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Description

Help what is proportion
Edit 12/1/13: Changed phrasing of personality section
Edit 4/4/2014: Changed application art
According to Google translate that says color in Japanese. I'm trying to recreate those shirts with random words on them XD
Name:
Zaid Lucas
Gender:
Male
Age/Birthday:
Fifteen; August 5th
Height/Weight:
5ft 6in/130lbs
Nationality:
American, that is, a mutt of mostly European heritage
Mutations:
1.4% Jackson's Chamelion
0.4% Panther Chamelion
0.2% Blue-toungued Skink
98% Human

Cabin:
Piscis

Classes:
Home Economics
First Aid

Abilities:
- Color Change: Tail and patches of scale can change color, depending on surroundings, mood, and temperature. His skin and hair can change as well but not as dramatically.
-Trees: Zayd sarcastically remarks that the only thing good about having funny-looking feet and a tail is his agility in trees.
-Ultraviolet: Not exactly a strength but it's gotta count for something? Zayd can see slightly into Ultraviolet light.

Weaknesses:
-Grumpy introvert: It's easy to think that this is the last place he wants to be. It's not- He just doesn't know what else to say besides complaining.
-Persistance: Or lack thereof. He can never seem to finish anything.
-He doesn't do well under stress. Slight stress and he's strained and worried. Sometimes, with larger stresses (and being frightened) he just freezes up. In all cases he is incredibly anxious.
-Highly susceptible to being jealous, especially of people's relationships. He knows it, he hates it, but he can't help but feel it.

Personality:
Zayd reacts negatively more often than not, especially when his actions are questioned. He has insecurities about his motives and feels like he needs to protect his reasons for doing and thinking the way he does. It is because of this someone might find an unexpectedly snappy answer, or get the silent treatment. In his time being a loner looking for an odd job, he has come to withhold any personal information that will lead to one of his weaknesses. It may be hard for him to open up, but when he does, you've got a pretty solid friend.
In the same way, he very rarely accounts for having help in his plans. On team assignments, he thinks more about what he has to do and less about what others have to do. In general, he sees people as unwilling to work, so he'll get a slight surprise on offers of aid.
Zayd doesn't have much truck with fighting: besides being all too aware of his disadvantage in physical combat, he is doubtful any verbal argument will actually change someone's mind. Basically, the more he believes something, the more thought and detail he'll put into his argument. Because he likes to have the last word, he will often wait for another person confront him, only bringing up things that he sees as an immediate major issue. If Zayd is truly angry about something, he will more likely try to get back in action (other than figthing; e.g., If he is angry because someone took something of his, he's more likely to steal something of theirs while they aren't looking.)
When in a relaxed and positive mood, Zayd will be less easy to annoy and more tolerant of what people say about him. It is in this mood that Zayd will show more of his deeper self, like his love for stories and food and his obviously-guilty-kid smile. In a crowded movie theater, some people talking through the movie, some people trying to shush them, and others falling asleep, Zayd would be so engrossed in the actual plot of the movie, you'd probably have to pinch him to get him to pass the popcorn. In his days of wandering, he's become quite the food enthusiast. With every cheap bag of chips he'd bought, he'd remember the food his mom used to cook... The food became a symbol of what he was and what he wanted to be, and he began to hate the greasy food he managed to buy. At night he'd think for hours about it. Cooking is, in a way, his yearning for something he calls normal...
History:

Once upon a time Zayd was a normal kid. Back then all he had to worry about were trivial things, like if his bike's tire was flat. He had a good life, he supposed, back then when everything was stable. Food every day and things like that. They always told you to never go in the van with strangers. So when the scene, played out as if it had come from one of those cheesy information videos they played in fifth grade, when a guy came up and actually offered to give him a lizard... Zayd had said no and started running, only to hit a wall of muscle and fur... fur? He looked up at the tall guy and realized that it wasn't a guy, just a thing, with a wolfish smile. Zayd didn't even see the needle get shot into his arm, and he fell into the drugged darkness.
The next time he awoke he had a terrible headache and his tongue was very dry. His whole body itched. He seemed to be in... a dog crate? A dog crate, one of those big ones for the ginormous dogs. Like Great Danes. Great Danes, and those big fluffy dogs that he couldn't quite remember the names of. Gaah... His head felt stuffed with cotton. He could hear voices and his attention turned to the outside of the dog crate. Someone in scrubs. Baby blue scrubs. Everything else was a blindingly sterile white. Except- in the corner, on the examination table. It was a thing, half lizard's scales and half skin, human skin. It looked dead. Everything about it gave off the impression of death.
Every time he awoke in his dog crate, something new was itching, or feeling odd. In his half-drugged state, he was only mildly surprised when things really got weird. Like the tail. And when he stopped seeing the color red, but learned to see a whole new kind of purple.
When things finished changing, he was let out, sometimes. He loved those sometimes. He learned to hate the dog crate. Life in its way went on, slightly unhappily, but it was consistent...
One time he awoke to a crash, a loud crash, a carrying-over-several-labs crash. A tense while later, he smelled smoke. Lifetimes later, Things went black in a blossom of pain as metal and plastic and glass scattered across the room.
Zayd awoke, feeling pain, sharp pain this time, unlike the drug-dulled pain. His head felt clear now, though the weird stuff- the tail, the scales- he guessed that actually had happened. He didn't have time to think of it. The dog crate had been ripped apart, and Zayd slunk out cautiously into the world.
He tried to fend for himself, getting jobs where people would hire him and buying food at the cheapest place he could find. Problem was, after a while people asked after his parents, or wondered where he lived. He thought about his parents a lot... Every time he thought he might actually cry an ocean, or at least a small sea... He slept in trees. Trees were home, something said. Probably the Chameleon part. What other scaly thing could match itself to the color of leaves? When people asked questions, he gave the a shrug, or a "maybe", or an indefinite answer, and the next day he moved on. He couldn't live like this long. He was hungry quite frequently, and it seemed harder and harder to keep finding odd jobs people wanted him to do. He could feel their stares... an odd kid wandering around in ratty jeans and a tshirt and a long lab coat...
Apparently, he looked odd enough to be spotted by another mutant. She was searching for something, something wonderful, something that came above all else. Aria was a dreamer, running on a rumor brought by another mutant, and maybe a chain of dreamers before him. Aria was infective, though her mellow good mood piercing his cloudy sky. With a stolen map, Aria and Zayd struck out to walk across two states to the supposed location of the refuge. Refuge sounded like such a sweet word. He wouldn't have to worry about every little thing.
He never knew quite what happened to Aria. With dread he considered the possibility of her death, or maybe she had gotten stolen or had decided he wasn't a good companion anymore. Or maybe the refuge was closer than he thought. That morning he got up alone and went on alone. The refuge, he told himself, she had gotten there. Wilderness went on and on until he found a road. Not much of a road, just a dirt track really. There was uphill and downhill. Zayd walked uphill.
Hours, anywhere from 3 to 9 hours, he trudged. There was really nothing else to do. The dusty rural road went on and on. Another rise in the road, but not just any rise. There was some sort of building down there! Zayd blinked and stopped. There was a building down there, and there was someone flying right there. Flying. He somehow got up the energy to start walking again, his pace speeding up as he got closer. A refuge...
Additional Info:
-He can touch his nose with his tongue. Technically he could pick his nose with his tongue. That's just gross though.
- He can look in two directions in once, but that's confusing to his brain. It makes him dizzy, and after a while he starts to feel sick.
-His tail is a great aid in climbing. He can grab onto branches with it. Otherwise it doesn't have much of a use.
-He is warm-blooded. He just doesn't like the cold.
-No self defense training whatsoever. He's bound to get beat up eventually.
-Farsighted: He's great at seeing things at a distance. He's not so good at seeing things up close.

RP Mediums:
Anything really. I may be a bit slow with comments/notes. Skype: search for Lizardbread or citreneowl

Description

Help what is proportion
Edit 12/1/13: Changed phrasing of personality section
Edit 4/4/2014: Changed application art
According to Google translate that says color in Japanese. I'm trying to recreate those shirts with random words on them XD
Name:
Zaid Lucas
Gender:
Male
Age/Birthday:
Fifteen; August 5th
Height/Weight:
5ft 6in/130lbs
Nationality:
American, that is, a mutt of mostly European heritage
Mutations:
1.4% Jackson's Chamelion
0.4% Panther Chamelion
0.2% Blue-toungued Skink
98% Human

Cabin:
Piscis

Classes:
Home Economics
First Aid

Abilities:
- Color Change: Tail and patches of scale can change color, depending on surroundings, mood, and temperature. His skin and hair can change as well but not as dramatically.
-Trees: Zayd sarcastically remarks that the only thing good about having funny-looking feet and a tail is his agility in trees.
-Ultraviolet: Not exactly a strength but it's gotta count for something? Zayd can see slightly into Ultraviolet light.

Weaknesses:
-Grumpy introvert: It's easy to think that this is the last place he wants to be. It's not- He just doesn't know what else to say besides complaining.
-Persistance: Or lack thereof. He can never seem to finish anything.
-He doesn't do well under stress. Slight stress and he's strained and worried. Sometimes, with larger stresses (and being frightened) he just freezes up. In all cases he is incredibly anxious.
-Highly susceptible to being jealous, especially of people's relationships. He knows it, he hates it, but he can't help but feel it.

Personality:
Zayd reacts negatively more often than not, especially when his actions are questioned. He has insecurities about his motives and feels like he needs to protect his reasons for doing and thinking the way he does. It is because of this someone might find an unexpectedly snappy answer, or get the silent treatment. In his time being a loner looking for an odd job, he has come to withhold any personal information that will lead to one of his weaknesses. It may be hard for him to open up, but when he does, you've got a pretty solid friend.
In the same way, he very rarely accounts for having help in his plans. On team assignments, he thinks more about what he has to do and less about what others have to do. In general, he sees people as unwilling to work, so he'll get a slight surprise on offers of aid.
Zayd doesn't have much truck with fighting: besides being all too aware of his disadvantage in physical combat, he is doubtful any verbal argument will actually change someone's mind. Basically, the more he believes something, the more thought and detail he'll put into his argument. Because he likes to have the last word, he will often wait for another person confront him, only bringing up things that he sees as an immediate major issue. If Zayd is truly angry about something, he will more likely try to get back in action (other than figthing; e.g., If he is angry because someone took something of his, he's more likely to steal something of theirs while they aren't looking.)
When in a relaxed and positive mood, Zayd will be less easy to annoy and more tolerant of what people say about him. It is in this mood that Zayd will show more of his deeper self, like his love for stories and food and his obviously-guilty-kid smile. In a crowded movie theater, some people talking through the movie, some people trying to shush them, and others falling asleep, Zayd would be so engrossed in the actual plot of the movie, you'd probably have to pinch him to get him to pass the popcorn. In his days of wandering, he's become quite the food enthusiast. With every cheap bag of chips he'd bought, he'd remember the food his mom used to cook... The food became a symbol of what he was and what he wanted to be, and he began to hate the greasy food he managed to buy. At night he'd think for hours about it. Cooking is, in a way, his yearning for something he calls normal...
History:

Once upon a time Zayd was a normal kid. Back then all he had to worry about were trivial things, like if his bike's tire was flat. He had a good life, he supposed, back then when everything was stable. Food every day and things like that. They always told you to never go in the van with strangers. So when the scene, played out as if it had come from one of those cheesy information videos they played in fifth grade, when a guy came up and actually offered to give him a lizard... Zayd had said no and started running, only to hit a wall of muscle and fur... fur? He looked up at the tall guy and realized that it wasn't a guy, just a thing, with a wolfish smile. Zayd didn't even see the needle get shot into his arm, and he fell into the drugged darkness.
The next time he awoke he had a terrible headache and his tongue was very dry. His whole body itched. He seemed to be in... a dog crate? A dog crate, one of those big ones for the ginormous dogs. Like Great Danes. Great Danes, and those big fluffy dogs that he couldn't quite remember the names of. Gaah... His head felt stuffed with cotton. He could hear voices and his attention turned to the outside of the dog crate. Someone in scrubs. Baby blue scrubs. Everything else was a blindingly sterile white. Except- in the corner, on the examination table. It was a thing, half lizard's scales and half skin, human skin. It looked dead. Everything about it gave off the impression of death.
Every time he awoke in his dog crate, something new was itching, or feeling odd. In his half-drugged state, he was only mildly surprised when things really got weird. Like the tail. And when he stopped seeing the color red, but learned to see a whole new kind of purple.
When things finished changing, he was let out, sometimes. He loved those sometimes. He learned to hate the dog crate. Life in its way went on, slightly unhappily, but it was consistent...
One time he awoke to a crash, a loud crash, a carrying-over-several-labs crash. A tense while later, he smelled smoke. Lifetimes later, Things went black in a blossom of pain as metal and plastic and glass scattered across the room.
Zayd awoke, feeling pain, sharp pain this time, unlike the drug-dulled pain. His head felt clear now, though the weird stuff- the tail, the scales- he guessed that actually had happened. He didn't have time to think of it. The dog crate had been ripped apart, and Zayd slunk out cautiously into the world.
He tried to fend for himself, getting jobs where people would hire him and buying food at the cheapest place he could find. Problem was, after a while people asked after his parents, or wondered where he lived. He thought about his parents a lot... Every time he thought he might actually cry an ocean, or at least a small sea... He slept in trees. Trees were home, something said. Probably the Chameleon part. What other scaly thing could match itself to the color of leaves? When people asked questions, he gave the a shrug, or a "maybe", or an indefinite answer, and the next day he moved on. He couldn't live like this long. He was hungry quite frequently, and it seemed harder and harder to keep finding odd jobs people wanted him to do. He could feel their stares... an odd kid wandering around in ratty jeans and a tshirt and a long lab coat...
Apparently, he looked odd enough to be spotted by another mutant. She was searching for something, something wonderful, something that came above all else. Aria was a dreamer, running on a rumor brought by another mutant, and maybe a chain of dreamers before him. Aria was infective, though her mellow good mood piercing his cloudy sky. With a stolen map, Aria and Zayd struck out to walk across two states to the supposed location of the refuge. Refuge sounded like such a sweet word. He wouldn't have to worry about every little thing.
He never knew quite what happened to Aria. With dread he considered the possibility of her death, or maybe she had gotten stolen or had decided he wasn't a good companion anymore. Or maybe the refuge was closer than he thought. That morning he got up alone and went on alone. The refuge, he told himself, she had gotten there. Wilderness went on and on until he found a road. Not much of a road, just a dirt track really. There was uphill and downhill. Zayd walked uphill.
Hours, anywhere from 3 to 9 hours, he trudged. There was really nothing else to do. The dusty rural road went on and on. Another rise in the road, but not just any rise. There was some sort of building down there! Zayd blinked and stopped. There was a building down there, and there was someone flying right there. Flying. He somehow got up the energy to start walking again, his pace speeding up as he got closer. A refuge...
Additional Info:
-He can touch his nose with his tongue. Technically he could pick his nose with his tongue. That's just gross though.
- He can look in two directions in once, but that's confusing to his brain. It makes him dizzy, and after a while he starts to feel sick.
-His tail is a great aid in climbing. He can grab onto branches with it. Otherwise it doesn't have much of a use.
-He is warm-blooded. He just doesn't like the cold.
-No self defense training whatsoever. He's bound to get beat up eventually.
-Farsighted: He's great at seeing things at a distance. He's not so good at seeing things up close.

RP Mediums:
Anything really. I may be a bit slow with comments/notes. Skype: search for Lizardbread or citreneowl