Post by -иoxx on Jun 15, 2010 13:04:26 GMT -5
Name: chex
Age: twenty-one
Gender: male
Orientation: gay
Guild: assassins
Shapeshift Form: mouse
Appearance:
human [ref]Personality:
structure
not particular muscular, strong, or well built in any way. on the scrawny side of the spectrum scale, with long and lanky limbs yet only standing a few inches above five foot. a rather unusual build, nor intimidating nor useful in any real way. the vulnerability that he felt just because of this factor made him an easy target. one that he longed not to be.
traits
white locks flecks his face and scalp. it isn't a silver, or a grey, but an actual white. normally this would stick some visual age onto his body, but if anything it made him look even younger than he really was. at guess sixteen, which was entirely wrong. hiding the tops of his red eyes, as if afraid to give away anything. for these albino eyes gave off so much emotion, fear, love, vulnerability, terror, happiness, everything that he wished to keep bottled up. skin a soft white, pale without blemish on the face. though on his arms were multiple scars, slashes. though not as if they were self-inflicted; but as if a whip had been taken to them once upon a time. body free of any tattoos or piercings, besides the shifter tattoo, looks like a mama's boy who would do good in school or something quite stereotypical like that. but in reality, he visually looks shy, untrusting, and (with no other word to describe it) weak.
cloth
the clothes draped around this boy are neither spectacular or durable, rather the opposite. thin, flimsy, with visual wear and tear about them. normally comprising of the colors black and white; and the whites are rather dulled. a black collared shirt with some type of white shirt on top. and jeans tight against the thighs but flare out near the shoe. with faded light blue spots here and there, and the knee slowly ripping through as well as the bottom edges of the hem. shoes are black skater shoes where the soles are rubbed smooth with age. obviously, not a whole lot of money (if any) was dumped into this assortment.
tattoo
the tattoo that is burnt into his skin, marking himself as a shifter. very visible on the back of his left hand. to a mere human it might look like a gang tattoo, where as he himself didn't even look like he belonged in the ghetto.
shift [ref]
mouse
fuzzy, cute, white, albino, all of those adorable qualities. white fur is always kept well groomed so it never differs from it's snow color. pupil-less red eyes stare without really seeing. nose is always tweaking this way and those, having a pinkish quality. same with the ears, almost transparent as light shines through them. long tail is a peach tint, with a nice pointed tip. overall, one of those feeder mice that you see in the stores, just free.
natural
on an ever so familiar day in poverty, it's a constant hunt for food and money. being so frail and weak, enemies are encountered, and shifting is his only real means of escape. a constant state of fear, fight or flight mode. it takes great deal of energy and mental wear, but he is used to it. taking shelter in a half burned down store, closed with boarded up windows and signs of no trespassing. but it is home to chex, his sanctuary. so to put it simply, him in a nutshell, every day is a fight for survival, mouse or human.
alone
the state-of-mind that is most often taken. instead of moping about because of the past, or being terrified because of the future, he is in the here and now. how to get through to the next day with dieing, or anything in that general subcategory. Though he is innocent in his own little way. smiling at the most everyday things, like the reflection of the car headlights on the wet pavement on a rainy day. Or the chatter of birds in the bustling, dangerous, and depression slum. Animals cheer him up greatly, by their simplicity driven by their niche in the world.
Social
around people that are trustworthy, and who he can open up to, this boy is quite friendly. quiet and shy, but smiley and ready to have fun. like any teenage boy should. this is the real sanctuary, to be carefree without worry among those select few individuals that he can call a friend. for he isn't trusting, for his own safety.
History:
before birth
to start this story off, we must fly all the way over to papua, new guinea, next to indonesia. [map] entering into the day-to-day life of the korawai tribe. rumored to be one of the last tribes that practice cannibalism as a culture. a young fifteen-year-old named aswa would always be seen as dirt. for one, she was a woman, and for another, her parents were on the bottom end of the totem pole in the tribe hierarchy. so if this young girl stayed with this tribe that she loathed oh so much, life wouldn't get better probably worse. desperate to escape this, was curious when white men came to their land talking of tourism and such. but their real reason was to gather some beautiful young women as models for America.
a chance to escape was unfolded before her eyes. aswa looked much younger than she really was, but this didn't phase the men if anything it excited them. behind her parents backs, escaped onto a ship that was heading across the Pacific to eastern America. the ship was full of similar girls of ambitions to become models, an excited jabber among them. though the sailing wasn't all that smooth, disease broke out, aswa made it to the new world where opportunity awaited.
driven by car to a lovely apartment in the middle of the ghetto, probably aswa and another dozen girls were rushed into a single room. fear tingling among the girls, whose wrists had been tied together with rope. then and there did the girls realize that they were not going to become models, but were part of some secret slave trade. sold off to the highest bidder, stripped of their clothes, the girls went to different men. aswa was no exception, and went to a white man who looked like he had never shaven in his life, and drank beer for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
aswa had dark skin like the rest of her tribe, and stood at about 5'2". her hair was naturally a silky silver white hair with hazel eyes. she wasn't beautiful, but her hair was. that combined with her virgin status made her a popular item. with a black bag over her head, was transported to another location where her harsh treatment didn't change. taken to the bedroom, was brutally raped. as time moved on, the weeks blurred into months. deprived of food and water, lived with half a dozen other bought woman who worked like slaves and were the white-man's sex toy.
though food was scarce, and fresh water was even more difficult to come by. so aswa, being born and raised, would eat the dead women. murmuring the proper rituals under her breathe, thanked the sun god for giving her the meat and that the human's death was not in vain. it was how she survived for most of the time. but one day, an opportunity arose. the master was out, and one of the guards had a stroke, a hemorrhage. it must of been the sun god rewarding her, but aswa broke free of her prison and escaped into the ghetto, not knowing that she was pregnant with a baby boy.
birth
it wasn't fancy or special, it wasn't even modern. no hospital, no medical team, it was a living room birth. surprisingly, for bearing the first child, nothing went too horribly wrong. chex was born, named, and as an infant his hair was bright white as well as his skin. this child had taken some traits of his father, one that aswa loathed oh so much. but she was a surprisingly good mother, never malnourished, but bringing him up with love and care though the world was bearing down upon her. knowing that in this modern day world her tribe-life rituals were frowned upon, so tried to keep it hidden from her son. but at an later age he found out about it.
though life was hard, eventually aswa got a stable job at a corner side market. it payed minimum wage, but was able to bring home some fruit now and then. the duo lived in an warehouse, still in use so they had to be careful not to get caught. occasionally they went to the local airport, until they got kicked out. it was more of a complete adventure for chex, wondering what mother would do next. always full of giggles and smiles, unless people started staring at him. then he shied behind mother's dress.
at four years old, the small child witnessed three men ganging up on his mother for stealing a bag of rice from them. refusing to give them back, told chex to hide. he did so obediently with fear in his eyes. watching as fists were thrown and blood was splattered against the brick wall of the alley. mother was knocked unconscious, and the whimpers and sobs gave chex's position away. the men advancing on him, grasped the child's wrist and in a flurry of fear, chex shifted into a mouse for the first time. wishing that he could just disappear to avoid injury. the first shift sealed the bond, especially at such a small age. aswa was fine when she awoke, just flesh wounds, but she never stole any sort of grain again.
when chex was twelve years old, that was when he found out about his mother's cannibalism. it was frightening at first, and he cowered at the very thought. walking in on his mother at an unexpected hour of the day when he should of been at the nearest public school. the human was there, blood and all, and mother was over him with a knife, mouth covered in blood. it was traumatizing at first, but chex grew to accept it and acknowledge it. though never participating in the practice. but out of fear, fled from the house and shifted into that adorable white mouse to calm himself. this power of shifting was a secret, one that he kept from his mother, but it allowed him to get all of the food that he needed. put the brain of a shifter in the body of a mouse, and you got a very intelligent creature. but as chex grew and aged, learned that there were other shifters in the city just like him. wanting to go out and find them, but stuck at home because of mother; who became very ill.
at first it was just a common cold, but during recovery caught the flu. her fever shot up, extreme chills, a dry unproductive cough, severe headaches, and an almost uncontrollable vomit. chex, at sixteen years of age, didn't know what to do. trying to perform the healing rituals that mother had taught him. trying to give her modern day pills, and once considered taking her to a doctor. but nothing worked, she vomited whatever went into her stomach. it seemed as if she was slowly dieing from starvation because she couldn't keep anything down. whatever the final cause of death, aswa passed away when chex was sixteen. forcing him to grow up much faster than anticipated.
afteraswa'sdeath
free to do whatever he pleased, to go wherever he wished, left his memories behind. traveling as mouse and as human came to the city where a mass of shifters were rumored to be. it was not a far journey, maybe one hundred miles at most. but it was the farthest distance chex had ever traveled, and it was an accomplishment when he made it, alive. still never practicing his mother's rituals, kept an eye and an ear open for other shifters.
aging once more, to his current twenty-one years of age, nothing had changed. he lived in a burnt brick building in the ghetto. though the outside was heavily damaged, the inside was quite cozy due to chex's interior decorating skills. very independent, knew how to take care of himself. but life was hard, he was shy, and was occasionally ganged up because of his cute face. only to shift and run away as a mouse, it was almost excepted. especially since he looked like a sixteen year old. innocent, cute, and shy, his story unfurls at a burden is lifted off his shoulders. he finds the shifters, and they find him.