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Description

Ansel: "OHHH GOOOOOOOOOD I FORGOT TO TAPE SUPERNATURAL NOW I AM CRYING TARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"

Meow.

♠ N a m e : Ansel Kasimir

♠ A g e : 26

♠ B i r t h d a y : March 5th

♠ S p e c i e s : Kuchisake Otoko (Male counterpart of the Kuchisake Onna)

♠ F a c t i o n : Dream Faction

♠ J o b : Diamond Faction Ring Master ( Dark Clown / Freak)

♠ P e r s o n a l i t y : Ansel's personality holds much duality; he undergoes a dramatic change in character between being off the stage and performing.
Outside of the ring, he is cagey, edgy, incredibly sarcastic, paranoid, studious, blunt, and prefers to observe rather than be observed. He rarely shows interest towards anything not initiated by he himself. He has no problem with using people, and is rather selfish and pretentious in attitude most of the time. Though his temper can be short, he is willing to work with someone as long as they make the effort, whether he acknowledges them or not.
Within the ring, his cagey nature is nowhere to be seen as he makes a fool of himself without a care - his edgy personality and paranoia morph and combine into something bordering manic hysteria. He retains his rather bold and blunt manner of speech, making fun of not only himself but select customers in the stands, mingling with them on occasion as a part of his act. Some part of this show through even off the ring on occasion however, especially when excited or amused. His sense of humor is morbid and dark in subject matter, often enjoying the pain he causes himself or unto others (though of course injury to customers is prohibited, thus he settles for fellow performers by 'accidentally' causing them pain). A perpetual liar, it is rare for anything that comes out of his mouth to be the truth or sincere.

♠ H i s t o r y : Ansel was born to Rachelle and Christopher Kasimir within the walls of their home in Anglesey, Wales. His eyes were as green as the rolling hills, hair a rich chestnut brown reminiscent of pleasant Christmas memories. Their humble home of red bricks stood between two other houses, just as humble and just as red. The streets were lined with worn cobblestone that had been laid by men who had long been gone. The quaint scenery became naught but a memory when Ansel moved away with his mother at the age of six, divorce papers filed promptly and filed with cold hearts. His father gave Ansel a single wave of farewell - the worn greenish wooden door of the red house hid the man from sight, then closed with a thud of finality. Their destination was London, a city with more employment opportunities for his mother than the sleepy town of Ansel could ever offer.

The chugging of the newly introduced gas-engine automobiles vibrated the glass of the carriage Ansel sat in, now eleven years of age and adjusting to the life in the city of London with more or less success. A portly mustached man dressed in a freshly pressed brown waistcoat and suit sat beside him, making the leather cushions tilt the man's way - Ansel had to grab a hold of the rails by the window to prevent himself from sliding over. This man, whose ever twitching mouth Ansel now eyed with passive, disgusted interest, was his new "father". His mother had re-married the previous summer; " a friend from work", she had explained initially. Though young, Ansel was a clever lad - a man of such wealth hardly seemed the kind to be found in a textile mill, and to court a simple woman, once married to boot? Either he was not from work, or the "work" she had been telling her son about was not quite one related to the handling of textile mills. The handling of something else, entirely plausible, especially for this man's personality as far as he had seen and experienced thus far - he could not help but let out an audible scoff. Ringed, thick fingers slid from the leather couch to Ansel's knees. A sickening smile as the hands slid higher still, piggish eyes glinting from deep sockets. An exchange of glances...This bastard.

Ragged wisps of white were only visible for a split second as they left Ansel's mouth, losing itself in the flurry of February snow. The 17 year old ran as fast as his swollen ankle would allow across the snow-covered cobble stone, the pristine white hiding the dangerous black ice which snaked its way further as the hour grew later and later. Twice he slipped and fell and hot searing needles of pain shot up his leg - he felt a unique pleasure with pain which had been taught to him, but now was not the time. He had to run, and run fast. Unfortunately, the effort of running was not alone- as he turned a corner and into a dead end, a figure tackled him from behind and to the ground. Slender manicured fingers, claws, roughly shoved him so he faced the sky with surprising strength. He could feel the weight of someone atop of him, and the moisture of the wed ground slowly soaking his back. Into his pained and tired face glared a frenzied woman, a face so contorted in hysteria but so familiar - the face of his mother. Mother and child sat there for a moment, catching their breath, not uttering a word. Hot angry tears spilled, dropping with a soft noise upon Ansel's face. With clenched teeth she spoke. "If you want pain so much, " She said, " I'll give it to you, child." Something glinted in the pale light shed by a street lamp. "I've given it to him, and I'll give it to you too..." She chuckled humorlessly; something cold and sharp was slowly put at the corner of Ansel's mouth."Oh yes..."

An elderly man sat upon a park bench, reading the morning's newspaper. He shook his head and stood, leaving the paper behind on the bench with an incredulous sigh. The headline was visible from above- " CHILD MUTILATED BY MOTHER - BODY MISSING FROM CASKET?" In a neighboring town, a passenger of a circus caravan opened his copy of the paper. The report continued- " Friday morning, police found the body of seventeen-year-old Ansel Mervey in an alley way off of 17th and Buschell. Ansel had evidently died from massive blood loss, caused by two extensive incisions in both cheeks and several stab wounds on his chest. Later that evening, his mother, Rachell Mervey, was apprehended and charged for the murder of her son. Police were surprised when she admitted to a second murder of her husband, Evan Mervey, an influential businessman whom catered several of the textile mills within London. According to Mrs.Mervey, her husband and son had been having an affair with each other. A few public voices have supported their murder, calling their relationship "blasphemous", "unnatural". The surprises did not stop there, however; early Sunday morning, Police received a report from the undertaker that the body of Ansel Mervey had gone missing during the night. Investigations continue as...." The man smiled slowly, then turned, holding up the paper for a figure behind him to see. "What'cha think about this?" He grinned. Green eyes, as green as the rolling hills back in Anglesey where they once called home, rolled over and stared at the paper. A permanent stitched smile adorned the young man's face, strands of white hair sticking to the semi-dried blood - he scoffed.

♠ V o i c e : Smooth like silver bells, not too deep in pitch but enough for it not to be androgynous. He's got a formal British accent though it is most noticeable when he's irritated or angry - doesn't speak Welsh despite his origins save for a few words.

♠ L i k e s :
- Snow
- Physical pain
- Naive people
- Rivers
- Books

♠ D i s l i k e s :
- Hot weather
- Feels
- Talking about feels
- Listening about feels
- Feels
- Feels?
- Animals

♠ F a m i l y :
Rachell Mervey , biological mother - Imprisoned in London city jail on two counts of murder. Scentence: unknown.
Christopher Kasimir, biological father - whereabouts unknown. Last known information: University Professor Assistant and Writer.
Evan Mervey , step father - Deceased. Ex-lover, murdered by his jealous wife.

♠ R e l a t i o n s h i p s : MEOW MEOW MEOW

♠M I S C/O t h e r I n f o r m a t i o n:
+ He wears contacts to change the color and shape of his eyes for performances.
+ Prefers to keep the sides of his mouth sewn closed, as it's hard to eat or drink with it open.
+ Dislikes practically any animal of any kind, though mice seem to be somewhat okay.
+ Horrible with keeping things neat.
+ As he's relatively pale in color, the makeup worn around his eyes have stained his skin a darker color over the years.
+ He has minor regenerative abilities - they're not super! efficient though ( for example, a cut that takes one week to heal might heal in 3 days instead, etc).

♠ R P m e t h o d s :
Google Docs , Chatroom

....HAHA talk about messed up family relationships. That's okay though I had fun.

Description

Ansel: "OHHH GOOOOOOOOOD I FORGOT TO TAPE SUPERNATURAL NOW I AM CRYING TARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"

Meow.

♠ N a m e : Ansel Kasimir

♠ A g e : 26

♠ B i r t h d a y : March 5th

♠ S p e c i e s : Kuchisake Otoko (Male counterpart of the Kuchisake Onna)

♠ F a c t i o n : Dream Faction

♠ J o b : Diamond Faction Ring Master ( Dark Clown / Freak)

♠ P e r s o n a l i t y : Ansel's personality holds much duality; he undergoes a dramatic change in character between being off the stage and performing.
Outside of the ring, he is cagey, edgy, incredibly sarcastic, paranoid, studious, blunt, and prefers to observe rather than be observed. He rarely shows interest towards anything not initiated by he himself. He has no problem with using people, and is rather selfish and pretentious in attitude most of the time. Though his temper can be short, he is willing to work with someone as long as they make the effort, whether he acknowledges them or not.
Within the ring, his cagey nature is nowhere to be seen as he makes a fool of himself without a care - his edgy personality and paranoia morph and combine into something bordering manic hysteria. He retains his rather bold and blunt manner of speech, making fun of not only himself but select customers in the stands, mingling with them on occasion as a part of his act. Some part of this show through even off the ring on occasion however, especially when excited or amused. His sense of humor is morbid and dark in subject matter, often enjoying the pain he causes himself or unto others (though of course injury to customers is prohibited, thus he settles for fellow performers by 'accidentally' causing them pain). A perpetual liar, it is rare for anything that comes out of his mouth to be the truth or sincere.

♠ H i s t o r y : Ansel was born to Rachelle and Christopher Kasimir within the walls of their home in Anglesey, Wales. His eyes were as green as the rolling hills, hair a rich chestnut brown reminiscent of pleasant Christmas memories. Their humble home of red bricks stood between two other houses, just as humble and just as red. The streets were lined with worn cobblestone that had been laid by men who had long been gone. The quaint scenery became naught but a memory when Ansel moved away with his mother at the age of six, divorce papers filed promptly and filed with cold hearts. His father gave Ansel a single wave of farewell - the worn greenish wooden door of the red house hid the man from sight, then closed with a thud of finality. Their destination was London, a city with more employment opportunities for his mother than the sleepy town of Ansel could ever offer.

The chugging of the newly introduced gas-engine automobiles vibrated the glass of the carriage Ansel sat in, now eleven years of age and adjusting to the life in the city of London with more or less success. A portly mustached man dressed in a freshly pressed brown waistcoat and suit sat beside him, making the leather cushions tilt the man's way - Ansel had to grab a hold of the rails by the window to prevent himself from sliding over. This man, whose ever twitching mouth Ansel now eyed with passive, disgusted interest, was his new "father". His mother had re-married the previous summer; " a friend from work", she had explained initially. Though young, Ansel was a clever lad - a man of such wealth hardly seemed the kind to be found in a textile mill, and to court a simple woman, once married to boot? Either he was not from work, or the "work" she had been telling her son about was not quite one related to the handling of textile mills. The handling of something else, entirely plausible, especially for this man's personality as far as he had seen and experienced thus far - he could not help but let out an audible scoff. Ringed, thick fingers slid from the leather couch to Ansel's knees. A sickening smile as the hands slid higher still, piggish eyes glinting from deep sockets. An exchange of glances...This bastard.

Ragged wisps of white were only visible for a split second as they left Ansel's mouth, losing itself in the flurry of February snow. The 17 year old ran as fast as his swollen ankle would allow across the snow-covered cobble stone, the pristine white hiding the dangerous black ice which snaked its way further as the hour grew later and later. Twice he slipped and fell and hot searing needles of pain shot up his leg - he felt a unique pleasure with pain which had been taught to him, but now was not the time. He had to run, and run fast. Unfortunately, the effort of running was not alone- as he turned a corner and into a dead end, a figure tackled him from behind and to the ground. Slender manicured fingers, claws, roughly shoved him so he faced the sky with surprising strength. He could feel the weight of someone atop of him, and the moisture of the wed ground slowly soaking his back. Into his pained and tired face glared a frenzied woman, a face so contorted in hysteria but so familiar - the face of his mother. Mother and child sat there for a moment, catching their breath, not uttering a word. Hot angry tears spilled, dropping with a soft noise upon Ansel's face. With clenched teeth she spoke. "If you want pain so much, " She said, " I'll give it to you, child." Something glinted in the pale light shed by a street lamp. "I've given it to him, and I'll give it to you too..." She chuckled humorlessly; something cold and sharp was slowly put at the corner of Ansel's mouth."Oh yes..."

An elderly man sat upon a park bench, reading the morning's newspaper. He shook his head and stood, leaving the paper behind on the bench with an incredulous sigh. The headline was visible from above- " CHILD MUTILATED BY MOTHER - BODY MISSING FROM CASKET?" In a neighboring town, a passenger of a circus caravan opened his copy of the paper. The report continued- " Friday morning, police found the body of seventeen-year-old Ansel Mervey in an alley way off of 17th and Buschell. Ansel had evidently died from massive blood loss, caused by two extensive incisions in both cheeks and several stab wounds on his chest. Later that evening, his mother, Rachell Mervey, was apprehended and charged for the murder of her son. Police were surprised when she admitted to a second murder of her husband, Evan Mervey, an influential businessman whom catered several of the textile mills within London. According to Mrs.Mervey, her husband and son had been having an affair with each other. A few public voices have supported their murder, calling their relationship "blasphemous", "unnatural". The surprises did not stop there, however; early Sunday morning, Police received a report from the undertaker that the body of Ansel Mervey had gone missing during the night. Investigations continue as...." The man smiled slowly, then turned, holding up the paper for a figure behind him to see. "What'cha think about this?" He grinned. Green eyes, as green as the rolling hills back in Anglesey where they once called home, rolled over and stared at the paper. A permanent stitched smile adorned the young man's face, strands of white hair sticking to the semi-dried blood - he scoffed.

♠ V o i c e : Smooth like silver bells, not too deep in pitch but enough for it not to be androgynous. He's got a formal British accent though it is most noticeable when he's irritated or angry - doesn't speak Welsh despite his origins save for a few words.

♠ L i k e s :
- Snow
- Physical pain
- Naive people
- Rivers
- Books

♠ D i s l i k e s :
- Hot weather
- Feels
- Talking about feels
- Listening about feels
- Feels
- Feels?
- Animals

♠ F a m i l y :
Rachell Mervey , biological mother - Imprisoned in London city jail on two counts of murder. Scentence: unknown.
Christopher Kasimir, biological father - whereabouts unknown. Last known information: University Professor Assistant and Writer.
Evan Mervey , step father - Deceased. Ex-lover, murdered by his jealous wife.

♠ R e l a t i o n s h i p s : MEOW MEOW MEOW

♠M I S C/O t h e r I n f o r m a t i o n:
+ He wears contacts to change the color and shape of his eyes for performances.
+ Prefers to keep the sides of his mouth sewn closed, as it's hard to eat or drink with it open.
+ Dislikes practically any animal of any kind, though mice seem to be somewhat okay.
+ Horrible with keeping things neat.
+ As he's relatively pale in color, the makeup worn around his eyes have stained his skin a darker color over the years.
+ He has minor regenerative abilities - they're not super! efficient though ( for example, a cut that takes one week to heal might heal in 3 days instead, etc).

♠ R P m e t h o d s :
Google Docs , Chatroom

....HAHA talk about messed up family relationships. That's okay though I had fun.