" You find that, as you grow older, you realize there's no axeman, no fairy god-mother, no miracle -- it's just you and what you can do with your own hands. "
Age: Twenty Five
Gender: Male
Height: 5'9
Weight: 180 lbs
Basic Appearance: I have a long scar running from my left shoulder blade down to my hip; I can't even remember where it came from. Sometimes the nightmares tell me how it happened, but I always wake up never remembering what I dream, only knowing that it was something that made a person squirm in fear. The picture isn't all too different from how I usually look. An addict to smoking, I usually have a cigarette in my mouth unless there's some important reason for me not to.
Personality: Selfish. Obsessed. Cruel. Reckless. Short-tempered.
All of these words have no meaning to me.
The only thing that matters is Gretel.
Stick up my ass? Sure, no problem. I get that a lot. People think I have no sense of humor, no sense of desire, and in some ways, I suppose it's true. My personality means nothing to me; it is no permanent. I change on a whim for my sister; if she needs me or wants me to be cruel and wicked or kind and generous, it's done. I care nothing for me or my identity or who I am. Others are searching for themselves, for who they truly are, as they travel the lands and the four corners of the earth.
What does that have to do with me?
I found myself in Gretel. She's all I need. She's all I'll ever want. I'll never desire anything but her happiness; I'll never want anything but her beside me. What defines me is my sister, my obsession, my love, my need to protect her. My personality warps for her, so there is no set characteristic that I can call mine. Maybe my lack of social abilities?
No, even that aspect of me is for Gretel.
Likes:
➸ Smoking
➸ Gretel
➸ His only sibling
➸ His little sister
Dislikes:
➸ Smoking withdrawals
➸ Gretel's boyfriends
➸ Gretel's boy friends
➸ Matilda
Psychological Disorder(s): People say I've got a sister complex -- I don't have a sister complex. As any good brother would, I love my sister. To death. I'd do anything for her; all she needs to do is ask and it is done. If she wants me to become the Prince Charming that would sweep her off her feet, I'd take her to a castle always in bloom, to a land where she'd never have to worry about witches and war and bloodshed. If she needed a villain, I'd take up arms for her, killing the innocent and slaughtering the young; I'd happily accompany Despair and Grief on their journeys with no mercy and no remorse.
All she has to do is ask it of me and I will give it to her, whether it is someone else's death or my own.
Incest? Obsession? Is there a word that could possibly describe what we have, what I feel for her, how much I need her? I don't care about the labels; I don't care about what people have to say. Unhealthy? Destructive? What the hell do they know? They don't know the shit we've been through, what we had to do to survive. They didn't have the world turn their back on them, don't understand what it was like when all you've got, all you can trust, all you know, is the one that's been with you since before the dawn of time.
Background: As a child, my love for my sister wasn't different as it is now -- maybe not as intense, because it grew with time, but even then, she was the light of my world. We lived near a forest, right outside town, and due to our location, I normally only had Gretel for company. She was the most important person to me; it didn't matter that we were poor and we barely scraped by. As long as she had something to eat each day, as long as she wasn't out starving on the streets, then I felt content.
Our mother did love us as much as our father did; that fact never bothered me one bit. I was always looking out for my sister. Anyone else was trivial, useless, trash. Our mother especially. She was a decent woman during the times we actually had a good amount of food on the table each meal, but when things got even just a little bit difficult, when she couldn't have her four servings per meal, Mother began to craftily scheme plans to get rid of Gretel and me.
She thought she was so clever.
Often, I would overhear her whispering to Father, tantalizing him with stories of full bellies and happier days. I always thought that we'd be better off if she stopped eating everyone's weight combined, but what did I know? I was merely a child, eavesdropping on adult conversations that I couldn't understand. What I did comprehend, though, was that every time we seemed to be in a dark tunnel with no miracle on the way, Mother wanted us out of the picture. Father, despite his "immense" and "genuine" love for us, was a stupid man. He fell for her tricks and words each and every time, never suspecting the fact that maybe, just maybe, she was a ridiculous woman who deserved to be raped by several horses at a time and then hanged for her greediness and cruelty.
That morning, Gretel and I followed Father into the woods, an excitement because he normally never took us along. While Gretel was pleased with the surprise, I fell behind several steps, throwing pebbles on the ground so that we could find our way back. Even as a child, I understood the times when Mother started to plot our death -- those were the nights were I would lay awake, listening to their plans and trying to scheme up a counter method that would ensure our survival.
The second time around, I used bread crumbs. Smart as I was, that wasn't the brightest idea I could've had, because by the time we had to find our way back, the crumbs had been eaten by the damn birds.
Trying to find our way back despite the plan's failure, Gretel and I ended up lost in the forest, hungry and confused and irritated -- well, at least I was. Then, as though a miracle from the devil himself, the evil witch Matilda made her appearance. She lured us in with fancy treats and sickly sweet promises; we, starving and young, unfortunately believed her. It wasn't long until we realized our mistake.
Four long weeks I was locked inside some dark room with the bones of its former owners, as though showing me a glimpse of the doom I was to face. Each day, Matilda with reach into a small hole to feel if my finger was fat enough to devour, but I always slid a bony skeleton finger to her, taking advantage of her terrible sight. That managed to buy us several weeks, but even as all that time had passed, I could not think of any way to save my sister and me. Trapped inside a room with no way out and no means of communication to Gretel, I was at a lost at what to do and could only hope that the current plan to buy time would continue to work until an epiphany slammed into my head.
In the end, it was my sister that thought up a foolproof plan and killed Matilda. I was humiliated that I could not protect her, that I was the one who had gotten caught and needed to be rescued, but I was -- am -- grateful to my resourceful sister. No Cinderella locked in the basement, I can depend on Gretel to watch my back as I watch hers, because even though we had gotten rid of the cannibal witch, our troubles were not over.
This isn't a fairytale, after all.
Partner: Gretel
Current Story: To hell with the kingdom.
I couldn't give a flying fadoodle about it. I don't care what the Witch Queen did to usurp the throne, I don't care what happened to the previous king and queen, and I sure as hell don't care about those suffering under her reign. It can all crash and burn around me and I wouldn't lift a finger to do a thing.
You know what I do care about? My sister. Whatever she is passionate about, I'm passionate about as well. If she wants to save the kingdom, I'll do it. If she wants the queen off the throne, I'll chop her head off personally. If she wants the moon in the palm of her hands, I'll find a damn long ladder and steal that ball right outta the sky -- however, that's not the reason why I joined the White Order. I didn't do it because my sister persuaded me.
As my Gretel and I were staying in this one small village, I heard rumors about a demon, a monster that had once haunted my nightmares. There were stories about an evil witch that ate little boys and girls, that spared no thought of the fact that they were essentially one and the same, her and the people, and ate their children. My sister had rid of this creature a long time ago when she plagued our family, but it turns out she's back in the flesh and wreaking havoc in the name of the Witch Queen.
I won't rest until I run her through and rip out her heart.
Weaponry: The only thing I carry on my person are packs of cigarettes and a lighter that never dies. Maybe I can burn someone for torture or something.
Powers: Oddly enough, the white stones that had once saved our lives became a dominant ability of mine that continues to serve me and protect Gretel. I manipulate the earth with ease. With a swift of my wrist, dirt compacts into large boulders; with a twirl of my finger, rocks slam into my target. It's not difficult to do; I've never had to learn any techniques. One day I woke up and it was like breathing to me.
Dead bones, rocks, soil, sand, and dust -- all under my control. Some I manipulate better than others, mainly because I use them more and am surrounded by them more often, like rocks and soil. The others I have some difficult getting them to do what I want to do. They're all servants of Mother Nature, and I only borrow her slaves temporarily; they're normally very docile and willing, but things like sand have a bit of a temper.