Post by Mina Crow on Sept 3, 2006 20:01:36 GMT 12
First off - blame the thread title on Mask - I had nothing to do with it xD
Hmm… A few hours ago, ahe asked me to "go through and ruthlessly pick apart one of her characters"; Mask, as fate would have it. Obviously, this is only for our entertainment, as I hereby declare Mask as one of my favorite CSS characters. No offence intended at any moment.
[Name >> Theodore "Mask" Allorque Hmm, Venice masks *thinking about Casanova*
[Age >> 17
[Gender >> Male
[Tribe >> Wharf Rats
[Rank >> Hunter
[Nationality >> American//French-Canadian
[Politics >> "'No politics, no morals, no regrets.' Live as you must, and do what needs to be done to live as you want to." And f.uck whoever gets within your reach, ja?
[Romantic orientation >> Bisexual Liar. Gay. Or has he been staring at Berserker's boobies when I wasn't looking?
[Appearance >> He could, on a purely physical level, be viewed as attractive. Stu...? Nah. Just hawt. Fething hawt. <_< At an even 6 feet in height, with a lean, willowy build and a handsome face, he seems rather blessed in that department. *drools* His hair, which was once a fiery irish red (inherited directly from his mothers side) has darkened over the years to auburn; it was originally cut short to his chin - a rough hack job performed with a dull knife not long after he set out on his own - but it has grown out to his shoulders now, still as uneven as ever. Curly redhead. Oh, firewater burn... Theo's eyes are his fathers legacy; brilliant green, and touched with a corona of copper around the pupil. 'Life on the wild side' hasn't left him untouched, however, and he's accumulated his fair share of scars, both from fighting with others and generic accidents resulting from digging through junk bare-handed. Call it junk. I call it second-degree burns on... you know the rest.
The clothes on his back are the pretty much the same as when he first arrived in New Pork; old jeans, a once white t-shirt (now turned a rather interesting shade of greenish-gray), and a beige canvas jacket that he's managed to keep with him throughout everything. Not red as yet. Are you going to dye it with Havoc's blood, dearie?
[Attitude >> He seems to be a rather optimistic fellow, always in high spirits and with a pleasant smile on his lips. Drunk/high? Always smiling, never frowning. Told ya. He enjoys being around others, (and inside <_< AHEM) always in the thick of a conversation but never really participating until he's addressed directly. Tall, quiet, silent guy, eh? The typeHavoc Grey likes more. However, once engaged in a conversation, its rather hard to stop him from expressing his opinions on any particular subject. Snark! On some level his actions and attitudes could be viewed as that of a helpless romantic fag, but on closer inspection they can be determined as having a far more down to earth purpose. Don't wanna know. Really.
He wants his own (on top!) way in everything, although he's no where stupid enough to let that be common knowledge. Naah. The tunnels echo, sweetie. His urge to do what he wishes and not be interfered with could be interpreted as being power-hungry, but in truth the only people he wishes to have dominion over are 'me, myself, and I'. Idle hands are the devil's tools, m'dear. The catastrophe of the Black Plague and the loss of his family and friends has affected him drastically, giving him a strong urge to be affiliated with something resembling a family, like his harem, if only so he can glean some sort of comfort from the proximity of others. At times he can act cold, other times disturbingly cheerful, but he is rarely, if ever, depressed or 'down in the dumps' (not to say these moods do not occur - he is a rather emotionally unstable young man - he just doesn't let them show). Ah, but he's jealous. And possessive. Gluttony! This instability aggravates him to no end, and as a result he's quite at odds with himself on an emotional level. *Sniffles* While outwardly confident - almost cocky at times (ALMOST??!)- he's really quite unsure of many of his own behavior (sub-consciously, he suspects himself to be going mad). Just a suspicion.
[Notable History >>
It's getting harder for him to remember all the details, under the effect of so much booze, but he can still recall the look on his mothers face when she saw the news. New York, where her estranged husband lived, was dying. *Wipes crystal tear*
They'd been waiting in a bus terminal somewhere near the Great Lakes, hoping to cross the border before nightfall so they didn't have to sleep on seats which always wound up having upholstery that smelled like old sweat, booze, and piss. But booze is good. Now it seemed that this act of terrorism was going to indefinitely delay their ride home. Hmm. Pity, isn't it?
That night his mother spent her time huddled by the large televisions usually reserved for showing bus arrival and departure times, now displaying the latest news from the affected cities. Theodore spent his time playing solitaire on the terminal floor, contemplated his fathers health as he methodically set down and picked up cards. Reading the future on the cards, love?
His dad had always been the rebellious one; always the artist and the writer, more of a friend than a parent. Too immature for his mother, was what it all boiled down to. Their latest visit had been one of his mothers many last-ditch efforts to get him to grow up and be a responsible husband. Like all of her previous attempts, it had failed. Aww, the immature parent part. And the ditching. So sad. ^^
So now, according to the TV, the proverbial fecal matter had hit the fan. Whadda... People were dying, dropping dead all over the place, and no one could get in or out of the city to help. Huh. Sounded like dad wasn't going to be growing up now. *Tuts*
The following weeks were spent in a daze, mostly with Theo trying to simultaneously comfort his hysterical mother and keep her from being a threat to herself. ('MUM! Keep away from the knifes!') His mother never had been the most stable of individuals, and the sudden, violent shock of loosing her husband proved to be the straw that broke the horses back.
It took three months, three hellish months spent in a grotty apartment, skipping school to make sure his mother didn't hang herself, Sure, excuses. before he started hearing of it. The reports were few and far between at first, but as the weeks passed they appeared with greater regularity and length. There were people, mostly children according to the Army, who had been sneaking back into the city through the fences. Rumors of half-baked groups of these youths running in packs, living in the ruins of the once great metropolis. Saw Grey on the news and fell in love. Must've been.
His curiosity perked, the idea of these 'feral children' intrigued him. Still, he stuck with things for a while yet. That is, until Margaret's total nervous breakdown. With her placed in psychiatric care for her own safety, Mum is a psycho? Check. Theodore was left in the care of his grandfather, a slovenly drunk who spent too much time in an inebriated haze to keep track of his whereabouts. Another drunk. I'm getting a pattern.
Enter Mask, thumbing his way down the highways and side roads with only a small knapsack and a knife on his belt. *sings* Country road, take me home... He lost the bag on the fence, although he didn't much care. All that'd been in it were a couple of granola bars, a waterbottle, and a picture of his parents. In the first few days, he missed the granola bars the most. Meh. Now I'm hungry.
What has become of his mother is a mystery to him, and one he isn't particularly interested in solving. *drum roll* Whether she finally managed to kill herself, or if she’s rotting away in some asylum, he doesn't care. She was dead to him long before he left home. Angsty much? Grey!nurse replacing mommy?
[Reputation >> A 'decent sort', but highly unpredictable. A schemer and an observer. Always smiling. I'm not commenting this part xD
[Notable Items >> A tin of laminated playing cards and a belt knife (blade being single edged, just under ten centimetres, and folding into the hilt). Compensating for something? Wide banded silver ring on a string of blackened twine (sometimes worn around neck, sometimes hidden out of sight) Aww, Grey's fiancée ring?
And this, dearies, is the crack version of Mask's bio. Commented by a sugar high Mina.
Hmm… A few hours ago, ahe asked me to "go through and ruthlessly pick apart one of her characters"; Mask, as fate would have it. Obviously, this is only for our entertainment, as I hereby declare Mask as one of my favorite CSS characters. No offence intended at any moment.
[Name >> Theodore "Mask" Allorque Hmm, Venice masks *thinking about Casanova*
[Age >> 17
[Gender >> Male
[Tribe >> Wharf Rats
[Rank >> Hunter
[Nationality >> American//French-Canadian
[Politics >> "'No politics, no morals, no regrets.' Live as you must, and do what needs to be done to live as you want to." And f.uck whoever gets within your reach, ja?
[Romantic orientation >> Bisexual Liar. Gay. Or has he been staring at Berserker's boobies when I wasn't looking?
[Appearance >> He could, on a purely physical level, be viewed as attractive. Stu...? Nah. Just hawt. Fething hawt. <_< At an even 6 feet in height, with a lean, willowy build and a handsome face, he seems rather blessed in that department. *drools* His hair, which was once a fiery irish red (inherited directly from his mothers side) has darkened over the years to auburn; it was originally cut short to his chin - a rough hack job performed with a dull knife not long after he set out on his own - but it has grown out to his shoulders now, still as uneven as ever. Curly redhead. Oh, firewater burn... Theo's eyes are his fathers legacy; brilliant green, and touched with a corona of copper around the pupil. 'Life on the wild side' hasn't left him untouched, however, and he's accumulated his fair share of scars, both from fighting with others and generic accidents resulting from digging through junk bare-handed. Call it junk. I call it second-degree burns on... you know the rest.
The clothes on his back are the pretty much the same as when he first arrived in New Pork; old jeans, a once white t-shirt (now turned a rather interesting shade of greenish-gray), and a beige canvas jacket that he's managed to keep with him throughout everything. Not red as yet. Are you going to dye it with Havoc's blood, dearie?
[Attitude >> He seems to be a rather optimistic fellow, always in high spirits and with a pleasant smile on his lips. Drunk/high? Always smiling, never frowning. Told ya. He enjoys being around others, (and inside <_< AHEM) always in the thick of a conversation but never really participating until he's addressed directly. Tall, quiet, silent guy, eh? The type
He wants his own (on top!) way in everything, although he's no where stupid enough to let that be common knowledge. Naah. The tunnels echo, sweetie. His urge to do what he wishes and not be interfered with could be interpreted as being power-hungry, but in truth the only people he wishes to have dominion over are 'me, myself, and I'. Idle hands are the devil's tools, m'dear. The catastrophe of the Black Plague and the loss of his family and friends has affected him drastically, giving him a strong urge to be affiliated with something resembling a family, like his harem, if only so he can glean some sort of comfort from the proximity of others. At times he can act cold, other times disturbingly cheerful, but he is rarely, if ever, depressed or 'down in the dumps' (not to say these moods do not occur - he is a rather emotionally unstable young man - he just doesn't let them show). Ah, but he's jealous. And possessive. Gluttony! This instability aggravates him to no end, and as a result he's quite at odds with himself on an emotional level. *Sniffles* While outwardly confident - almost cocky at times (ALMOST??!)- he's really quite unsure of many of his own behavior (sub-consciously, he suspects himself to be going mad). Just a suspicion.
[Notable History >>
It's getting harder for him to remember all the details, under the effect of so much booze, but he can still recall the look on his mothers face when she saw the news. New York, where her estranged husband lived, was dying. *Wipes crystal tear*
They'd been waiting in a bus terminal somewhere near the Great Lakes, hoping to cross the border before nightfall so they didn't have to sleep on seats which always wound up having upholstery that smelled like old sweat, booze, and piss. But booze is good. Now it seemed that this act of terrorism was going to indefinitely delay their ride home. Hmm. Pity, isn't it?
That night his mother spent her time huddled by the large televisions usually reserved for showing bus arrival and departure times, now displaying the latest news from the affected cities. Theodore spent his time playing solitaire on the terminal floor, contemplated his fathers health as he methodically set down and picked up cards. Reading the future on the cards, love?
His dad had always been the rebellious one; always the artist and the writer, more of a friend than a parent. Too immature for his mother, was what it all boiled down to. Their latest visit had been one of his mothers many last-ditch efforts to get him to grow up and be a responsible husband. Like all of her previous attempts, it had failed. Aww, the immature parent part. And the ditching. So sad. ^^
So now, according to the TV, the proverbial fecal matter had hit the fan. Whadda... People were dying, dropping dead all over the place, and no one could get in or out of the city to help. Huh. Sounded like dad wasn't going to be growing up now. *Tuts*
The following weeks were spent in a daze, mostly with Theo trying to simultaneously comfort his hysterical mother and keep her from being a threat to herself. ('MUM! Keep away from the knifes!') His mother never had been the most stable of individuals, and the sudden, violent shock of loosing her husband proved to be the straw that broke the horses back.
It took three months, three hellish months spent in a grotty apartment, skipping school to make sure his mother didn't hang herself, Sure, excuses. before he started hearing of it. The reports were few and far between at first, but as the weeks passed they appeared with greater regularity and length. There were people, mostly children according to the Army, who had been sneaking back into the city through the fences. Rumors of half-baked groups of these youths running in packs, living in the ruins of the once great metropolis. Saw Grey on the news and fell in love. Must've been.
His curiosity perked, the idea of these 'feral children' intrigued him. Still, he stuck with things for a while yet. That is, until Margaret's total nervous breakdown. With her placed in psychiatric care for her own safety, Mum is a psycho? Check. Theodore was left in the care of his grandfather, a slovenly drunk who spent too much time in an inebriated haze to keep track of his whereabouts. Another drunk. I'm getting a pattern.
Enter Mask, thumbing his way down the highways and side roads with only a small knapsack and a knife on his belt. *sings* Country road, take me home... He lost the bag on the fence, although he didn't much care. All that'd been in it were a couple of granola bars, a waterbottle, and a picture of his parents. In the first few days, he missed the granola bars the most. Meh. Now I'm hungry.
What has become of his mother is a mystery to him, and one he isn't particularly interested in solving. *drum roll* Whether she finally managed to kill herself, or if she’s rotting away in some asylum, he doesn't care. She was dead to him long before he left home. Angsty much? Grey!nurse replacing mommy?
[Reputation >> A 'decent sort', but highly unpredictable. A schemer and an observer. Always smiling. I'm not commenting this part xD
[Notable Items >> A tin of laminated playing cards and a belt knife (blade being single edged, just under ten centimetres, and folding into the hilt). Compensating for something? Wide banded silver ring on a string of blackened twine (sometimes worn around neck, sometimes hidden out of sight) Aww, Grey's fiancée ring?
And this, dearies, is the crack version of Mask's bio. Commented by a sugar high Mina.
