Name: Felix Alexander
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Build: Lanky
|Physical Stats|
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 140 lbs
Eye Color: Green
Hair: Brown
Appearance:
Rabbit has a lot in common with his namesake-- which is one of the reasons why he's called Rabbit. What a twist, right? He is a man lacking in muscle density, and density in general. Slender is the approprate word, skin-and-bones if you're feeling rude. What little muscle he does have is finely banded and corded throughout his body where it's needed, without a wasted sinew in sight. It's a runner's physique to be sure, combined with a bit of malnourishment and lucky bastard genes. Rabbit doesn't have the height to be called "lanky" per-se but when he walks he's a mess of elbows and knees threatening to erupt in flames if they got too close and started rubbing together. As mentioned, he's a thin man, sitting right under the average for a normal fellow of his height, not that he had much say in the matter
Rabbit has a fair skin-tone, an ordinary Caucasian male with a healthy bit of tanning on his neck and shoulders. The color comes from his hair, which is a deep color of brown, and dammit does he love his hair. He cuts it only once every couple of months, allowing to grow out and over his ears before taking the scissors to it. Once the scissors come out, the mop on his head is feathered and sits very neatly on his crown, pushed back and away from his forehead. The best way to describe it is that a big wind came and blew it back. On the other end of the scale, when a couple of months have passed, his hair falls down past his eyes and sits somewhere on his cheeks. He keeps it parted here so that he can actually see where he's going. He's also been known to grow a wisp of a beardling every now and then, when the fancy strikes him.
Bright green irises sit in his eyes, dancing around in his head like a rabbit's. Another reason for the moniker rabbit. His eyes are always moving in their sockets, looking, exploring, undressing, redressing, examining, they never stop. These eyes sit in a soft face-- he's no man's man, opting instead for svelte saviness. Soft features grace rounded cheekbones which is finished off by a narrow chin. When he can, he likes to wear nice clothing. There's nothing he'd rather be wearing than a suit jacket that fits with a matching vest. Unfortunately, Rabbit rarely has these chances.
Rabbit is no stranger to body art. Sitting on his right pectoral is a bright green clover with the word "For Luck" drawn over top of it. Around his left wrist is a tribal band, which is then connected to an image of a black and white rabbit's foot below his wrist. Along with those two, the third and final rests on top of his right foot. A compass always points north, reminding him to always keep walking forward.
Rabbit is also in possession of an artistic mind. While his drawing and writing skills are pale imitations of the real thing, his real focus lies in music. He loves any and all kinds of music. He loves to feel the rhythm and beat of the song and the experience and emotion in the voice. From classic orchestra, to modern rock, to metal, he enjoys all kind and types. However, his favorite type of music is-- and don't judge-- Indie Folk Revival. It might make him sound like a fedora away from a hipster, but there it is. He loves the honesty and the harmony between instrument and vocals. He feel's that it's real. Music aside, he likes a good book every now and then, and paintings can hold his interest for a time or so. But what he really loves doing is creating music. That's right, Rabbit is a musician.
Much like the creature that he's named after, Rabbit is a senstive soul, for better or for worse. He cannot take critism. When critised, he becomes dispondent and cold for a time. It's also hard for him to take advice to heart, rather wanting to do things his own way at his own pace. Even so, he's naive. He always believes in the best of the world, despite what he lived through. He firmly believes that people can get along, and that it should be easy. This is not to say that Rabbit is a stick in the ol' mud. The man is fun. He has a penchant for silly jokes and godawful puns. Often his lips are twisted into a crooked grin. He understands the difference between a good-natured jab, and an ill-natured one. And he's clever. All of his thoughtfulness and cautiousness lets him play people like a fiddle.
Otherwise, Rabbit is quite simply Rabbit. He is who he is.
Quirks:
When nothing occupies his mind and he starts to daydream, he slips into an internal beat and bangs along with the rhythm. This usually means he beats on the corner of a table with his fingers, drums his hands on his lap while tapping along with his feet, or simply nods along with his head. He also tends to mouth words to himself when he thinks no one's watching-- usually the words are lyrics to a song.
Ability:
| Luck Manipulation | Rabbit has the ability to influence luck. The exact science of it is something unknown to him, all that he knows is that he can be luckier than a rabbit's foot wrapped in four leaf clovers hanging over a seven horseshoes. This is best displayed in small things, like guessing heads or tails, guessing a card in a deck, or hitting 21 in blackjack. It's the smaller things that are the easiest to to influence. That being said, he can feel it's potential if only he had a better control. He already saved on life, even if it was a fluke accident.
Born in the Big Easy, Rabbit's early life-- and life in general-- was the farthest thing imaginable from typical. While he was far too young to understand it at the time, age has given him a better insight on just how screwed up his young life was. His mother constantly brought home strange men, none of them the same. When she wasn't sleeping around, she was literally sleeping around. Pill and alcohol bottles surrounded her bed, leaving an outline in her shape whenever she got out. Well, maybe not, but joking about it is the only way he doesn't slip into depressive episode. He never knew his daddy, and he doubted his mother did either. Hell, he hardly knew his mother which helped when she just up and disappeared from his life when he was ten. For few years or so it was just him and an empty house in the Ninth Ward until somebody realized that, here, there's a kid in there.
It was a hard couple of months, but a learning experience all the same. During the time that he was well and truly on his own, he turned New Orleans into his own personal warrens. He came to understand the city, learn it inside and out. He worked on the streets as an unofficial guide to tourists. He showed them the sights, maybe dropped a couple of interesting facts every now and then. Lucky for him he was such an adorable kid with an adorable accent-- manufactured, of course. Tourists don't want to hear a simple southern drawl, they wanted to hear the "Authentic" N'Awleans french inspired crap they spout on TV. He managed to work it well enough that he always had enough to eat. He also managed to learn a truckload of random trivia about the city h called home.
That didn't mean it was always a reliable job. Some weeks he went hungrier than others. Some weeks he just flat out didn't eat. Those were the hardest weeks. But he squeeked by, and always lived to see the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. It was some time dragging tourists through the streets when he realized someting. Along with him, New Orleans had a lion's share of street performers, people who played music, artists, and even the odd gold painted man standing dead still. He incorporated these acts into his guides, carrying tourists through these streets.
It was in the tours that Rabbit cultivated an artistic soul. Rabbit come to love the arts these people did, but especially the music he heard. From the sax, to flutes, to trumpet, to the ol' standby guitar, the streets of New Orleans were bursting with it. The artists put their soul in the music, and Rabbit could hear it. He heard the rhythm, the beat, and the emotion staining every note. It was actually one of these artists who gave Rabbit his first Guitar. An old black man stopped him after one of his tours and gave it to him. It was a old beat up thing with chipped strings, but it sang better than any bird. Turns out, the old man was one of the artists Rabbit always included in his tours, tourists tipping him money every time Rabbit passed by. The guitar was thanks. Rabbit instantly set about learning the guitar. He taught himself from scratch with the aid of some of the other street performers, and soon he had another skill to help himself make a living.
Throughout his life he bounced around Foster Homes in New Orleans, but he never left the streets for long. He always ended up on a street corner, strumming his beat up old guitar and singing a song or two. It was harder to be an adorable tour guide when you out grow your adorableness. So instead of touring, Rabbit did other things instead. He learned card tricks, became decent enough in sleight-of-hand, added coin tricks to his repretoire, anything he could do with very little. It was these card tricks he learned of his incredible luck. When playing hands of blackjack, he scored 21 more often than not. Three card Monty was always in his favor, and even the simple act of flipping a coin was met with more success than was necessary. Basically, he was a walking, talking rabbit's foot-- something he milked for all it's worth.
However, it wasn't until sometime later that he realized that his luck was decidely unnatural. He was riding a street car to take him back to his current foster home, playing his guitar for the people riding along with him. Something happened. He never knew the specifics, but a woman had a seizure or something and fell off of the street car and rolled out into the street. Without hesistation, Rabbit jumped after her. He wrapped her in his arms and closed his eyes. When he opened them, realizing that he could open them, he found that they both were still alive without a scratch on them. Nearby a car stood parked, black skid marks trailing behind. He was told had he been a second too late, the car would've been too close to swerve and miss. Not only that, but the woman he saved was wealthy, and she insisted on rewarding him with two-hundred dollars.
Afterward, he realized that he was able to actively influence luck. The draw of a card, the flip of a coin, the like. It's not perfect, considering he's never won the lottery despite trying like hell, but it makes for a neat parlor trick. He incorporated this into his act, and videos of him displaying amazing feat of luck leaked their way to the internet. Next thing he knew, boom, he was in Italy.
