RtF | Victor

O F F I C I A L A P P L I C A T I O N F O R

 I D E N T I T Y

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 BASIC

Full Name: Victor Jay Andreyev
Nicknames: Vic, Tori
Alias(es): Vitya - [Assassin Alias]
Gender: Male
Age: 4 years + 4 months
SubBreed: Vaenn
Breed: Abyssinian x American Shorthair x Somali

 WORLD

Battle Class: Assassin
Occupation: Artist
Former Occupation(s): Artist
Marital Status: Taken / In a Relationship
Partner: Anastasia
Orientation: Bisexual [Female leaning]
Religious Beliefs: The Creator + Grimalkin

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 T E C H N I C A L

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 STATS

Current Level: 1

Strength: 5
Stealth: 0
Endurance: 0
Agility: 0
Tactical Skill: 0
Healing Arts: 1
Dark Magic: 1

 EQUIPMENT

Equipped Skills:

[None]

Items in Possession:

- Ragged Cloak
- Bandana [Given to him by Anastasia]

Equipped Weapon(s):

- Rusty twin daggers

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 D E S C R I P T I V E

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 EXTRANEOUS

Personality Type: ISFP - "The Artist" - ISFPs live in the world of sensation possibilities. They are keenly in tune with the way things look, taste, sound, feel and smell. They have a strong aesthetic appreciation for art, and are likely to be artists in some form, because they are unusually gifted at creating and composing things which will strongly affect the senses. They have a strong set of values, which they strive to consistently meet in their lives. They need to feel as if they're living their lives in accordance with what they feel is right, and will rebel against anything which conflicts with that goal. They're likely to choose jobs and careers which allow them the freedom of working towards the realization of their value-oriented personal goals. ISFPs are extremely perceptive and aware of others. They constantly gather specific information about people, and seek to discover what it means. They are usually penetratingly accurate in their perceptions of others. ISFPs are warm and sympathetic. They genuinely care about people, and are strongly service-oriented in their desire to please. They have an unusually deep well of caring for those who are close to them, and are likely to show their love through actions, rather than words. [x]
Habits: Fooling with his bandana – A nervous habit that generated in the period when Victor had lost his memory. Knowing his bandana was important to him but not knowing why, it was the only thing he had left after the fall of the kingdom. Tugging at it and pulling it over his nose brings him comfort when there is none.
Fears: Abandonment - After losing his friends in the fall of Gweillan, Victor struggles with the fear that it will happen again. He's quiet about it but it bothers him deeply.
Claustrophobia/Crowds - Being in tight spaces makes Victor feel like he's suffocating. 
Dreams / Goals: Finding adventure in his life.

Build: Taller than the average Vaenn. Thin, a little lanky.
Scars/Disabilities: Lame hind leg, Scars in left hind leg, Notch in ear, Damaged tail

Physical Health 40%

Victor, who already has a lame leg, left the battle of the fall of Gweillan with a badly scarred leg, a shredded tail, and a bad concussion.

Emotional Health 30%

Presently, Victor is deeply affected by the fall of the kingdom he called home and by his amnesia. 

 PERSONALITY

Summary: Clever, Easy-going, Creative, Perfectionist, Charismatic, Romantic, Independent, Determined, Sincere, Confused, Distant

Traits:

[ Clever, Creative, Perfectionist ]

One of Victor's strengths is reaching out to connect possibilities and probabilities. His thoughts are abstract rather than analytical and he finds them extremely hard to share with others. He's very in tune with his senses and that is why excels in art. In his work he is a bit of a perfectionist, often beating himself up about something he could have done better. Victor is always reinventing and experimenting with himself and his process.

[ Easy-Going, Charismatic, Romantic ]

Presently, Victor is not as easy-going as he used to be. Surviving the clash has made him grow anxious during daily life, but there are still times he feels as relaxed as his old self. Although, he still has aversion towards making plans--he prefers letting things go along as they please while he tags along. Victor would fit under the title of charismatic; he's a positive and confident person. He's learned to laugh at himself while his focus is really on others. Despite being so generally optimistic he obviously isn't so sanguine about the topic of his sister. He often avoids talking about himself in fear that his family will be brought up in conversation. Besides that, Victor is emotionally-oriented rather than rationally. He feels deeply, weighs meaning into those feelings and acts on them. He cares deeply about the people he trusts.

[ Independent, Determined, Sincere ]

Victor has never really seen himself as a leader, but he definitely isn't a follower. He is a very independent person--he has his goals and his morals that he strives to achieve. He's strongly determined to find his way in life. Victor may be outwardly standoffish but honestly he has a very intimate personality. He cares for his friends profoundly, as they are like family to him--although with this frame of mind, it only feeds his fear of losing them.

[ Confused, Outwardly Distant ]

After the battle at the fall of Gweillan, Victor lost consciousness and woke with a good portion of his memories gone, ( although his retrograde amnesia is only temporary.) During this span of time he was extremely lost with nothing in this new land of Crelav to remind him of his identity. His mind often drifted to dream like images--blurry images of battle that he couldn't read. He became reserved and wary of showing his emotions. (After his memories return to him, he becomes more of himself but he remains detached from those he doesn't know.)

 H I S T O R Y

[ Beginnings ]

Victor had been born with a defect. As soon as he had learned to toddle around on his paws, his family had noticed the signs that something was obviously wrong with one of his legs. His left hind leg dragged awkwardly behind him. It stuck out at an angle when he sat. You could see the gnarled, twisted muscles just underneath his skin.
His leg was lame. He had a limp, but it didn't seem to bother him. He hopped about like any other kit and avoided the scorch of judging, slitted eyes on his pelt. He was himself! They couldn't change him, so it didn't matter. He was proud of who he was. His mother and father loved him. His sister, too. Who cared for appearances? 
- - -
It wasn't his fault.
His sister had already began coughing--coughing and coughing until each cough came up with blood. The panic in his father's voice singed his ears, "Victor, run to the market and purchase her medicine. Go, now!" They had already lost their mother a few months ago--Victor wasn't sure if his father could keep it together.
Victor ripped the bag of coin out oh his father's belt and flew out onto the dirt road. 
The droplets of rain had reduced the path to a swamp of mud. He felt his unsteady paws give out and suddenly he collapsed into the mire. He scrambled to his feet--Oh, Creator. He needed to hurry.
He started once again on the path, slipping and trying to regain his balance every so often. It was a challenge to sprint across mud, even if he had four working legs. A light fog rolled in. His nose was cold and wet. His pelt dripped and stuck to him, revealing his scrawny frame. 
His leg. His leg burned. He had never tried to push it, fearing it would become even more mangled. It throbbed and his muscles felt like they were twisting even further. He ventured further into the storm.
He glanced back behind him...and was filled with dread. His father's house was still in sight. But I had covered to much ground. He had worked so hard only to realize he had made no impact. He lowered his head and willed himself to stop--stop, this isn't about you. With his handicap it would take hours to reach the market. In this moment he wished so honestly he could have been born normal, that he could have been born healthy. He never used to see his lameness as something that defined him. No. It was a curse. Maybe it did define him. Maybe he was the curse--a curse on his family. He was a burden. There would be hope for his sister if he had no disability and she would have her medicine. 
He slid back to the house and peeked behind the door.
His sister lay there, frozen in time. Her beautiful eyes that once sparkled with warmth and love for her brother were now glazed over. The flow of blood running out the corner of her mouth had now slowed. A drop of scarlet hit the stone floor with a sickening disturbance in the silence. 
The two toms sat there in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. 
After the silence, Vincent's father ripped his gaze away from his daughter and reared his head at his son. Vince's eyes widened. His father had never looked at him like that before--he had never seen that look in his eye.
"When will you learn?" His father mumbled in a small, defeated voice.
"What?"
"When will you ever learn?", He repeated, "You are a cripple, Vincent! You can't do the things that normal cats can--you just can't. Your sister was perfectly healthy. She was an angel. My little angel!" The larger tom's eyes were squinted and his mouth hanging open with disbelief. 
Vincent couldn't bare to look his father in the eye. "I... It's not my fault..."
Before his father could say another word, he dashed out of the house. Pain coursed through his body.
Vince hid behind his house, drowning in his own grief. Grief was black water swirling into his lungs and there was no way to cough it out.
To his surprise, his father padded out of his house. "Victor...?" His face had a more heartbroken look on it than when he had been staring at his daughter's lifeless body. "Victor... I didn't mean..." His father stared at the ground. 
Maybe Vincent could shed a little light. Just a finger of light.
He came out from behind the house. Behind his father, he came up and rubbed his nose in his shoulder. 
The older tom looked at him with eyes he couldn't read, but in that single gaze they silently decided. They would not be a broken family.
- - -
When Victor's father passed peacefully of old age, he decided he would leave to find his calling. He was homeless on the streets, pick-pocketing and starving for a long time before he found his way as an artist.

[ New Life ]

Victor was content in the solitary life he had made for himself—each day he set up his easel wherever he pleased, painted, and left. He didn't come home to anyone; in fact he still did not have a home. In absence of family ties the tom drifted from place to place. As long as he had his paints and brushes, he was set. He captured the likeness of those who payed as well as those who Victor found captivating--with his brushes flying across the canvas he would befriend these people without ever saying a word. He painted all different kinds of cats from all different walks of life. They would come and go each day, just as he would. The tom's life was routine, and despite his distaste for set procedure it was sure as anything better than the life he had left behind. The only close friend he had acquired in his travels was Brenson, a young palace shade. In Victor's opinion, far too young. But he cared deeply for his friend. Together they would flirt with she-cats and fool around--they made some dumb decisions together but those days Victor would cherish. At night, he often found his way to Wanderers' Beach. He acknowledged the other cats that came to rest upon the sands but they had only shared few words. Anyhow, there was a genuine sense of community that seemed to suffice. The sand beneath his paws was his earth, a stable factor in his atlas of constantly changing paths.

Victor met Ana at a bar. The reason as to why he was there is foggy in his mind, as he doesn't often drink. Brenson had been there with him and that's all he can really recall...but that's beside the point. Ana had burst into the room and, taking a seat next to Victor, payed for his drink. They talked, danced, and shared a few laughs. By the end of the day, Victor knew...that is, he knew absolutely nothing about her. Which is why he decide she must see her again.

How did Ana convince him to enter the human realm? He hated this place! But--somehow and someway he was now being led on to a ship by a giant cat by the name of Tabboo. Oh, Creator. 

Ana's family was an interesting crowd--a gang of mismatched cats that somehow had gotten to fit together like puzzle pieces. The Russian Blue spoke about them with an adoration he had never experienced. With each word, his respect for this band of felines swelled. These were brave people. They sailed the seas under Blue and rallied for the poor's justice. Victor began to realize there was so much more to life than his daily routine--he craved for the adventure these cats spoke of. 
   Later that day, Ana gave Victor a brilliant red bandana.

[ The End of Gweillan ]

The Gala was only the calm before the storm. The Kingdom was beginning to crumble. Vagabonds now posed a threat at every corner--they were there for every consequence. They had infiltrated as a circus act--it seemed fitting as their Tingleader was a bit of a freakshow herself. She ordered her vagabonds to burn down innocent people's homes until Jasper agreed to give her joint power over the kingdom. It was clear to almost everyone that this was a ploy for power--Victor imagined after she got what she wanted, Jasper would be disposed of. It wasn't long before news of an execution hit the public. The thought of it struck fear through every cat--the kingdom was no longer a safe place for their own kind. In this dark time, Victor searched desperately for Ana but failed to find her.

The Fall of Gweillan was like nothing Victor had ever seen before--Gweillan was under attack. He couldn't tell when it had began and he surely couldn't foresee an end. The battle seemed to span on forever, the cries of other cats raising above the swarm seemed never ending. There was no news about what was happening inside castle walls--everything had become so chaotic. The fear was palpable. How had it come to this? Victor, deciding it would come to him eventually, dove into the clash. The first thing the tom noticed was the smell. Oh, Creator, there were bodies laying slain across the ground. Each side had taken losses. It was death to be in the swarm of cats and yet it was death to hide--the battle was seeping its way through the streets. It was only a matter of time. Breaking loose of his thoughts, Victor dodged as a blade was swung into him, but managed to dig into his leg. He howled in pain, grabbing his rusty dagger and pointing it at the enemy. It was useless--the enemy was everywhere. It was overwhelming--the pain, the loss. He ducked and swerved through the screeching crowd, searching for any familiar face. Rage contorted all the ones around him.
Suddenly, a flash of blue fur. His heart jumped into his throat. He needed to get to Ana, he needed to make sure she was safe! Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment but reaching her. But as quickly as she had appeared she was gone. He surged through the crowd. He couldn't lose her. There was no way he was going to lose her! Before he could take another step, the earth began to shake. Victor, distracted by the quaking earth below his feet, failed to see a swing aiming for the back of his head.

Victor lay on the bloodied ground, consciousness leaving him.

[ Lost ]

Victor woke up on board a ship. The soft rise and fall of ocean waves soothed his aching. There were other cats on board with him--all looked rugged and defeated. Most we're stunned silent, but those who spoke whispered about seeking refuge in the cat country of Crelav. He pulled his crimson bandana over his nose. Victor couldn't remember how he had gotten here or why. In fact, he couldn't remember much at all.

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 F A M I L Y

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 BLOOD-TIES

Parents: 

[ Robin | Mother | SubBreed | Florist ]
[ Nathaniel | Father | Vaenn | Blacksmith ]

Siblings: 

[ Valerie | Sister | Vaenn | --- ]

 E X T E N D E D

Adopted Family:

_{Romantic Partner:}

Anastasia Genevieve| Female | Vaenn | Alive | LittleSp00k 

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 O O C

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 LITERACY

Lvl 1: Only for fun
Lvl 2: I'm most comfortable here! B)
Lvl 3: Sure!
Lvl 4: Only once in a while please--Im a slow writer. 

 AVAILABILITY

Time Zone: EST

Skype: Yes! - My primary mode of rp
Notes: No
Chats: Yes! Only if I'm already there
Comments: No
Google Docs: No

 R P - S A M P L E

[ Victor | Private RP ]

Victor opened his eyes. The peace of sleep had left him, and so had her face. Only that silver gaze left its impression.
There was a brilliant canopy of leaves above him, letting through delicate fingers of light that dappled his pelt. Insects buzzed incessantly around his ears. The whine of distance and heat blared in unison. The tom still splayed out on the ground, enjoying nature’s static white noise. That’s what everything had seemed to be, lately—white noise. Cringing, he managed to sit back against the sturdy trunk of the fir tree that shielded him from the foreign cats in town. He didn’t remember exactly how he had gotten the deep-set scars that ran up his leg. He didn’t really remember anything before being led out of a battle worn ship, lost in the crowd of bodies rushing onto land—and this not knowing terrified him. The tom fiddled with the bandana around his neck. Not-quite-memories plagued him, giving him snippets of the life he had once had but they were never enough to comfort. When he sealed his eyes shut, he could see the final battle play out on the backs of his eyelids, the screams of men and women almost too real to separate from what was really happening around him—but upon opening his eyes, details of the battle blurred into the static. 
Memories felt like dreams, and the farther back he tried to reach, dreams melted into feelings—and soon feelings faded before he could analyze them. The reality of isolation haunted him to no end. He had no one to turn to, and in what he’s been told is a “new land”, there were no lingering clues of his missing identity. The only piece of his life before Aven’s Warren was the rust-red cloth around his neck. For the life of him he couldn’t distinguish its meaning to him but he held it close to his heart—it carried so many truths and yet he was denied of nostalgia. 
Legs protesting, he stood and started out towards town. Victor scanned the market, stands unfamiliar and daunting.  It was going to be a long day.

 C R E D I T S

Drawn Application Template © 3lectronicAt
Rebooted Application Template © KalCity
RoadToFolkvangr © 3lectronicAt
Victor © MagaSushi