Delaney, Evander

[LUCAS ♠]

The Basics-

Name: Evander Delaney
Nickname: Evan, Dell
Age: Seventeen years
Gender: Male
Species: Neko
Kingdom: Mordrivale
Rank: Musician -- He likes the term "bard" better, though.

Appearances-

Left Eye: Gold
Right Eye: Gold
Hair: Golden blond, short
Body Structure: Thin, lithe
Clothing:

Being rather low on the social ladder, he doesn't have that much of a wardrobe. He normally just wears somewhat baggy jeans and a worn hoodie with, regrettably, nothing under it. He also doesn't have shoes, but that's to be expected for an orphaned bard. Sometimes he wears whatever employers give him to wear while on stage.

In Depth Description:

Evander is a small teenager. He stands at only five feet and four inches, and his thin frame is only one hundred and ten pounds. What little muscles he has are from either walking around or carrying his old guitar. Short, golden blond hair frame his face, hanging just at his jaw, along with a pair of feline ears. His eyes and tail are the same color as the rest of his hair/fur. His pale skin has a very, very slight golden color to it, though it's hard to notice on most occasions.

face claim: kida masaomi, Durarara!!

Personality-

Likes:

>> Music
>> The shade
>> Loose clothing
>> Soft fabrics
>> Warmth
>> Having a roof over his head
>> "Lux," his guitar

Dislikes:

>> Being alone
>> The cold
>> Tight, uncomfortable clothing
>> Shoes
>> The rain
>> Water
>> Being judged
>> Being unable to express himself through music
>> His birthday

Fears:

>> Lux being destroyed
>> Oppression
>> The fall of his kingdom

Desires:

>> To have his happily ever after... Though he knows he probably won't get it.

In Depth Analysis:

Evan wears a mask. He doesn't want people to know of his inner turmoil, so he keeps on a metaphorical mask represented through his smile. He tried to keep up that smile, no matter how much it pains him. Regardless, it never reaches his eyes. He wants to give people the impression that he is perfectly happy where he is now, despite being pretty much dirt poor and malnourished. He puts up the happy, carefree act, giggling like a giddy little high school girl at the lamest of jokes.

Though, inside he is like a hurricane of despair. He refuses to cry, however. He was told by his father, before the man died, that it was a sign of weakness. If a single tear strayed from his tear ducts, then the flood gates would be opened. So much weakness is now allowed in such a time, and Evander, even as simple bard, does not want that to happen. While completely alone, he pours his heart into writing new songs. These songs rarely reach the stage, however, due to their depressing tone and lyrics. The songs he creates that are supposed to be happy and upbeat are filled with empty lies, to the boy at least. But, it's the only way to be hired to sing in places.

His birthday brings up horrible memories for the boy. On the week of his birthday, he becomes distant. On his birthday, he seems to just disappear.

sexuality: demisexual
birthday: april 25th

History-

Family:

Delaney, Margret -- mother -- deceased at twenty-seven
Delaney, Jack -- father -- deceased at thirty
Delaney, Raquel -- sister -- deceased at two
Rosen, Jolene -- foster mother -- deceased at twenty-five

Friends:

None yet

Past Relationships:

None

In Depth Reflection:

Evander started off with a normal life. His parents were of the middle class, both happily working in a small family bakery. He ran around like little kids normally did, helping out his parents whenever he could, and being an overall nuisance to some. They were a happy little family, and he was four when his mother gave birth to a little girl. He took on the big brother role very seriously, making sure she didn't hurt herself or got bullied by the other kids, despite still being a toddler.

His sixth birthday brought an end to that happiness. They were all gathered around a small cake that his mother had personally baked. Raquel was reaching for the cake, held back by their father, and Evander was taking in a deep breath, ready to blow out the candles. But he was never able to. There was a shrill scream from his mother, and all eyes traveled to her. A curved blade was sticking out of her chest, painted red by her blood. Her eyes glazed over, face frozen in pain, and she fell to the floor once the blade was pulled from her.

The next to fall was his father, though he didn't scream. He just grunted, quickly snapping at the kids to run. And Evan did. He ran and ran, not even looking to see if his sister was following. He hid in the best hiding place he could find--the roof. He covered his ears as his sister's sobs and screeches echoed around him, accompanied by the replays of his mother's scream. It was like a horror film inside his mind, playing on loop until all was quiet.

He didn't leave the roof until the next day, when he was sure whomever attacked was gone. What he was met with was a horrifying sight of his parents laying in a pool of their own drying blood. Raquel was placed right in between them, and you could easily tell that the killer had moved the bodies into that position from the smears on the ground. The bakery was ruined as well, all the money gone, and most of the food ruined.

Evander was terrified of what was to come. The authorities entered the bakery once one of their frequent customers reported the bodies. Said customer also took Evander away from the scene, taking him in and cleaning him up. For three years he lived with the young woman. He wasn't happy, but it was a good distraction from the nightmares that plagued his very being.

Soon after he was seven, the woman, Jolene, gave him a guitar. She had been teaching him about the wonders of music, and it was she believed he should learn to play. It wasn't something classical like the piano or violin, but the guitar was the only thing she could give him. It was actually her father's, but that man had passed long ago. He quickly grasped the notes, and the woman was pleased.

But then, on his eighth birthday, what little happiness he had grasped once more was taken from him. He was certain it was the same person because the wound on her chest was said to be made by a curved blade. Thankfully, he didn't see her die this time. He was just coming back from running errands when he saw a dark figure dart from the small house he had been living in.

This time, there wasn't somebody to come and take him away from the crime scene. So he waited and waited until the authorities finally forced him out of the room so they could do whatever they did to dead people. And then he was on the streets, a poor, twice orphaned little cat boy with only a guitar and the clothes on his back.

The years passed him by, and he grew accustomed to life on the streets. Yet, the pain never left him, even after he started writing songs and singing for people. One good thing about living on the streets was that he heard things from countless people. He could even feel the tensions of the citizens. A possible war? Oh, now that would make a good song.

Credits goes to Dream!

[Admin]

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