Name: Destery Rex Malone
Username: x-Morticians Daughter
Age: Fifteen
Hair Colour: Light Brown with lighter natural highlights
Eye Colour: Light Blue
Personality: The boy is sincerely sweet and patient. He can say random things sometimes. He has ADHD like most demigods, and a form of dyslexia.
Biography: Mother was a cheerleader, step-Father was a football player. Perfect little image, perfect little family you’d think. Simple white wedding at the small town church, and soon a little baby boy (that wasn't even my step-father's). Everything was perfect, since day one I was brought home to a house with a porch swing and a white picket fence. Ideal. That’s what you’d call it I imagine. I never could’ve figured that I would be the one to mess things up. My parents were always very surreal. My step-father worked on coaching the same highschool team he’d played for, and cared for nothing but his wife and his work. My mother on the other hand cared for nothing except for her husband and what the neighbors thought. Were we perfect enough? Did we fit the cookie cutter family? And from the beginning, I was taught that I had to be this cookie cutter son. Sports, music lessons, private school. I would be molded. I would be my father.
Whilst I was growing up, my step-father was growing stricter. His house was never clean enough, his wife never young or happy enough, his dinner never cooked well enough. He grew grouchier, and harsher on both my mother and I, until one day he simply snapped. The D word. The worst thing a cookie cutter family could see. Divorce. My step-father met a new girl, and I do mean girl. She was a sister to one of his football boys, a college girl, and British too. He was leaving my mother for her, and her newly pregnant belly. He couldn’t stand to marry someone he no longer loved, who no longer loved him or cared for him the way she did her son. And he could no longer stand a son that focused more on his music and mythology than football and girls. We were no longer his ideal family. So he left us. From then on out, things got worse.
My mother remarried the next month to a cruel older man. Someone who left his eye on her son more than her. Always watching, always smirking. That sick stench of cigars and brandy. I’ll never forget it. Things grew worse and worse, my mother no longer cooked dinner, no longer smiled. And I tried harder and harder to fit that mold she and my step-father had left me. I brought home a girlfriend, I tried out for football….and well failed…but I tried.
Camp was my only escape, the only chance to get away from both my mother and my second step-father. At least…until boarding school came into the picture. Out of sight out of mind I guess they thought. No matter, I'll just stay at camp year-round.
Other Information: Sports really isn't his thing
