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Lester Lokwoul

"Give me a a well-written story of conflict over real chaos any day."

0 · 319 views · located in Cherry Blossom, Virginia

a character in “Cherry Blossom War”, as played by Skwidge




|Full Name|
Lester Lokwoul

Lessie|| Called this by friends and those who refer to him affectionately; Introduces himself as this.
Les|| General way of referring to him; It is rare for people to call him by his real name.





Works at the local bookstore




5' 7''

142 lbs.

|Hair Color|
Dark brown

|Eye Color|
Cobalt blue

Lester is definitely among the shorter males of Cherry Blossom, though really only by an inch in regards to some of his peers. It always seems to be a fact that is very noticeable even when around guys that are about his height. He seems smaller in general and the way he holds himself probably attributes to the fact. If asked about it, he'd probably just nervously laugh it off and not answer, or just surmise that his height is perfect for him, which is true. His skin tone is on the lighter side of the spectrum, as most of his days are spent in the confines of the old local bookstore, caring for the tomes and reading under false light, or spending any time outside in some semblance of shade.

Lessie isn't a very active person, and it shows in his body. He has little muscle to speak of and would certainly run out of breath if he had to run long distances. But he makes up for the lack of physical aptitude with boyish charm and decidedly attractive face. His dark hair is somewhat shaggy, but it's definitely wellkempt despite it. It reaches down to the nape of his neck, with choppy bangs that suit him well, while still allowing some forehead to show. Despite lacking in the strength department, Lessie definitely isn't flabby in any way, shape, or form. He's a fairly skinny individual to begin with, but when wearing tighter shirts, it's easy to note the careful outline of his body.

Intelligent but somewhat shy cobalt blue eyes gaze about the world in curiosity, always looking around for a good book to read or spot to lay down.

His attire consists mainly of jeans and a different assortment of shirts in various styles. When it's colder out, it is incredibly rare to find him in anything but long sleeves. He simply loves sweaters and long-sleeved shirts and hoodies. Depending on the weather, he usually wears a leather jacket with sweater cuffs or a light coat and scarf. He also tends to dress up a little more classy, with button downs, slacks, and suit jackets. He can usually be found in white tennis shoes or sturdy black boots. When reading anything, you'll always see him wearing slim, round black reading glasses.

He has a small scar on his left forearm.



Rainy days to stay inside and read on || Hot tea || Books || Reading || His reading glasses || Little cakes || Spoons || Body heat || Acceptance || Sweater weather || Nice spring afternoons || The rare, occasional smoke || Connecting with someone on a meaningful level || Quietness || Kind people || People who take the initiative

Really hot days || Glaring sunlight || His reading glasses (it's a love-hate relationship; he's self-conscious about them sometimes) || Bitter things || Being alone outside when it's really dark out || Being a cause of discomfort || Being in the middle of a fight || Paper cuts || Dense fog || Sudden, loud noises/being startled

Reading || Taking care of old books

Being a social outcast || Being utterly alone || Having a repeat of his past || Uncontrolled or large fires || War and Casualties || Being lost

Intelligent || Understanding || Empathetic || Accepting || Knowledgeable

Lester is a sucker for books- it's probably the easiest way to get close to him || Having too high of defenses || Being too uncertain about a lot of things, but especially when it comes to strangers or new relationships || Unathletic || Just a human || Acceptance- he can easily be taken advantage of


⇲Quiet, Kind, Oddball, Hesitant, Shy⇱
"What's the point in living life, if you can't live life with understanding, forgiveness, and connection?"

Lester is a sweetheart and completely unobtrusive as a person. He doesn't want any trouble, and as such, tends to avoid toxic people as much as possible, though not without giving them a solid chance first. He's definitely reserved, and those who just see him as another face in the crowd won't find him worth their time at all, but that's just because they haven't bothered to know him. The few friends that he has are practically his closest possessions, other than his books of course. He's much more easygoing around people he knows, and happily contributes to conversations. Otherwise he's quiet and tends to just mind his own business. It's in his blood to be gentle and kind when faced with tougher situations and with strangers- being nonabrasive means he won't get into any trouble.

Les doesn't do well in tense situations or fights, however. He tends to break down or shrink into himself; he stops functioning. Even worse is when he's the cause of a problem. He becomes completely mortified and goes into a depression for days. This really only occurs when he isn't able to choose 'flight' in a flight or fight scenario.

He's got quite a few quirks, and other people might definitely find him a little strange. He just finds pleasure in unusual things, and, if lost in his mind, he can be seen with a stupid grin on his face, which might be weird to some people. Overall he's just happy to be himself, as long as being himself means that he isn't bothering anyone into a situation of tension. He's most comfortable when in the bookstore he works at or when alone with a good book.


Lessie didn't spend his entire life in the tiny town of Cherry Blossom, like many others had. The entirety of his past is shrouded in confusion and is a sense of utter loss to his heart, like he's missing something important, but it's hidden from view. He remembers his mother, and his father vaguely, but neither of them to much extent.

He does distinctly remember his father being an abusive drunk, and his mother little more than a shell of a person due to her husband's ministrations. She was kind, though, and always protected Lester, or at least he thinks so. He was around five when things got shaky, and being so young, it's not really a surprise that there are so many holes in his memory.

One day they were there, and the next, gone. Les remembers some sort of sharp pain to his arm, the shaded face of his father, and his mother in a white dress. And then it's a drastic shift from faces and some building to a dark forest- cold, foggy, distinctly colored in shades of blue and dark grey. He can remember feeling the hesitation deep in his bones, the uncertainty of the entire situation, the utter, all-consuming feeling of being lost. Being alone. It wasn't that he had been separated from his parents, no, that wasn't it at all. Just being all alone without a purpose or without a plan. The remembrance of the eerie feeling of surrealness, as if looking out on himself as he stood lost in those woods, still sends chills into his spine. Lester often has nightmares of his past.

He doesn't remember much, there are a lot of gaps, but he does remember what popped up next. He was in the care of some elderly couple- one that had found and taken him in. He grew up under their care, started schooling, but was always distant with other kids. It seemed that despite the fear of loneliness that developed in him at such an early age, it also crippled him in making friends- fearing that they too would somehow disappear to leave him alone. It didn't help that the couple who had cared for him died a few years later, once again leaving him to be on his own.

Lester had to find his own way in life for a few months afterwards, though eventually he discovered an aunt that lived in Virginia. After uniting with her and her taking him under her wing, he's lived in Cherry Blossom for the past 13 years of his life. He moved out of her home so that he wouldn't be a burden on her anymore, and lives in a small apartment by himself. In the last two months, his aunt mysteriously disappeared, but he hasn't thought too much on it. Curious, sure, but she was always popping in and out of the town, sometimes for months on end, as seemed to be the case now.

So begins...

Lester Lokwoul's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Sienna De Lucchi Character Portrait: Lillian Smith Character Portrait: Vivian Greenwood Character Portrait: November Mortlake Character Portrait: Elisabeth Hill Character Portrait: Bernard Freud Character Portrait: Aiden Tovar Character Portrait: Connor Chulainn Character Portrait: Johanna Walker Character Portrait: Kirstin Lee Blair Character Portrait: Killian Cervantes Character Portrait: Atlas Anderson Character Portrait: Gerald Andrews Character Portrait: Julia Sinclair Character Portrait: Arthur Madden Character Portrait: Levi Winters Character Portrait: Meredith Lagrange Character Portrait: Serena Roberge Character Portrait: Olivar Furen Character Portrait: Lester Lokwoul Character Portrait: Calvin Hansen
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Julia Sinclair, also known as Jewls in her work place. being the towns most famous stripper wasn't something most girls, if any, would consider and accomplishment but Julia did. She didn't care what people thought of her profession or what people said about her attitude about her profession. she loved what she did, arousing men the way their wives or girlfriends couldn't it was amusing to her how human men were when it came to things like that. While dancing she caught sight of a very pretty girl who she planned on making her dinner.

after her shift was over she stayed behind watching the girl. She ordered a few drinks as she watched the girl interact with other at the bar. Juli had to admit she would be attracted to the poor girl if she hadn't already planned on feeding from her. Sad really she thought as she finished her second drink. Waiting for this girl to leave the club was kind of boring. She had to sit there watching the girl talk to other people and also watch her colleagues dance on stage, they weren't terrible but they were bad. they were trying to hard to be sexy while Julia didn't have to. She had enough confidence to know she was the hottest thing in the room no matter what people said.

Finally the girl was heading out the bar, hopefully heading home. Juli finished her last drink and followed her from a distance. She followed her down the street, stalking her like she had been taught all those years ago. Just as she was ready to make her move on the girl she sensed something that she was sure was going to ruin her night, werewolves.


Lillian had gathered a few wolves to help her scout the town for vampires. It wasn't hard to sense a vampire in a town full of humans however tonight they weren't having much luck. She had split the four of them into two teams, one was sent to the west side of town while she and Serena scouted out the east. The streets were deserted, it being a Friday night most people went to bars or college parties which was perfect targets for vampires. No one ever paid attention at parties, just a bunch of drunks dancing and drinking while some poor kid was getting feed on by a blood-sucker.

Lillian grunted seeing a drunk couple wobbling down the street past them. She never understood humans habits of drinking, they just woke up with a blistering headache the next morning or drank until they puked. Lilly didn't like feeling sick for any reason so to voluntarily drink so much that you feel sick sounded ridiculous to her. "Anything yet?" She asked Serena checking if she'd sensed anything yet. She probably hadn't but it was better to ask than assume.

Being the Alpha wasn't an easy job for anyone but especially Lillian. Even after earning the title she found herself continuously having to prove herself to everyone. Weather it be other Alphas or her pack members, it was much more annoying when her own pack members did it to her. She was always forced to injure them in someway to get it through their heads that she meant business and wouldn't take their crap.

Taking a deep breath, getting ready to call this scouting off she got wind of what they had been looking for. "You smell that?" She whispered to Serena, nudging her in the arm. She scanned the streets searching for where the sent was coming from.


It was late but Vivian was the type who like to practice her magic after most had went to bed for the night, plus it was safer that way. She was still learning about her abilities there were still things she didn't know how to do or make. Just recently she discovered she was able to extract vampire venom from a werewolf, but it wasn't like she would be able to practice that any time soon. She also found out that there was an herb that would help her keep her energy up while healing with her chants. Normally she had to ask Sienna,though she was usually reluctant, to help her when she practiced her chants since chanting took more of her energy but with this herb she would have to. The downside to this find was that the herb was rare and not even found in Cherry Blossom anywhere.

Vivian sighed as she looked through her book of herbs. There was still so much she didn't know and she hated it. She thought that by now she would know at least most of what healers should know but she didn't even know half. It frustrated her that she felt like she was far behind, she partly blamed her father. He should have embraced who she was and allowed her to at least read her mothers books. Instead he burned them and forbid her from even mentioning magic to him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Olivar Furen Character Portrait: Lester Lokwoul
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#, as written by Skwidge

God, how long had it been? It honestly felt like an eternity to Olivar. It had been so long since things had gotten back under some semblance of normal, though that was truly a far cry when you actually looked at the situation. The battle for dominance that had inevitably split their pack in half had lasted far too long in his opinion- in fact, it should never have happened to begin with.

In wolf form, Olivar skirted about within the darkness, ears perked fully and tail carefully held in a neutral, seeking position. His nostrils were constantly flaring, taking in every scent and smell that presented itself. But it was truly revolting; the world had gone to shit while the wolves were too busy with themselves to remember their actual duty in life- protecting the humans around them and eradicating the threat of the undead. Instead, the little town of Cherry Blossom had become a melting pot for the scent of the dead, the burning black powder scent that came with magic, and the strong smell of fear, death, and normalcy from the humans. Stale, bitter blood stained certain small patches of grass or stone, depending on where the vampire had decided to take their victim and get decidedly sloppy. Whoever it was who made this kind of mess obviously was never taught their manners as a child.

There was nothing that Olivar could really do about the distractions of the werewolves during the rocky times. Attendance was demanded during the days of decision, and long days they were. Besides, taking on a vampire without the surety of backup from your pack was a fool’s errand. If things went south while the pack was too busy tearing each other apart, there would be no one to come and save your hide.

He couldn’t think about that now, though. Everything was back in gear, albeit very shakily and rusty as hell, but the night’s watchers were back in action, and they definitely had a duty to fulfill. It had been a shame that the vampires had so easily slipped into the town, but such was the way of life for all of the species. There would always be vampires to hunt humans, and werewolves to hunt vampires. Olivar had a job to do, and lives truly were dependent on his doing a good job.

His chosen alpha, Connor, had taken the interior of the town to truly track down the scents of the biters with his beta, and Olivar had immediately chosen securing the perimeters of particular sections they were currently combing through, to ensure that no vampires would be escaping anytime soon. Connor was the more effective and the stronger of the now two packs; it had been a no-brainer, really. Not that he had a single thing against Lillian, it was just, a female alpha? The ridicule, the struggles, and the constant fact that she would constantly be challenged would have been too much to handle. That was not their job- to squabble over certain things, even if Lillian could have the potential to be a good alpha- they needed to focus on the vampires more than anything else. That’s what irked Olivar the most, yet he could do nothing about it. Besides, Connor was more efficient, more confident, and he had the years under his belt. Olivar didn’t particularly agree with his no-nonsense personality, but when it came to fighting, he would rather have him at the command than anyone else.

Olivar shook his head, feeling his fur shift and his muscles tense a bit. A wolfish grin spread across his maw- he had missed this. Being able to run without any concerns. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, obviously he had a job to do, but that only fueled his excitement further. A purpose and the means to fulfill it- it revved him up, spurred his muscles, and lit a fire in his bones that couldn’t be quenched until he had run himself raw. This was what he lived for.

But for now, he needed to wait upon his alpha’s command.


The wind whistled coldly through the bows of the trees above, the only sound in the otherwise silent, cold universe. Powder white snow blanketed the earth, delicately covering each individual leaf or pine needle of whatever survived through this harsh yet beautiful time. It crunched beneath the weight of my soles, the air crisp and nipping to exposed flesh. I hadn’t bundled up properly for this, but then again, it wasn’t like I was focusing on the cold; no, my mind was completely enthralled with the journey I was undertaking. The moon’s opal light seeped through the empty air, illuminating the unseen path before me. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf’s howl sounded, lone and sorrowful, and it was easy to imagine how the air fogged before its open jaws, trying to share its warmth with this cold place. It was as easy to see as the air that escaped my own lips. It would all be worth it, though, once I reached the ruins.

But first I had to get through all of the branches snagging at my clothes, trying to impede my forward momentum. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being ineffably watched either, but every time I paused to take a glance over my shoulder, I would see nothing, other than perhaps the numbness reaching my brain, my excitement and imagination getting the best of me, and I would see pale blue orbs glowing somewhere off in the distance. It was probably just the moon and the snow, if anything. I didn’t have time to think or worry about anything but the history that I would be uncovering any minute now. The ruins had to be around here somewhere…. Perhaps the cold was getting to me more than I wanted to admit, but I just kept stumbling through the snow; maybe I was just hitting roots unseen below the snow.

Suddenly, none of that mattered. I broke through the tree line, my eyes resting against the aged beauty of the destroyed structure I had been seeking. I was about to take a step forward, to truly begin this excavation, when I realized I was not alone. “Well, it seems we’ve come to our destination.” A voice purred from somewhere behind me, and suddenly I froze. My blood iced over, my body colder than the weather could ever be.

Lester’s eyes had been glued to the page up until this point, mind racing with the scenes the book so readily supplied him. It was absolutely riveting, he could feel the climax closing in on the story; the scene was too perfect, too easy. He knew what to expect from it, but it still made him suck in a bit of air once he had reached the dialogue. Lessie leaned back in his seat, pulling his glasses from their secure position on his face, and running a hand through his hair while loudly exhaling a breath he hadn’t really realized he had been holding. A light grin was draped upon his face as he bit his lower lip softly, absolutely delighted by the magic of the written words before him and the surprise of the mysterious individual lurking behind the protagonist finally revealing themselves.

He had been reading an excerpt from one of the older books within the small, antique bookshop he worked at- Reality’s Crossing. It was on some lesser fables collected and arranged from scripts found somewhere in Denmark or thereabouts, and Lester had discovered the little treasure earlier that day. That’s what he loved about this place- no matter how long he had worked here, there was always another book to uncover and delve into. But with the movement and the momentary pause from the intensity that was his reading material, the spell he had been in seemed to break, and Les inclined his head to the side a bit, staring out towards the front of the store. Where it was exceedingly dark outside.

Lessie’s eyes widened and he suddenly sat up straight in his seat. Just how long had he been here? A light blush dusted his cheeks as he scrambled to get himself in order, quickly scooting his chair back from beneath the table and getting up. With a swift movement of his wrist to the center stage of his vision, he realized that it was practically midnight. Crap, crap, crap. He thought frantically to himself, now running his hands through his hair for a different reason. This certainly wasn’t the first time that this had happened, and although the owner of the shop had assured him that it was alright, Lester couldn’t dream of coming in late because he had failed to get home early enough to get the proper amount sleep he needed to function for the next day.

Taking a small breath to compose himself and give a little sigh to release the momentary panic he had endured, he rubbed his forehead with the wrist of the hand that still held onto his glasses. A little frown pressed his lips for a moment before disappearing. His gaze drifted back to the book that still lay open before him on the table, and the blush returned softly once again and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. ”Ah well, can’t be helped now.” He spoke into the empty expanse of the store, a small, almost rueful smile to his face now as he gingerly closed the realm beneath his fingertips, careful not to damage the binding or harm the book in any way. The only thing he could think of now was that he wouldn’t be finishing the story tonight. A soft laugh escaped his lips at that, and he carried the book back to an appropriate shelf, having memorized the page number he had been on for future perusing.

Les tilted another look at his watch, and a slightly worried look marred his features. He’d be home so late; for sure there would be no running into his apartment floor-mate Bernard at this hour. Lester shook his head with a wry sort of laugh, folding his reading glasses and pocketing them before dropping his arms to his side once more. He grabbed the black jacket that hung haphazardly on one of the bookshelf corners, quickly working his hands through the sleeves and moving forward to the front of the shop.

However, as he made it to the door, he suddenly stopped, patting his pockets before looking around. It didn’t take him long to locate what he had been looking for- a set of keys kindly left on the front desk by the owner of the shop. It looked like the man had finally just decided to make Les his own pair, so he wouldn’t have to keep leaving the only set in the potted ferns by the door. Lester moved over to grab them, enjoying the jingle of the metal as the object was disturbed. He stepped outside of the old store, quickly locating the two keys required to lock up, and turning the pieces of metal into the mechanisms, thus securing the shop.

He took a few steps back, hands now buried in the pockets of his jacket to fend off the slight chill of the night. He gazed up at the shop, a content smile on his face. It was quaint, that was for sure. It was connected with the other stonework buildings that ran down the street, only differentiating from them by the old mahogany wood sign with bold, golden letters of the store’s name, the two large windows set on either side of the door, and the door itself. Lester loved the place, it always smelled of old books, but the pleasant kind, not the mildewy ones; like old ink, worn leather, paper, and knowledge. He also couldn’t help the smile at the fact that he was now practically like a co-owner, now that he had his own keys to the store. Why hadn’t he thought of asking before? He would certainly have to thank Owen when he ran into him next.

Now wasn’t the time for those things, though, as the cold seemed to creep its way into his collar and set its cool little fingers upon his neck. Lester pulled his jacket closer around him, quickly buttoning it up before turning to head down the dimly lit streets of Cherry Blossom to his apartment.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Arthur Madden Character Portrait: Lester Lokwoul
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Tendrils of the palest grey drifted idly through the shadows; the acrid sting of it permeating the stillness that settled over the darkened backstreets near the outskirts of town.

Here, the only illumination came in the form of a single lit cigarette—the tiny, orange glow piercing through the haze, bringing dark eyes and sharp features into its feeble light. It would've been easy to dismiss the splotches marring the pale, stubbled cheeks as mere tricks of the light, but closer inspection of the still mass lying crumpled at the man's feet would reveal otherwise.

Arthur sucked in a breath, drawing another lungful of harsh smoke. Precisely how long he'd been standing there, he didn't know. A brief sweep of the floor yielded a count of six blackened ends, with a seventh well on the way. The blood was all but dry and he was down to his last three cigarettes—he reckoned he'd been there for quite a while.

Time became largely irrelevant after the hundred-year mark, and he's learned not to pay it much heed.

However, it was well-past midnight and he'd already had his fill. Home, he decided, would be the best option for now.

He sent his victim of the night a cursory glance: middle-aged, scruffy-looking, and could probably pass off as a homeless man asleep had it not been for the ragged hole gaping wide at the side of his neck. O+ and anemic to boot—but that's only if you get past the cholesterol. A sneer made its way to his face. Disgusting.

This was precisely why he liked fitter-looking meals. They tasted much, much better compared to fat slobs like mister 'I have two billion feet of fucking cholesterol blocking my jugular' down there. He sent the corpse a dirty look before turning the it over with the tip of his boot to lie face down on the floor. Sure, he could've taken the time to scout for healthier fare, but the man literally stumbled in a drunken heap at Arthur's feet while he was out looking, and he felt he had no choice.

He'd turned away then, fully intent on leaving when, after barely taking a step, he froze.

Slowly, he reached up and swiped the cigarette from between his lips, snuffing the flame with the pad of his thumb as he pressed himself back against the wall and strained to listen. If he wasn't mistaken, the sound he heard was the soft pitter patter of footsteps coming up the previously empty street. He felt his lips curl into a rogueish grin as his eyes bled into an inky black.

Two in a day? Arthur you lucky, lucky bastard.

A single glance to the skies had the clouds shifting in an instant, bathing the streets in darkness and casting him even deeper into the shadows. A gust of wind took care of the lingering smell of cigarettes, and he was tempted to add a crack of lightning to lend the atmosphere an even spookier vibe, but decided that it was a bit much. He couldn't deny that he had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, but lightning bolts flashing in the background and creepy, ominous organ music was more of Julia's style as far as he was concerned.

The footsteps grew steadily louder, and he waited with baited breath for its owner to come to view. From where he hid, he could catch a faint earthy smell—sort of like the weirdly intoxicating scent that haunted libraries and second-hand book stores. That, and something else. Something vaguely...sweet?


His eyes narrowed, brows drawn in confusion as his gaze flicked towards the street. No matter how much curiosity dictated him to, he couldn't well risk sticking his head out of the alley to get a firsthand look. Instead, he waited for the stranger to pass and wondered idly what the strange, new scent meant. Three hundred years didn't leave much smells that he hadn't previously come across, and it definitely wasn't some kind of perfume. It lacked the artificiality of it.

He'd definitely know the answer as soon as he gets a hold of him (or her? Arthur wasn't entirely sure). A taste would probably do it, but something at the back of his mind told him it wouldn't be enough.