Standing up on your app is for the WEAK

♦General♦

Name: Izel Valliea
Age & Birthday: 21 || Feb. 27th
Gender: Male
Hexadecimal: #773BC0 ||  #AFBFFF
ID PHOTO HERE
Higher Res Full Body Picture

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♦Combat♦

Grade:
00 ATK || 04 DEF || 01 AGI || 03 INT || 02 SPD || EXP: 00

Enhancement: [---]

Missions: 0
Kills: 0

Partner: Sydney Hart (pending)

Strengths: Effectively fleeing from combat situations (while crying, probably)
Weaknesses: Everything else.

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♦Personal♦

Height: 6'1" / 185cm
Weight: 153lbs. / 69.4Kg

Personality: COWARDLY || LITERAL || NERVOUS || OVERLY APOLOGETIC
Izel and his emotions aren't anything like an oiled well-working machine. In fact, despite being book-smart and having a lot of intelligent ideas crammed into that head of his, it seldom seems like it. His emotions are almost always in turmoil, and he's quick to jump to outrageous conclusions based off of them.  He often misinterprets things people say unintentionally, often taking things far too literally even in the case of a joke.

If you get past that (somehow) and befriend him, you'll find this man in fact does know the meaning of "calm" and can maintain conversation without crying and/or apologizing approximately every second. While he still has a plethora of self-esteem issues, really he just wants someone to actually talk to and feel like they're listening. His fears are numerous as are his anxieties, so if you make him feel safe and make him feel like he's not a burden to your existence then he'll never want to leave your side.


Likes:
+Classical and calming music
+Cleaning
+Baths
+Warm clothing
+Bitter food/drink
+Cosmetics (Especially real ones, although he makes due with homemade alternatives)

Dislikes:
-Spiders and Spider webs
-Scary things and people
-Being cold
-Filth
-His appearance (his mouth color in particular)
-Eating around people
-Christmas

City: Delphinus

Medical Record:


-Mysophobia
-OCPD

(Both of these are tentative. If after RP I feel I am not doing a respectful/accurate portrayal of either of them I may remove them.)

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♦Background♦

History:
Izel's mother died soon after he was born, a common tale for Children of Color.

A fog of depression fell down on his father. He couldn't be there for his wife and had lost her and now his own child was born with an affliction he had no idea how to deal with. Giving his child up was not something he wanted, but he had no choice on the matter. It was probably for the best that his child was taken away, regardless. Only a strong father could raise a child in a crumbling devastated world, but he was crumbling along with everything else.

He still loved his child though, so every year at Christmas, time was theirs.
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The first year Izel remembers spending Christmas at his father's, he was greeted outside by a long dead and empty flowerbed. The kitchen faucet had a steady slow trickle of water; his father had a distant look in his eyes that never quite reached the surface.

There were several of those years. The company was never strained, or painful, just like that of two strangers who couldn't connect, rather than a father and a son.

When Izel returned at eight years old, there were daisies. His father's eyes had a brightness to them that Izel didn't know was possible. He said he'd met someone- a beautiful kind woman who they could spend next Christmas together with as a family.

The house was so clean; his father was so happy. There were flowers blooming outside and Izel was hopeful.
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The family Christmas never came.

There were clean hospital walls, and people with soft delicate voices.

Izel doesn't remember much, except the blossoming of red over the kitchen walls and filth on his hands-- right beneath the skin of his fingertips, where he can never seem to reach.
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When Izel was old enough to process the pressure and expectations held of Children on Color, it didn't go well with him. Any blunders or errors on his part made him feel like he was not living up to expected role of heroism in the eyes of society, all while he continued to despise the disease that made him that way to begin with.

He doesn't feel like he has a right to be alive, but he also feels like he has an obligation not to die.

After twenty-one miserable years he's hoping maybe he can be of use in Andromeda. Maybe there he can find something he's good at and can be of use for, and maybe he'll find some form of happiness while he's at it.

It's not like there's anywhere to go but up where you're the lowest human alive, he figures.


Present:
Izel tries his hardest at school because he figures it's the least he can do. He reads the necessary books, writes the right reports, and has a outstanding attendance record. His usefulness ends when it comes to battling though, because frankly the idea of willfully ever putting himself into a life-or-death situation doesn't sit well with him. If you want to win a battle, you have to stay on your game and use your best pieces, and Izel knows he's nothing better than pawn material. He has only got one shot at life, and if he has to extend that by being a complete coward, then that's perfectly fine with him.

He continues to be an emotional and social wreck of a human being.

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♦Miscellaneous♦

More nervous around women than normal.
He's got perfect pitch.

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♦Relationships♦

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♦Release Form♦

Bold= OK!  Italics=depends on context (ask me first)

I, the creator and author responsible for this character, hereby grant HetaeraChromia and its moderation permission to:

Kill my character, if an event should call for it.
Inflict injuries on my character that will result in loss of a limb or digit.
Inflict injuries on my character that will cause lasting scars.
Impose bodily modifications on my character, such as tattoos or piercings.
Transform my character's body in ways not otherwise specified.
Afflict my character with an illness.
Injure my character superficially.
Write my character in to key events.
Draw my character for key events.