The Hunter Name: Leslie King Miller
Nicknames: Leslie
Gender: M
Birthday: January 14th
Age: 17 18 19 20
Category: Mist
Personality: You've seen his kind before, and you know him without knowing him at all. Egger of houses, keyer of cars, loiterer around stores. Leslie ditches class whenever he can get away with it, s**t talks teachers, and spends a lot of time in detention when he cannot.
In his free time, he smokes pot behind the school bleachers and sells it to the younger sisters of his friends. He is dyslexic with no patience for learning, with a
small like for books but no patience for the actual act of reading. Instead, he likes the movies, especially ones with lots of action and blood and people getting to take down their tormentors in ways that just aren't possible in real life. He plays pranks in grocery stores and deliberately leaves self service slurpie machine a wreck. He tag team shoplifts with his buddies, the stolen goods range from cheap ramen to spray paint to video games: he steals both for fun and for profit, and to stick it to the
man... whoever the man might be.
He's a deadbeat in the making and more than a little bit bigoted, because everyone's a jew and could stand to be less of a f**. It runs in the family: his brother and dad as the source, and Leslie was young and impressionable long enough for him to pick up those bad habits. Bigotry isn't the only family flaw; his dad is also a junkie in search for his next fix, a state of affairs that have steadily declined over the last ten years: becoming a methhead is far from an attractive decline.
As his father slipped into addiction further, his mother lost the ability to keep their house running in an efficient manner, or any manner at all. Keeping 5 kids clothed, fed, and entertained is as hard as it sounds. It gave him a bit of a complex: Leslie doesn't waste. If it can be saved, it gets squirrelled away for a rainy day. He hides his money in weird corners and his treasured belongings in safe spots beneath floorboards and in vents.
Beyond the traits borne from his home life-- which he has never talked about and likely never will-- Leslie is an obnoxious little s**t who can't control his tendency to lash out against, well, everyone. He is rarely kind, because 'today you, tomorrow me' never seemed to happen. It was today you three hundred and sixty five days a year, and tomorrow never came. He is sharp around the edges, and both uncouth and uncultured. He'd gladly kick a dog if it meant seeing someone else unhappy, too.
Over the years, Leslie's bad habits have steadily grown in size and quantity: being escorted out of shopping malls for suspicion of shoplifting, almost getting caught tagging, hanging out with his horrible little posse of teen guys that also think they're the most badass little shits anyone's ever seen.
He has a nautical star tattoo that he got on a punk's living room table. It's lopsided over one forearm and the ink is bleeding. He's got a smile and crooked canines and a once-broken nose. He mostly drinks the easiest kind of alcohol you can get, be it cheap and terrible beer, box wine, or ten dollar vodka in a plastic bottle chased with gatorade.
There are creatures that lurk in the corners of his eyes, and-- well. They're best ignored. He isn't some p***y. And when he chose to leave a bad life behind for a worse one, no one would really remark upon his absence, save for a quietly grieving mother. When one punkass teen in a gaggle of them goes missing...who notices? Who cares?
Despite the prickly outside, he's got a soft and weak underbelly. He doesn't know how to handle affection or fondness, and so furiously pushes it away unless it is received by force. Decent with kids, but only from a distance. ...A long one. Snarly but desires warmth, but will likely spurn it at every opportunity. He trusts no one, but will talk to anyone. He'd deny any softness, should someone detect it. Vehemently. Violently. While calling them a slur.
This portion of his personality is sorely underdeveloped -- it's the sort of thing he actively withholds: weakness, sorrow, comfort, kindness. Leslie refrains from any sort of introspection or self evaluation as a defence mechanism. They're facets of his personality that now lay buried beneath his desire to watch the world burn. Or, well, get tagged or stolen from -- he's just your run of the mill hooligan, not the sociopath he
thinks he could be.
Why did your human character choose to become a Hunter? When the powerless are presented with power, it is altogether too tempting to take it.
He could run away, they said. He could run away and never have to come back, and they would make him stronger than
anyone. They would set him free, in ways that simple petty humanity couldn't.
Leslie weighed his choices: he'd dropped out of school, and his future held minimum wage jobs (or so his momma told him, every day), or eventually land in jail (as his brother told him, every day).
He didn't think about it. Perhaps he would regret it, in the future, but he was an impulsive, restless teenager.
Weapon Ability Fleeting Frost - T3 Chill - Aleria covers Leslie's body in spiked hoarfrost to heal them with cool, soothing fear.
Sub Zero - T2 Eye - Aleria cools the body temperature of the target, slowing any frenetic thoughts to help them focus.
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