Gregory Irving

18.

5’7 (1.70m)

163 lbs. (74kg)

Jeral’s blonde hair goes down to his upper back, and he generally keeps it tied up in a ponytail. Two bangs frame his face with the right a bit longer than the left. His eyes are a light violet in coloration, and he’s awfully pale for someone who isn’t holed up in a room somewhere. He moves with a sense of relaxation, without a sense of urgency.

Remarkably self-disciplined, Gregory is someone who holds high standards for himself. A daily routine to hold himself to grants some sorely needed stability with something as unstable as a Stigma. He strives to fill each day with some meaning, however small, but is rather relaxed in the manner he goes about things. He sees little point in pushing the utmost day after day, regarding it as a quick route to burning out. Think practically, plan out weeks rather than single days, and look towards the long-term goals.

He often speaks frankly, and does his best to avoid dancing around issues. About as wieldy as a sledgehammer when it comes to delicate conversations, he does at least have the sense of when someone else is better suited. While he likes to brush off any negative reactions to his bluntness, it’s not too hard to tell that those sorts of conflicts are rather annoying for Gregory.

In terms of hobbies, he enjoys a wide range of activities from maintaining an exercise regime to knitting beneath a tree on a pleasant afternoon. Quite open to trying new things as well, he seems to lean towards anything that involves creating things such as the arts.

The effects his Stimga has on Gregory are fairly subtle at first. It begins as a curiosity and makes his thoughts more prone to stray. How bad could he injure someone if he used this as a projectile. Wouldn’t the destruction be beautiful if he could get his hands on some dangerous items? Naturally it escalates the longer he refuses the desire, until it builds up to a frustrated rage that becomes impossible to clamp down lest it boil over and burn him out. Yet there still remains a clinical side to that, as the urge is not simply to use his powers and destroy, but also to examine the exact results.

The cuffs were cold, but no more than the feelings that plagued Gregory. They dug into his wrists painfully, tightened far beyond necessary, but even that was a minor discomfort to the thoughts that ran freely in his mind. He shook his head to clear the bangs from his eyes, and saw that even that movement had caused the cop watching him to tense. A bitter laugh as his head thumped against the rough stone of the cell’s wall before his eyes flicked towards the people that walked through an opened door. He didn’t recognize the symbol on sight, but considering the situation? Well… he kept up with the news enough that what was to come wasn’t a surprise…

By tapping an unliving object to mark it, Gregory can then draw a line on the ground to launch it forward. The projectile is suspended at the point of release by a simple amber-colored magic circle. He must trace the path manually by touching a surface, and the projectile is launched upon completion. Currently the max length is three meters, with projectiles flying out at about 100ft/s.

Other limitations are that Gregory can only draw one line at a time, and that his max weight seems to be around 100 lbs. The heavier an object is, the harder it is to draw the launch path. If he were to try and launch something around 100 lbs. in weight, he would be forced to move at a slow walk while drawing the path. Anything heavier simply results in Gregory being unable to move at all.

Countless strings float in the air around him. He smiles as he searches for a few among them, and reaches out when he finds them. They drift towards him when he wills for them to do so. A length of material so dark it looks like a black hole given shape. The other, a white so pure it is almost blinding. His smile grows a bit wider as he raises a hand and makes a thumbs up. Yet there is no one but him in this space filled with strings. It doesn’t matter though as he flicks a finger and the strings begin to weave themselves together. He smiles in anticipation.

“Hm…” A foot tapped as Gregory stroked his chin, lost in thought with his eyes closed. Surrounding him? A labyrinth that shifted and changed according to his whims. It barred him from the world, revealed a few paths, or shifted until he could walk in any direction. Enemies were ground to paste within its shifting form, and obstacles crushed. Surrounded by a domain of his own making he continued to think and wonder, a smile etched onto his expression.

Aberration

N/A

You have none, yet. You will get some as the story progresses. Keep track of them here. Some of them might be really important or something, I don't know.