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Theo Song

WiP

0 · 453 views · located in Washington D. C.

a character in “Those Not Like Us”, as played by rubytuesday

Description

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THEO SONG

ALIAS / n/a
NICKNAME /(please include how your character would react to being called that name. good and bad nicknames.)
CODENAME / (what they're called while on missions.)
AGE / 26 ; 18th of February, 1994
GENDER / (cis)male
SEXUALITY / bisexual , biromantic (w. male preference)
HOMETOWN / Chicago, Illinois
OCCUPATION / (gotta make an income somehow.)
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APPEARANCE

HEIGHT & WEIGHT / 5'11"
HAIR & EYES / black-brown ; dark brown
TATTOOS? / "冰炭 相爱” on his left forearm , a chinese dragon on his left shoulder, rose on right side of neck, geometric heart on his chest, arrow on his right foot, couple more roses on his right wrist

So strange that a boy so strong has allowed his skin to become paper. Paper in that it is inked with artistry- a masterfully illustrated, seemingly random assortment of images and designs. His fair olive flesh is a canvas that he keeps adding to, and he shows no sign of stopping.

His hair falls in soft laziness. Sleek, with the slightest of waves, his dark locks frame about his sharp cheekbones like silk curtains, falling longer at the front of his face than at the nape of his neck.

His figure is slim and lean, long-legged with a frame that is fit without being especially bulky or heavily muscled. His long limbs only emphasize his slimmer shape, but whilst his body is far from intimidating, his gaze is something else entirely.

Ice cold and yet capable of burning, his dark-eyed stare is almost as frightening as the sly smirk tugging at his lips. Those lips, soft and bowed, play a cruel game of suggestion. I know something you don't, they say without speaking. The gaze never falters, and the young man is seemingly immune to the pain of dry eyes, for he can seemingly go for forever without blinking. He does not break the contact, only taking pleasure from the discomfort his unnerving glare brings. I'm cheating at this game we're playing, but there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

Then there are other moments. Moments when his expression is humorless. Cynical. Stormy. One can feel the glare well before they meet his eyes, for it slowly burns at them like ants beneath a magnifying glass. Again, it does not break. Burning. Burning. You... you are going to find yourself very regretful, very soon.

For a young man so ferociously difficult to decipher, he can be startlingly easy to read when he wants to be.




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[i]PERSONALITY

ABRASIVE / showing little concern for the feelings of others
CYNICAL / believing that people are motivated purely by self-interest; distrustful of human sincerity or integrity
SELFISH / lacking consideration for other people; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure

Theo isn't the easiest person to get along with. His smooth features are inordinately misleading, contrasting immensely with his internal coarseness. This coarseness is much like the edge of a tin can, in that its rough edges catch and cut, leaving wounds that sting and hurt regardless of their size. And he is so unapologetic. He shows no guilt for the cuts he makes, the pain he causes. He sees affliction as something almost inevitable; something that needs to be had, for the sake of healing stronger, and learning from one's mistakes. Ironic, then, that he seldom acknowledges his own mistakes. His pride could easily be the end of him, for the amount of time he spends dedicated to keeping it in tact. He is not one to kneel, regardless of circumstances, and seems to treasure his ego over his life.

His exterior is one of cool abrasiveness, and his words always seem to come out blunt even when he is making an effort to be civil. He is near impossible to approach by a stranger, for the ice that so often breathes from him. Even when smiling, there is this inexplicable chill to him, and to be frank, it is frightening. He is not incapable of kindness, but so seldom does he ever feel truly warm, that it is not rare for one to doubt his status as a living, breathing being.

His cynicism falls into both versions of the word. He is indeed distrustful of human integrity, and tends to assume that people are motivated by selfish means. But then, he is also falls into that category himself, being very selfish and always focusing on himself and his sister, above everything and anything. His humor is sardonic and sarcastic, and a mocking smirk is always quick to his lips. He is both mysterious and honest in that he keeps his personal feelings and thoughts close to his chest, but is very open about his opinions of others.

He lives in a world supposedly against him, and thus his capacity for sympathy is rather limited. He has hardened himself, built armor around his heart to keep any potential damage. His trust is tremendously difficult to obtain, and he struggles with loyalty, for whilst he admires it, life-or-death situations tend to bring about his survival instincts rather than thoughts of teamwork and nobility. He is fearsome in his protectiveness, and more than a touch vindictive when he feels like he -or, more often, his sister- has been wronged. His softness is difficult to uncover, but it is there. One can see it when he is with his sister, or when he is interacting with kids, whom he has a considerable amount more respect for than most adults. One can see it in his inner conflict, as he struggles with everything that he hates about himself, yet fights to maintain a guise of indifference.

For he knows too well that he is far from a good person. He knows that he could be labelled a coward, a bully, a liar, and there would be little he could do to deny such accusations. He feels disdain for his many, many shortcomings, but has developed a grim view of life and the world; one cannot change oneself. Regret and remorse do not reverse actions, nor do apologies or attempts at redemption. He sees the world in black and white, to the point where he simply does not belief in the presence of color.



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POWER

STRENGTH /WEAKNESS /


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HISTORY




ImageMISCAESTHETICBASIC INFO
Face Claim: insert full name here
Hex Code: #5E9482
Created By: The Writer's Voice
Character By: RubyTuesday


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So begins...

Theo Song's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Barbara Molly Character Portrait: James Mathews Character Portrait: London Cross Character Portrait: Andrea Summers Character Portrait: Nora Young Character Portrait: Jude Wilson Character Portrait: Milo Reid Character Portrait: Theo Song Character Portrait: Lawrence Sidney Moss Character Portrait: Dr. Petra Ivanović Džeko Character Portrait: Chica Gil-Soto Character Portrait: Pindar Jones Character Portrait: Lucy Song
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_____________________________

Halloween, 2020 ; Washington D. C.
6:00 P.M. Friday Night, Sixty Degrees

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Washington D. C. is a nightwalker, hustling through each and every day hoping that the sacrifices of today would ensure a better tomorrow. Politicians battle new legislation as if the very world would end if nutritional facts were more honest about their calories. Offices are crowded with people counting down to Friday at five, when happy hour turns to happy weekend. Halloween is no different.

The sky is clear save for a few dustings of fluffy white clouds shaded yellow by the setting sun. In the suburb, parents young and old chaperone kids of all ages. Witches and cowboys, ghosts and princesses, all of them herd together for the hopes of earning their prize of a full bag of candy. Others only older in appearance but not in spirit party the night away in tighter, shorter versions of the same costumes that the young ones pound the streets in. There is a wicked spirit in the air, but also a sense of freedom. This is the night that superhumans roam the streets freely, if only to feel like they're not the monsters here; the one day they don't have to wear costumes.

On the outskirts of the city, just enough for the taller buildings to shield it, is a hotel. On the front, in bright pink neon, is the words "NO VACANCIES"; to further the point, dozens of cars, trucks, vans, even bikes, are crowded the parking lot beside it. It's tall, at least ten stories, but looks almost like a ghost building, despite the liveliness of the people coming in and out at all hours of the day. Tonight, the lights are few because most of their people are out enjoying the one night where they don't have to watch their backs so closely. Still, tonight is special: the lights would flicker up again and the ghost would revive, if only for a few hours. Every Halloween, they always have a party.

Not so much a party, but a celebration of life. For another year, they escaped the discrimination that might one day kill them all. Every year they each line up to give a drop of their blood for access into the Underground, where the true Humanly headquarters lies. The first floor is strictly for living; couches and beanbags of all shapes and sizes are scattered in organized living rooms, a maze of curtains create bedrooms for those who couldn't find any room upstairs, and the other half of the room is a dining hall big enough for a hundred to eat. Below that floor is the Humanly of strategy and mission planning, where a young woman will sit slaving away until someone tugs her up to the party she's supposed to be hosting. This night is only meant for fun.

And fun it would be. String lights covering every inch of the ceiling, background music queued up, and a time to be human.