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H E I G H TXANDXB U I L D: 5ā² 10ā³ , well-built
In his human form, Eli is handsome, well-built, and sturdy. The Wolfsbane lowers his animalistic intensity, but he is still the kind of person you'd want to avoid on a dark road. The shape of his back, the powerful set of his shoulders, his deep-set scowl all scream Predator.
He doesn't think much of his appearance beyond a clean shirt and pair of pants. He hates clothes, only wearing them because it's the appropriate thing to do and ripping them off as soon as he's beyond closed doors. Everything he owns is basic and dark- black or blue shirts, dark wash jeans, black sneakers, black hoodie. There was a time when his fur would have been the only thing he needs, but he has yet to be able to shift again.
His wolf form was menacing. Over seven feet tall and rippling with muscle, Eli was easily one of the largest Werewolves alive today. His fur is a saturated sort of black that looks like it would leave pigment behind if you touched it. Like his human form, Eli's shifted form's eyes are a bright yellow- the color of a harvest moon in autumn.
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Eli does not remember what he was like before he cut off his humanity and succumbed to the beast. He doesn't even truly remember why, other then there had been a reason and that reason should stay buried. For years Eli had been nothing but an animal, one driven by cruelty and pure rage.
Now he was anything but. Slow, caught within a government-sanctioned fog that filled his every day. Eli followed his daily routine, ritualistically never missing a step. His brain didnāt do different- it followed the orchestrated plan his Wolfsbane Inc. therapist had written out for him carefully. It was as if his life was one giant cloud- there was a straight line that was clearer and visible to him, but if he stepped off of it he really didn't know where he was. If he diverged, he'd get confused. Lost. A wrong turn on the way home from work would put him only a couple blocks off his normal route, lost like some sort of prey in the headlights. Over time, the wolfsbane serum he injected himself with every day had become like a warm hand pulling him along. He knew he'd been a menace, a wild animal without a chain, so the drugs are a comforting restraint.
Eli is loyal, even through the drugs that much is clear. He knows he's cared for others once, though those memories are lost to him now. He's quiet until someone speaks to him, then he can carry on a conversation that's all small talk and no substance.
With Vincents assistance, Eli has slowly been weening off Wolfsbane. The combination of the mans calming abilities and the chaos of losing such a crutch has left him a mess. It's painful, he's become hardwired to need the serum and no longer knows how to function without it. He has days when he needs the purple shot, days that he has to delve back into that fog to stay sane. But his good days are beginning to outnumber the bad and his ability to shift has been flexing just under the surface, a beast ripping against its chains.
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A beast. There really wasnāt a better word for what Elijah had been.
Given over to the wolf, Elijah had forsaken his humanity in order to succumb to the true nature of a monster. Massive in size (even compared to other werewolves) and black as night, Elijah was known for his monstrous acts of violence across the Pangea. The media painted him as a mindless animal and said that he had forsaken any human consciousness. But he still retained the cruelty of a human... real wolves do not kill for sport and pleasure. He was all the ferocity of a wolf with the willpower of a human.
He ate children. More accurately- he liked to hunt children, make them fear him for days, their cries useless in the dead of the woods. He would end it slowly, brutally, drawing out their screams until it gurgled crimson from their throats. He would go after hunters in the deep of the woods, he would savage campers, heād slip through alleyways and rip women off sidewalks. Seemingly, Elijah had no pattern to his attacks. He simply killed for the sport and sheer violence of it. Heād follow victims into Ariosas- no wolf could pursue a human this far, but the power of werewolves allowed them to hunt in bars, hotels, and homes. He wasnāt charismatic enough to convince people he was not a beast- and he looked every ounce the part. Sharp canines, rugged skin from months in the woods. Untamed, curly hair he did little to control. A grin that screamed predator and eyes filled with violence. Yellow, a stark contrast to his deep black hair, told the whole world what he was.
His infamy as a monster and high profile killer lasted years. Werewolves were difficult to catch and Elijah was one of the most powerful in history. He held influence amongst the wolves, controlled a vast territory all to himself, and did not hesitate to rip apart anyone that hinted at being a threat.
In recent years, it was frowned upon to kill werewolves. A movement to stop the killing of creatures that had no control over their actions. Lycanthropy was seen as a disease, something uncontrollable to the victim like cancer. We do not kill cancer patients, how could we with werewolves? Fueled by government funding, a serum was created that withheld the werewolves' ability to change- without the control of the beast, a lycanthropy sufferer could live a seemingly normal life. A few months of therapy, continuing checkups, but otherwise a healthy, normal human.
Though still in beta testing, it was decided that the first test subject would be Elijah. Threat, killer, and terror to society, Elijah Skoll was to be used as a star example of how the serum- Wolfsbane- could change the view on werewolves. If they could fix Public Enemy #1, who couldnāt be fixed?
Catching him took months. They lost five people transporting his cage, and another two when getting him locked up at the facility. But after that....the treatment worked. Stunningly so.
It took over a year, but Elijah was... perfect. Where before had stood a beast, now stood a handsome young man. No one knew him before he had cut the cord of humanity, so there was no comparison to how he once was. But he was human, enough at least to pass in society- though to any trained eye, he was obviously off.
A puppet of a human. Something with all the emotions and smiles, but it was almost like the puppeteer wasnāt matching his face with his movements. Like Elijah didnāt quite understand why he was choosing to act the way he was. He smiled when needed (actually, he smiled a lot, probably too much). He laughed, though it was a bit too loud and filled with echoes of a growl. He was witty, quick to pleasantries and small talk, and all around a Good Guy. The guy youād take to basketball during lunch, drink beers with after work, call on your day off for a hike. But it was all just
a well-perfected charade of what a modern human man should be.
Elijah follows the schedule written out for him by his therapist obediently. For all he knows heās a recovered werewolf, taking his Wolfsbane shots every day, attending his appointments once a week, doing his best to right the wrongs of his past. Soon, they released him into his own apartment and got him a job as a garbage collector. The media had gone insane at his release, but everyone continued to paint him as Fixed.
He no longer shifts. The week of the full moon is hell. The savage thing inside him claws right below the surface, bringing a bit of who he was back. But, he does not shift. The wolf is squashed beneath drugs and a facade built on a year of torturous rehabilitation treatment. The drugs keep him even- a flat line of emotions that make it easy for him to be the Good Person he is. Rehabilitation Werewolf Poster Boy of the Year.
He was a lycanthropy survivor. A hero and example of what you can do if you allow the serum to take control of your life.
Vincent came into his life a few months ago. A man with an uncanny ability to pierce through his fog, Eli had been instantly enthralled to the man. They spent coffee breaks together, hours that Eli could actually remember and think and feel clear. Eli began craving Vincent's attention, seeking out whatever ability the man had to clear away the effects of the Wolfsbane serum. Eventually, Vincent offered him a job at the bodega, where Eli could seek some freedom and remove himself from the curse put upon him. So he'd run- he no longer went back to his apartments, hiding in the small one above the shop instead, and he no longer went to his weekly checkups. He was sure Wolfsbane was on hunt already... but for now he was content.
