Post by AIDEN LEE WREDE on Mar 14, 2010 1:31:37 GMT -5
FULL NAME: Aiden Lee Wrede[/blockquote][/font]
NICKNAMES: none yet.
AGE & BIRTHDAY: eighteen. Born September fourteenth, nineteen ninety-one.
HOMETOWN: A rural town in Nevada, outside of Summerlin, borderlining Red Rock.
ILLNESSES: Haptephobia: anxiety in result; past depression. Some anger issues.
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual.
MEMBER GROUP: Seniors.
[/justify][/blockquote][/font]So who is this boy exactly? There could be multiple answers to that question. He's a senior here at Jackson Academy, one of the many "crazies" of the school, he's the victim and victor of a past of child abuse, a boy struggling to become a man with little more than his own intuition and determination to work with. First let's address the reason he's here at Jackson. Aiden's not technically mentally ill, or so he says, it's just a phobia. Just a complete and utter fear of being touched. After around four or five years of being struck and abused by a drunken mother, physical contact immediately is registered as an attack, sending a shockwave of pain into his nerves. It's not necessarily a fear, but more of a physical reaction.
Secondly, since we've touched on the topic, there's the issue of his history. Born into a generally normal family in Nevada, it was all good until he reached the age of four. From that time, things went downhill, his father left the family, his mother -- naturally a drinker and an undiagnosed schizophrenic -- became volatile and drunken, beating Aiden and his older sister. This went on for five years, and it was the only lifestyle he knew, he was underexposed to the real world, unable to go to school. The only company he had was Miralyn, except when she was at school, a privilege he "didn't deserve" according to his psychotic mother. By the end of the fifth year, on the day of his ninth birthday, he was granted the wish he'd been asking for for four years along the way. Freedom. Although it came at a price. A knife to the gut, and a shattered arm later, he was speeding from that place on an adrenaline rush, passing out by the highway about a mile away. The next few years he spent hospitalized, and then hidden away in an orphanage in California. But upon discovering his phobia, he was sent to Jackson Academy, here.
Another fact about Aiden: his scars. Aiden is riddled with little mars caused by the abuse he endured as a kid, but the most prominent are from his final showdown with his mother. A scar extending the length from the bottom of his right rib down to his left hip mars his otherwise good looking and well built body, and another prominent scar on the inside of his elbow remains from where his bone shattered.
You'd think with the abuse he suffered, and the unfriendly surroundings of an orphanage as a second home, he'd be a hardened, spiteful bastard. But oddly, he's managed to remain a decent guy, with a few anger issues, but otherwise normal. Perhaps its the fact that he had one sane person in his home, his sister Miralyn, maybe it's that he had a good first four years. Whatever it is that kept him from completely falling over the brink, he owes his sanity to it. Generally, he's not what you call a people person, he's uncomfortable at first with new people, but knows how to keep a conversation going. At first he's skeptical, moreso of women though because of his mother. It's also no lie to say he's suspicious, and he's maybe a bit paranoid at times. Trust is something that doesn't come easy to him. Although he's careful, somehow he's pretty easy to use and abuse once you've gained his trust, and as soon as you're on his good side, it's easy to screw him over. Naturally though, he's a little vindictive when he's been wronged, and isn't opposed to a little bit of revenge. Some other faults would be his addictive personality (alcohol, smokes, it's all fair game), and his short temper. Positives would be that he's tough, emotionally and physically, tolerant, and loyal as hell.
But to completely get to know this boy, you need to meet him, watch the way he moves and his body language, listen to the way he speaks, the behaviors he exhibits. It's all a part of his internal make up, and it's uniquely his.
Thank God for that.
NAME/ALIAS: celt/allie[/blockquote][/font]
AGE: old enough :3
EXPERIENCE: about six years!
TIMEZONE: central, ftw.
ANYTHING ELSE: lulz.
sample is from my board with my friend, he's a werewolf in said board, and 21, and engaged. big differences. xD
It was hard for Aiden to let the cat retreat, the last thing he wanted was to lose his prey, and for the feline to disappear into the night and recuperate felt like self-betrayal. Naturally, he wanted to completely destroy her, finish what he'd begun. But the blood trail satisfied him enough, and the morning was approaching, he needed to return home before he shifted back into human form. Breathing heavily, and slightly distracted with a torn up paw and ear, he stood without any movement other than the in-out of his diaphragm. Thoughts were beginning to collect in his head, mostly about the appearance of the other predator, the lithe figure, the strange eyes... No, stop thinking, Aiden, you need to get home. Shaking slightly, he tipped his head back and howled, dismissing the fight, then taking off full speed towards his home, or the direction it was in.
Within a short period of time, the werewolf was on his front doorstep, glad he was able to open the unlocked door and prowl into the house he shared with Corena. Remaining silent so as not to disturb Corena, which was likely to happen anyways since she had such strong senses, the male paced into the living room, collapsing on the floor just as the sun peaked over the trees outside. It was then that his body altered, and a soft whimper of pain split his lips as his body became human once again, the wounds the leopard had inflicted changed as well. The simple piercings in his paw became large gouges in his hand, the blood flowed freer than before, pooling on the hardwood floor. "Oh my God," he growled, forcing himself to his feet, although he was exhausted and weak. Stumbling towards the bathroom -- with a slight limp due to exhaustion -- he held his damaged hand in the other. Once inside the door, he leaned against the counter and held the bleeding palm close to his bare chest. Reaching for the drawers below the sink, he dug through them with his good hand, finding gauze and a wrap bandage. Wrapping the wound quickly, though not so well, he cleaned off the blood that had already scabbed on his cut up ear, and hurried into the bedroom.
Corena wasn't around, which puzzled the werewolf, but it gave him the ability to function with little distraction as he dug through his drawers to find boxers, jeans, and a hoodie to pull on. Now dressed, and half decently cleaned up, he leaned against the window frame in the bedroom, recollecting the night. What caught his eye in the yard though distracted him. Corena was flat on the ground outside, bleeding, and suddenly he felt his heart stop. The strange eyes on that leopard.. lilac eyes.. "NO!" he yelped, spinning on his heels and running down the stairs and outside, stumbling on the dewy ground. Within seconds he was at her side, gathering her up into his arms, holding her close. It was agony to know that he'd caused these bruises and contusions. The blood that pooled around her wounds terrified him. This made him no better than Regina, the one person he'd vowed never to stoop as low as. His one arm hooked under the crook of her knees, and the other under her armpits, cradling her, unaware of what internal damage there might be. "I've got you baby, I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing her forehead, angry at himself, confused, unsure how this had happened. He was suddenly terrified to be touching her, realizing that he had inflicted these wounds. Hadn't he done enough? Carrying her inside, he headed directly to their bedroom, laying her down on the soft mattress gently so as not to jar her. He headed for the bathroom, gathering the bandages and gauze he'd used not but minutes earlier.
Making his way back to the bed she was laid out on, he moved onto the mattress, crouching over her, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. Without so much as a pause, he was tending to her wounds the best he could, his actions gentle so as to cause as little pain as possible, but still frantic. The blood soaked through the bedding, staining the white sheets that were still left untucked from the last time he'd slept in them. The sight made his stomach turn, oh he could only imagine the pain she was going through, the confusion. The last thing she could know was that it was his fault. Once she was decently patched up, enough so that she was no longer bleeding profusely, he propped a pillow beneath her head, hovering over her protectively. The option of taking her to the emergency room was stricken from the list of things he could do for her, since there would be too many questions, not only about the nature of her wounds, but the lack of heartbeat she had. It was without a doubt they'd assume he was abusive, one thing he had no capacity for, or so he hoped. It made him sick just considering that, and he groaned softly as that feeling combined with the realization of how exhausted he was. But there was no way he would leave Corena in this state, he could bear a third night without sleep for her. Letting his mind drift through the other options he had, he struck each one off the list for some reason or another, finding he was unable to do anything other than stay with her. Pressing his lips to her forehead again, he nuzzled the side of her face, his bandaged palm resting lightly on her undamaged arm, thumb stroking the woman's soft skin. He remained in this position for a moment, closing his eyes and biting his lip while he considered the events of the night carefully. No doubt she had broken ribs, and the internal pain must be intense, which would corroborate with her shallow breathing. The werewolf could account for each wound, and align it with something he'd done to attack the leopard, unknowing then that he was tearing apart his wife-to-be. What a worthless man he was.
It was impossible for him to understand how he'd done this. How had these events happened? It was a one in a hundred million, and it had become a gruesome reality. God forbid that this new dawn marked the beginning of Valentine's day. What a wonderful fiancee he was.
The werewolf would never forgive himself.
Within a short period of time, the werewolf was on his front doorstep, glad he was able to open the unlocked door and prowl into the house he shared with Corena. Remaining silent so as not to disturb Corena, which was likely to happen anyways since she had such strong senses, the male paced into the living room, collapsing on the floor just as the sun peaked over the trees outside. It was then that his body altered, and a soft whimper of pain split his lips as his body became human once again, the wounds the leopard had inflicted changed as well. The simple piercings in his paw became large gouges in his hand, the blood flowed freer than before, pooling on the hardwood floor. "Oh my God," he growled, forcing himself to his feet, although he was exhausted and weak. Stumbling towards the bathroom -- with a slight limp due to exhaustion -- he held his damaged hand in the other. Once inside the door, he leaned against the counter and held the bleeding palm close to his bare chest. Reaching for the drawers below the sink, he dug through them with his good hand, finding gauze and a wrap bandage. Wrapping the wound quickly, though not so well, he cleaned off the blood that had already scabbed on his cut up ear, and hurried into the bedroom.
Corena wasn't around, which puzzled the werewolf, but it gave him the ability to function with little distraction as he dug through his drawers to find boxers, jeans, and a hoodie to pull on. Now dressed, and half decently cleaned up, he leaned against the window frame in the bedroom, recollecting the night. What caught his eye in the yard though distracted him. Corena was flat on the ground outside, bleeding, and suddenly he felt his heart stop. The strange eyes on that leopard.. lilac eyes.. "NO!" he yelped, spinning on his heels and running down the stairs and outside, stumbling on the dewy ground. Within seconds he was at her side, gathering her up into his arms, holding her close. It was agony to know that he'd caused these bruises and contusions. The blood that pooled around her wounds terrified him. This made him no better than Regina, the one person he'd vowed never to stoop as low as. His one arm hooked under the crook of her knees, and the other under her armpits, cradling her, unaware of what internal damage there might be. "I've got you baby, I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing her forehead, angry at himself, confused, unsure how this had happened. He was suddenly terrified to be touching her, realizing that he had inflicted these wounds. Hadn't he done enough? Carrying her inside, he headed directly to their bedroom, laying her down on the soft mattress gently so as not to jar her. He headed for the bathroom, gathering the bandages and gauze he'd used not but minutes earlier.
Making his way back to the bed she was laid out on, he moved onto the mattress, crouching over her, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. Without so much as a pause, he was tending to her wounds the best he could, his actions gentle so as to cause as little pain as possible, but still frantic. The blood soaked through the bedding, staining the white sheets that were still left untucked from the last time he'd slept in them. The sight made his stomach turn, oh he could only imagine the pain she was going through, the confusion. The last thing she could know was that it was his fault. Once she was decently patched up, enough so that she was no longer bleeding profusely, he propped a pillow beneath her head, hovering over her protectively. The option of taking her to the emergency room was stricken from the list of things he could do for her, since there would be too many questions, not only about the nature of her wounds, but the lack of heartbeat she had. It was without a doubt they'd assume he was abusive, one thing he had no capacity for, or so he hoped. It made him sick just considering that, and he groaned softly as that feeling combined with the realization of how exhausted he was. But there was no way he would leave Corena in this state, he could bear a third night without sleep for her. Letting his mind drift through the other options he had, he struck each one off the list for some reason or another, finding he was unable to do anything other than stay with her. Pressing his lips to her forehead again, he nuzzled the side of her face, his bandaged palm resting lightly on her undamaged arm, thumb stroking the woman's soft skin. He remained in this position for a moment, closing his eyes and biting his lip while he considered the events of the night carefully. No doubt she had broken ribs, and the internal pain must be intense, which would corroborate with her shallow breathing. The werewolf could account for each wound, and align it with something he'd done to attack the leopard, unknowing then that he was tearing apart his wife-to-be. What a worthless man he was.
It was impossible for him to understand how he'd done this. How had these events happened? It was a one in a hundred million, and it had become a gruesome reality. God forbid that this new dawn marked the beginning of Valentine's day. What a wonderful fiancee he was.
The werewolf would never forgive himself.
