wander-!!LUST (treasure&hunter) dnp

[Giniku Hoshi]

xxxx

[Giniku Hoshi]

♠ ` xxx 〖 *Ϻɵʀτɩϻєʀ ☯ Șʜɐүɖє 〗!!
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______________________ ȖҎЯῙɠΗҬ ɗϵαтʜ
______________________ eighteenx♠xmalex♠xmortx♠xbisexual
______________________ shapeshiftingx♠xbonded


OH I CAN'T DECIDE
WHETHER YOU SHOULD LIVE OR DIE
OH YOU'LL PROBABLY GO TO HEAVEN
PLEASE DON'T HANG YOUR HEAD AND CRY
I WONDER WHY
MY HEART FEELS DEAD INSIDE
IT'S COLD AND HARD AND PETRIFIED
LOCK THE DOORS AND CLOSE THE BLINDS
WE'RE GOING FOR A DRIVE

♠♠OH I COULD THROW YOU IN A LAKE

in the mirror

Mortimer’s features aren’t particularly handsome or attractive, though his looks do draw the eye. His hair is a messy mop of dark and light blond locks. He generally does his hair himself (it’s not like a poor kid in the slums can afford things at all), so it’s jagged and raggedly cut. It’s kept fairly long, if only because Mort can never remember to cut it. His bangs fall low in his face- you can tell he’s upset or angry when his head is bowed forward, bangs blocking his eyes. Mort’s eyes are his most curious feature- a bold, vivid, golden color that doesn’t even resemble brown, or any regular eye color. They’re actually quite pretty, but he tries to hide them under his bangs, or his glasses. He doesn’t like standing out. Yes, he has glasses- they’re reading glasses, but Mort likes wearing them. He’s not very tall or well-built, standing at five foot six and barely weighing one hundred and thirty pounds. Mort’s hands are a little small, but are covered in callouses. While he’s no athlete, he’s actually quite graceful, quick-footed, and a speedy runner. His clothes reflect his status in life- ragged, threadbare, worn, and not particularly fashionable. He prefers dark, dull colors, with the occasion splatter of white.


♠♠FEED YOU A POISON BIRTHDAY CAKE


so youth goes

Mortimer Allen Shayde’s past is nothing special, simply a series of misfortunes, accidents, and surprises. Fabian Shayde and Miranda Oslin, childhood sweethearts who lived in one of the slummier areas of the city, married early. Fabian was nineteen and Miranda was eighteen, but they were in love, and thought they could take on anything if they were together. Of course, fairytales don’t always come true. Both worked as hard as they could, but were unable to raise themselves above the poverty line. And, much to both their chagrin, they didn’t seem to be able to stop producing babies. So, among no fanfare and much irritation, Mortimer was born. With five other siblings, he wasn’t exactly noticed, especially considering his tendency to get lost in the crowd. So Mortimer essentially raised himself, pretending he was living somewhere. When he was supposed to be studying or helping around the house, he was wandering around the alleyways, finding new things and people. Not all of these were good (for a note, not all drug dealers like little kids watching them sell), and more often than not Mortimer came home bruised and bloody. But he did learn quite a bit about life on the streets. His quiet nature and quick mind made the little boy popular among the street gangs, and he was often used as a runner and carrier. He was too young to know any better, so he agreed, happy to be useful to someone.

It was on one of these runs that he met her. She just crashed smack into him, nearly knocking him over. He’d almost run off, much more interested in taking the message to it’s owner than a drunk. But then he noticed she was far too young, well-dressed, and hysterical to be your typical drunk. A girl about his own age was sobbing, practically trembling with terror. A rather unused bit of chivalry rose up in Mortimer, prompting to comfort the girl and take her home. His parents were busy as usual, and God only knew where his sisters and brothers were, so bringing home a girl wasn’t a problem. After calming her down, he discovered her name was Gwendolyn, though she insisted he call her “Gwen”. Happy to have a friend his own age for the first time, they hung out together for hours, talking and playing. However, much too early, the police swooped down on his house. It seemed Gwen’s family had been worried about her and wanted her home. Saddened, he assumed he’d never see her again, but Gwen proved that wrong. She turned away and grabbed his hands, stating firmly, "We'll play again tomorrow okay Mort!" He couldn’t help blushing- he wasn’t good a physical contact, he didn’t really have friends, and she was the first person to call him “Mort”. But somehow, he’d ended up with the famous, beautiful little rich girl as his best friend.

♠♠I WON'T DENY I'M GOING MISS YOU WHEN YOU'RE GONE

the new beginning

So Mort grew up, helping out various drug runners, gang members, and other unsavory folks. It was a way to make a living, and probably the most sensible thing that he could do. Seeing as the school he’d be attending was pretty much defunct and ineffectual, he wouldn’t get much out of it by attending, anyways. He could earn a decent amount of cash- maybe enough to buy a ticket and a life out of her. So he dealt with violence, trying to keep a steady stomach and a separated mind. Many of the slumbags attempted to befriend him, pleased by his work, Gwen was still his friend, much to his surprise, and despite living on completely opposite sides of town, they still hung out as much as they possibly could. Much to his mortification (hahaha, really bad pun), he was falling for his friend. Of course, he could never tell- he valued their friendship far too much. Also, there was Gwen’s typical freakout whenever love was mentioned. Considering that Mort was the only person she let hug her, well... he didn’t want to push anything.

Things came rather strangely to a turning point when Gwen, in own of her bossy fits, dragged Mort along with her shopping one day. They stumbled across a table, where a man was offering... something. To tell their fortunes? Mort was never sure. The strange man offered them both a card, so Mort nervously pulled one out. He glanced down out the card, and gulped fearfully- a skeletal being clutching a scythe leered up at him. Upright Death. It was just his luck that he’d get a card about dying. Before he could ask if it meant he’d being dying soon, the card melted it his hands. Mort gasped, confused and worried, and not at comforted by the fact that the same thing had happened to Gwen. The man, the CHARIOT, seemed unconcerned, merely giving out his address asking how they felt. Honestly, Mort felt no different. So they went home, deep in thought.

Several months passed. In the intervening months, Gwen had disappeared. Seeing as her parents weren’t exactly fond of him, they didn’t tell him where she was, or if she’d be back. It didn’t occur to them that they might not know where she was. Meanwhile, Mort’s parent’s weren’t exactly wanting to keep a supposed functional “adult” around any longer. He was kicked out, forced onto the streets. He had made another ally, or so he figured- she was a young girl, ferocious, scary, and maybe twelve. Laila was oddly fond of him, and took to calling him her minion when he kept with her. And to add to his problems, his status as an untouchable runner was in jeopardy. He’d messed with one too many of the wrong people. Mort needed somewhere to hide, and was always on the move. It was due to this that he discovered what had occurred with the card. A gang was attempting to track him down to do... something to him (he didn’t want to think about it), and he was fleeing. As he hide, he thought about how he’d rather be anyone, anyone else, even that stupid hobo without an eye. And, rather shocking, he felt his body twist and shift, his eye sinking into his skull. He’d activated his shapeshifting. Terrified, but safe, he ran again, but this time with a purpose. The CHARIOT’s place. He make it in record time, and, despite looking like a creepy old hobo and babbling in panic, the CHARIOT let him it. It took a little while for Mort to calm down and return to himself, but it did happen. The CHARIOT allowed Mort to stay with him, which he was glad for. He ran up the stairs, where he nearly crashed into Gwen. He couldn’t help being happy to see her, and surprisingly, she was happy to see him as well. So a new life begins, even if Mort’s not quite sure where it’s going. But it can’t hurt to look, right?


♠♠OH I COULD BURY YOU ALIVE


what i want

Though not particularly smart, Mort is rather quick-thinking on his feet. It’s not quite cleverness; it would probably be classified as “street smarts”. He can bluff his way out of most situations, as long as he doesn’t stop and think about what he’s doing. For some odd reason (blame Gwen and her demanding obsessions), he’s actually quite talented at chess. He’d always had a fondess for it, but never had anyone to play with until she came along. Mort enjoys wandering around and discovering news places- fitting, since he usually ends up discovering unfamiliar territory by accident. In other words, Mort has absolutely no sense of direction. He has gotten lost in his own house- and when your house is essentially two rooms, you have a talent. Speaking of talent, Mort’s a gifted mimic, able to copy someone’s mannerisms and actions after watching them. This comes in handy with his power. Though he’s not the studying sort, he enjoys reading for fun, especially fantasy and romance novels. Don’t tell anyone- it’s embarrassing. As for fears, well... Mort’s afraid of a lot of things. He’s scared of the dark, he’s scared of heights, he’s scared of guns... he’s scared of many things, some reasonable, some not. One of the few things he’s not frightened of his death, which is rather odd. It’s not as though he’s ever been in a position to be killed (though that might change), but it doesn’t phase him. It’s just another place to go, a new land to see. Mort’s is also not entirely averse to change and metamorphosis. Admittedly, he’s cautious, but new things interest him.

♠♠BUT YOU MIGHT CRAWL OUT WITH A KNIFE

some mind trick

Thanks to grabbing that tarot card, Mort now has a rather strange and slightly useless power. Now, he’s a shapeshifter, but that’s not nearly as awesome as it sounds. He can’t take any non-human forms, like a cat or Godzilla. Mort can take the form of almost any human, however. It literally can be any human form he’s seen, but he always feels uncomfortable and perverted shapeshifting into a girl. It’s easier to turn into someone he’s already met and had a chance to study. Making up new people tends to be more of a hit-or-miss; sometimes, he just ends up looking like a creepy melted blob of face. Yes, if he doesn’t focus on what he’s doing, the form he wears is weird and twisted. He’s had a couple accidents where he’s been insufficiently focused and ended up in a contorted mess of body parts and limbs. The worse part of this is the pain- he’s fully aware of what’s happened and it’s terrifying. If he manages to calm down, he can pull himself together. Fortunately, this doesn’t happen very often- it occurred when he was first getting the hang of his power, and will pop up if he’s nervous. Now, this makes it sounds like his shapeshifting has more cons and than pros. Actually, combined with Mort’s natural talent with imitation, and his ability to bluff his way through problems, he’s an excellent spy and mimic. He can pretend to be almost anyone, and usually will, if he has to.


♠♠AND KILL ME WHEN I’M SLEEPING


now you know

So what’s Mortimer Shayde like? Looking at his past and his likes might have given you some idea. He’s a fairly straightforward person- no deep, hidden complexities. Mort’s very much a loner. It is not because he hates people, or is anti-social; somehow, he just manages to avoid others. It takes a lot for him to actually befriend someone, though he tends towards kindness instead of cruelty. At first glance, he’s a little stand-offish and shy. Not the type to make idle conversation with strangers, he’s content to sit in the background and watch life go by. He’s introverted to the max, but that doesn’t mean he’s unfriendly. Mort just needs someone to bring him out of his shell. In some cases, it’s a brighter, bossier person, dragging him around and making him be social. In other cases, it’s someone he has a crush, making him want to do something helpful and good. That’s another obvious trait of his- Mort is an absolutely hopeless romantic. “Hopeless” in several sense of the word- he gets crushes very easily on almost anyone. He’s not particularly fussed about being bisexual (it’s more that gender’s not important to him), but he hasn’t told anyone. And it results in him falling for just about any fascinating, mysterious, pretty person that crosses his path. When he does find friends (or crushes), he’s intensely loyal to them. He’d never betray them, and do whatever it takes to aid them. All in all, Mort generally tries to be a good person, and help the people he loves whenever possible.

♠♠THAT’S WHY



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♠❝ Hope is a thing with feathers- I wonder if I could fly with them. ❞ ♠
♠________Giniku Hoshi

[Giniku Hoshi]

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❛ _mortimer『 SHAYDE 』
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_________ｔｈｅUPRIGHT • D E A T H !!

19_▹ ♂ ◃_shapeshifting
-《__contemplative__●__shy__●__loyal__●__hopeful__》

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W-what? Why are you looking at me? I’m not a special sort of person- just quiet, hiding in the background. I’m the person no one ever notices- well, most of the time. I’m just always there, always present, no matter the problem. Perhaps it’s my soft-spoken, slightly snarky nature, but most people don’t like me. I try to be a good person, but I usually end up messing things up. Sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off dead- at least I couldn’t hurt others and I wouldn't take up space. But I’ve got Gwen, who likes me for some unknowable reason (though I can’t let her know about my crush) and Laila (who’s sort of adorable and
terrifying at the same time). Are things entirely worthless, unable to be changed? I hope not. But in the end, I’m kind of tired of being the one hidden in the shadows. It’s time for a change- for the better, or for the worse.

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__________________↳ 〈 Giniku Hoshi 〉