Post by Spirit Marisa Kirisame on Sept 3, 2011 20:47:19 GMT -5
winston nathaniel wes
the preacher's boy
the preacher's boy
name:
winston wes
gender:
male
looks:
his skin tone is largely unremarkable, not papery but not something you'd deem tanned, either. his hair is a veritable lion's mane, pale dusty-brown locks that curl and wave and flow as they please, extending modestly onto his chin as a sparse, scruffy beard (his pride and joy). under those unkempt bangs winston's eyes are a bright amber.
his wardrobe spans a mostly drab spectrum. he likes brown or gray plaid button-downs and, on the south end, comfortable jeans along with the physical manifestation of the words "old people shoes". winston always wears a pendant his mother gave him before he left around his neck -- a sort of swirly insignia made from the wood of an apricorn tree, said to bring good luck and ward off evil spirits. slung about his shoulders is a very well-used leather satchel, filled with observational books, energy drinks, and empty pokeballs slung on a bronze chain.
when the young man wants to dress to impress, it's always a brown business suit and a black tie. always.
nature:
he's a very honest man, but with a well-cultivated dark sense of humor. Winston prefers to keep to himself, not putting high stock in the company of people due to a secluded childhood but still finding them terribly fascinating (if also a bit confusing). his interest in love has almost completely stagnated.
regardless, he is polite, friendly, and genuine once you've broken the ice. he loves cats and the piano and architecture and is completely liable to talk your ear off if given the inkling of a chance.
Winston has a fierce addiction to caffeine and always has a small regiment of energy drinks and mountain dews on his person. at a glance you'd solidly put him as one of those guys constantly talking over a mug of coffee and using the word "brew" in ways you didn't think it should be used, but though he has an appreciation for it, he rarely uses it to get his fix.
history:
he grew up in Violet City, his father the priest and caretaker of the towering cemetary that cast its ancient shadow over even the children at play. superstition cemented the very bricks together, not those of just of that dark and deplorable place but of his very childhood, his very background -- the preacher's boy. the other kids tended to avoid him, not in spite but with a nervous reverence imbued by their parents and their parents' parents.
Winston adhered to every command of his mothers' and every fable and lesson of his fathers'. his obedience became fascination, and his fascination evolved to not only fascination with theology but with people-pokemon relationships in general. he'd sit in the tower and watch the mourners lean over the graves of their friends and cry onto the freshly dried cement, not with sympathy -- how can you sympathize with something you can't understand? -- but with a brand of anxious curiosity. he'd stay longer to watch the ghastly bob through the corridors and materialize around him to hiss and snicker, and while winston had no fear left for those imps, they could hardly be considered friends, either.
at last, for his sixteenth birthday, he was given a friend, a bridge to this other world -- a meowth kitten. he was at first incredibly possessive and paranoid with it ("it" having been promptly named Ashbury), having only associated Pokémon with the death of Pokémon, but soon they were true companions.
he grew older and was absorbed in his studies and helping his father out with funeral services and the upkeep of the shrines and tower, but the turning point presented itself when his mother was attacked by a flock of angry pidgeys while gardening one morning. Ashbury was instantly at her rescue, pulling one out of the air and dispatching it as the rest fled in a squalling, feathery thunderhead. this wasn't a pet -- this was an intelligent, noble being, this was a defender, this was a fighter.
on his nineteenth birthday, the priest's son shelved his books and packed his bags. a journey of a very unspiritual nature was about to be underway, and it would bring him to the farthest place from Violet City he could imagine -- the region of Cheyenne.
__________
pre-starter:
name: ashbury
level: 1
knows: scratch, growl