Post by Rex Carson De Luca on Jul 22, 2012 21:00:37 GMT -7
n a m e ---[/color] Rex Carson De Luca
n i c k n a m e ’ s ---[/color] Usually just Carson, he thinks Rex is a dog's name
d a t e o f b i r t h ---[/color] (age) 24/July/1988 [/size][/blockquote]
p l a y b y ---[/color] Chris Hemsworth
h e i g h t ---[/color] 6 ft 2 in
w e i g h t ---[/color] 172 lbs
b a s i c ---[/color]
Carson will be the first to admit that he looks nothing like his father, and it upsets him a little bit. Where his long, shoulder length blond hair and bright blue eyes came from has always been a mystery to him (supposedly, they are from a grandparent he never met). But he's never been one to complain. Frankly, he is an easy fellow to look at, so there is little to really complain about, his square jaw and evenly placed features working with each other perfectly to give him a strong, but surprisingly gentle, overall look. A little bit lazy and definitely not very into fashion or appearances, Carson has a tendency to be lazy about his hygiene and personal habits, so his face is almost always peppered with facial hair that he simply does not care enough about to shave off. With his similarly disheveled hair and often times simple, yet elegant clothing choices, he has an overall somewhat scruffy appearance. Or at least as scruffy as De Luca's are allowed to be. His wardrobe is dominated by neutral and dark colors, mostly grays and blacks. He's usually seen in a long-sleeved tight fitting black shirt and khaki slacks, but if he can, he will get away with wearing as little clothing as possible. He prefers being cold to being warm, and tends to overcompensate for the weather.[/size][/blockquote]
As a werewolf, his fur is a dirty blond color, darkening to a rich reddish brown over his back and over the top of his muzzle, but lightening to a creamy sort of tan at his underside. The bottoms of his paws are also lightly colored and feature liver-brown pawpads, admittedly a strange color for wolves but not unnatural. His nose is also liver colored. Because his hair is kept so long, his coat as a wolf is thickly furred, but coarse in texture to protect against the elements. In both forms, his eyes are light blue, but they lighten significantly to an icy shade in wolf form.
l i k e s ---[/color]
o Social gatherings, being in a group or part of something
o Colder weather
o Sports, games, anything that can be won
o Watching television
o Snacks, junk food, almost anything that can be eaten
o Cats
s t r e n g t h s ---[/color]
o Protective, defensive, family and socially oriented
o Friendly, easy-going, patient
o Compliant, well-meaning, obedient
d i s l i k e s ---[/color]
o Vampires
o Rodents, buzzing insects, vermin of any type (he does not like things "tresspassing" upon his space)
o Being the center of attention
o Responsibility of most sorts
o Exceedingly warm weather
o His own shortcomings, particularly his lack of intelligence
w e a k n e s s e s ---[/color]
o Petty, indulgent, shallow
o Dim-witted, inattentive, naive
o Sensitive, arrogant, self-centered
w a n t s ---[/color] to be liked by everyone, to not fuck up as much or as often as he did as a child
f e a r s ---[/color] losing family members
p e r s o n a l i t y ---[/color]
Carson is very much a man made by his heritage. Though his demeanor is kind and his personality laid-back and easily amused, he still radiates this certain sense of dignity that can only come from being the oldest son of a powerful family. He is indulgent with a certain sense of entitlement that often clouds his judgment, and can be unfortunately stubborn about this. He's somewhat childish and not terribly attentive or observant, so he does not seem to see the flaws in his own design, and would rather simply argue about them than admit to them. He has a hard time admitting when he is wrong. Still, Carson seems to overall mean relatively well. He's quite social but in a quiet, more reserved kind of way, taking up a position in the background to keep an easy eye on everyone. He does not like to be at the center of attention and is not loud or boisterous at all, but more poignant with his words, specific and purposeful, almost shy in a weird backwards kind of way. The kind of guy to only speak when he has something to say, and one who always means what he says. Well, for the most part.[/size][/blockquote]
Born a werewolf, he has a pretty good relationship with the darker side of his demeanor. His sense of humor can be black and a little disgusting, but he finds no shame in it, instead relishing in the adrenaline that comes from indulging in a good bit of violence. He has a relatively short temper, you see, which can cause flares of anger and discontent to severely fog his judgment, as is common for the species. But, as far as young and somewhat pig-headed werewolves go, Carson is in a pretty good position. Though he has a healthy amount of self-confidence, he is submissive in nature and instinctively obedient. Though he and his father have their occasional spats about sensitive subjects, they are usually on very good terms with one another and Carson seems to prefer to obey commands rather than refuse them. He prefers to avoid conflicts, to keep relationships smooth and without issues, so he can be a little mindless and gullible so long as his anger is not triggered by something, even with younger wolves such as his siblings. He wishes so wholesomely for everyone's safety, he tends to do whatever they ask to keep them safe and happy.
f a m i l y ---[/color]
o Antonio De Luca - Father
o n/a - Mother
o n/a and Alexander De Luca - Younger siblings (twins)
o n/a and n/a - Younger brothers
o n/a - Younger sister
h i s t o r y ---[/color]
Carson's life up until this point has been very uneventful and unassuming. The first and eldest of the De Luca children, he was born into a certain status in society, loved and relished in it from a very early age. Even when he was quite small and unable to stand on his own, he remembered being the center of his parents attention, and practically lived for their affections until he was teenager. Even as an adult, he maintains a strong connection to his family, to his parents in particular, and has a great deal of love for the people with whom he shares his blood. As you can imagine by the attention-driven childhood, when Carson was a little more than a year old, he was supposedly "gifted" with two younger siblings, and for the longest time was not at all happy about it. Jealousy was a huge problem with him and he was constantly fighting with his siblings over his parents affections, but this evened out and eventually stopped with age. He was simply too young at the time to really understand the concept of "sharing" his parents. By the time the third of the four boys was born, Carson was pretty well warmed up to the idea of being an older brother. He settled into the role quite nicely by his teens, and was by high school well on his way to smothering his eldest siblings with his overprotectiveness.[/size][/blockquote]
When he was approximately 7 years old, he was first made aware of the family business, somewhat unintentionally. He had been sitting on the floor in front of the television, staying up much too late to watch some cheesy movie marathon that he was addicted to and refusing to leave. His father had walked through the door, looking terribly out of sorts, shaken but in an unnervingly... ordinary way. It was as though he had gone to the store to purchase groceries, as he very rarely did but particularly so late at night, and had instead gotten sidetracked on the way there by killing a small group of teenagers or something. It was a very odd moment indeed for the young werewolf, but it was another ten or eleven years before his father would reveal to him any amount of truth in the matter, so Carson was just left to speculate.
And speculate he did.
He was a curious child, and spent much of his earlier teen years trying in vain to figure out what his father did behind closed doors. He got much of his innate sense of rebellion out of himself during this stage of life- skipping school and disobeying curfews in order to shadow his father's every move around town. Of course, he was almost always caught, his father had incredible senses he discovered. But he would meet every failure, every grounding and every punishment with new attempts to push limits and break unspoken rules. Not for the sake of being unruly, he just wanted to know, wanted to know what sort of things clouded his father's eyes when he'd come home late nights, looking like a cross between death and the sun, opposites that should not exist within each other. It wasn't until Carson was fourteen that most of his questions would be answered without a word. He was fortunate enough to have been born with the family curse, and found out about it one night after a cross-country meet at school, when some members of the rival team cornered him alone in the locker room. He was not at all shy about fighting to defend himself, lived for the chance to really, but the wash of power and instinct that washed over him in that moment was a bit much for a fourteen year old. He'd been expecting to lose his temper and fly off at the handle, not to grow claws and a tail and break the ribs of a classmate.
Despite his loss of control, Carson did not kill or severely injure anyone. The boys he attacked were hospitalized with broken bones and gashes and such, but were released eventually, and came to admit that they believed they were attacked by an animal loose in the school building. A classmate's german shepherd dog was then confiscated and put down.
You know how children normally have a conversation with their parents about safe sex and "coming of age" and such? Carson never had this conversation with his father. Instead, their talk was all about teeth, claws, violence, death and eventually petty things like money and pride, safety and protection. A frightening conversation indeed, to find out that he came from a long line of monsters who used their barbaric nature to get what they wanted, to obtain what they felt they deserved. Frightening at first, but slowly, over time, it made more and more sense. Suddenly, all of the pieces seemed to fit into place, all of the weird deaths and animal attacks, maulings and killings that had fascinated him as a boy, all made all of the sense in the world. His love of food, his success at running and most types of sports, his connection with his family, it all just made perfect sense. He, and his father he eventually realized, had always been werewolves, always, from the beginning. It was part of them, part of their way of life and their way of handling things, and it would always be a part of them. A wolf shaped shadow. With it, they were complete, without it, they were nothing.
Though it took him some time, for a werewolf, Carson settled into this lifestyle quite quickly, taking less than a year to come to terms with the idea of changing into a monstrous beast every full moon. He didn't seem to mind terribly, honestly never did, and only relished in this thing that allowed him to be more like his father. By college, he could control it for the most part, though two years at Penn State eventually proved too stressful and he ended up dropping out without a degree. His nature as a werewolf had nothing to do with it. Carson is simply a little too squishy for his own good, and found himself too worried about meeting everyone else's expectations to make it through college without completely losing his mind. So, with that failure weighing on him somewhat heavily, he devoted his time and energy back to his family and their various businesses, leaping up at every opportunity he could to help out or follow commands for any reason. Though he started with an ambition to impress his father and be chosen as the heir to the De Luca family throne, he has, in later years, come to realize that he would make a terrible leader- sensitive to stress, unintelligent and pretty gullible with poor judgment. He's come to the realization that he'd rather see the family business succeed than be in charge of it, so he has grown very comfortable as part of the background runnings of things. He considers himself something of the group police, a guardian for the younger De Luca's to make sure no one tries to take them from this world prematurely, as well as acting as a second set of eyes for his father should anyone break the rules ridiculously. He shares his father's distrust of vampires, and seems to be relatively well trusted in act of guarding or fighting against them in any way.
y o u r a l i a s & a g e ---[/color] Jumpstyle (22 years old)
c o n t a c t ---[/color] PM's here are fine.
c o d e w o r d ---[/color] ADMIN EDIT.
r o l e p l a y s a m p l e ---[/color]
There was one place in town where the moon shines its brightest, or seems to anyway, where the lights from the city streets cannot reach the skies to dim its splendor. A lake, out in the wooded area just beyond the city limits of Obsidian, dark and dense, void of most people save the occasional hiker or camper. The full moon was no night for the concern of their well being, that's for sure. The lake was only about thirty feet across at its widest point and was probably only knee deep in most parts, save the deepest, where the waters turned black with shadows and dove down into the night. Very few had bothered to search these depths, and this the lycan standing on the shoreline used to his advantage. At least four skulls lay undiscovered in the silt on the lake's floor, their bones crushed and raked open with huge claw marks. He felt no sorrow for them. Again, they were just hikers, joggers, and campers, foolish enough to venture into the wildness on the night of the full moon. Their fates were no fault of his own.[/size][/blockquote]
Stay inside, little humans. Stay inside.
Or end up at the bottom of a small but murky lake, isolated and alone in the darkness, with only the moon and the stars to keep you company. For the werewolf race, that was all the company they needed. Gently shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose, green cargo pants, the thirty-five year old wolfen let his eyes trace the clouds in the sky, watching them frame, then cover, then recede again from the circular white globe suspended above his head. That was all the company that they needed. He inhaled sharply, letting the cold fall air practically stab him in the chest, and focusing on that to distract from the pain of shifting. It wasn't too bad really, uncomfortable at best, he'd had injuries that had felt worst. But the feeling of bones moving beneath skin and hair sprouting through flesh was so foreign and unnatural, it definitely took a long time to get used to. Buying clothes that were a few sizes too big so they'd slide off instead of tear, remembering to keep a stash of raw meat in the refrigerator in case the winter kept the animals at bay, learning to cope with the habit of eating humans, it all took a lot of getting used to. But now, he'd be nowhere without it.
Fully shifted, the newly formed wolf took a moment to give his dark brown form a good brisk shake, the sound of his pointed ears slapping the sides of his face echoing through the midnight air. His breath rolled forward in deep panting clouds of steam and smoke, hot against his cold wet nose and exposed tongue, hot against the September air. Even in wolf form, the cold bit through his southern-styled coat like a sword blade and involuntarily, he shivered slightly, shifting his weight from left to right uncomfortably and lowering his ears to the wind. Maine was a lot colder than Georgia, and even the beast in him would never be amused by the biting winds or the heavy snow. It was so far removed from his idea of normal. Barring his teeth silently at the weather, the brown wolf quickly bounded out of sight, leaping along the vegetation that lined the lake shore until he found a tree trunk to hide behind, blocking the night wind. There, he sat down, sighed deeply, letting the breath roll of his now muscular chest like a low, rumbling thunder, before turning once again to watch the moon's rays play off of the surface of the still water. They reminded him of hands, the hands of a child begging to be given something. Another body perhaps...
