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Wolfe Jäger

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34

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Gender Fluid - Primarily uses he/him pronouns

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Pomosexual, greyromantic, and panromantic.

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Natural shade

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Two identical pistols, both of which were given to the man he calls 'Father'. Stainless steel, the guns have a engraved biblical verse on their left side, and Wolfe is never seen without them.

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S/4

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Death

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Six foot exact.

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Unknown and refuses to give out. Seemingly healthy.

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Straw blonde.

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Grey-green.

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Fawn, though a bit pale.

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To be honest, it's not surprising that people would have to constantly have to ask Wolfe directly about his gender upon first meeting him. The wearer of a very ambiguous style, from his hair to the priest clothes a person can swear came right out of a Vatican priesthood. His hair, a silky straw color no matter how a person looks at it, and shaggy at it's best. And biologically being that of a male gender, Wolfe actually has that of a well-built frame, his muscles well-defined.

His eyes hide behind his circular glasses, though removed show something that one can consider 'beautiful'. Grey-green eyes, so luminous that one can be wrapped in their gaze for hours. It'd e like being sucked into an abyss, though only finding one thing if they look deep enough- Death itself, and it seems it has picked it's next victim.

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9/10

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8/10

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7/10

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7/10

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▹ His dog, Anastasia - She's beautiful, fluffy, and his last touch to sanity. She seems so much like his sister- he knows she isn't. It hurts, though, but it's a comfort to see her ghost no matter she he goes with the dog. As long as the dog's with him, she is.
▹ Being in control - His mother controlled his whole life, and it never seemed like it'd end. Hell, he isn't even sure how he made it out of his home in one peace, or how he made it to the city whole. To this day, Father calls him that of a miracle, and says everyday is a 'gift from God'... Wolfe isn't too sure God exists, though.
▹ Doing what he pleases, when he pleases - No stupid bitch telling him where to go is great. No one telling him how to behave is great. No one at all? Even better. Maybe if it was like this, he wouldn't desperately wish for death so badly.
▹ The church - He and Ana grew up there, and it was where he watched his sister fall in love... And it's where she's buried. The church might be shitty, but it's his home.

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▸ Eden & his mother, females in general - Too many similarities to his mother- to many similarities to his sister's joy. The entire gender is a cursed creation, weak and simply meant for death. Sometimes he wishes he could honestly just kill Eden. To put her out of her misery like a dog.
▸ Being controlled - Don't tell him what to do. His goal in life was always to get stronger- to the point where no one would be able to tell him otherwise... But now it just seems like he's trapped all over.
▸ The possibility of actually killing the Tarot - If he doesn't die, he's scared. Terrified. He'll never admit it, but such a feeling of dread pours over him the more he stays... He just can't pull away.
▸ Going home - Home being out of the city and into his mother's arm, and will that be the day when he does.

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⌑ Shooting - Spending a majority of his life, ever since he was nine to be exact, on such an ability, this is fairly self-explanatory.
⌑ Killing - That's all he honestly knows anymore- murder being the easiest way he can face reality. It's too harsh, too toxic for him to live without some sort of blood on his hands daily- Eden had made sure of that.
⌑ Animal care - He owns a dog named Anastasia, a German Shepard... Named after his sister. He takes care of it like nobody else's business... But even it's near death. A month at best.

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▣ Compassion - He doesn't even know the meaning of the word, to be honest.
▣ Comprehending family - He... He doesn't have any left. Much like everyone else he knows, anyway. Sometimes he wonders why there's even such a word. 'Family' is simply a label for co-existence and similar blood.
▣ Eyesight - Well, he doesn't wear glasses for the hell of it.
▣ Suicidal - Worse then Eden, unforunately. However, he'll never have a note on him, because he ensures no one would find his body when he does kill himself. A simple excuse that he left the city, maybe. But in truth? He'll no doubt shoot himself in the head before half a year is up.

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✖ Mnemophobia, Fear of memories - They aren't good. Not at all. They break him- they make him detest the sheer sight of women, of 'families'. His mother's captivity still rings in his head to this day.
✖ Cleithrophobia, Fear of being locked in an enclosed place - Thanks to his mom, and how she locked him away practically like Rapunzel, he can't even lock a bathroom door.
✖ Pentheraphobia, Fear of mother - ...This is pretty much explained in his history.

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Vagabond
adjective vag·a·bond \ˈva-gə-ˌbänd\
1: moving from place to place without a fixed home : wandering
2 - a : of, relating to, or characteristic of a wanderer
b : leading an unsettled, irresponsible, or disreputable life

And that's exactly what Wolfe has always been. In the simplest of terms, he never even had a home. He grew up in a prison- a cell that only his mother had the key too. His cellmate? A man known as 'dad', who beat him in retaliation to his mother's behavior. Maybe that's why he was so desperate to leave? Not only did she fight every night and day with Wolfe's dad, but she refused to let them grow as people, to achieve dreams. When he was growing up, it was normal.

When he was seven though, it seemed to turn into something he identified as painful. His mother had hurt him, his arm, his leg- why did the pain seem white? H O T. That was when his neighbor saved him, when they sent him far far away to a man of good standards and preached hope in the darkest of cities. Of course, being new to the city of Hell, Wolfe had already stood out- he's leg and arm weren't clunky, and unrealistic. They were custom made, a fake skin he had replaced as the years went by. But he wasn't alone, and it wasn't like he was unhappy anymore.

He had not only gotten a true 'Father', but a beautiful younger sister. She was five, and he was around twelve when the angel showed up on the church's doorstep, alone and so scared. So confused. He never left her side, not even when they needed to go outdoors. She was his world, not to mention Father's. Maybe that's why they seemed so against her joining a gang when she was only seventeen. They were known as 'Voiceless', and inside it was the boy of her dreams. He went by Pip, and had requested, or rather, begged for help after showing up on the steps of the church. This was when Wolfe knew of the word 'compassion'. and... he helped. Anastasia had a bad habit of falling in love, but this time, the day at the church seemed to solidified her fate.

At age twenty-seven, Wolfe had been given the news that Voiceless was destroyed. His sister, and her boyfriend dying in the front lines... Everything simply molded into the darkness his sister's death left in it's wake. A cliche, perhaps, but it was one that made his heart harden with age as he reflected in his life. His rage grew, his sick and twisted desires turning more and more morbid to kill-

He had been hurting people since he himself was eighteen, the urges surfacing as he watched a woman be beaten. She pleaded for her life- pleaded for them to spare her for her sick and dying children. She was so scared she had ended up shitting herself. That day was the first time Wolfe's gun practice paid off. Not only had he killed the assailants, but for some reason... the woman died by his own hand as well. It was a rush he had buried for his sister's sake, for his family. It was a rush that came back when Wolfe decided that his years of silent murder would be come louder and louder- 'til he was the Boogeyman everyone feared. He joined Tarots simply in order to gain the power over his own life, perhaps to prove he could of saved his sister at some point. It's the constant, steadily growing rage that aided him in becoming that of an S. That of a killer... But between me and you?

That was the day he solidified his own death.