Gwaed

Name >>  Gwaed
Age >> Twenty-three
Species >> Nobody
_{Paraphernalia >> metal canine mask, red hoodie}

Primary Elements >>
> Nothingness.
> Metal.

Personality:
Gwaed is a simple, but paranoid… being. His primary focus is on surviving (in the barest form of the word). Fight, flee—Gwaed likes things to be simple.

Oft on first impression, words like slow and feral come to mind. See, for him, living (if that's the appropriate word for it) is a very strange thing. He is, but he isn't. The world can interact with him, but he cannot actually, not fully, interact with the world. Being a Nobody is wretched, he knows, and the emptiness that plagues him is something he can only ignore. And for Gwaed, the best way to ignore his problems is to think less and let his body guide the rest of him.  Even if he comes across as too savage, he knows of no other way to deal with it. He can acknowledge he’s messed up, that he doesn’t properly exist. But accepting that he has a problem doesn’t help him much.

He can’t even manage to figure out how to fake being real. It is because of that that not a single soul could be faulted for assuming that Gwaed was mentally deficient or that he'd endured extensive brain damage at some point. Well… His habit of growling and grunting in lieu of talking is probably what damns peoples’ perceptions of him the most.

Gwaed is also incorrigibly shameless. He doesn't care what people know about him or what they say. He only cares if they are (or are going to) attack him or not. He very much lives in the world of Now.

Appearance >>

Spoiler:

Gwaed’s eyes are a striking amber. Frankly, they are his best feature, but he prefers to have his face hidden.
The rest of him is rather gaunt and his bad posture and quirks (growling) worsen his image.

History >>

Once upon a time there was a beast in the body of a young man who'd lost.

This beast, this man (man-child) had thoughts like cold and run form in his mind, but for such worrisome words, he didn’t feel anything as they came to him. There wasn’t any pressing need to obey the (his) commands.

He’d lost something—was his first impression. There was some necessary layer to his perception that was gone. His nose worked fine. The air was thick, cloying with the scent of coming rain and the musk of damp stone. He could tell all that.

It took him longer to figure out what was setting him off. The place he’d woken up in, the name Traverse Town came to him, didn’t feel real. The people he could hear, all laughing and gathered under eaves and in doorways as the sky started to spit at them, they didn’t seem real either. If he wanted, he could focus in on each of them, count their heartbeats and—

run

However, the beast continued to sit and stupidly stare out the alley. His instincts still repeated commands at him, but things were different now. He wasn’t who he was before. Sure, he’d always been person-shaped, but there was something wrong. Confused, the beast’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. It was the beast who was the wrongness, not the town, and not the happy people. Something wasn’t there and as much as he wished it, he couldn’t blame the wrongness on other people.

His memories of being someone, Somebody, were too fuzzy for him to trust. He couldn't pay then any attention for more than a few seconds. His senses on the other hand are tangible to him. The smells and sounds are anchors for him. He is a beast, he knows, and Existence is patchworked and dangerous. Dangerous when… without a pack, he supposes.

RUN

When he finally gets up, it’s slowly. Even with the hairs on the back of his neck and arms rising and the trembling of his shoulders and knees, he’s not feeling the panic that he thinks he should feel. He doesn’t feel much of anything even if he can acknowledge the physical effects his body is enduring.

The beast cannot think of what to do next, or where to run as his body keeps insisting, but then his body lets out a low whine when the rain starts to fall in earnest. The noise was involuntary, an instinctual reaction, and he thinks that's not so bad. He can listen to his body, or do his best to.

Either he’ll forget about the wrongness or it will fix itself.


When he finally leaves, he doesn’t run, but his walk is brisk.



>> Formerly >>

The Somebody that Gwaed was was from a people who were literally empathetic to each other. A major part of how they interacted was through their empathy--not unlike some telepathic races that end up overly relaying on the skill. Therefore Gwaed's problem with communication and emotions isn't just that he's incapable of genuine emotions. He doesn't have anything to work off of to understand/mimic a lot of basic emotions. He's incapable of processing the memories of his Somebody's life since they were made by someone relying on a sense that they grew up immersed in.

What Gwaed can handle about his body is the heightened sense of smell and hearing.The people of his Somebody may have been known for multitudes of sensory and intuitive skills, but the ears and the nose are all he's got out of it.