Post by Saito Ren on Dec 9, 2007 11:16:01 GMT -5
Character Basics[/color]
Name: Saito Ren
Nickname(s): None really.
Age: 20 (September 21).
Gender: Male.
Sexuality: Bisexual.
Race: Demon.
Year: Fourteenth Year (second year university).
Job: Escort.
Character Appearance
Hair Color: Blonde.
Eye Color: Blue.
Height: 6'3".
Build: Femininely thin.
Unique Traits: For being a demon, Ren has only one difference from a human and otherwise looks particularly normal. Merely, his eyes glow a purple color in the dark.
Clothing Preference: Ren really has little preference for clothing, but can make anything look good. He doesn't really care if it's out of fashion, or tacky, but merely if he is comfortable. He enjoys uniforms because he doesn't have to choose what to wear. However, whatever he wears always seems to look excellent on account of his build and height (and not to mention his hair). He often sets trends without realizing it, not afraid to wear shorts, crop tops, or trenchcoats. His clothes have a slight trend to them, whether he realizes it or not - they're always in subdued colors and extremely well-fitted (even tight).
Description: Saito Ren is, unadmitingly, exquisitely, handsome. He has the kind of effortless beauty that's almost painful to look at. Ren is very tall, most of it from his long, pale legs. His torso is lean and proportional with a waist size that even a woman would kill for. He has broad shoulders with a pretty clavicle and neck. Thin arms turn into long fingers, completing his body. He has a very feminine appeal, especially in the curves of his waist and hips.
Ren's face is very angular and gaunt. He has almost alabaster-colored skin which is always in danger to the sun. With the most fanastic dark blue eyes, it's difficult to look away. But with all these charms, probably his greatest feature is his full head of long blonde hair. It cascades to just past his shoulders and playfully falls across his face. Ren will often pull it up into a loose ponytail whenever he is studying. Sometimes he wears his round glasses, but often he carelessly forgets them.
Portrayed by Agatsuma Soubi from Loveless.
Character Depth
Personality: Ren can be puzzlingly terse, giving very direct answers and explanations - not caring for long, drawn out mindless conversations. His short-structured words aren't given as a form of dismay or apathy, just with having little opinion on matters. This often leads the opposite in conversation quite confused and wondering if there is any more to what he has to say, or if that's just "it". Along with being direct, Ren tends to be very inconspicuous, or keep things hidden - often very trivial things too, and not just personal manners. This odd defensiveness over knowledge can lead many a person to frustration; but knowing how to ask a question is the key to getting a direct answer out of Ren. If you ask correctly, he'll tell you... unless there's the off chance where he'll purposely thwart the question as a form of subterfuge. This happens more for the sake of the other person, rather than in personal matters, in which he tries to keep people from getting themselves into trouble.
Dry. This term applies to most aspects of Ren's life and persona. For the most part, his small sense of humor relies directly around flat sarcasm or mocking. He does enjoy it from other people. He is also very dry in the manner that he lacks interest in much, and may seem dull or lifeless at times. He's very tired of emotions at the present other than very simplistic ones. Along with that, Ren tends not to present his words or his appearance in anything but a very flat, simple manner. However, Ren loves to debate and provide insight. He can be very philosophical at times, but doesn't like to admit that he is wrong. He is very stubborn.
Likes: Innocence. Adorable over sexy. Sarcasm. Being independent. Simple pleasures. Overcast days. Animals of any kind. Nature. Art. Intelligent people.
Dislikes: Loud noises. Obnoxious people/things. Pretentious people. Whores in general (ironic, neh?). Indescisive people. People who don't appreciate art. Insects. Chocolate. Cars.
Strengths: Attraction, intelligence, cooking, cleaning, organizing.
Weaknesses: Procrastination, children, kittens, serious relationships, humor, little drinking tolerance.
Quirks: Reads the nutrition facts on packages, even though he doesn't care what they are.
Hobbies: Reading, writing, visiting museums and attractions.
Fears: Being stuck as an escort forever.
Abilities: Hypersensitivity. Due to his age and level of training, Ren is able to control his powers very well. If he so chooses, he can heighten any of his five senses up to ten times their normal ability. However, there are always consequences. If his body is not able to process the sense coming in (for instance, a very loud noise while he is heightening his hearing ability) then he will faint, or turn unconcious if it is severe enough. Also, a small side effect has been flaring up every now and again, the 6th sense. He can sometimes hear or see ghosts and such, which he once mistook for shizophrenia.
Relatives: Mother, Saito Chou, and father, Saito Nobu.
Pets: A calico cat, Yuri.
Background:
A pleasant story is always better taken than a dramatic one; is it not? For all intensive purposes, Ren would rather give a vague account of how he was born on a small farm in Montana at the base of the Rocky Mountains, where the pastures always smelt of fresh wild onion, and the days passed as slowly as the nights; or even, born on the foggy Pacific Coast in a small cabin surrounded by towering lodge-pole pines and the quaintest of snow-drifts; and then maybe, if he feels especially magnanimous, of how he was born against the sparkling ocean backdrop of the Floridian Ocean and spent his early childhood days at the Oceanside. All of these peaceful, perfect alternatives given as an elegant lie. Lies that had to be told, one has to take into account the extremely delicate business Ren was currently employed in.
And each story has its own clientele. Perhaps the mentally exhausted business woman, who has no time for any true relationships, would like to be wooed for a night or two by a wild outlander. There is the competent, by slightly desperate, housewife, who but for one night dreams of being treated in the most spectacular of fashions by a mysterious and darkly handsome man. Finally, there is the sweet, naïve girl who feels lost and forgotten but by one tantalizingly laid-back man. These fantasies are all just as real as the situations are – beautiful and serene, but terribly, and regrettably, fake.
Ren was, truthfully, born in the slums as an undesirable product of a perfectly desirable night. His mother, Chou, was a high school drop-out working as a part-time artist and full-time waitress, and a demon to boot. Nobu was a demon and a detective for the police department at the time, a full-time cop and full-time funambulist. He was a reckless man with little time to breathe; but as handsome as the devil. He met Chou at the diner she was working at and they hit it off real well. But for all their chemistry and try, Nobu was far too busy in his pursuit to being promoted to police chief for Chou. The two called it quits, however, some weeks later a small bit of Nobu remained with Chou. She was pregnant – but she didn’t tell him. Nobu was promoted to chief some time later.
Chou did what she could for Ren, as abortion was never in her mind. She worked hard – unimaginably hard in order to pay for his day-care and necessities. Even though a slummy apartment on the bad side of town was the best she could manage, the love in her heart was boundless. Somehow they made it to five years old – and with good happiness and health in tact. Those days were bittersweet. Ren went to school at his little inner-city elementary with an innocent face and his eyes glued to the ground. He was naturally shy and quiet – which worked for him; it kept him out of trouble. However, his big blue eyes seemed to soak up everything and anything – a beginning of the manifestation of his photographic memory. Ren did very well in school, especially with a mother who was accepting of his powers and helpful to teach him control.
In any case, when Ren was five and a half a visitor knocked on the door. Much to Chou’s surprise, it was Nobu. Apparently an investigation found him questionable for all sorts of dirty-laundry - negligence, embezzlement, and a recent, horrific turn of events regarding a hostage situation had him eventually fired from his job. On the brink of self-destruction, Nobu had found Chou as a last resort. She let him stay for as a long as she needed to – and, of course, had to introduce him to Ren. The two looked perfectly identical: long, angular faces, beautiful blue eyes, and wavy blonde hair. Nobu even surprised himself when he found the sudden joy in his heart for the young boy.
Nobu stayed around for the next few years – which were great for Ren. With a father-figure, he was really able to open up and become more sociable at school. Nobu was also shocked to see that Ren’s talent in academics was beyond the normality. Ren was a intelligent young man, and learned to soak up everything he could. He loved to read, an especially helpful memory, and not to mention a great teacher in his mother. However, supporting a growing boy and an unemployed man was hard for Chou, who was having a hard time moving up in the culinary career track. She didn’t say anything, however. She couldn’t. Instead, Nobu sensed it, and looked around town.
By this time Ren was an amiable youth; ten or twelve years old. He was handsome and athletic and intelligent – oh, how he was so very intelligent. He was sensible, with good common sense, and he was practical, and not to mention sharp as a tack. His keen observations fueled much of what he knew. Of course he did well in school (which came terribly easy to him) but it also helped him out on the long four-block walk home in the slums. Driven by fear and sensibility, he learned to look after himself, and to play it smart. He learned to be watchful, and aware of who was following, and of the cars that went by on the street. With abductions being so common nowadays, Ren could not help but to be careful.
Of course, up until now Nobu could retrieve him, but Nobu had finally found a job. Very upset about the fact that the district would not hire him back (and spending all that time and heartache for the sole purpose of being a cop), Nobu figured he knew enough about the system to spite it. He worked as a bagman for a couple of shady guys. The job was simple enough; go to a client’s house and collect up – and if they didn’t have the money, give them a notice. Pay was secure enough and Nobu could live with himself. He even stopped by houses with Ren in the car. Of course, Nobu didn’t want to be a petty bagman forever – being an ambitious man, he had his sights set higher. And yet, for all Nobu preached, Ren never caught on to ambition. He was perfectly peaceful remaining exactly where he was.
It was by this time, however, that Ren suddenly began to see that the young girls were beginning to see him. As a preteen in the most academically atrocious middle school, Ren was practically hounded down by the girls who loved his modesty, his intelligence, kindness, and looks. Being the target of so many girls’ daydreams may have seemed like a blessing, but Ren found it more like a curse. He wasn’t shy, but he was quiet, and honest to the point of seeming insensitive. The attention kept his private sketching-time in shambles, and not to mention all the hopeless, curious gestures girls make when they first learn about love. By the end of middle school Ren hated to be touched, and any sort of affectionate molestation made him ill at ease. However, times did change.
In middle school the girls came onto him because he was illusive, whereas in high school, the girls did their best before regretfully labeled him a homosexual - which was odd to Ren, as he had never really thought about the term too much. So, even as much as Ren liked to remain out of the social whirlpool, he began to wonder if he was truly gay – since he never really liked girls much. There was only one way to find out. Ren confronted one of his good friends, a Freddy Chandler who was having much the same problem, and made-out with him in the privacy of Ren’s room during a sleep-over. This cleared things up immensely for Freddy, but not for Ren, who found the whole business of kissing too disgusting for words. He entered into a semi-dating relationship with Freddy (for the Freddy’s sake) for a while, but it soon fizzled out.
It wasn’t until Ren became interested in what sexuality he was did he really started caring about society. Of course, finding people to go out with him was easy – Ren was a gorgeous teenager, and what he lacked in muscle or quality, he could certainly make up for in such a kind, quiet personality. Ren dated everyone who looked his way: fat girls, skinny girls, handsome boys, ugly boys, popular, unpopular, et cetera in every form and fashion. The relationships were discreet, and short-lived, like a sampling of chocolates, or wine. What else was high school for when knowledge came with such ease? Unfortunately, for all his charms, Ren remained a misanthropist and since he did not come up with a particular side that he liked more, was dubbed bisexual by default.
It was shortly after Nobu finally married Chou that he was imprisoned. The police had eventually found him after a sting and locked him away for seven years. Ren was crushed and betrayed, as was Chou, who didn’t know of Nobu’s illegal dealings. College was also right around the corner, and Ren’s scholarship only covered learning expenses, not housing or even food. This is how Ren’s nightly business was created – earning money to buy books.
It started out as an infatuation with his teacher, Himura-sensei, who openly flirted with Ren during tutoring sessions. She tried to ask Ren out, but he refused, saying that he had no time for women – he had to work to pay for his expenses. Being the extremely lonely and insecure type, but with lots of inherited money, Himura-sensei offered to pay him for their relationship. Ren thought nothing of it and agreed. The business was innocent enough until Himura-sensei was fired when she was caught with Ren in the faculty lounge. The relationship ended, as Himura-sensei came to terms with the fact that she needed therapy.
From that point on Ren created a careful system for his dubious "services", as it fit in perfectly with his schedule and paid a whole lot more than any other job would to a student. His business is on the down-low, however, exploited out through a small website only found through careful searching and word-of-mouth. Ren didn't think that he would get very many clients, but the number of calls is surprising - at least two a month. This, needless to say, has given him quite a mysterious reputation as a "ladies man", being seen around town with women (and sometimes men) quite often or being too busy to hang out because he's "got a date". However, Ren hopes more to be a lawyer someday and get out of his very taboo career.
Roleplay Information
Alias: Yellow!
Gender: Femme.
Roleplay Experience: 8 years @ intermediate+
Contacts: Private.
Roleplay Example:
The difficulties assumed their natural noncompliance within Nick's inspiration. His fingers seized and ached to latch themselves onto a paintbrush or pencil, and when they did, could vomit nothing but little scribbles of shading. His mind wanted to be entertained, to be put to effort, but sloth had taken any ingenuity. Apathy was the problem. Such a quality did not make a productive artist - as Nick could care less for much anything more than being too hot or too cold. Turn the fan on, his whole body was cold, but his mind could think. Turn it off, the body was warm, but the mind suffocated. The disjointedness kept him further away from productivity, as it led him to the fan and to the easel and back again.
Forced art was no good. Nick only cared to paint aesthetic things - like backdrops or butterflies. However, the pieces required an intricacy and effort of which Nick was too tired of at the moment. Forced art was no good - but he wanted to paint something, anything. But it had to be perfect or nothing at all. And soon he would finally succumb to the idea that he was, indeed, not going to paint that day. In fact, Nick was soon to be taken captive by his mattress and cool, crisp sheets. They were perfect inspiration for serene meditation. He found it hard to consider how tired one is until they actually stop moving. Nick found himself to be deeply exhausted - the kind that breeds tiredness of being tired and is very difficult to be rid of.
And such was the problem with being a vampire - of course, the term being supremely nonliteral. Working nights is like working against nature - an uphill battle, and an ultimately fruitless one because nature always seems to bounce back. Nick found sleeping during the day extremely unnatural, but London worked out well in the fact that it was often cloudy. It was the bright, sunny days like these that he often awoke and stayed awake, and the only time to paint (which he could not). With his face in the soft, downy pillow, Nicholas relaxed with a sigh, but could not sleep. His mind was alive and electric with the firing of thoughts and concerns. The rent was due (it always seemed due). His art collection opening was only a week away (and four paintings to go). A cough was developing in his lungs (which could put off his nightly business for a few weeks). Et cetera.
Cough, cough - stop it. Nicholas scolded the failure of his body. Nick was the king of sanitary and the prince of precaution - he did not get sick. Nick was the only prostitute around who asked for a clean bill of STD health and always used a condom - he did not get sick. Nick brushed his teeth every morning and night and took his vitamins - he did not get sick. Unfortunately, the cloudiness in his lungs and the persistent sinus headaches led him to one single conclusion. Nick was getting sick. How extremely ironic that a person who takes so many preventative measures comes down ill, while his best friend who steals the leftover drinks from bars never even gets a cold-sore. Perhaps this was a message - rest; please just rest. Nicholas reproved his body for never being able to keep up with the willfulness of his mind. If it were so, he would be made of iron.
Clinically, the disease that plagued Nicholas was a form of Dysthymic Disorder; a depression that just appears one day and stays for the weekend - or years. At first Nick considered himself to have nothing to be depressed about - but then at a closer look, he did. The disorder wasn't severe, simply monotonous. He'd been diagnosed at the age of eight, and then it went away after a few years and came back again. After a while the time in between sweeps became shorter and shorter, until nearly nonexistent. It was just chronic now, but manageable. Nothing remotely suicidal, but disinterest and apathy reigned free. Boredom and forms of self-loathing came often as well. Treatment was a waste of money.
Cough, cough. Nick pressed his head into the pillow somberly after the coughs racked his skeletal frame. His body was so light and delicate in frame that the seizing motion against his ribs and clavicle seemed to fully emaciate him. Nicholas peeled himself off the bed inconclusively. Since he wasn't about to paint, a few errands would have to be run. First he would have to stop by the grocer to buy miscellaneous items for consumption and get some cold medicine whilst he was there. Of course, Nick loathed going grocery shopping. He hated eating and those who ate for pleasure. Eating was an ugly action. He would never paint anyone who ate, or had anything to do with food.
He didn't feel the need to shower. In one quick, circular jaunt around his dated, yet clean, apartment, Nick freshed himself up, brushed his hair, pulled on some clothing, grabbed his apartment key, put on his shoes, and put his wallet in his back pocket. Now that everything was in order, he shuffled out the door, locked it, and strode down the second floor hallway of the old, ramshackle apartment complex which sat just on the outskirts of London-town. Of course Nick was very American (but looked French), and didn't know much in the way of "English" type things - nor the accent either. Sometimes it would spring up from nowhere, merely from being around so many British-speaking people, but Nick was almost embaressed and shoved it away. He'd rather look American than look an American idiot.
The fresh air was chilly, but bearable under a sweater and shirt. The sun was out, miraculously. The walk to the local grocery store was a few blocks, which Nick was content to walk. He never drove much in New York, and London was almost the same set-up. They had trains and cabs and such, and most of the time his clients were nice (or rich) enough to send for him. The gallery and art shop (his second home) were only a few blocks the opposite direction - which were the only two destinations he needed to survive (and even the grocery store often went as an option). The walk might have been pretty at one time. The old buildings, wore away by rain and human stupidity loomed sadly overhead. Large trees bore up from the sidewalk, however slightly decayed and many went without leaves. The concrete was cracked and uneven, and in the quaint stoops now lounged scummy homeless people. This was the new and modern walk.
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