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 Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2009 1:13 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2009 1:15 pm
points: 000
closed rp
none yet
open rp
none yet
solos
none yet
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Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2009 1:22 pm
Name: Leslie Maurice Shinney IV
Nickname: Les
Age and Birth Date: 25 yo. December 14th
Occupation: Chef/Wait staff
APPEARANCE
Leslie is somewhat of a beanpole, long and thin at nearly six-foot-three. His skin is fair, and his face thin with darkened patches beneath lazy green-hazel eyes. He looks slightly ill, terribly ill on the bad days, which makes sense considering the fact that he is. His hair is styled to a mohawk of moderate height, but the sides that would usually be shaved are simply cut short and gelled back, leaving his sideburns long, so he can fake a normal haircut if he so desired. That is, if you can ignore the green hue. His facial structure is long and thin, perhaps elegant were it no for his various eccentricities. Clothing-wise, Leslie prefers baggy pants and tight shirts with smart-a** sayings above all else. Unfortunately, his bizarre scales force him to wander around town with lots of popped collars.
Piercings: snake bites, right nostril, both ears, right tragus, left eyebrow
PERSONALITY:
Leslie loves life, people, and attention. He is neither particularly optimistic nor pessimistic, but can almost always be found with a grin on his face and kind words to offer. Nearly dying can do that to a man. He loves good food and good friends most of all, and will go out of his way to make either. He is not, however, quick to trust in others or particularly open about his past, and frankly was not even before his life changed. His worst fear is of blood, especially his own, and this phobia can cripple him or stir nervous breakdowns out of this otherwise very calm, laid-back individual. He hopes to one day become more than a bar cook in some high-class establishment out in the city, societal standards be damned.
ABILITIES
Considering his build and illness, Leslie does not fare well in physical confrontation. He is the type to try and talk the other person down and then, if that doesn't succeed, cower and cover his head until the beating stops. He isn't particularly athletic or strong either.
Socially speaking, he fares much better. He is welcoming and chatty with strangers upon first meeting them and will judge from their reaction whether they like the interaction or want him to buzz off. He lacks judgmental characteristics in almost any form, though, so he is as likely to say "hi" to a little girl as he is to a morbidly obese gang member. Occasionally, this causes problems.
When it comes to matters of the mind, Leslie is very relaxed. He meditates when he's stressed or does yoga in his room. He prefers to talk through problems and conflict logically and calmly rather than freak out and make matters worse. Life is far too short for that.
HOBBIES
Baking is definitely a passion of his. He makes cakes for friends' birthdays and special events and will occasionally grace the bar staff with plates of cookies for no reason at all. Most of his baking is done at the bar, what with the industrial kitchen. Besides baking, he enjoys meditation, yoga, and reading. His very secret passion is horror films, but he rarely lets it slip.
HISTORY
Leslie had a somewhat troubled childhood, by no fault of his own or his parents. His father was a pastor and his mother played piano, and he was their only child; a "miracle" baby. His parents were in their 40s when he was born and well-respected in the church community, and so Leslie was expected to be a perfect angel from the start. No child can be perfect, though, and every little misstep was met with disappointment from family friends and parishioners. His supportive parents often tried to talk him into ignoring others, but poor Leslie felt insignificant and was pushed toward a more rebellious lifestyle.
Throughout teenhood, Leslie's hair shifted through many cuts and colors, and he slowly began punching holes in himself, his eyebrow and snakebites being the only piercings not home-made. He grew angry and jaded and turned to the wrong kind of crowd for companionship, and was soon dragged down into a world of loud music, drugs, and casual sex.
He was diagnosed HIV positive at 19 years of age, and his life came to a screeching halt.
Leslie spent two years finding himself after that and discovered a group of new-age "hippies" who took them under his wing and taught him about Buddhism, chakras, and Third Sight. Much to his parents' delight, he grew close with this crowd and they became something of his second family.
father- Pastor Leslie Maurice Shinney III
mother- Abigail Marie Shinney
mentor- Peter Alexander Dumfries
The Change
TOUCHED APPEARANCE
He is initially quite the same as he always was, although his tongue is much longer than natural and forked. Most days he can pass that off as an eccentric body modification. What he cannot pass off, though, are the long, sharp fangs that were once his second incisors. Granted, they only expose themselves when he yawns ... or strikes. His jaw unhinges and his pupils turn to vertical slits as with most snakes, but he can control both on most occasions. As far as the particularly obvious goes, though, there is only the ring of scales around the back of his neck and spreading down his collarbone before dipping down his spy and coming to a point above his rump. The scales are, from inside to out, red, yellow, and black.
MAGIC
Leslie has no particularly magical abilities. His sense of smell is heightened, though, and he is able to unhinge his jaw and control his foldable fangs (which unfortunately do secrete venom).
SAMPLE
It hurt.
Oh, lord did it hurt.
For weeks, Leslie had had the absolute worst toothache he could imagine. Orajel didn’t do s**t, the dentist couldn’t offer any helpful information, and even rum on his gums couldn’t seem to quell the agony. He had also developed a bizarre rash on his neck and back; a mottled red and deep bruising that seemed to heal at different speeds. The doctor had drawn blood and poked and prodded until the cows came home, but all he could offer was a tube of steroid cream. The rash had bloomed, and it began to itch terribly. A half-asleep scratch had led to a deep hole like the blackhead from Hell may leave, and it bled for hours. Leslie now wore gloves to bed.
Tonight, it was especially bad. The man’s eyes ached like he hadn’t slept in days, and the itching was maddening. He could do nothing but stare at himself in the mirror as his whole mouth exploded in agony. His gums were…rotting, dying, he was certain. He sucked an ice cube and found something unreasonably hard where it should not have been, and he prodded the strange ridge for only a moment before releasing the most pained howl he had ever heard in his life. Something was ripping, tearing and then it flipped down amidst a torrent of blood, slicing his lip open just above his piercings. Tears began to flow in terror as Leslie flew for the telephone and dialed 911. Oh, lord, his jaw had broken, he was sure. This was pieces of bone flopping out of his mouth, and so much blood! When the emergency operator asked what was wrong, he could only mumble wetly and sob.
“Excuse me, sir? I…I can’t understand you. I—“
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!”
Leslie drew a clawed hand down his chest from his shoulder, cursing the persistent itch and the ache and the pain…! His skin was coming off. Sweet mother of god, his skin was coming off! There was something hard and smooth beneath it. Parasites? Did he get goddamn bugs?! He turned his head and saw…scales. He prodded them once, experimentally. Not alive. Scales.
This probably should not have calmed him, but it did, at least marginally. He dropped the phone and let it dangle by the cord as he ran back to the bathroom, staring back into the blood-spattered mirror. His mouth had stopped its bleeding, and he touched a long, sleek fang. He looked to his shoulder and curled his fingers under the layer of dead skin, pulling up. It pulled without pain up and over his shoulder and face.
Leslie would be bawling and apparently mutilating himself when the EMTs arrived. He would scream about AIDS and lock himself in the bathroom for nearly 5 hours before he calmed enough to peek out of the room and shoo off the shaken medical workers.
He had nowhere to go.
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