Markus Johnathan Wright
The Mori Bloodline
The Mori Bloodline
At A Glance
Full Name: Markus Johnathan Wright
Age: 20
Birthdate: March 18th
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Bloodline: Mori (The Infernal Brood)
Personality
Likes: Feeling unique x Attention x That look in a body's eyes just before their anger boils over x Fire: the smell, the sound, the sight, and the uses x The colour blue x The sun; being warm x Knowledge: contemporary and about specific people x Beautiful/Handsome people x Money x Indulging x Scaring/Surprising/Playing tricks on people x Ingenious plans x Compliments x Ice Cream x Chocolate
Dislikes: Being ignored x Being forced to do something x Being ordered around x Loudmouths x Failed plans x Televisions x Cheese x The cold x Snow x Lakes/Streams/Oceans/Waterfalls x Feeling stupid/uneducated/uninformed/In the dark x People who tell him that he's wrong/needs to change x Being scared/surprised/tricked x Religion x Politics x Leaders x Whiny people x The color orange x Feeling afraid/things that make him afraid x His name
Fears: Water. Namely drowning x Death/Being bound by a holy instrument x Losing his powers/becoming a regular human again
Goals: Becoming powerful and meaningful, to put it simply. As he lives in the moment and for the moment, he really has no grand scheme or specific plan
Mark is quite the fetching face, at a glance. He seemed open like a book. An array of emotions leak across his face from infectious grins to doleful looks of brooding. Anger doesn't seem to fit on such a face at all. Anger doesn't seem to fit on the personality either. So polite and soft spoken. So well bred. But if one cut the chap open, they'd see something else entirely. A sticky black substance taints all of Mark's organs, from his mind to his heart to even his stomach. This becoming, well trained young man can turn on a dime, at the slightest of stimuli into one's worst nightmare. Of course, it's more of a release of true self, a baring of his mind and... metaphorical soul. He's like a bottle of cola, delicious to drink, but if you shake it up just enough it'll explode in your face. It had the carbonation in it all along, but it jut took one foul move to send the devious little bubbles into a crazed frenzy. All in all the facade of a well brought up boy, courteous, polite, and perhaps rather attractive, last anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. The longer he spends with a given person, the more that person will see the blackened creature that is Mark John Wright.
Markus's motto is 'No restraint, no remorse, no regrets' and he lives it to the fullest. He's a day by day sort of man, and he isn't afraid to indulge in something he wants, or even go so far as to take a coveted item by force. One could say that he lives his daemon creed a bit too vigorously. The inner shell of the ugly creature will start out small, planning. Anything from a simple trick, a bit of a fright, to the array of ways in which he could destroy the people in his company. Usually he does not act on his latter plans, but they do amuse him quite a bit. Sometimes, in his plot to frighten someone he might make mention of them though. Then he'll progress to quiet insults and unsettling comments. 'Oh, that's your pet? He's rather nice.....I wonder what dog guts look like in this light.' Heavy sarcasm usually follows, but sometimes he misses that step. Then he might carry out a minor plan, while trying to act intimidating. He has a cool, deadly quiet voice when he's in the first couple stages, but when he grows extremely angry he'll most likely raise his tone.
He loves being a daemon, he uses it as an excuse to act like a living terror. And he loves the sense of power it gives him. He is quite imbalanced, a combination of his upbringing and his discovery of what he was. He's actually contemplated things like cannibalism and adopting masochistic tendencies in his quest to become as much of a daemon as possible, but he can't bring himself to actually kill anyone, and he refuses to be a vulture, and he can't bring himself to destroy his own body either. Of course, his dietary habits, and the way he lets his emotions run his body might just do the job for him if he isn't careful. Also, despite his repelling actions, he is quite desirous of approval from his peers, and he wishes to be well liked, which sometimes creates juxtaposition in his actions and words. Like he's trying to hurt someone, but he's trying to make them adore him at the same time. Needless to say, it never really works out for him. He doesn't seem to be able to put two and two together, however.
Quite an array of things will set the young chap into a spiral, or at least, a steeper freefall than before. Some of them are entirely inconsequential or things that his peers have no control over. Particularly bad moods will set him off on anyone around him, so weather, the last time he's had something to eat, how much work he's got to do, play factors. If someone mentions something that he doesn't like, or lumps him together with other people, which would mean that he's nothing special, would most likely set him off as well. Feeling afraid would send him off the deep end. being forced to do something that he's afraid of doing, or really doesn't like to do will make him go berserk. Mentioning anything that has to do with his parents as well will make him irritated, but there are various levels to that irritation.
A calm Markus would most likely revert back to the seemingly polite boy, but perhaps with a few snide comments and sarcastic titches thrown in for effect. He's actually quite outwardly courteous when he's wont to be. And he's rather apt at controlling his expressed emotions, thanks to a strict upbringing. This Markus can appear just as quickly as his wild twin, because his emotions do turn on a dime. As the duration of his presence among others rises, this Markus becomes exceedingly rare, depending on how well he thinks he knows the people around him. But when he wants something, and somewhere in that twisted little mind of his he realizes that his usual course of actions isn't going to cut it, this Markus appears in a flash, and usually persists until the boyo has attained what he wants.
Overall, Makrus is a little devil with a mask, but the mask often ends up burning, leaving the boy in the light, in which he'll gleefully do whatever it is that takes his fancy with no regards to anyone else. But of course, he can't ignore his mask completely, Mommy and Daddy taught him right, so the two entities battle each other for the prime position on his face and in his life. He loathes feeling plain, and will go to great efforts to achieve the opposite, even going to such lengths to reap revenge on those he feels are 'too similar to himself' and the like.
Capabilities
Bloodline Gift: Infernal Vestments -- Manifesting demonic features. Mark's gift is a haphazard piecemeal, but he does rather like it. He can burst weakish wings from his back, which look an absolute fright because he can't seem to persuade them to come out with some kind of skin or scales on them. So they are bones and joints covered in raw flesh, and the webbing between each pale bone is covered in a sickly mucus. Sadly, he cannot bear the wings for too long because they refuse to fold against his back because of the pain of touching other things, and they drip with blood occasionally, especially if they are touched with something, and that causes him to feel faint, or actually lose consciousness from blood loss. He teeth will, if he concentrates long enough, elongate into snaggle-tooth fangs, not unlike a row of shark teeth, He's showing the beginning of being able to force claws onto his personage, but he can't get them over a fourth of an inch. Coupled with the darkening of his eyes as if his pupils have swallowed his entire eye, it does put off a rather frightening picture, so it is the only thing Markus is wont to use his gift for. A rather frustrating aspect of his gift, in Markus's opinion, is his failure to properly turn himself into an actual daemon, rather than a guy with some freaky daemon limbs attached to himself. He knows that there's more in him than he can pull out, he can feel it, but he simply can't succeed. Also, his gift has a penchant for making itself known when he's particularly enraged, but having the demonic features appear not by conscious thought is much more painful than summoning them to himself. Much, much more painful, but not a damper on his anger in the slightest.
Bloodline Weakness: Demonic Taint. Not only do the holy symbols and such harm him, but merely keying into the idea that one could do such a thing to him might send him into an incapacitated state of mingled fear and anger.
Other Skills: Markus isn't really good at anything. Thanks to Mummy and Daddy, he's participated in quite a few sports, and taken many different musical lesson, so hes somewhat skilled at many things, but he never really excelled at anything. But on the less physical side, he's quite good at worming out those little things that make people tick, and he's very skilled at keeping secrets and acting sly.
Biography
Markus was born in Kircaldy Scotland in the presence of his mother's side of the family, but he spent his youth in a sprawling manor just north of Petersburg in England, where his grandfather lived. After his step-grandmother's death they returned to Kircaldy, but just two years later they sold their homes in Scotland and moved to the United States, to Hartford Connecticut.
Markus Johnathan Wright was born to Timothy Wright Jr. and Elizabeth Stevenson a week before they were to be married. He was premature by two weeks, but was still an average weight for a newborn child, despite the smallness of his body. His parents didn't wonder, however, they loved their little child dearly. They had no clue what he'd grow up to be thanks primarily to his mother's side of the family. The taint hadn't touched any of the children of the line for quite a while, the last being a century ago, in which one young woman, as the records put it, 'went mad, murdered her family, and promptly hung herself.' The father had trace amounts of the taint as well, but his particular lineage hadn't interbred with his new wife's in a bit of time. The two lines were, however, known for sharing blood on quite a couple occasions. it had started out with a reason, but now the two lineages thought it tradition, and carried on their procreation as had their parents, and their parents before them et cetera.
The Wright family had been slowly losing their great wealth, but thankfully two years before Little Mark John's birth, an outsider pushed her way into the family, marrying the Senior Wright and infusing the 'heathen' family with her own strictly religious laws. Gramma Ellen was a vicious entity in little Markus's life, and she was, in fact, the one who'd pushed for his name. Of course, Tim and Lizzy weren't completely sold on the idea, so they made the names their own, much to Ellen's disapproval.
When Markus was two years of age, Papa Tim gave up fighting for life, and Gramma Ellen moved in with the trio, bringing her still substantial wealth with her, closer to the young family. Which was when things started to change. Perhaps Markus had a bad effect on his parents, that there was something unconscious in the little toddler that drove his parents to act like greedy, strict creatures, or perhaps it was Gramma Ellen's money. Or perhaps both. either way, however, the growing little boy quickly found himself squashed under the thumb of his parents, who began regulating everything from how he dressed to how many words he could speak in a day, and how happy he needed to look. This was much to Gramma Ellen's approval, and she began drilling her Catholic rigor into her grandson's little head until she died unexpectedly when he was seven.
If Markus expected her death to change something, he was sadly mistaken. He was still an almost nonentity, the puppet of his parents. They still loved him, they loved him so, but perhaps they loved him a bit too much. Or they weren't loving him the right way. The boy grew into a young man, floating through private school with grades his parents expected him to attain and keep wile internally struggling to find out who he was. Which was when everything started to turn south.
it started out with little lies. Markus lied about going places, and he learned quickly how to lie well so his parents wouldn't catch him. Instead of trotting over to a friend's house during his single hour of free time every Saturday he fled into the city, wandering the streets and learning how to be a man. Learning that he wanted freedom from his parents, and he wanted it now. Which was what triggered the fits of anger. He wasn't dark yet, but it was on the verge of his mind, it was that entity in the back of his mind that prevented him from sleeping at night, prevented him from listening in class. He was punished for his grades slipping, he was punished when they discovered his lies, he was punished for talking back, but to him he was being punished for nothing at all. That they just liked punishing him so much that they didn't need a reason to anymore. And he began to strike back.
At first his little schemes, little bits of destruction, were tempered with remorse. But everything changed suddenly upon a huge discovery. The destruction altar-esque scene above the mantle would show them, he decided. The gangly fifteen year old reached up and grabbed the heavy cross from the center of the little construction, and immediately recoiled, a loud wail bubbling in his throat. It had not been wielded against him, but set like a trap, set with the utmost conviction of it's truth by his unknowing grandmother those years ago. Markus didn't know that though, know what it was doing to him. Perhaps he was just imaging things, he decided as the stinging pain in his hand faded, not even leaving a mark. So he reached up again, on tiptoe. Again the invisible fire screamed across his flesh, evoking another exclamation of pain from the boy. He jerked his hand back, accidentally bringing the heavy item down on himself.
After many cries of sheer pain and much struggling, the singed boy managed to escape the wrath of the object. He had faint burn marks on his hands, and a bit of a burn on his chin, but the rest of the places the evil item had touched returned to their natural pallor quickly. He quickly retreated back to his room to lick his wounds and sulk, disappointed that his plan hadn't worked. His parents, on the other hand, were more than disappointed. They were thoroughly angry. And as Gramma Ellen used to say 'Spare the rod and spoil the child.' Punishment was quite due, even if nothing been harmed. They two didn't even need an admittance of guilt, they knew that their boy was trying to destroy their mantle piece, and they promptly went after him.
That didn't make Mark too happy. Okay, he sort of deserved punishment, but he felt that the whole strange burning episode was enough. And he hadn't actually broken anything like he'd planned. When his parents came at him, trapping the youth in the far corner of his large room. The boy could feel the resentment and anger moving in his stomach, but it didn't just stay there like it usually did. An intense pain spread across the seams of his body, and budded out of his back where the skin was thin. His eyes went dark, and his body hunched over, both attempting to regain control and allow this fantastical yet painful happenstance to continue. A pushing in his gums gave way to teeth, but then the pain quelled, to his disappointment. The feeling of change within his body persisted, but it was too week to push itself outside his skin.
His parents were absolutely appalled at creature in front of them. His mother covered her eyes, letting out a strangled sound of horror, and his father stumbled back a few paces, staring at the creature that had been his son only moments ago. Delighted by their horror, Markus examined his wings, flexed the new found muscles, and moved to appraise himself in the mirror. The utter darkness of his eyes pleased him as well. The sharpness of his teeth was then tested. He looked nothing like their sun now, with his face stretched to fit the new teeth, and his body hunched under the weight of the bloody, slime covered wings.
He couldn't hold on to his new appendages and features for very long, though. Once his parents fled the room he fell to his knees, exhausted. The black faded from his eyes, replaced by a mournful disappointment. He brooded quietly for a couple moments, then noticed the door opening in the reflection of his mirror. His father entered the room again, wielding something heavy. The cross, the boy realized just a moment too late. He moved to flee, but his shirt, which had been torn to rags in the dual effort of his fingers and the wings forcing their way through, tripped him up. The cross collided with his side, and he was sent rolling onto his back. Where the cross had slammed into his body the flesh felt as if it was bubbling in agony. Now said cross was pointed at his throat, as if it was a sword. The son's eyes met his father's. The man looked more scared than Markus felt. He knew his father wouldn't have the guts to do it, and he'd just realized how powerful he was. The boy forced crocodile tears and pleading words until the man let up slightly, pulling the holy weapon far enough away from his son's throat that the boy could roll away and flee.
The boy fled his parent's house, deigning instead to live in the nearby city. He was a rat at first, but he managed to steal and frighten up enough to rent his own apartment at the age of seventeen. He strove to do everything and anything that his parents would disprove of, he forced himself to become someone else, someone who hadn't lived under the thumb of his parents. He began consorting with boys as well as girls, even though he found now sexual attraction in the former.
He began moving around quite a bit, landing his name in the paper several times, but never being caught in any acts, never being sent to jail. It took him a while to begin exploring the powers he'd discovered again, he was caught up in his scene, one night stands all around, bullying people for money, stealing. He was just beginning to build up a reputation when he met a man who claimed himself a guardian. He promised things that Mark found very enthralling, that he'd be able to hone his power, telling him how special he was, and how rare someone like him was. But then the man made a mistake. He told Mark that he'd be among more people like him. Which turned him off to the idea on the spot. It took quite a couple months of persuasion before Mark began thinking kindly of the idea again, and finally agreed to accept the invitation.
He arrived at the Isle less than a month ago, and really has yet to start establishing himself. Hes been wont of late to ignore other unless they speak to him first, and wander aimlessly. He hasn't had any fits of true rage yet, but he's grown snappish a couple times.