Sun

Sin City

• BASIN CITY
  
  
  
  

  PHYSICAL 95% Slightly malnourished

  MENTAL 60% Instinctual fear of everything
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  BASICS Name Phobos Malvagna Gender Male Gender role Doesn't understand gender roles. If he did, he wouldn't care; androgynous in appearance, wears gender-neutral clothing. Mostly black, baggy things. Birth Name Noah Stone Age 19, 21.3 (Aries) Dominant Hand Right Handwriting Fat letters, pretty Residence Malvagna estate, Basin APPEARANCE Height 5'7 Weight 120 lbs Species Human Race White Blood O- Body Ecto Posture Slouched. Skin Very pale, like he hasn't had any sunshine in years. Complexion Scarred and shadowed. Birthmarks Spot on the back front of neck. Voice Quiet. Often asked to speak louder. Selective mutism. Hair Color Platinum blonde; straight. Hair Length Long to his waist, hasn't been cut in years. Scars Cut over right cheekbone and right side of forehead - self-harm. Eyes Pale green, almond-shaped. Scent Leather, blood sometimes

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  WARDROBE
  
  

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  Health Medication Anti-depressants, anxiety pills. Disorders Anxiety, severe PTSD Philosophy Religion Doesn't believe, has no reason to. Allegiance Malvagna crime family, very forced. Morality Whatever he has to do to survive and to keep his one family member intact, he'll do it. Etiquette Fear-tinged politeness Vices Cowardice, envy Alignment Neutral good Virtues Chastity, charity Mannerisms Fidgety by default, feels uncomfortable when sitting still. Attempts subtly to be in charge of the situation - has to have a clear view of all exits and people. Will never let anyone touch him on their own accord. He initiates all contact.

  Mind Languages English, French, Japanese, Russian Vocabulary Extensive, posh as fuck some would say. Temperament Melancholic/Choleric Emotional Stability None, walks the edge of a breakdown at any given time. Quirks Tends to zone out of conversation. Very loud, weird-sounding laugh. Traumas Sexual relations Phobias Being touched intimately, sharp objects, mirrors. Likes Companionable silence, warm beverages Dislikes Sudden loud noises, violence

  
  

  Personality

  Slave to the primordial darkness in his head and the opinions of others -- since appeal means safety, doesn't it? -- Phobos is anything but what he presents himself to be. Default pretty pout hides a less than stiff upper-lipped personality and a surprising (to those that don't know him) flare for adventure. Caution might have saved his life many a time, but it goes out the window when truly living is at hand. A man deprived of experience seeks it out around every corner and Phobos is exactly that. Everyone and everything has potential, so a grain of trust is planted instinctively, coupled with a pinch of salt. It's easy to earn the affection of someone so beaten down, even if your investment into him is small. Give him a smile, he'll return it tenfold.

• C o n f i d e n t L o y a l P a t i e n t P r e d i c t a b l e T r u s t w o r t h y H u m o r o u s B r a v e

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  I n s e c u r e D i s l o y a l I r r i t a b l e S p o n t a n e o u s D i s h o n e s t D u l l F e a r f u l
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  Skillset
  
  

  Knife throwing: The only combat lesson Margareth has managed to teach him thus far in the privacy of their rooms, purely because it was something he could learn quietly and without drawing attention. The wall behind one wardrobe in his room is riddled with holes from Marg's knives.
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  PETS:

  Lea - A gift from Max

  
  
  

  S O C I A L

  Mother: Alicia Stone ✝ Father: Colton Stone ✝ Guardian: Margareth Malvagna, Maximillion Hart? Best friend: -- Mentors: -- "Master": Nicolae Malvagna

  R O M A N C E

  First Love: -- Love Interest: None Marital Status: Single Orientation: Asexual Romantic orientation: Unknown Significant other: --
• ———————————— HISTORY ————————————
  

  It's a warm July evening when the three of them die. His mother and father, on the floor, in pools of their own blood, hands clasped. Bullets in their heads. Eyes open. They're proper killed within seconds. His own death takes seven years. Ages 7 to 14, spent in the possession of his kidnappers at first and then in that of the child trafficking business that buys him. At 14 he's nothing but a shell. Broken and pretty and that's why he takes a liking to the teen. He likes pretty things only if they're broken and the blonde boy appeals to his taste. It's the moment Noah truly dies... and Phobos is born. It's also the moment he meets her. She's a kind mother, related to the monster by blood, somehow, but nothing like him. She suffers his pain. Lightens his burden. And he decides to live . For her.
• JOURNAL
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• I remember.
  
  A cold December night and the first warm embrace I can recall receiving... you, holding me close shielding me from harm and taking it upon your back instead. I remember how ruthless he was, just because you'd dared disobey him, and I know now; I realize just how much lighter my punishment would've been. He doesn't enjoy death as much as pain. Back then I could only handle so much before I broke, but you... He knew he could unleash fury on you and you would bear through it all. And he did. And you did too. For me.
  
  I'll always remember.
  
  We wept together that night and then continued weeping separately, always careful around each other. I didn't last long. I never do... I confided in you the extent of my pain... but I let yours fester. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I found out and I'm sorry I never spoke up. You're strong. Showing that you feel pain and displaying sorrow, it doesn't make you weaker. It makes you human. But knowing you, and him, I fear you would be ashamed... He's taught us that crying, feeling, bleeding is punishable... and you've been under his tyranny longer than I. Even if my arrival solidified your sentence by his side. But after all you've been through and all you've done, do you think I'd ever consider you anything but the pinnacle of strength, mother? Never. Yet I don't know how to convince you of this... because your strength is only trumped by your convictions. And you're hellbent on staying strong the way he showed you how to. By being immovable, tears unshed and lips pursed and all.
  
  I can never forget.
  
  Not when I hear you sometimes, weeping alone where I can't see or hear (or so you think). I wish I could tell you it's not a crime to cry. Like you told me the same once. You've taught me so much, mom... and maybe we can override his cruel teachings together. You show me strength, I'll teach you weakness. In a way, that lesson came from you as well... You proved to me that laying your fears bare and opening up, letting someone reach into your soul and knead the pain 'till it lessens to an ache... it doesn't mean you're weak.
  
  It means you're loved.