Post by echo on Nov 22, 2011 15:56:28 GMT -5
SLATE
name, slate. he doesn’t tell anyone his real name.
gender, male
shifter, yes, a coyote.
age, twenty four
birthday, december fourteen.
occupation, undercover janitor
orientation, heterosexual
height, five feet, six inches
weight, one hundred fifty pounds
hair, slate's hair is a deep black, like a raven's feathers, long, shaggy, and messy. he takes care of it- he'll swear that. it just appears to be naturally wild and a tad out of control.
eyes, a deep set brown, rivaling the brownest of chocolates, these eyes are something that slate hates about himself. He hates how expressive brown eyes are, and he hates that they're almost black.
generally, by no means is slate extremely thin, but he is a little under the "average" body weight for his size. he doesn't have a six pack or anything, but he is fit by most means, his stomach flat and hard.slate is in few words- pretty sexy for sure, at least that's what he'd tell you. he's lean and tall, not excessively thin, but a pretty good weight for his body size. while he does not have a six pack, his stomach is flat, with a sexy "happy trail" leading from his belly button into his pants. his hair on top of his head is a dark black- surprisingly his natural hair, though suiting his hispanic ethnicity more than his irish ethnicity. his eyes also go well with that hair of his, being that dark brown that he doesn't like at all. adding along to his natural looks, slate has quite the few tattoos, though many are not easily seen from a distance. a couple extra aspects of this good-lookin` fella, would be his "earrings". in fact, they're what are called "gauges", which means his ear lobes are stretched to have a larger hole. he also has some piercings around his lips, though they aren't obvious unless you get up close to him.
when shifted, just like his human form, he's a little thinner than usual, but fit nonetheless. he's a little bit more 'mangy' in appearance in this form.just as a human, as a coyote, slate is considered small. thankfully, his thick coat of fur adds some size to him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wish he was something larger- like a wolf. but the small size of his coyote-self does have a lot of positives. thick fur rests mostly around his neck, stomach, and tail, almost giving him an appearance that resembles a fox and wolf mix. his fur is a beautiful mixture of grays, blacks, and tans, almost like an agouti colored rabbit, with more gray. his legs have only one coat of tan fur, along with his ears- with white tufts inside. his eyes change into a golden amber color when he shifts into this form, and that has to be his favorite part.
likes, flirting with girls, smoking normal cigarettes, alcohol- he’s a pretty heavy drinker, getting into fights (that he can win!), storms, singing, attention, things that are bad for him.
dislikes, commitment, girls that are taller than him (makes some exceptions), those dainty girls that everyone seems to love (he likes a girl who can stand up for herself), small spaces, being wrong, being alone.
strengths, slate is quite the charmer, and tends to form a pretty good control over whoever he wants with this. he’s physically strong, and fares quite well- though not amazingly- in fights. he gets what he wants, when he wants it- pretty much. Whether he has to steal for it or whatever needs to be done.
weaknesses, words easily affect this cocky man surprisingly- but only if they come from someone important, or they mention something of his past. he's easily seduced, even by people he knows are bad. he tends to lose himself in his drinking- doesn’t really have any self control.
habits, smoking, drinking, and he chews the skin around his fingers until they bleed (usually subconsciously when he is nervous or bored).
secrets, he's claustrophobic, so he tends to have a fit if he is locked in a small space or surrounded by too many people at once. he has many more secrets, but they're secrets for a reason!
traits, cocky, flirtatious, hidden depression, great at seeming happy and confident all the time.
slate is one cocky man, though that is quite the understatement. he acts completely over-confident, as if he can do anything, whenever he wants, wherever he wants. and not just any physical thing, but also as if he is special and has special rights over any other person. he's very self assertive about most things, and this behavior is mostly offensive to others. it's a huge turn off for guys, and it's one thing that makes it a little hard for him to gain true friends, though his cocky behavior usually attracts the girls. after all, it's quite clear he can easily handle himself. once he attracts the girls, here comes slate's flirty behavior.
he doesn't tend to say sweet things to target of his behavior at first, unless he truly likes them, but he tends to be completely honest about how he's feeling. he'll tell a female she's hot- but never beautiful unless, as said before, he means it with all of his heart. he has a tendency to be a tad controlling with this flirty behavior to gain what he wants- whether it be sexual or something with more meaning- like knowledge. despite Slate's capabilities of practically gaining whatever he desires, he's still very unhappy. he hardly shows it around others, but he tends to do risky things on purpose just to put his life in danger- like angering people he knows he shouldn't. he enjoys the feeling of skirting death, though sometimes his depression makes him wish that he had been able to really die.
he does hide this hidden depression well, no person would ever know unless they truly became good friends with him. slate is a very proud guy. it is not often- or even known of, where he has ever subjected to anything humiliating. he tends to jump in situations that could humiliate him though- mostly because he does have that pride (to prove that he won't be humiliated). he tends to never give up an argument, though usually only when he is right. he doesn’t really apologize very often either, but it is often easy to tell when he is apologetic.
and despite his childish and sometimes not-to-smart behavior, slate is oddly intelligent, taking after his practically 'genius' father (whom he hates... see history). he usually can pinpoint a plan at the drop of a hat, and has no trouble figuring out mathematical problems- such as how far something is, how long it will take to get there, etc. why he doesn’t get a job with these smarts… that is something he won’t reveal.
mother, unsaid, deceased.
father, unsaid, unknown.
siblings, tanner, male, deceased.
lovers, unsaid.
others, n/a
story, tragic, overcoming.he knew something was wrong. as soon as he was a few years old. being the smart and fast-growing child he was, he could sense it. looking up at his beautiful irish mother with his large, chocolate eyes, the small child questioned, "momma, what's wrong?"
feeling the drop of liquid that fell from his mother's blue eyes, the young child's worry was fueled further. gaining no answer forced him to return to his brother, tanner at the edge of the bed where the one who had given birth to him lay. with shaggy black hair draping worriedly against the thick red locks of his brother, he wrapped his small arms around his small body, pressing the hair to his face. slate fell asleep with the warmth of his brother and mother at his side.
when Slate awoke, he was cold. he didn't wake up peacefully- he had been awoken by screeching- the screeching of his brother. terror arose in the tiny child's chest as he spotted a large hispanic man in front of him, blocking his view of all else, towering over his mother's now red body... wait- red?
letting out a choked screech of fear and sadness, slate ignored the large, terrifying wolf-like man, and raced to the one who had given birth to him. the scent of blood filled his nostrils, making the young child feel sick, yet he pushed his nose into a clean patch of the mother's wild hair. whimpering into the woman's head, his dark and expressive gaze fell to Tanner, more like his mother than himself, unlike he, cowering in a corner, and then to the menacing giant in front of him.
"Who are you?" Slate questioned, voice quivering, yet knowing he needed to be strong, if not for his brother, for himself.
"Your father."
From that point on, Slate was raised by his father. His father had high hopes that Slate would turn out intelligent like himself, unlike Tanner, whom he left alone. While Slate was tormented by his father, physically and emotionally, Tanner lived on the edges of humanity, always expressing how much he hated Slate and how he hated how he had a normal life while he did not. Why was Slate their father's favorite? Why did he get to live while he suffered every day? How very wrong Slate's brother was... Slate continued to sneak Tanner food, until their father found out and killed him with resentment.
Slate almost took his own life that night, but instead left town, for good.
He now does all he can to assure he isn't like his father, though that is where he gets his intelligence from.
name, echo
experience, ten
other characters, none yet.
read the rules, yes, checked.
example post, Slate, fallen angel site.As Slate ran, he told himself- don't look back. Looking back only slowed you down. Looking back made you even more nervous. Looking back shifted your weight and made it easier for the other to catch up. Looking back screwed you over. It was something he'd planned on avoiding completely. But the Fallen Angel made that mistake, despite all that previous convincing. His head turned, hair whipping against his face at the movement, smacking at his cheek, mouth, nose, and eyes. It blinded him for just a few moments, barely able to catch a glimpse of his pursuer. He was really following!? Most people would have given up at this point. He couldn't be a mere human if he was this hell bent on catching him.
That one hell of a mistake- glancing back- and probably the fact the taller man had longer legs, cost Slate his escape. Feeling that tug on his leather jacket, the black haired man shifted his weight, frustratedly turning on his heels just like before, though it was towards instead of away from the one he'd stolen the wallet from. He shifted to the balls of his feet, about to fry force himself away from the other, hopefully shift the grip on his jacket. That never happened as he went crashing into the ground, the former victim now knocking the air from the criminal's chest.
The first thing Slate felt aside from the sudden rush of air from his lungs, was his head smacking into the cement- definitely not a good sensation. It pulled a groan from the back of his throat and caused him to bite his own lip- without drawing blood. And it was now he wished he had a dulled sense of feeling like any other Fallen Angel he had met before- which wasn't very many to be quite honest. But he had been the one with the most feeling and human sensations- and for what reason, he had no idea. Why did he get human sensations so powerful?
Pushing that thought from his mind and figuring that was the worse the man would try to do now that he'd caught him, Slate tried to push himself up. But a arm pressed against his neck- not quite choking him, but it definitely a threat, stopped him. Dark brown eyes narrowed, thick brows furrowing in what was obvious frustration- and something else locked in those depths. His head hurt, he had this way-too-persistent-man on him, his Java Chip Frappuccino that he'd spent almost four dollars on was spilled all over himself and the other, and he was pinned- way too close. The fact that this fallen angel was unhappy was quite the understatement.
"Get... off of me!" The voice was rough, those chocolate eyes wild, almost like a cornered wild animal. He didn't appear as dangerous as he appeared scared, those hands of his shoving furiously at the larger body pinning his. Slate was claustrophobic- and this did nothing but force his breath to quicken, force him to borderline panic. He'd even went as far as to begin pressing his body upwards, against that arm on his neck just to try to get himself free, despite the fact he was practically choking himself.
"I just need the money!"
There it was, finally, some admittance. But there was a bitterness to his voice, whether it was the fact he'd been caught, or the fact he felt so cramped was seemingly un-obvious. He felt hyper-aware of everything around him. That man acting incredibly cop-like on top of him- was he a cop?-, the people watching with horrified, surprised, and even annoyed looks.
