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now your world is way too fast
nothing's real and nothing lasts
Created on 2006-11-28 02:15:14 (#11707347), last updated 2007-07-31
13 comments received, 177 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
14 Journal Entries, 3 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 6 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | fate |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1970-12-06 |
Bio |
name : Fate (Sumner/Arimathea) age : 28 d.o.b. : December 6th 1970 zodiac : Saggitarius bloodtype : AB religion : Neo-Druidism alignment : Neutral languages : English (fluent), Latin (very well) family : Simone Sumner [mother], Joseph Arimathea [father], Helen Sumner [grandmother], Father Peter [guardian], Destiny [foster/half-sister, 31], Chance [foster/half-sister, 27], Coincidence [foster/half-brother, 24] |
Fate has been given the power over death. He dies just like everybody else, but given a few days can sit back up and go on his merry way as if nothing had happened. Time varies depending on the damage caused to his body. He can kill a plant or animal with his touch, humans withstanding. The only way for him to kill another person, however, is for them to kill him and for him and have him truely die. |
A while back, there was a man named Joseph Arimathea who drifted across England and just happened to be particularly virile. Or he picked forgetful women, because in the space of around seven years he managed to sire four bastards by four different women, sticking around long enough to give the children their names, and then sodding off again on his merry way. The second child of this was a boy by the name of Fate, born in downtown London to an average woman of who Fate himself remembers very little about except that she had a pretty smile and a bad temper, and who was raised by his grandmother, who he remembers a little more of but cares not to speak of. By the time he was two his mother had moved back into her mother's home, and was gone working all day and galavanting all night in search of a husband to take care of her and her bastard child. Fate's grandmother was an old pagan woman, an almost idealic picture of the crone figure herself, and when he was four, maybe five, told him that they were going a very special trip, a pilgrimage to Glastonbury, and that it would be the two of them and a friend of hers and that mother would be staying here. Mother had work, after all. And so the young boy and the old woman and her "friend," a man Fate recalls even less about but merely recalls as being there to protect something, set off. Their arrival was nothing spectacular. They visited the various spots on the pilgrim's trail, and Fate recalls enjoying himself and liking everything, and things were going smoothly and the way they should have. They were nearly ready for their return home when his grandmother's behaviour drastically changed. She strangled the boy in his sleep, and her friend wrapped him in a blanket and carried him off to the home of a priest, Father Peter. The grandmother and the man were gone by the morning, and Fate woke up, still very much alive and bruising around his neck, and all was explained in time, starting from his power to the circumstances that brought him to Glastonbury. By the age of thirteen he had been joined by three others, Destiny, Chance and Coincidence, his half-siblings, but of course, he never knew that. Over the course of his life with Father Peter, Fate was labeled the "rebellious" one, preferring to go out on his own and hang around Glastonbury Tor, or on rainy days, in the chuch library. He dismissed organized religion, practicing a half-assed form of paganism he only half understands himself for a reasons he never talks about by choice. Now, he works for the church as the day librarian, organizing and occasionally even restoring one of the older books when it requires work, a task he picked up from the previous librarian as a boy. |
A quiet form of cynic, Fate doesn't speak very much except to throw in his own morbid two cents. He rarely tells the truth but makes sure never to lie, preferring to stretch it as far as he can just to see what will take for it to break Fate is extremely bad with remembering people and connecting names to face, and really, he couldn't really care if it offends anyone. It took him almost a year to remember Father Peter's name, and rarely addresses anyone by name, unless of course they're his "siblings." Despite the fact he doesn't truely know of their heritage, he considers them his family nonetheless, and while he might make fun or torment them in his own Fate-like way, he's fiercely protective. Not like he would ever tell them so, though. |
Fate isn't sure if he looks like his father or his mother, her having been he believes a blonde and, of course, never meeting the man. His hair falls to his shoulders more out of laziness than anything, though has refused many times the offer of having it cut for him, and so it's merely become a part of him. He is also the tallest of the guardinals, standing at six foot seven, towering over even Father Peter. Fate smiles a lot, surprisingly, being able to find some kind of dark humour in almost anything. |
Name; Spork Email; spork[at]sakurazuka.net Journal; ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} punkishitwasfate is a journal made for roleplaying purposes at ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} resolutionremix. Fate belongs to Spork. Leon belongs to Square-Enix. |
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