Post by LUCIEN CLAUDE on Mar 1, 2011 23:58:30 GMT -5
| [atrb=style, width: 0px;] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 100px; -moz-box-shadow: -1px 0px 1px #888; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px; -webkit-box-shadow: -1px 0px 1px #888; -webkit-border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px;] confidential | [atrb=style, width: 400px;] |
[cs=3][atrb=style, width: 500px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px, bTable][atrb=style,background: #8d8974; border: 1px solid #372d22a; padding: 10px; font-family: Helvetica; -moz-box-shadow: -1px 1px 1px #888; -webkit-box-shadow: -1px 1px 1px #888] CLAUDE, LUCIEN, A. FULL NAME; lucien avignon claude ALIAS; say lucy, and he’ll go all siberian on your ass AGE; twenty-four GENDER; male ORIENTATION; bisexual, male tendency CLASS; genus solidus SHIFT SPECIES; white siberian tiger BIRTH DATE; december 12 GENETICS EYES; cerulean blue with a feline tilt and slitted, elliptical pupils HAIR; unkempt ashblonde, nearly silver in color WEIGHT; 178 lbs HEIGHT; 6’1’’ VOICE; as if he were exhaling smoke FACE CLAIM; alaude, reborn DESCRIPTION; lucien wears a delicate balance of masculine and feminine features: his high cheekbones curve softly into the slope of his hard jaw, sliding seamlessly into the angular round of his chin. his lips are semi-full, flushed a fleshtone pink, and are always set in a light sprawl of conceit. a shock of disheveled cornsilk hair curtains his slim forehead, brushing at the darker curve of his thin brows and reaching for the flare of dark lashes that line his feral, catlike eyes. a single, pale scar draws a ghostline over his left eye, marring the pale satin of his complexion. he’s built in streamlined curves and hard sinew, lean muscle lending tenacious strength to his feline agility. yet despite his litheness, lucien moves with the idle regality of a sleep-deprived king; he’s graceful in the haughty laze of his manner rather than the fleeting dexterity of a smaller cat. PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION LIKES; the taste of adrenalin, black coffee after dinner, red meat and aged wine, catnaps at noon, nighttime strolls, classical music and well-worn literature, sexual eccentricities, cigarettes to pass the time, sleeping next to somebody, playing the gentleman, listening to thunder, the best of film noir DISLIKES; bright lights and loud noises, obnoxious vulgarity, technological advances, humidity and summer heat, the corruption of power, any variation of vegetable, lending his property, his inevitable nickname, waking up early, stubbornness (or those more stubborn than himself), the canine species, nightmares and memories, being kept indoors STRENGTHS; subtlety, patience, capability, cunning, silver tongue, mixing drinks WEAKNESSES; pretty things, white lies, keeping promises, sleeping alone QUIRKS; scaling buildings, traveling by rooftop, napping and writing in the strangest of places FEARS; crowded streets, tight spaces GOALS; publishing a novel or two PERSONALITY; charming, appealing, magnetic, teasing, aloof, casual, careless, unconcerned, observant, perceptive, patient, composed, stoic, detached, proud, conceited, eloquent, sublime, deceitful, intelligent, competent, subtle, aesthetic, somnolent, idle, indolent, cynical, contemplative, brooding, sharp-tongued, catlike, white liar CHRONOLOGICAL TIMELINE CURRENT RESIDENCE; second district flat CURRENT OCCUPATION; bartender, freelance writer HISTORY; Created in 2035, Lucien retains no solid memory of his captivity within the SHIFT corporation until six years later. Nothing but white – white coats, white walls; the bitter scent of antiseptic; food and water acidic to the tongue. Beyond that, he has five years of sporadic memory until his release at age eleven. Lucien keeps much of it locked from his waking conscience, but he revisits the white walls of his captivity each restless, wakeful night. Like many of the liberated experiments, Lucien was given to an orphanage upon his release. To him, it was merely another prison; a relocation for his enduring captivity. He was irate and irrational, too young to comply to this new set of bars, and so he grasped at what little power over his future he held. He acted out each time a prospective foster home took interest in him, turning away family after family until he turned fourteen. On June fifth of that year, he noticed one woman in particular – slight, with chestnut hair – who eyed him with quite the searching stare during the courtesy tour of the orphanage. He’d shifted and snarled, playing up the same menace that had turned all the others away. The woman merely smiled, and signed his life into her hands. He lived two years with the Calloways – a father, a daughter, and the mother who’d taken him – and finally found solace. If not for the father, an incurable drunk who harbored a special hate for Lucien and his kind, he might’ve been wonderfully happy. He loved Mrs. Calloway, and fell in love with her daughter. When a car crash took the mother’s life, the father took his grief out on the boy, giving him the now-faint scar over his left eye, and casting him from the house. At age sixteen, Lucien was changed; he’d lost the woman he called mother and the girl he thought he loved. He was passed from home to home, staying only months at one before they shut him out, and was finally relieved from the foster care system when he reached eighteen. He’d attended only a few raw years of schooling, but the boy was literate, and found sweet escape in the written word. He became a freelance writer and contributing journalist, mixing drinks at Cloud Nine to pay the rent when jobs were scarce. He’s stable now, but aimless; living simply because he doesn’t know how to die, searching for some raison d’etre amidst the sweet fog of red wine and ambien. |
