Basic Info-
Name: Michael Gofftson
Alias'/Nicknames: Rags, Patient 06457
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 120 Lbs
Appearance-
Eyes: Blue (Usually bloodshot)
Hair: Black
Physical Appearance: There isn't much to rags, not in the sense of interest, but meat on his bones. He stands tall, but is rather gaunt. Despite his height, he is far thinner than he should be, almost on the cusp of malnutrition, but not quite there. There are signs of some musculature, but in his spindly state, there isn't much to them.
The main attraction of Michael is his face. Due to a variety of issues, he ended up practically cutting his face off, scarring it far beyond what was his true look. He now has to wear bandages around his head to keep from bleeding, only one eye uncovered as the other bears a large scar over it.
Michael wears the simple drab scrubs he was given, the occasional crimson spatter appearing on the bland cloth. He wears no shoes, not that he's allowed any.
Personal-
Personality: If you can get past the little performance he usually puts on for the crowd, you'll find that our poor little 'Rags' is instituted for a good reason. Something has a firm grip on his mind, twisting a proud, outgoing and kind older brother into a nut case. Though, even still, past all the symptoms, you have an individual who's fighting tooth and claw to gain his sanity back, but that man rarely makes enough cracks to show he's still there. Everyone sees him as too far gone, that this shell of a man can't make any improvements. If you look at him as he is, he can be angry, manic, depressed and anything between. It all just matters of luck if you get him on a 'good' day.
History: Another doctor, might as well be nameless with how many saw patient 06457. As the door creaked open the aforementioned doctor took a deep breath, trudging into the small, desolate room. Reaching a hand towards the patient, who was currently curled up in the corner of the room, facing away from the door, the doctor winced in anticipation only to open his eyes to see that single blue eye staring at him. "Patient, it is good to see you're... Calm today. It's our daily check up, right on schedule. I'm going to be replacing your bandages, alright?"
The form of the broken man nodded as he was told what was going to happen. He shuddered, teeth sinking into the flesh of his lip as he felt the cloth being unraveled from his head. As the doctor reached to gather the new bandages, Rags grabbed the man's wrist. "Can... Can I see it, doc? I want to see what I am.."
The doctor sighs, but agrees. It'd be good to show him what he's done and maybe plant a seed to help stop him from trying again. "Just promise me to keep calm. We don't want another incident because of this 457." The broken just managed another nod as he watched the doctor lift a mirror.
"N.. No... I did this..?" Rags let out a whimper as he ran a finger along scar after scar along his skin, over new and old mars, freezing up as some started to bleed. The doctor dropped the mirror and started to clean up the blood gently with a cloth before wrapping the patient's head up once more.
"Yes, you did. You cut yourself up one night, not long after you were admitted. It took two guards to just wrestle the broken glass from you." The doctor rested a hand on Michael's shoulder as he finished. "Since you're so cooperative, are you finally ready to talk about your past? It may help."
"Fine... I think.. I think everything started back when I was eighteen." As Michael spoke, he just stared ahead of him, eyes glazed over as he began to recall. "I would want to say I was an average kid but... Our mother had a problem. She used every spare cent she had for drugs. I found out one day when Dad was at work and I had the day off from school. I saw her dosing herself up, shaking and everything. I think sis already knew, because as I was watching from behind a corner, she confronted mother about it. I don't know why she didn't tell Dad... But it didn't matter, mother just told sis to shut up and hit her. When sis didn't stop, the persistent one she is, mother began to beat her more. I couldn't stand by. I couldn't let my dear sister be beaten, not even by my mother. I stepped in, punching my mother once before throwing her onto the table, pinning her there. 'Don't you dare hit my sister like that. You don't deserve the family you have!' I remember growling the words at her, only making her weep. I guess she didn't take enough to get to her usual high.
"That's when Dad walked in, getting home from work. He rushed over, trying to pull me away from mother, but I stood fast. 'Don't. Not unless you plan on holding her here Dad. She needs to be locked away. She beat Chelsea after drugging herself up.' Mother tried to speak, but I glared at her, shutting her up. Dad just nodded, shaking his head as he held mother down. Sis got up from crying on the floor, hugging me tight. I got her up to her room, comforting her, and apologizing that I didn't step in earlier, that I should have confronted mother and if I had, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Soon enough, we heard the sirens, and mother screeching about something. I told sis to lock herself in her room and I'd check it out. She was worried, but good old big bro was confident nothing would happen.
"As I walked downstairs, I heard the police on their speaker, telling mother to drop the weapon and to come quietly. Peeking around the corner, I was shocked to see mother standing over Dad's bloody body, broken mirror shard in her hand. I felt tears streaming down as I rushed at her, losing control with anger as the perfect family we had was ruined because of her. The person who pushed me to do what I aspire, to push past the critics and the bullies and focus on me, was bleeding to death on the ground as the woman who took it all from me, from us just laughed over his body. I tackled her to the ground, screaming and crying, 'Why would you do this? What's wrong with you?!' And all she said was... 'I wanted to do that for years, bastard kept me straight when I shouldn't be.' I was broken, I raised a fist, crying out again as she sunk that glass into my side, but I didn't give, I didn't stop, I started punching, started giving her the beating she gave sis, until she was unconscious and I had a few more stab wounds, rolling off what was my mother.
"Past that... It's a blur. I remember being in the hospital, next to Dad, with sis watching us all the time, worrying herself sick. Then.. That noise came... It woke me in the middle of the night, I kept calling for a nurse, holding sis close as I heard that steady, constant beep, calling louder and louder till my voice gave out. Dad... Was gone. They couldn't save him. When I recovered, sis and I tried to get back into normal life, but we both were scarred by what happened. She grew depressed and ended up moving out with a friend as I steadily lost it all, my mind leaving me making me... This..."
The doctor nodded, taking notes throughout the story, looking up at the patient to ask a question, but stopped, seeing the growing grin on his lips. "It was good to speak with you 457, but we must cut our visit short." With that the doctor left.
"What's wrong doc? Don't want to hear more about me? What about what goes on in this skull of mine, hm?" Rags started to chuckle, low at first, before growing in volume, looking to the ceiling as he did so, tears streaming from his exposed eye.
Special Abilities: Is the lack of sanity an ability? No? Well... Then he's kinda lacking in this department.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Basic Info-
Name: Cyrus Islet
Alias'/Nicknames: Angel Boy, Cy
Age: Looks to be in his 20's
Gender: Male
Race: Guardian Angel (My own brand of angel)
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 155 Lbs
Appearance-
Eyes: Left light blue, Right bright blue
Hair: Silver
Physical Appearance: Cyrus' wings are the standard fare for angel wings, white and feathery. Though, if he were to fall, to lose his faith and cut his ties with his people, then his wings will gradually turn from white to black. Aside from wings, Cyrus may stand a bit short, but that doesn't change anything. He has a fair bit of muscles and is stronger than he might seem.
Cy has a scar running along under his left eye, curving up along the side of his nose, close to his eye. He also has plenty of other scars along his torso, from fighting so much to protect his charges. As for his apparel, he wears lightweight leather armor, forgoing a helmet and usually carries along a long sword. Though, with times and areas, he may change his armor and armaments to fit in as best he can.
Personal-
Personality: Cyrus, to explain simply, is a very kind individual, wanting to help those he's suppose to protect, and others. He only fights to protect others, and is more than willing to fight to the death for those he's guarding. He may be a bit naive, knowing little to nothing of other cultures outside what he has been taught or experience for himself (So not much at all). He likes to try and see the best in people, even with time and again it's proven he shouldn't. He far too positive and optimistic, but that doesn't stop him.
History: Walking into the temple, Cyrus stopped, looking around the immense room, he heard a voice. "What can I help you with Guardian? Are you looking for your next charge from a scholar such as me?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have returned from my last charge, as you had deemed him safe. Who shall I protect next?" The eager angel was bouncing on his heels. He was good at his job, and he enjoyed meeting the people he did, learning about them and their culture.
The scholar smirked to the young angel. "Your next charge has yet to be found, but as soon as they are, you will be notified and promptly sent on your way. Try to relax dear boy and enjoy the time you have to yourself. Reflect on the past, on your mistakes and shortcomings and learn from them. Then you will be ready for your next assignment, once it comes."
Cy nodded slowly, disappointed that he had time to himself. He didn't like dwelling on the past, only looking towards the future, but he would do as he was told, it's not like he had much else to do. Besides, he did have wounds that needed time to heal anyways. It would be best to heal some before he went back out.
Cyrus returned to his quarters, a small room, big enough to fit a bed and a bureau. Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling Cyrus began to recollect his past endeavors.
Delving through his memories, Cy was brought to the thought of his upbringing. when he was born, he was raised by the scholars, like the others born around the same time. After they were taught the basics of their kind, of scholars and guardians, all the children were asked which they wanted to be. Cyrus was the only one who voluntarily said he wanted to be a guardian. While he began his training, the others were divided by the scholars by their aptitudes. Many were upset in becoming guardians, but they soon got over it after what the scholars said was another step in their training they had to take, but he didn't. Back then, he shrugged it off, knowing his duty, but now... It was a curiosity that he would want to know more about...
"We have found your next charge Cyrus. Follow me." A voice came from the doorway. Jolted from his thoughts, the angel nodded, standing and following the scholar from his quarters.
Special Abilities: Cyrus can fly (See his wings), and has a slight advantage of strength comparatively to humans. Though, all that doesn't matter if say... His charge were to be captured. While it is his job to protect them, they are a huge weakness to him.
Name: Michael Gofftson
Alias'/Nicknames: Rags, Patient 06457
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 120 Lbs
Appearance-
Eyes: Blue (Usually bloodshot)
Hair: Black
Physical Appearance: There isn't much to rags, not in the sense of interest, but meat on his bones. He stands tall, but is rather gaunt. Despite his height, he is far thinner than he should be, almost on the cusp of malnutrition, but not quite there. There are signs of some musculature, but in his spindly state, there isn't much to them.
The main attraction of Michael is his face. Due to a variety of issues, he ended up practically cutting his face off, scarring it far beyond what was his true look. He now has to wear bandages around his head to keep from bleeding, only one eye uncovered as the other bears a large scar over it.
Michael wears the simple drab scrubs he was given, the occasional crimson spatter appearing on the bland cloth. He wears no shoes, not that he's allowed any.
Personal-
Personality: If you can get past the little performance he usually puts on for the crowd, you'll find that our poor little 'Rags' is instituted for a good reason. Something has a firm grip on his mind, twisting a proud, outgoing and kind older brother into a nut case. Though, even still, past all the symptoms, you have an individual who's fighting tooth and claw to gain his sanity back, but that man rarely makes enough cracks to show he's still there. Everyone sees him as too far gone, that this shell of a man can't make any improvements. If you look at him as he is, he can be angry, manic, depressed and anything between. It all just matters of luck if you get him on a 'good' day.
History: Another doctor, might as well be nameless with how many saw patient 06457. As the door creaked open the aforementioned doctor took a deep breath, trudging into the small, desolate room. Reaching a hand towards the patient, who was currently curled up in the corner of the room, facing away from the door, the doctor winced in anticipation only to open his eyes to see that single blue eye staring at him. "Patient, it is good to see you're... Calm today. It's our daily check up, right on schedule. I'm going to be replacing your bandages, alright?"
The form of the broken man nodded as he was told what was going to happen. He shuddered, teeth sinking into the flesh of his lip as he felt the cloth being unraveled from his head. As the doctor reached to gather the new bandages, Rags grabbed the man's wrist. "Can... Can I see it, doc? I want to see what I am.."
The doctor sighs, but agrees. It'd be good to show him what he's done and maybe plant a seed to help stop him from trying again. "Just promise me to keep calm. We don't want another incident because of this 457." The broken just managed another nod as he watched the doctor lift a mirror.
"N.. No... I did this..?" Rags let out a whimper as he ran a finger along scar after scar along his skin, over new and old mars, freezing up as some started to bleed. The doctor dropped the mirror and started to clean up the blood gently with a cloth before wrapping the patient's head up once more.
"Yes, you did. You cut yourself up one night, not long after you were admitted. It took two guards to just wrestle the broken glass from you." The doctor rested a hand on Michael's shoulder as he finished. "Since you're so cooperative, are you finally ready to talk about your past? It may help."
"Fine... I think.. I think everything started back when I was eighteen." As Michael spoke, he just stared ahead of him, eyes glazed over as he began to recall. "I would want to say I was an average kid but... Our mother had a problem. She used every spare cent she had for drugs. I found out one day when Dad was at work and I had the day off from school. I saw her dosing herself up, shaking and everything. I think sis already knew, because as I was watching from behind a corner, she confronted mother about it. I don't know why she didn't tell Dad... But it didn't matter, mother just told sis to shut up and hit her. When sis didn't stop, the persistent one she is, mother began to beat her more. I couldn't stand by. I couldn't let my dear sister be beaten, not even by my mother. I stepped in, punching my mother once before throwing her onto the table, pinning her there. 'Don't you dare hit my sister like that. You don't deserve the family you have!' I remember growling the words at her, only making her weep. I guess she didn't take enough to get to her usual high.
"That's when Dad walked in, getting home from work. He rushed over, trying to pull me away from mother, but I stood fast. 'Don't. Not unless you plan on holding her here Dad. She needs to be locked away. She beat Chelsea after drugging herself up.' Mother tried to speak, but I glared at her, shutting her up. Dad just nodded, shaking his head as he held mother down. Sis got up from crying on the floor, hugging me tight. I got her up to her room, comforting her, and apologizing that I didn't step in earlier, that I should have confronted mother and if I had, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Soon enough, we heard the sirens, and mother screeching about something. I told sis to lock herself in her room and I'd check it out. She was worried, but good old big bro was confident nothing would happen.
"As I walked downstairs, I heard the police on their speaker, telling mother to drop the weapon and to come quietly. Peeking around the corner, I was shocked to see mother standing over Dad's bloody body, broken mirror shard in her hand. I felt tears streaming down as I rushed at her, losing control with anger as the perfect family we had was ruined because of her. The person who pushed me to do what I aspire, to push past the critics and the bullies and focus on me, was bleeding to death on the ground as the woman who took it all from me, from us just laughed over his body. I tackled her to the ground, screaming and crying, 'Why would you do this? What's wrong with you?!' And all she said was... 'I wanted to do that for years, bastard kept me straight when I shouldn't be.' I was broken, I raised a fist, crying out again as she sunk that glass into my side, but I didn't give, I didn't stop, I started punching, started giving her the beating she gave sis, until she was unconscious and I had a few more stab wounds, rolling off what was my mother.
"Past that... It's a blur. I remember being in the hospital, next to Dad, with sis watching us all the time, worrying herself sick. Then.. That noise came... It woke me in the middle of the night, I kept calling for a nurse, holding sis close as I heard that steady, constant beep, calling louder and louder till my voice gave out. Dad... Was gone. They couldn't save him. When I recovered, sis and I tried to get back into normal life, but we both were scarred by what happened. She grew depressed and ended up moving out with a friend as I steadily lost it all, my mind leaving me making me... This..."
The doctor nodded, taking notes throughout the story, looking up at the patient to ask a question, but stopped, seeing the growing grin on his lips. "It was good to speak with you 457, but we must cut our visit short." With that the doctor left.
"What's wrong doc? Don't want to hear more about me? What about what goes on in this skull of mine, hm?" Rags started to chuckle, low at first, before growing in volume, looking to the ceiling as he did so, tears streaming from his exposed eye.
Special Abilities: Is the lack of sanity an ability? No? Well... Then he's kinda lacking in this department.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Basic Info-
Name: Cyrus Islet
Alias'/Nicknames: Angel Boy, Cy
Age: Looks to be in his 20's
Gender: Male
Race: Guardian Angel (My own brand of angel)
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 155 Lbs
Appearance-
Eyes: Left light blue, Right bright blue
Hair: Silver
Physical Appearance: Cyrus' wings are the standard fare for angel wings, white and feathery. Though, if he were to fall, to lose his faith and cut his ties with his people, then his wings will gradually turn from white to black. Aside from wings, Cyrus may stand a bit short, but that doesn't change anything. He has a fair bit of muscles and is stronger than he might seem.
Cy has a scar running along under his left eye, curving up along the side of his nose, close to his eye. He also has plenty of other scars along his torso, from fighting so much to protect his charges. As for his apparel, he wears lightweight leather armor, forgoing a helmet and usually carries along a long sword. Though, with times and areas, he may change his armor and armaments to fit in as best he can.
Personal-
Personality: Cyrus, to explain simply, is a very kind individual, wanting to help those he's suppose to protect, and others. He only fights to protect others, and is more than willing to fight to the death for those he's guarding. He may be a bit naive, knowing little to nothing of other cultures outside what he has been taught or experience for himself (So not much at all). He likes to try and see the best in people, even with time and again it's proven he shouldn't. He far too positive and optimistic, but that doesn't stop him.
History: Walking into the temple, Cyrus stopped, looking around the immense room, he heard a voice. "What can I help you with Guardian? Are you looking for your next charge from a scholar such as me?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have returned from my last charge, as you had deemed him safe. Who shall I protect next?" The eager angel was bouncing on his heels. He was good at his job, and he enjoyed meeting the people he did, learning about them and their culture.
The scholar smirked to the young angel. "Your next charge has yet to be found, but as soon as they are, you will be notified and promptly sent on your way. Try to relax dear boy and enjoy the time you have to yourself. Reflect on the past, on your mistakes and shortcomings and learn from them. Then you will be ready for your next assignment, once it comes."
Cy nodded slowly, disappointed that he had time to himself. He didn't like dwelling on the past, only looking towards the future, but he would do as he was told, it's not like he had much else to do. Besides, he did have wounds that needed time to heal anyways. It would be best to heal some before he went back out.
Cyrus returned to his quarters, a small room, big enough to fit a bed and a bureau. Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling Cyrus began to recollect his past endeavors.
Delving through his memories, Cy was brought to the thought of his upbringing. when he was born, he was raised by the scholars, like the others born around the same time. After they were taught the basics of their kind, of scholars and guardians, all the children were asked which they wanted to be. Cyrus was the only one who voluntarily said he wanted to be a guardian. While he began his training, the others were divided by the scholars by their aptitudes. Many were upset in becoming guardians, but they soon got over it after what the scholars said was another step in their training they had to take, but he didn't. Back then, he shrugged it off, knowing his duty, but now... It was a curiosity that he would want to know more about...
"We have found your next charge Cyrus. Follow me." A voice came from the doorway. Jolted from his thoughts, the angel nodded, standing and following the scholar from his quarters.
Special Abilities: Cyrus can fly (See his wings), and has a slight advantage of strength comparatively to humans. Though, all that doesn't matter if say... His charge were to be captured. While it is his job to protect them, they are a huge weakness to him.
3x Like
