Post by Farran Tudor on Dec 21, 2014 8:50:00 GMT -5
farran tudor
pilot
when the end has come
Age - Thirty-five
Gender - Male
Species - Experiment (Project Genesis)
Sexuality - Homosexual demiromantic
Faceclaim - Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII
Gender - Male
Species - Experiment (Project Genesis)
Sexuality - Homosexual demiromantic
Faceclaim - Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII
buildings falling down fast
| Positive | Negative |
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when everyone has lost their heads
Most life begins in an act of warmth and passion, of feeling and emotion, of lust and maybe, if the child is lucky, love. Most life begins between two people who harbor feelings towards each other in one way or another. Most life begins for no other reason than to begin, nothing more complex than beginning on the path of life.
Farran's life began as the product of several million dollars' worth of research, Pilot's attempt to build a killing machine that would exterminate anything near it. No mercy. No remorse. They tried to code it right into his DNA, turn him into nothing more than a predator and a monster. They coded it and manipulated it, these scientists who wanted to play god, and they changed him. He was to be the first of the Genesis Project, the first in a line of creatures who would destroy. They named him Farran, a name of "iron", in the hopes that he would be the case to prove the worth of the entire venture, mass-producible and the solution to the so-called "problem" of society.
From the day he was "hatched", the plan seemed to have been a success. He did not cry. He did not whimper. He reached one year of age without incident, and he learned far faster than he ought to have. He was faster and stronger than the other children, and he had a temper that struck like a whip. He was poked and prodded, his genes further manipulated to aid in his abilities, and he grew up isolated.
He did not know what it was like to be loved; no one had ever given him that. He did know what it was like to be held; the nurses were forbidden once he had passed the age of needing it for proper development. He was kept in sterilization, white, a laboratory, far from others. When he reached the age of four, his training began. No more was he a child that could be "coddled". No, now he could begin to learn.
At first it was just lessons in science and mathematics, history and tactics. He was born of men who worshiped no one but themselves, and they wished to mold him, shape him in a way that would warp him forever. They did not educate him on feelings - they were a distraction from the world. They educated him on logic, on discourse, on science. At the age of six, he was trained to kill, at first small animals and then growing larger and more dangerous. Any fear or mercy was swiftly punished with electric shocks, as though he was some lab rat running a maze. He was given a puppy to keep him company; three months later, he was told to kill it. He hesitated. The pain was harsh enough to make him pass out. He did not hesitate again.
It was when he was eight that the first side effect of the project was felt. He woke up one morning to find himself in the body of a snow leopard, and his frightened yowls was enough to attract the attention of a nearby scientist. Tests were run. His identity was verified. The snow leopard DNA had been accepted into his body, and what's more, it had given him abilities beyond that of the enhanced senses instincts and balance, beyond the agility and strength that had been further improved by the manipulations to his genetics all those years ago. He was larger than a normal snow leopard, of course, but he was ferocious enough, and he seemed to not only have full control of his mental capabilities and actions but also of his ability to change his form.
He was immediately trained to use the form, taught to go for the kill on anything that crossed him. He graduated from animals to humans when he was twelve. He was the executioner, and by that point, he was so honed in his instincts that he took the life with only a moment's pause. He was punished anyway; the prisoner was killed too quickly. He was supposed to draw it out for the audience, show how he had progressed. He was brought to human form, allowed to read as he pleased, and he was taught how to use a blade. It would be dangerous to give him a gun, but a blade... that was something he could be taught to wield, elegant and dangerous, an extension of his claws.
It was when Farran had reached the age of sixteen that the Genesis Project was put into jeopardy. An alternative group, one developed alongside Farran, was discovered to sink fully into their animal form. Upon further investigation and experimentation with other groups, it was determined the cause lay in the fact that the experiments created needed to form bonds with those that they claimed were their "mates", like some kind of animal. Immediately, thoughts went towards the first subject, the prize, the one who could not be allowed to turn into a crazed beast. It was decided that they would create a false mate for him, give him a hold to preserve the money they had spent creating their executioner.
It took a year to find and modify a suitable specimen, but Farran opened his feline eyes to find a six year old boy in his enclosure. He took the young one in, picking him up and caring for him. It was the first sign of mercy, of gentleness he had shown in seventeen years of life. He was awkward, sure, and he didn't know what he was doing, but he relied on instincts, long dormant, from his animal side, ones that told him to provide and protect, and he did. He performed all the fiercer in tests, all to ensure that his little one was safe.
Six months later, the scientists discovered that these "made mates" did nothing for their project, watching as another one of their prized specimens went crazed. It was decided to dispose of Farran's "mate" before he could grow weak with mercy. The snow leopard snarled and fought, furious, and he had to be sedated in order to take the child. When he opened his eyes, he let out a furious roar and attempted to destroy the laboratory he had grown up in, again needing sedation.
How could they have suspected that they had found one of his true mates? Only one thought of the truth, one who believed that what they had done to this... this child (for Farran was a child, a child they had forced into a monster), but by the time he managed to find where they had left the boy who had stayed with Farran, he was gone. The matter was quietly dropped, and the seal on the child's memories would be enough to ensure that he never remembered the unethical treatment he received for the Genesis Project.
Farran was allowed out of the laboratory for the first time when he was twenty years old. It was to bring him to a battlefield filled with members of a riot. Farran received his orders, to exterminate without mercy, and he carried them out. He killed and killed and killed until his clothes were soaked in blood and his hair appeared more brown than silver. He fought past any wounds he took, and when he changed his form... the screams of monster awoke something inside him that hurt. He had been called that all of his life, but to look at himself in a puddle, his muzzle dripping blood... he came to hate what he had become.
He hid the fact that he could transform from others, instead allowing himself to be thought of as merely a human who had been experimented on to give advanced abilities. Sometimes he led men into dangerous zones. Most of the time he was left alone, given a mission and a sword and allowed to kill. It was when he was twenty-five that he was released to stay on the Pilot compound, a military-like structure. He was given barracks that were bare of any decoration, stocked with preserved foods, filled with books on any factual subject he could want.
It was at night that he would adopt his other form, that of a large white snow leopard, and he would roam around in his apartment, feeling lost and isolated. He had become acquainted with loneliness, but he did not truly know what it meant. He felt like he was searching for something, but he didn't know what. He persevered, rising to the ranks to become a general, and when he was called back to the laboratory, he didn't complain. His files were kept classified. The scientists had moved on to other projects, all save two: his creator, a man who loved tormenting him, and one who seemed to genuinely care for him.
The man treated Farran like he was more than a beast. And then one day he stopped coming. Farran did not react as he did all those years ago. He merely registered a sense of loss, of pain, and he moved ranks to close that part of him off. He didn't know why he had left. He didn't bother to investigate either. He merely allowed the samples to be taken, the monitors given, the track of his sanity as it slipped away. After a while, he pretended that everything was okay. He did not speak of the nights where he had no memories, where the beast had been in control, nights that were becoming all the more common. He did not speak of the one other surviving pack of the Genesis Project, the group who would let him come and lie with them to give him some false sense of hope.
He did not talk of the novelist whose life he spared because he saw something in those eyes that made him hesitate, made him shove the man down and hiss for him to stay down. He did not talk of the walls that closed in tighter and tighter around him. He did not talk of the growing urge to slaughter and kill, to take lives until he was lost in the haze of hunting. And he especially did not talk of the cadet he caught glimpses of, the one with the black hair and puppy dog eyes that had come from a lifetime ago.
At thirty-one, he had come to accept the fact that he would be alone. At thirty-three, he hid the pain it took to tell the former cadet, now a soldier with a cadet who clung to his arm and made his heart ache too, that he didn't know him and it was a mistake. At thirty-five, he knew that the end was coming. He had been lucky to survive as long as he had, running around caged in a mind that left him lost and confused. He was losing himself to the beast, all because he could not bring himself to inflict his condition upon those that he knew had another heart for theirs.
But that was okay. He was just a monster anyway.
Farran's life began as the product of several million dollars' worth of research, Pilot's attempt to build a killing machine that would exterminate anything near it. No mercy. No remorse. They tried to code it right into his DNA, turn him into nothing more than a predator and a monster. They coded it and manipulated it, these scientists who wanted to play god, and they changed him. He was to be the first of the Genesis Project, the first in a line of creatures who would destroy. They named him Farran, a name of "iron", in the hopes that he would be the case to prove the worth of the entire venture, mass-producible and the solution to the so-called "problem" of society.
From the day he was "hatched", the plan seemed to have been a success. He did not cry. He did not whimper. He reached one year of age without incident, and he learned far faster than he ought to have. He was faster and stronger than the other children, and he had a temper that struck like a whip. He was poked and prodded, his genes further manipulated to aid in his abilities, and he grew up isolated.
He did not know what it was like to be loved; no one had ever given him that. He did know what it was like to be held; the nurses were forbidden once he had passed the age of needing it for proper development. He was kept in sterilization, white, a laboratory, far from others. When he reached the age of four, his training began. No more was he a child that could be "coddled". No, now he could begin to learn.
At first it was just lessons in science and mathematics, history and tactics. He was born of men who worshiped no one but themselves, and they wished to mold him, shape him in a way that would warp him forever. They did not educate him on feelings - they were a distraction from the world. They educated him on logic, on discourse, on science. At the age of six, he was trained to kill, at first small animals and then growing larger and more dangerous. Any fear or mercy was swiftly punished with electric shocks, as though he was some lab rat running a maze. He was given a puppy to keep him company; three months later, he was told to kill it. He hesitated. The pain was harsh enough to make him pass out. He did not hesitate again.
It was when he was eight that the first side effect of the project was felt. He woke up one morning to find himself in the body of a snow leopard, and his frightened yowls was enough to attract the attention of a nearby scientist. Tests were run. His identity was verified. The snow leopard DNA had been accepted into his body, and what's more, it had given him abilities beyond that of the enhanced senses instincts and balance, beyond the agility and strength that had been further improved by the manipulations to his genetics all those years ago. He was larger than a normal snow leopard, of course, but he was ferocious enough, and he seemed to not only have full control of his mental capabilities and actions but also of his ability to change his form.
He was immediately trained to use the form, taught to go for the kill on anything that crossed him. He graduated from animals to humans when he was twelve. He was the executioner, and by that point, he was so honed in his instincts that he took the life with only a moment's pause. He was punished anyway; the prisoner was killed too quickly. He was supposed to draw it out for the audience, show how he had progressed. He was brought to human form, allowed to read as he pleased, and he was taught how to use a blade. It would be dangerous to give him a gun, but a blade... that was something he could be taught to wield, elegant and dangerous, an extension of his claws.
It was when Farran had reached the age of sixteen that the Genesis Project was put into jeopardy. An alternative group, one developed alongside Farran, was discovered to sink fully into their animal form. Upon further investigation and experimentation with other groups, it was determined the cause lay in the fact that the experiments created needed to form bonds with those that they claimed were their "mates", like some kind of animal. Immediately, thoughts went towards the first subject, the prize, the one who could not be allowed to turn into a crazed beast. It was decided that they would create a false mate for him, give him a hold to preserve the money they had spent creating their executioner.
It took a year to find and modify a suitable specimen, but Farran opened his feline eyes to find a six year old boy in his enclosure. He took the young one in, picking him up and caring for him. It was the first sign of mercy, of gentleness he had shown in seventeen years of life. He was awkward, sure, and he didn't know what he was doing, but he relied on instincts, long dormant, from his animal side, ones that told him to provide and protect, and he did. He performed all the fiercer in tests, all to ensure that his little one was safe.
Six months later, the scientists discovered that these "made mates" did nothing for their project, watching as another one of their prized specimens went crazed. It was decided to dispose of Farran's "mate" before he could grow weak with mercy. The snow leopard snarled and fought, furious, and he had to be sedated in order to take the child. When he opened his eyes, he let out a furious roar and attempted to destroy the laboratory he had grown up in, again needing sedation.
How could they have suspected that they had found one of his true mates? Only one thought of the truth, one who believed that what they had done to this... this child (for Farran was a child, a child they had forced into a monster), but by the time he managed to find where they had left the boy who had stayed with Farran, he was gone. The matter was quietly dropped, and the seal on the child's memories would be enough to ensure that he never remembered the unethical treatment he received for the Genesis Project.
Farran was allowed out of the laboratory for the first time when he was twenty years old. It was to bring him to a battlefield filled with members of a riot. Farran received his orders, to exterminate without mercy, and he carried them out. He killed and killed and killed until his clothes were soaked in blood and his hair appeared more brown than silver. He fought past any wounds he took, and when he changed his form... the screams of monster awoke something inside him that hurt. He had been called that all of his life, but to look at himself in a puddle, his muzzle dripping blood... he came to hate what he had become.
He hid the fact that he could transform from others, instead allowing himself to be thought of as merely a human who had been experimented on to give advanced abilities. Sometimes he led men into dangerous zones. Most of the time he was left alone, given a mission and a sword and allowed to kill. It was when he was twenty-five that he was released to stay on the Pilot compound, a military-like structure. He was given barracks that were bare of any decoration, stocked with preserved foods, filled with books on any factual subject he could want.
It was at night that he would adopt his other form, that of a large white snow leopard, and he would roam around in his apartment, feeling lost and isolated. He had become acquainted with loneliness, but he did not truly know what it meant. He felt like he was searching for something, but he didn't know what. He persevered, rising to the ranks to become a general, and when he was called back to the laboratory, he didn't complain. His files were kept classified. The scientists had moved on to other projects, all save two: his creator, a man who loved tormenting him, and one who seemed to genuinely care for him.
The man treated Farran like he was more than a beast. And then one day he stopped coming. Farran did not react as he did all those years ago. He merely registered a sense of loss, of pain, and he moved ranks to close that part of him off. He didn't know why he had left. He didn't bother to investigate either. He merely allowed the samples to be taken, the monitors given, the track of his sanity as it slipped away. After a while, he pretended that everything was okay. He did not speak of the nights where he had no memories, where the beast had been in control, nights that were becoming all the more common. He did not speak of the one other surviving pack of the Genesis Project, the group who would let him come and lie with them to give him some false sense of hope.
He did not talk of the novelist whose life he spared because he saw something in those eyes that made him hesitate, made him shove the man down and hiss for him to stay down. He did not talk of the walls that closed in tighter and tighter around him. He did not talk of the growing urge to slaughter and kill, to take lives until he was lost in the haze of hunting. And he especially did not talk of the cadet he caught glimpses of, the one with the black hair and puppy dog eyes that had come from a lifetime ago.
At thirty-one, he had come to accept the fact that he would be alone. At thirty-three, he hid the pain it took to tell the former cadet, now a soldier with a cadet who clung to his arm and made his heart ache too, that he didn't know him and it was a mistake. At thirty-five, he knew that the end was coming. He had been lucky to survive as long as he had, running around caged in a mind that left him lost and confused. He was losing himself to the beast, all because he could not bring himself to inflict his condition upon those that he knew had another heart for theirs.
But that was okay. He was just a monster anyway.
your shadow lives on without you
OOC Name - Kiita
Age - Nineteen
Other Characters - Nope
Roleplay Sample -
Age - Nineteen
Other Characters - Nope
Roleplay Sample -
Fleur had expected a lot of things to happen. She would have seen the Gastly ignoring her, she would have seen it dive-bombing her, and she would have certainly been able to see it otherwise doing something to terrify her. Instead, she jolted at the surprise of hands covering her eyes, standing up just a little bit straighter as she squeaked softly, color flooding her cheeks as she realized that she'd been played. Of course, it happened to be by perhaps the scariest person in the Academy in her opinion, one of the few that she wouldn't be surprised to find covered in blood one day, but for all her reasons to fear him, she just... couldn't find it in her. For all of his scary persona, she knew she was just as safe with him as she was with her fossil Pokemon, and it was something that warmed her, soothed her with the same kind of balm that she would get tucked away in her study with her legs curled up to her, a pottery shard in her hands as she carefully restored it to the way it was centuries ago.
"Ch-Charles! You look stunning!" She thought for a moment to scold him over shooing his Gastly off to cause trouble somewhere else, but she couldn't bring herself to even manage that. "I thought you had work tonight though." She couldn't even bring herself to be upset with him then, her bubblegum hair tumbling over one shoulder as she smiled at him, Kaien shifting before he fluttered off, deciding to perch up higher, with the Cherubi, and afford his Researcher a little bit of privacy. "O-oh!" she gasped, jolting up again in surprise, cheeks heating and darkening at the flower. She... she certainly hadn't been expecting that, but with a shy smile, she took it from his hand and fidgeted with it for a moment. "Of course I can," she mumbled, ducking her head shyly to try to hide a new wave of heat through her cheeks and down into her bare shoulders.
The apology out of him to the Cherubi was unexpected, uncharacteristic of the man who usually laughed at such scares, but it brought a warm smile out of the woman, approval and pride shining in her gaze. "I'm sure you're forgiven," she murmured, shifting her weight a little in her heels and tugging on the edge of her dress with the hand that wasn't holding the flower, a little self-conscious now that she had her attention brought back to what she was wearing. "I-I don't hear any protests, so I think you're good."
"Ch-Charles! You look stunning!" She thought for a moment to scold him over shooing his Gastly off to cause trouble somewhere else, but she couldn't bring herself to even manage that. "I thought you had work tonight though." She couldn't even bring herself to be upset with him then, her bubblegum hair tumbling over one shoulder as she smiled at him, Kaien shifting before he fluttered off, deciding to perch up higher, with the Cherubi, and afford his Researcher a little bit of privacy. "O-oh!" she gasped, jolting up again in surprise, cheeks heating and darkening at the flower. She... she certainly hadn't been expecting that, but with a shy smile, she took it from his hand and fidgeted with it for a moment. "Of course I can," she mumbled, ducking her head shyly to try to hide a new wave of heat through her cheeks and down into her bare shoulders.
The apology out of him to the Cherubi was unexpected, uncharacteristic of the man who usually laughed at such scares, but it brought a warm smile out of the woman, approval and pride shining in her gaze. "I'm sure you're forgiven," she murmured, shifting her weight a little in her heels and tugging on the edge of her dress with the hand that wasn't holding the flower, a little self-conscious now that she had her attention brought back to what she was wearing. "I-I don't hear any protests, so I think you're good."
