Citizen Registry
Aug. 27th, 2014 06:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icy_heavensCɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ Rᴇɢɪsᴛʀʏ
name: Toushirou Hitsugaya
age: 10
appearance: Small and slim (as in 4'4 and 62lbs), white hair, green eyes.
occupation: Student/Drug-runner
residence: Here
fix: Toushirou's fix is killing the wicked. Mobsters, killers, abusers, whatever; if he believes somebody is a horrible person, killing them provides him with that high. Any method will do, but the biggest high will come off using a sword as his weapon. He's only recently discovered his fix, so he doesn't know the specific mechanics of it yet. The fact that he gets a fix from killing horrifies him regardless. Perhaps fortunately, it's a pretty intense one, so he has a longer cooling off period than some, and he'll try to fight it when the urge comes up. But in the end, there's really no avoiding a fix.
permissions: Here
record:
It was hardly an uncommon story. Product of a teenage mistake, taken from his mother before his first birthday because she'd been unable to properly care for him. Getting adopted should have been reasonably easy, but Toushirou had been a small, frail-looking, fussy baby. The kind that got dismissed as being too much of a hassle to look after.
Even though he'd proven by toddlerhood that he wasn't actually that frail, Toushirou hardly ever wound up staying with a foster family for more than a year or so at best. There was something off about his demeanour, everyone said. Creepily removed from emotion or somesuch. Hardly ever laughed, hardly ever smiled, even. It made foster parent nervous (those who paid enough attention to him, anyway) and his foster siblings tended to either shy away from him or bully him because he just wasn't "right". For the most part, he simply put up with it unless it got physical. After all, what else was he supposed to do? He had to live with these people.
Still, he wanted better out of his life. He worked hard at school, and if his grades were inconsistent, it wasn't even his fault. The families he lived with didn't have the means to bribe the teachers for better grades, but he was off-putting to the other kids, which sometimes resulted in them or their parents slipping some cash to pull his grades down. When bribes were taken out of the equation, he actually did very well, showing that whatever else might be "wrong" with him, he had an astute mind.
But wanting better out of his life and actually getting it were two different things. His homes, including his most recent one, tended to be in rougher neighbourhoods and he bore witness to a lot of life's darker side. Violence was the way of things, running some drugs for a local gang helped get a little extra cash to feed the family. His current family knew he was involved in this, but he was contributing to the household, so why knock it? Toushirou was smart, efficient, reliable. And he was armed with a knife if anything ever turned sour on the streets.
Which it did, occasionally, and for all that he was quiet and distant at home, Toushirou took a tougher, more abrasive attitude on the streets. A recent delivery of his went badly and the client had tried to just rob him of the goods. The guy had zero qualms about inflicting violence on a small ten-year-old (an easy target is an easy target, right?) and Toushirou had little choice but to defend himself. And though the details of the struggle were hazy in his mind, by the end of it the guy was on the ground, dead from a lucky stab into the heart. It should have made Toushirou feel sick, but the immediate reality was that it felt good. Better than good, in fact.
The logical part of his brain kicked in after that. No, no, he couldn't let anyone find out what had happened here, not even the people he was working for. Killing off the clientele would be bad for the drug business, right? So he'd rifled around to find the dead man's cash, took it, and left the drugs with the body. He could absolutely pretend the deal had gone off without a hitch as usual; he'd offloaded the goods, gotten the payment. Something happening to the client after that was unrelated, surely. People died unglamorosly here every day.
It wasn't until after he got home that night that it really dawned on him what he'd done, and that he'd found his fix. That was when he started to feel sick. Why that, of all things? And to top it all off, not two weeks later, he started remembering his dreams – of a barren, windswept plain of ice, lit only by a crescent moon. Oddly pretty, in its own way, which is something the city never managed. But he shouldn't remember it; that was wrong.
But like so many other things, it was out of his control. And for at least a few days, he stared down at the phone one of his regular contacts had given him recently, after asking him about dreams. He'd all but snarled at her for presuming that he dreamed, but it wouldn't be much longer before he decided to take the plunge and press the red button.
name: Toushirou Hitsugaya
age: 10
appearance: Small and slim (as in 4'4 and 62lbs), white hair, green eyes.
occupation: Student/Drug-runner
residence: Here
fix: Toushirou's fix is killing the wicked. Mobsters, killers, abusers, whatever; if he believes somebody is a horrible person, killing them provides him with that high. Any method will do, but the biggest high will come off using a sword as his weapon. He's only recently discovered his fix, so he doesn't know the specific mechanics of it yet. The fact that he gets a fix from killing horrifies him regardless. Perhaps fortunately, it's a pretty intense one, so he has a longer cooling off period than some, and he'll try to fight it when the urge comes up. But in the end, there's really no avoiding a fix.
permissions: Here
record:
It was hardly an uncommon story. Product of a teenage mistake, taken from his mother before his first birthday because she'd been unable to properly care for him. Getting adopted should have been reasonably easy, but Toushirou had been a small, frail-looking, fussy baby. The kind that got dismissed as being too much of a hassle to look after.
Even though he'd proven by toddlerhood that he wasn't actually that frail, Toushirou hardly ever wound up staying with a foster family for more than a year or so at best. There was something off about his demeanour, everyone said. Creepily removed from emotion or somesuch. Hardly ever laughed, hardly ever smiled, even. It made foster parent nervous (those who paid enough attention to him, anyway) and his foster siblings tended to either shy away from him or bully him because he just wasn't "right". For the most part, he simply put up with it unless it got physical. After all, what else was he supposed to do? He had to live with these people.
Still, he wanted better out of his life. He worked hard at school, and if his grades were inconsistent, it wasn't even his fault. The families he lived with didn't have the means to bribe the teachers for better grades, but he was off-putting to the other kids, which sometimes resulted in them or their parents slipping some cash to pull his grades down. When bribes were taken out of the equation, he actually did very well, showing that whatever else might be "wrong" with him, he had an astute mind.
But wanting better out of his life and actually getting it were two different things. His homes, including his most recent one, tended to be in rougher neighbourhoods and he bore witness to a lot of life's darker side. Violence was the way of things, running some drugs for a local gang helped get a little extra cash to feed the family. His current family knew he was involved in this, but he was contributing to the household, so why knock it? Toushirou was smart, efficient, reliable. And he was armed with a knife if anything ever turned sour on the streets.
Which it did, occasionally, and for all that he was quiet and distant at home, Toushirou took a tougher, more abrasive attitude on the streets. A recent delivery of his went badly and the client had tried to just rob him of the goods. The guy had zero qualms about inflicting violence on a small ten-year-old (an easy target is an easy target, right?) and Toushirou had little choice but to defend himself. And though the details of the struggle were hazy in his mind, by the end of it the guy was on the ground, dead from a lucky stab into the heart. It should have made Toushirou feel sick, but the immediate reality was that it felt good. Better than good, in fact.
The logical part of his brain kicked in after that. No, no, he couldn't let anyone find out what had happened here, not even the people he was working for. Killing off the clientele would be bad for the drug business, right? So he'd rifled around to find the dead man's cash, took it, and left the drugs with the body. He could absolutely pretend the deal had gone off without a hitch as usual; he'd offloaded the goods, gotten the payment. Something happening to the client after that was unrelated, surely. People died unglamorosly here every day.
It wasn't until after he got home that night that it really dawned on him what he'd done, and that he'd found his fix. That was when he started to feel sick. Why that, of all things? And to top it all off, not two weeks later, he started remembering his dreams – of a barren, windswept plain of ice, lit only by a crescent moon. Oddly pretty, in its own way, which is something the city never managed. But he shouldn't remember it; that was wrong.
But like so many other things, it was out of his control. And for at least a few days, he stared down at the phone one of his regular contacts had given him recently, after asking him about dreams. He'd all but snarled at her for presuming that he dreamed, but it wouldn't be much longer before he decided to take the plunge and press the red button.
