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Elijah Skoll

0 · 136 views · located in Pangaea

a character in “Pangaea”, as played by Ivisbo

Description

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NAMExx Elijah SkollGENDERXXMale
NICKNAMESXXEliSPECIESXXWerewolf
AGEXX29HEX XX #799EAA
SEXUALITYXXUnclear

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H E I G H TXANDXB U I L D: 5′ 10″ , 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t 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, he’d 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. He’d 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 wasn’t 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 couldn’t 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 wasn’t matching his face with his movements. Like Elijah didn’t 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 you’d 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 he’s 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.

So begins...

Elijah Skoll's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vincent DuBois Character Portrait: Elijah Skoll
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#, as written by Ivisbo
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outfit x song x hex 799EAA
.calledby. eli
.prounouns. he/him
.location. vincents bodega, midgrasp

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The damn bell shop was what woke him up. He’d managed to ignore the thing for the first two hours of open- it only rang once every thirty minutes that early in the morning and Eli was a heavy sleeper. Even crunched up on Vincent’s old beat up couch, Eli rarely woke up before 10am.

The large vintage-style windows were lazily drawn closed with cheap curtains, filling the small living room with that orange sort of glow that only existed before 8am. He stared into the room and inhaled deeply, the wooden floors bathed in glow and a dusty smell, the humid warmth of the books lining almost every wall striking against the bitter scent of bad coffee from downstairs. Vincent was not a clean man, but everything had its place in this small apartment. Eli’s small pile of stuff stood out strikingly against the nestled comfort of the single-room home. He’d grabbed a dark hoodie, a few changes of the same grey shirt, and an extra pair of black jeans on his mad dash to vacate his own apartment. He’d been re-wearing, re-washing, or begrudgingly borrowing the bodega owners' clothes for the majority of the month now and knew it wasn’t going to last much longer.

But he was getting clean. He still lacked the heightened senses he was used to and had yet to shift- but he no longer constantly yearned for the government-mandated oblivion of Wolfsbane. Vincent was helping with that, Eli wasn’t really sure how. He felt a difference in control when he was in the same room as the other man, like his cardigan-covered disheveled appearance somehow forced Eli’s mind out of its haze. He slipped up sometimes, slipped back into that spell that made him want to fall into his listless programming, but Vincent somehow always tugged him back.

He was hungry and that meant scavenging the remnants of last night's dinner or heading downstairs early. It wasn’t as if he was going back to sleep either way- his ears were tuned into the bustle of the street outside, hyper-fixated on the slow even sweeps of Vincent's broom. Someone was in the shop bustling around, opening fridge doors and shuffling around on a lame foot. The coffee was gurgling, meaning Vincent had already started another pot.

Blue alerted to him as soon as he walked down the stairs, the small pup’s pitter-patter across the linoleum almost enough to shove Eli’s early morning pissyness aside. He crouched and greeted the dog fully, stifling a smile at the annoyingly cute and wet kisses.

Vincent looked up at the sound of Blue’s excitement, grinning as Eli stooped down to greet him. Blue had always been a fan favorite but he’d taken a special liking to Eli early on. He’d always been a good judge of character as far as Vincent’s experiences go. Though admittedly there were other reasons Vincent had noticed Eli begin with.

“‘Bout time,” Vincent teased. He liked to give Eli a hard time here and there but overall he’d been a pretty generous boss. The kid just needed some help that wasn’t shoving sedatives down his throat. “Coffee’s fresh, beer vendors get here in an hour. I had to put in an emergency order for Solstice, noticed we were running low on 40ozs.”

Eli offered a gruff grunt as a reply, standing up slowly as Blue circled his legs. He eyed the full pot of hot garbage with a look of pure disdain. No matter how much he informed Vincent he was drinking burned rabbit shit, he refused to change up his supplier or get a new machine and continued to offer a cup to Eli every morning. Eli wandered over and grabbed some jerky out of a box, the fake taste of beef and teriyaki better than nothing at the moment.

“I gotta turn you down for that casserole leftover,” He made brief eye contact before looking outwards through the open doorway, “Think the market is still open on the Solstice? You want me to grab us something?”

“Nah, not worth it.” Vincent scoffed, blowing a bit of air out his lips as he shook his head dismissively. “Everyone’s scrambling over there, by the time you make it back I’ll be closing up the shop.”

He walked over to the door, glancing down either end of the street. People were starting to filter out, their body glitter still perfectly placed and drinks in hand. Half of these people leaving their houses now would end up passed out in front of his shop at some point tonight. It was always a shit show at the bodega Solstice night, but for the first time since he bought the place he planned on closing early. Let someone’s late-night craving for a wildberry fauxfizz wait until morning, he had bigger things in mind.

“You ever been in the city for the Solstice? As in Midgrasp?” Vincent looked back at Eli, leaning against the doorframe behind him.

Eli followed, leaning his shoulder on the other side and peering down the same direction. “No” He answered, yellow eyes following the day drinkers and oblivious bodies down the street. Eli hadn’t been around crowds in years, maybe ever. Before his capture the only reason he’d be near a crowd is if they were running and now that he’s released he avoids humans like the plague.

“I haven’t been in the city for Solstice for a long time” his eyes followed some elven girl as she tripped and dumped the majority of her cocktail in the bushes, the following laughter so piercing he pulled his head back inside, “I don’t really know what it is. An excuse to drink?”

“You could say that,” Vincent laughed under his breath, he wasn’t wrong. Most of them did just use it as an excuse to drink, hard not to when the city made it an inescapable party. “For magic practitioners it’s a pretty powerful day, holds a lot of significance - you know?”

Vincent didn’t make a habit of letting his powers be known. He learned it was always best to fly under the radar, but he didn’t mind helping those he could with it in the meantime. Admittedly he wasn’t sure how Eli hadn’t caught on yet, though he supposed the lingering effects of withdrawal didn’t make him too on the ball.

“If you know where to go, there’s actually some cool little spots that do something special for Solstice. They’re a little more low key so they don’t get as crowded as the rest of the city.” Vincent looked over at Eli with a raise of his eyebrows. He knew the werewolf was still wary about crowds, but Vincent had a way about him that made others at ease regardless of circumstance. A natural charisma some would say.

“I assumed you were hunkering down if you were closing early” Eli fully turned towards Vincent now- the shop owner rarely strayed far from his apartment and work, a steadfast presence on the block. Eli grown used to the routine. He’d also planned to hide upstairs from the all-night party, but if Vincent wanted him to go… “Are you saying ‘something special’ like magic?”

Vincent shrugged, rubbing his hands together as he suppressed a smirk. It was true he wasn’t really one to go out, especially not when the streets were flooded with dumb asses - but he was ready for something new. Clasping a hand on Eli’s shoulder, he gave it a reassuring squeeze the werewolves muscles taut beneath his fingers.

“Eli, you are in Midgrasp. Where isn’t there magic?”

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