ALEXANDER, aeden louis

[aedenla]

AEDEN LOUIS ALEXANDER !?
'I see a bad moon rising. i see trouble on the way. . . '

FULL NAME Aeden Louis Alexander
NICKNAMES No nicknames, thank you. It’s either Mr. Alexander or Aeden.
AGE 257, 50 of those years being on Earth as fallen. He doesn’t quite know his exact age, since he felt no need to keep track in the Above, so he says he’s 250 and hopes it is accurate.
GENDER Male
BIRTHDAY December 20th
SPECIES Fallen angel
ALLIANCE Neutral.
SEXUALITY Heterosexual, though he doesn’t really … ‘do’ anything with anyone.

PLAY-BY Paul Bettany
EYES Thin and as grey as polished steel
HAIR Short sheared, bond and straight
BODY TYPE Wiry
HEIGHT 6’2
WEIGHT 165 lbs
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES He has an extremely intense look to him that rarely softens and a left eyebrow that seems to be permanently arched.
STYLE He doesn’t particularly care about clothes. He doesn’t feel the difference between silk and tweed. The aesthetics don’t particularly appeal. He just wears whatever fits, though he’s been caught with pants that were hemmed a bit too high and shirts with sleeves that were far too long. He’s worn the same coat since 1970 and it shows.

LIKES

• Cats. He’s been followed by more strays in his years on Earth than he could count. They leave when they want and come back days or weeks or months later, skinnier and battled scarred. He fixes them up again.
  
• Summer. He would much rather be in 100 degree weather than winter’s chill.
  
• Sleep.
  
• Wandering. Not like he has anything else to do.
  
• Trains
  
• Silence. Quiet. Calm.
  
• Fields.
  
• Watching the seasons change.
  
• Anything peppermint flavored. He’s constantly sucking on a peppermint. He loves the smell, it reminds him of something, a feeling. He can’t remember what, specifically, but it’s something good.
  
• His charge, even if she is secretive. He won’t call her a daughter in his head. Something about that feels wrong, but charge makes it seem more personal and less like he was adopting yet another stray.
  

DISLIKES

• Rodents, pests, bugs. Bugs just freak him out.
  
• So do fish. He’s phobic, actually, and will literally freak. For this reason, he does not like going into large bodies of water, lakes, or streams. He knows they can’t hurt him, it’s just this irrational fear that takes over for no reason.
  
• Taking the bus. He’d much rather walk.
  
• Being forced to make decisions
  
• Storms.
  
• Any sort of reminder about why he is in his current situation.
  
• In relation to the above point: any sort of reminder that he’s in this situation. He refuses to talk about what he calls ‘the Above’ or about being a guardian. He has a system of slang that he uses to keep himself from using the actual words, as if the physical and mental wounds are still fresh. Heaven is ‘the Above.’ Other angels are strictly ‘Them.’ Other fallen are ‘Us.’
  
• Music. Really. It pushes him outside of himself and he absolutely hates that. If he has a car, he will take out the radio, if that’s what it takes to keep people from turning it on.
  
• Anything overly sweet, except peppermint.
  
• Being cooped up.
  

STRENGTHS

• Very nonjudgmental
  
• Resourceful
  
• Honest
  
• Extremely loyal to those he sees as worthy.
  

WEAKNESSES

• Too dependent on orders from his superiors. . . and if he has none, he just roams, not doing much of anything. He’s still working on learning how to act on his own accord.
  
• Gullible. If he thinks a person is trustworthy, he’ll accept just about anything they say.
  
• Gets lost in thought
  
• Forgets things far too easily. He’d have to struggle to give you the name of his wife and don’t even ask him what his life as a human was like. He barely remembers.
  

HABITS

• Rubs his hands against his side when he’s thinking.
  
• He rolls his shoulders when he’s stressed.
  
• Seriously though, the peppermints are a problem. He smells like the outdoors and peppermint at all times.
  

FEARS

• Storms. His thoughts get into all sorts of jumbles and he can’t think straight.
  
• Fish.
  
• Open water.
  
• Bugs/rodents
  

DESIRES

• To be able to confidently act on his own accord.
  

SECRETS

• He thinks he deserves much worse than just being fallen. He thinks they should have thrown him in Hell instead. He doesn’t realize that immortality is going to be more of a punishment than he thinks. Aeden doesn’t realize just how long forever is. Not yet, anyway.
  

OVERALL
Aeden is very much a head-centered person. He will stand in one place thinking and not notice the hours ticking by, only being reminded by an alarm or by someone literally shaking him from his thoughts. He distances himself from his memories and, for the most part, emotions because they’ve gotten him into more trouble than he likes.

He’s very doubtful about just about every decision he makes. Aeden spends nights wondering what he could’ve done differently that day, whether he made the right decisions. For this reason, he prefers not to do much at all. He’ll wander. He’ll walk. He’ll think. These sorts of things cannot be regretted. These sorts of things won’t hurt him.

MOTHER Louisa Verere Jacoby. Deceased.
FATHER Alexander Jacoby. Deceased.
SIBLINGS He had ten brothers and sisters, though two of them died before he was born. One died during birth and another was killed in an accident. They’re all deceased now.
OTHER PERSONS OF IMPORTANCE N/A
ETHNICITY Caucasian
WEALTH STATUS Wealth? He’s never known it.
OVERALL
His name was Adam. Or Aiden. Or something with an A, before he went by Aeden. There was a child, he remembers that much. There was a child and her name started with an A. When he wants to think about it, he calls her Abigail. She was beautiful, absolutely beautiful in that way that only a child can manage. The innocence, the purity, the way she had his hair, her mother’s bright blue eyes. They’d looked so perfect together, the crimson haired Irish, her blond husband and the little girl with more hair than could be captured by a single braid.

He remembers the woman with red hair and how she laughed. She would look at the sleeping girl a few feet away and whisper, “I wish she had your eyes.” And he would wonder why. He had storm clouds and she had spring skies. Spring was always the better of the two. The woman had loved storms. She thought they were necessary, beautiful. Yet, she screamed so loud when the cyclone came in the night. There was panic, lots and lots of panic. He took her and Abigail to the well in the hopes that such a stable structure would support them. It supported them, but he was carried away into the skies.

Then, his life didn’t matter. He had a bigger purpose and he planned to do whatever they told him to do. His time as a guardian was more than he ever could have imagined. He had a purpose – something he always struggled with – and he had orders that, when he followed them, made him feel accomplished. He became dependent on that sort of feeling to affirm his actions. He was good. He was right.

Her name was Laura. The year was 1925 and she was three years old. She would have a hard life and that was known in the Above. She was lucky to have caught their notice. Lucky to have gotten a guardian angel of her own. For a time, she was lucky to have that angel be Aeden. He watched for ten years and then took a human form and befriended her when she was thirteen. The times were tough, but he was always there for her. Always. And when she asked him if he wanted to be more than friends, he wanted to sink into the earth and never be seen again. He had made the wrong choice, taking a visible form to help her. She was vulnerable and she loved him. Thinking it was the better choice, he left and became a silent, invisible guardian. He removed himself from her life. He didn’t know that she would try to kill herself, ending up paralyzed. He didn’t know that his decision not to step in as the friend she had known would be seen as a cowardly decision on his part. That he would be punished as a result.

Aeden was Fallen. He tried to find Laura again, after, but she had succeeded in her second attempt at suicide. He was alone, stuck on a big rock with no purpose, no mission. He was just a leaf that had browned and fallen off the tree of life.

The year was 1962. He learned fast that the only way he could make his way through the world was by never being noticed. He excelled at this. He excelled at finding identities to take on, lives to manage. He became Aeden Louis Alexander and he was no one. He spent twenty years in one town, first claiming to be a father and then claiming to be the man’s son who happened to look just like him. The people in town thought he was strange. He lived in an older house just outside of town, he had no children and he was always followed by a cat whenever he came into town. He was quiet until you got him talking about how he hated the weather. He would go on about how it fell in sheets and how he thought the wind would take him away, sometimes.

They thought he was a loon.

Years passed. He left that town and took to traveling. He would go for months at a time, coming back to his home for a period of rest. He tried staying in urban areas, if only because he didn’t want to get too disconnected. Now, he’s back to wanting to settle again, if only because he’s taken up a charge who is in school.

NAME/ALIAS Flama
AGE eighteen
TIME ZONE Central
HOW YOU FOUND US CAUTION wanted ad
OTHER CHARACTERS None
RP SAMPLE

Debate club was important. That much was obvious. It trained the future leaders of the world. It made nebbish children into powerful adults. He had seen, in his past fifteen years of teaching, the tiniest mouse turn into the mightiest lion. But lions were not made by coddling. They were not made by pats on the head and treats. They were made with brutal words and harsh criticisms. You could not coddle a lion.

Professor Milton trained lions. The head of the school would not have taken his attitude problems, his occasional student abuses, or his blatant disregard for student mental health if he didn't have an 80 percent success rate. If you stayed in his class and could walk out of it by the end of the year, you walked out of it better. If he had to make you talk about the hard stuff and then break down your every opinion? So be it.

The speech class was part one. Debate club was part two: the expert level, if you will. The problem cases were put right next to the glimmering stars and expected to handle the exact same material. The exact same glares. The exact same drills. He was not easy on his students. Not a bit. The weekly projection exercises were one of his most feared classes. Not only were you expected to reach the back of the auditorium with your words - any fault in volume would be immediately snipped at until corrected - but you also had to hold your own in an argument.

If you were to ask Professor Clifford R. Milton who his first choice for debate captain would be, he would instantly reply: "Callia Boucher." Of course, he would never admit it. He rarely showed any approval of any student, much less straight up recommendation. She was one of the best in the course this year. There were few good ones in the lot, to be honest. He'd already kicked one student - James Gibly - out of the class for being so mousey that he was annoying. Most of the others were mediocre at best.

Callia? She held promise. Somewhat regrettable that she only held promise, considering her age. He cleared his throat loudly as she finished.

"So, Miss Boucher, from your opening statement and your closing argument, we are to assume that the world you're living in works on a 'fairness' basis?" He scoffed. "Because from what I understand, you are a vampire, correct?" He didn't give her time to reply. "Which means that you, like myself, thrive on a steady diet of other living beings. Does that mean that you and I have an obligation to feed other living beings?"

He frowned mockingly. "I certainly hope not. Charity is passe." He waved it off. "It also implies that everything would, in itself, have to be avenged. The pain a mother feels during birth would be avenged on the child itself. There is no room in your theoretical world for forgiveness at all, Miss Boucher. And you neglected to acknowledge that he was not alone in his terrorizing. He was aided by thousands. Should they, too, be punished?" He stared at her expectedly. "Hm?"




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[ALLY]