notice when he crosses some sort of social line; he is working on that, though.

It was formed at a time of many deaths, an amalgamation of souls which hungered to feel once more. From the beginning of its creation, it had only craved one thing; a taste of emotion so that it could, for however brief a moment, feel human. For a long time, it wandered alone, hiding and stealing what emotions it could to feed itself. Even in the darkest corners, however, it was darker still, and it was due to this that one day he was discovered.

There was a boy, at the cusp of his youth. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of its last meal, the feeling of love, that it had become so interested in the boy. He had few people who cared for him, but was unendingly sweet to those around him. He didn't have much, and yet he retained an optimistic outlook. And when he saw Pamet, he did not run away. Instead, he brought it home, because anyone deserved to have a home. Perhaps it was the remnants of the love it had eaten, but it decided then that it quite liked the boy. Without realizing, it became uncharacteristically greedy now that it had a consistent source of good emotions. So it stole every shred of happiness from the boy. The boy was still so sweet, and cared so much about the people around him, that he continued to smile as he forced himself to go about his day, though this smile was not quite so happy and never quite reached his eyes.

The happiness would come back eventually. That was Pamet's excuse. Eventually, his smile would be real again. But every time a sliver of happiness pierced through the boy's deep, deep sadness, Pamet could not help but to steal those away too. Eventually this was too much for the boy. Pamet was hidden under his bed when he took his life. It was quite a shame. It taught Pamet the importance of showing restraint, but at the cost of someone that it had decided it quite liked. His death, however, also presented an opportunity for Pamet. Pamet had grown in the boy's care, and hiding in the shadows was no longer a viable option for him. He required a disguise, and the boy presented quite a good one. So it was like this that Pamet stepped out for the first time on two feet that were not his own. Luckily for him, as he was quite a terrible actor, the boy was at an age that he could legally withdraw from parental control, and his family did not care to keep him there.[/dscroll]

Notable skills

  • He is a surprisingly good cook despite the fact that he can't really taste his food. He finds it to be a valuable skill because feeding people good food makes them happy. His roommate doesn't eat food either, so he usually gives anything he cooks to their neighbours.
  • While he has fairly poor eyesight, he is still rather good at art.
  • On that note, he is rather skilled at most things involving fine motor skills. He seems to make up for his poor eyesight with his unnaturally steady hands.
  • He has never lost a staring contest.
  • He is quite skilled at poker since changing his facial expressions is a conscious effort.
Brief description of his setting
Pamet lives in a bustling urban city. It has all the aspects you might expect of such a city. There are enough oddities in such a city that no one cares about each other, which is perfect for someone such as him. The subway station near his apartment has a sizable colony of rats, though the daily commuters such as himself have long since learned to ignore them. He is fairly sure someone might have been murdered in the alleyway a few weeks ago, but no one cared to check. There is a sizable colony of vampires, one of whom allows him to stay rent free at her apartment if he helps make some of the humans she brings home relax. There are hunters who try to kill monsters such as him, but he feels that he is just as likely to be caught by one as he is to be mugged and stabbed on the way home from school, so he doesn't think about it much.

Writing sample
"You're not human."

Pamet looked up at the woman who stood before him. The darkness of the alley shadowed her face, exacerbated by the moonlight which backlit her form. But curiosity rolled off her in waves, a crisp taste like cold spring water than he had noticed a few seconds before she had appeared before him. She radiated no hatred or fear, things that he had long learned to be wary of. He glanced off to the sides to check that no one else was nearby, although it was more for show than anything. His eyesight wasn't the best in the first place, and he likely would have felt it if there was anyone else around.

After a moment, he turned back to her. "I'm not," he agreed. "How did you know?"

The woman crouched down in front of him. He could see her face more clearly now. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, she was wearing a pair of sunglasses. Above those, one of her thin eyebrows was raised incredulously. "You don't have a heartbeat." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "Actually, I don't think you have any blood."

"Ah." Pamet leaned back against the wall he was sitting against, studying her closer. She had sharp teeth and a deathlike pallor which might have been a concern for an average human, but was something to be expected of her species. "You're a vampire."

Her blood-red lips stretched into a grin, and she sat down against the wall across from him. He tasted a flash of disgust as she did so, a sharp and rather sour taste, but her expression didn't change. "Got it in one. Name's Mara. Usually alleys are good places to find drunks and homeless dudes, but I found you instead." She leaned forward, arms resting atop her crossed legs. "So what are you? You're not one of Stevie's weird dolls, are you? 'Cause I told him to quit leaving those things everywhere."

Pamet thought about it for a while. It was a peculiar thing, watching him concentrate. It took a great deal of effort to remember to mimic normal human movements, such as blinking and breathing. It was something he would have to learn to do better if he wanted to blend in. "I'm fairly sure I'm not a doll," is what he finally settled on. "And I don't know who Stevie is. I don't know what I am though. I've never met anyone else like me."

"Well, not to brag, but I've been around for a pretty long time. Try me, maybe I've heard of you before."

"I eat emotions. I won't feel any otherwise. This also isn't my body." It would be far more efficient for him to show her this than to describe it, and so he did. A dark, viscous fluid spilled from the body's mouth, falling into its lap. The same fluid seeped from the eyes, tracing down the body's face like tears, and leaked from its ears, staining the white shirt that Pamet had made the unfortunate choice to wear that day. The body slumped back against the wall, and the liquid gathered in front of it, building atop each other until it had formed an amorphous shape darker than the shadows of the alley, like a void against the brick wall.

Pamet could feel more than see Mara's shock, its eyesight significantly poorer in its regular form. It could vaguely hear the scattering of gravel as Mara scrambled back in surprise. "Oh," she said, her voice a bit higher than normal. "Yeah, I don't think I've seen one of you before, sorry."

Pamet slipped back into the body, a process which took a bit longer than it did to get out of it, though not significantly so; he'd taken the time to hollow it out the best he could so that there were less obstacles to deal with. "It's alright, I wasn't expecting you to."

Mara still seemed quite surprised, but it had lessened minutely once he had reentered his body and sat up. She was leaning forward again. Though Pamet couldn't see her eyes due to her sunglasses, he felt that she was appraising him. "So you eat emotions? What happens to the person when you do that?"

"They stop feeling that way. If I only eat one emotion then they'll feel everything else. If I eat everything then I suppose they won't feel anything at all."

Mara took off her sunglasses, hanging them on the collar of her shirt as she continued to study Pamet. Her eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. "I think we could help each other out," she said. "I'll give you a place to live, you just gotta feed off of some people when I ask you to. Deal?" She pushed herself easily off the ground, closing the short distance between her and Pamet. She held out a neatly manicured hand towards him.

It was not a difficult choice. From what Pamet recalled, he found that having proper shelter was greatly preferable to living on the streets. It would likely help him blend in more as well.

"Deal." He took her hand, allowing her to pull him up. Mara smiled, and she threw an arm around his shoulder as she lead him out of the alley.