Name: Angie

Email: shortcakegreen at gmail dot com

AIM: Sappho13

RPG Experience: You're kidding me, right? Tee hee.

Mundane

Birth Name: Leon Thomas Remington. Mostly because I like it but there's some nifty meanings in there, too. Leon, of course, means "lion". Thomas means "twin". Remington means "from the town of raven". I could put it together but then you'd get something cheesy like "twin lion from the town of raven" and that's just silly. But in more meaningful terms, you need to look at the middle and last name. Thomas aka Thomas the Rhymer aka True Thomas - that famous flouncy git who followed the Queen of Faerie off and learned to prophesy and such. The last name, Remington, is another bit of trickery. Ravens have long been associated with sight and the mind and premonition. In the story of Romulus, he chose the location for Rome based on seven ravens. Ravens sat on the shoulders of Odin, king of the Nordic gods, and told him all sorts of neat things. Then there are the Tower Ravens in London where, if they take off, you might want to cash in your life insurance policy. See? Ravens KNOW things.

Angelic Identity: Teiaiel, angel of foresight, Mr. Slightly Off-Balance, Mr. Cranky-Pants. Don't even -think- about asking him what tomorrow's lotto numbers are. He's also greedy with the vowels.

Place in the Spheres: Out on his own in the world, Leon holds down a job as an assistant store manager at a Tesco's. No, we're not quite sure how but he does it. He's also been known to help at his dad's cafe as a short order cook; yes, he can cook pretty well. Then there are the times when his mum needs a strong back to haul her "equipment" around; she has long since given up using him as a demonstration tool. On his own time, he reads voraciously and you can sometimes find university flyers around his flat.

Age:23

Birthdate/Astrology: Ah, Leon. Your astrology doesn't much like you, does it? With a sun sign of Virgo, he shows the world a rather cranky, snarky face; he can see where you went wrong and he won't hesitate to mention it. He'll use his soft voice, of course, but that just sounds more surly. Responsible in his own surprising way, desperate to adhere to the little logic in his life, and given to making budgets, Leon is not the most personable Virgo around. His moon sign is Cancer and that just starts to make things silly as it exposes his soft and squishy inner bits that link to dreams and emotions and just how Sensitive He Actually Is. This makes him crankier. Ascendant gets taken up by Pisces and that makes him even more nervy because it sets his would-be cynicism against his innate desire to help others. His wee inner beastie wants to do Good Deeds but his practical side laughs hysterically at this. See why he's cranky? His birthday is August 25. Ivan the Terrible was born then but Leon's not nearly that nutty so it's just a funny little thing.

Likes:

- "Cigarettes": Not to put too fine a point on it, Leon mixes in a bit of marihuana with his tobacco when he rolls his cigarettes. Never a lot but, over the years, he has determined the exact amount that will loosen up his mind and dull most of his visions. He rarely exceeds two of these doctored cigarettes a day. He will smoke regular tobacco cigarettes, too, ranging between three to six in a day.

- The Tube: Leon is one of those lucky souls who can read anywhere and not get motion sickness. For some reason, this translates into his apparant need to read -everywhere-. One of his favorite places to read is on a gently swaying train on the Underground. Despite the Englishman's notorious setting of "mind your own business" on the trains, Leon still dreads catching someone's eye and being forced into random conversations. Thus he brings a book to smooth his journey. Heaven forbid someone interrupt the almost zen-like relaxation the trains instill in him. This lunatic will hop on the Tube for a two block walk just because he likes the motion.

- Books: Despite looking rather like a drifting bum, Leon is remarkably well-read and always on the look out for new authors. While his favorites tend to be sci-fi and Ben Elton, he is far from exclusive and will gamely read anything suggested to him. He likes the peace and quiet of reading and the escapism that it brings. Reading borders on a religious experience for him.

- Warm Clothing: Leon feels the cold easily and so clings to anything that keep him warm and dry no matter how hideous it might be. His body has never quite adjusted to the environment change and the damp London weather is a frequent complaint for him.

Random Likes: quiet, tea with milk but no sugar, cheap cafes, classic rock, old-fashioned sewing boxes, old bookstores, hot scones with melted butter and jam, Cleopatra's Needle, the National Portrait Gallery

Dislikes:

- Visions: This is a big one here, folks. While the images that Leon gets in his mind aren't anything as useful as the lotto numbers and certainly not as flashy as video tapes, the almost constant check that his senses do on the world around him, feeding back the possible future in five second bites, is enough to give him a slight headache. They throw him off balance and turn a less-than-sunny disposition grumpier. Leon would love to eighty-six the damn things but, short of suicide, the only way to sanity seems to obey Elisha's Grand Orders.

- Elisha's Grand Orders: Leon has never been very good at taking orders and his stubborness has only increased with age so the fact that a wee little man with wings shouts in his ear all day, telling him what he Must Do, does not sit well with him at all. He doesn't care how big and grand the purpose. He doesn't care how much older and wiser Elisha claims to be. The simple fact is, Leon doesn't trust any of Elisha's battle plans -or- his mission statements. In fact, Leon has more than slight reason to suspect that his sophiae isn't playing with a full deck.

- Waste: There are few things that will make Leon go tight with anger and watching people waste things is one of the sure-fire ways to it. Whether it is food or money or objects, he finds it repellent to chuck something away without care or forethought. You see, one of the more beneficial outgrowths of his power is that he has a highly developed sense of the future need of things. If you can't use it, that doesn't mean that someone else might not be able to. Op shops and used bookstores fulfill a very important role in Leon's life; they redeem the lost. Does this mean Leon is a packrat? You bet it does.

Random Dislikes: organized religion, counselors, chatty folk, crowds, burnt food, belts, those little individually-wrapped slices of processed cheese, video arcades and dance clubs

Is Neutral On

- Politics: Honestly, Leon just doesn't give a damn. In fact, he actively doesn't give a damn. He will leave the room if a debate about the State Of The Country comes up. He will blissfully light up and ignore you if you try to ask him who he's voting for. After all, he says, does it matter since he has a feeling it'll all come out in the end? Feeling. Yeah, sure.

Hobbies:

Reading, prowling used bookshops, and collecting issues of Punch and the Strand - I think I'll just make life easier and lump all of these together since they all add up to Leon Is A Big Reading Dork. The used bookstores within a twenty block radius are on first-name terms with him. Most of them will even quietly issue him credit for any used books that he returns, a nicety that most of the shops refuse to extend to others. His flat has shelves made of brick and board because he has long since run out of other shelves. All of the books are stacked nicely and neatly but he takes the most care with his precious issues of Punch and the Strand which are kept in pristine plastic in a large album. Needless to say, books are his one true luxury and one true weakness.

Trying to hit Elisha with rubber bands - Yes, it's awful. Yes, it's horrid. Nonetheless, Leon has found entertainment in aiming rubber bands at his fairy and firing. Elisha only minds a little bit. He will mind a lot more if Leon's currently lousy aim ever improves.

Riding the Tube - Much like reading is a form of meditation for Leon, riding aimlessly on the Tube soothes him as well. On a bad day, when things have gotten to be too much for him, he'll grab his pass and set out to follow the rails. Lately, this hobby has been tainted slightly as Leon spots more and more zombies crowding his precious Underground.

Aspirations/Dreams: Secretly, Leon would really like to go on to university and make use of his literature/history course-work. Sadly, he won't be doing this until he a) gets his head sorted out and b) gets rid of a certain seven-inches-tall, flying-and-fanatical annoyance. Publicly, he denies having any aspirations or dreams and instead announces that it's quite enough to just go day by day.

NPCs

Alan Remington aka Dad - Steady and practical, Alan is the midway marker between his son and his wife. He is forthright and blunt, believing that dressing up intentions and proposals in fancy wording is a worse con job than anything his wife has ever pulled. There is a lingering touch of military to him but life with Shanise has loosened him enough that he never even mentions Leon's "cigarettes" anymore. He also has grown into a parenting style with Leon that can best be described as "from a distance". It isn't that he keeps his nose entirely out of Leon's life but he believes that he raised his somewhat odd child with a strong moral center and heaps of common sense so he will just go and stand over here out of the way. The fact that there is the quiet understanding of "if you need me, I'll be just over here" between Leon and Alan helps them maintain a steady, warm relationship. Alan's cynicism helps grease the relationship, too, and Leon respects that his father expects a proper day's work when he helps him at the cafe.

Standing at six foot two, Alan handed over his height to his son as well as the light colored eyes (though his are blue). He has mousy brown hair cut military short and fair skin. His build is still military-trim because habits like that cannot be broken and, besides, he may be a fantastic cook but he eats like a bird. All in all, he's a decent-looking fifty-five.

Shanise Remington aka Mum aka Madame Cassandra - A youthful-looking forty-five, Shanise is everything that her husband and son aren't. She is dramatic with a capital D, gregarious, effusively concerned with her loved ones, and has a set of morals that loosen when it comes to defining "con jobs". She also is the most hands-on mother in the world and goes into overdrive as if to make up for her husband's seeming lack of concern. She bullies, she teases, she coaxes, and, when those fail, she outright demands. The men in her life have long since learned to go along with what she wants unless it is illegal or personally hazardous. The thing that makes this too-big personality bearable is that she means well. Even as she plys her trade, she tells people what they most want to hear and what she thinks will help them most. In fact, there is little difference between going to a counselor and going for a tarot card reading when it comes to Shanise; she has even removed the Death card from her deck because it tends to upset her clients. She wants to help; she lives to help. Her clients are just lucky that she has a pretty good eye and common sense. Leon loves her to death and obediently wears the awful sweaters that she makes and eats his vegetables and then goes back to his flat and does whatever he pleases out of her sight. Things work out best that way.

Lookswise, Shanise is caught somewhere between pretty and plain and has opted to use her fashion sense to settle on "exotic". Her thick, dark hair is kept in braids that are wound around the top of her head, crown-like, and she uses careful application of make-up to bring out her hazel, almond-shaped eyes. Skin the color of mahogany, Shanise is a curvy five foot seven and she accentuates it with all the colors of the rainbow. Literally.

History

Once upon a time, there was a Royal Navy cook stationed in Kingston, Jamaica. One day, while he was at the market, he saw a young woman haggling with the chicken man. It wasn't love at first sight but it was a recognition that kept him looking for her whenever he went through the market. After about three months of being peeped-on, the young woman cornered the cook and somehow a brisk scolding became shared drinks at a little shop. Love came a bit later and they were married within a year.

Apparantly, Shanise plus Alan equaled fertile because a bouncing baby boy was born nine months later. Little Leon was a blessing for new parents; he was quiet except when his diaper needed changing, he slept a lot, and he watched the world around him with uncanny awareness. In other words, he was easy as pie to take care of, a fact compounded by Shanise's large and local and caring family who were delighted to add the baby to the small herd that already occupied playpens through their homes. If Leon talked earlier than the others, no one really noticed; he seemed to clam up promptly after proving that he -could- talk. If he never seemed to walk until he had already discovered balance to the point of never falling down, well, that was just cute. Leon's oddness never showed in those happy, vapid times amongst his close-knit family.

It was only when he reached school-age that a few quirks started catching people's eyes. Leon, chubby little kid that he was, never fell, never slipped with his scissors, never got hit with the dodgeball. Uncannily adept at staying out of trouble, he kept himself to himself increasingly as time went by; he developed a joy of reading that has yet to leave him as an extra excuse to stay in the shade of the trees during recess. Nonetheless, he managed fairly well and avoided most traumatizing social interactions until he was about ten. He was never very popular but he had a few close friends and one of them was conveniently large and protective. Just in case, you realize. The visions had started by then but Leon was a young and imaginative kid and didn't think much of them. Besides, they were infrequent and indistinct and he could ignore the ones that didn't pertain to him. In fact, he hardly even registered that he could never vocalize the visions he was having of the future; he tried a few times to warn people of accidents, found himself gifted with a twisted tongue and a headache, and gave up in lieu of direct action. It worked just fine for him. When he was ten, though, he accidentally broke a friend's leg as he pushed him out of the way of an oncoming car. Normally, this would have been heroic but instead it was regarded as strange due to the fact that the car didn't actually come speeding down the road until a minute after the first accident. Cue all of the other kids back away from Leon more and him spending an awful lot of time at home. Subsequently, this voluntary retreat home coincided with his mother's dabbling in fortune-telling other than her family traditions of bone-throwing and palm-reading; his availability gave her the chance to practice on him but he proved to be a very frustrating subject, nearly impossible to get any kind of sensible readings from. All in all, the next few years were stunningly quiet with not even a childhood tumble from a slide to upset the flow of days.

When Leon was twelve, however, Alan decided that enough was quite enough and it was time to leave the Navy. After the usual, in-depth discussions, Alan and Shanise decided to move their little family to Alan's hometown, London, and try that for a while. It was time for Leon to get to know -that- half of the family, small as it was. The move went surprisingly smoothly and young Leon did not seem to notice much other than "god, it's colder". His parents slotted him into school, his father opened a long-dreamed-of cafe, and his mother got it into her head to try the Professional Psychic route. Leon's main input into all of these happenings was naming both the cafe and his mother. One became Sunny Side Up and the other became Cassandra; I'm sure you can figure out which is which and we'll blame Leon's book habit for both. These contributions made, the young lad went about his business. There was one major difference to his thought process, though, when he began this new life. Leon was tired of being the "strange kid" and he had reached that crisis of belief that hits most children as they approach puberty; suddenly, everything had to be real and concrete and there was no such thing as the supernatural and "wiggies" and obviously all of those premonitions that he was getting were an overactive imagination. So he decided that he wouldn't listen to his subconcious anymore and this would enable him to fit in smoothly with the other children. Good plan. Not his best idea, admittedly. Within a week of this noble decision, Leon had managed to upend a pot of boiling oil over his hands and scald the skin right off his palms despite the buzzing in his ear that was telling him to Step Away From The Cooktop. A swift trip to the ER proved that he was still pretty lucky; none of his nerves had been damaged despite the massive burns that further frustrated his mother when she wanted to read his palm. The experience taught him a valuable lesson, though. He never again ignored his Wiggies.

In fact, he paid so much attention to his visions for the next four years that he earned a reputation for being a space case. More than once, he was called into the headmaster's office to be questioned on drug use. His parents were concerned at his seeming withdrawl but, after long mono-syllabic talks and a thorough tossing of his room, they decided that his behavior was just a teenage stage and he would grow out of it.

He didn't. In fact, Leon went from merely quiet to sullen as he graduated secondary school at sixteen, took his exams and entered Leyton Sixth Form College. He continued to make good grades and function reasonably well, even to the point of taking on an after-school job at the cafe in the kitchen, so his parents opted to continue giving him his space and only enforcing things like nutrition and wearing sweaters. This turned out to be a good thing in that it prevented them from finding him talking to a seven-inch-tall man with wee wings. Yes, that's right. The mystery is solved and we all know why Leon's temper took a turn for the grumpy as he left secondary; Elisha arrived on his window-sill as the world's worst birthday gift when Leon turned sixteen and he refused to leave. It is one thing to live with visions of the future but it is quite another to live with a sophiae who orders you around and preaches of divine missions and unending loyalty. Additionally, the arrival of Elisha sparked more of Leon's latent power and the frequency and scope of the visions increased. Between constant nagging from Elisha and the loop of tape in his head, Leon retreated more into himself, temper fraying and sarcasm mounting. Shortly after starting college, he picked up cigarettes in an attempt to curb his nerves and the shaking hands that would sometimes occur after the rare, vibrant vision. He even rolled his own in an attempt to keep his hands busy. Then one day he discovered marihuana and there was a span of peace in his head; things still showed up but it was much easier to ignore then suddenly. However, the thought of developing a regular habit put him off from a view of expense and risk. So he experimented and soon found that adding a small amount of pot into his tobacco mix helped him through the day. Ever wary, he began rolling these special cigarettes at home and carrying them in his tin with regular tobacco and rolling papers. Ah, fun. Sixteen years old and being driven slightly nuts every day.

It was a rough two years but, by hard work and occasionally locking Elisha in the closet, Leon managed to get through college with a combined coursework of Literature and History. By the end of those two years, however, he was fully drained - physically weakened and mentally wrecked from pulling a full courseload, trying to do something about his visions, and ignoring Elisha. To his parents' shock, he opted to not continue to university and instead set about looking for a job that required no higher brain functions. He figured that the more routine, the better and, maybe some day, he could return to his studies. So he found himself a job as a shelf-stocker at Tesco's and continued to help out at the cafe and did as his mother asked when she needed him for a reading. Things went smoothly for a few years. By the time he was twenty-one, though, Leon decided that it was time to move out and test surviving on his own. Part of this decision was spurred by a rise in his paycheck and part of it was just a natural uneasiness of staying with his parents; after all, some of Elisha's warnings about the Enemy penetrated his mind and, as he started to notice zombies wandering around London with more frequency, he began worrying about putting his parents in danger. This was not something he could live with and he soon scouted out a tiny flat in Lewisham, near a Tesco's, and moved in with his books and his fairy.

Now, at age twenty-three, Leon is starting to get exceedingly tired of all of this angelic mumbo-jumbo. His resistance to Elisha is waning, too, and he is wondering if it might not speed things up (whether it be his own death or the cessation of his visions) if he went out as Elisha suggested and did battle. He still doesn't like the idea but it has a vague appeal as it sets itself up as the end of things.

Personality

As you might have concluded from his history, Leon has developed into a quiet, surly sort of lad who keeps himself to himself. Most people, upon meeting him, dismiss him as the first unpleasant stoner they have ever met. He carries an air of detachment around with him, seeming to not be quite rooted in the here and now, and his strange-colored eyes usually stare off into the distance past a dred or two that always drops into his face. If you can snag his attention, you'll discover just exactly what the lowest level of socially acceptable politeness is; you will get sanitary words and a sir or ma'am and that's about it if he doesn't know you. Frankly, after that, few people bother trying to befriend him and this is just how he likes it. He reserves anything resembling warmth for his family and the next closest thing to his duties at work. The man on the street really can't expect more than a nod, the minimal answer, and a brush-off.

Of course, he is somewhat more tolerable if he considers you his friend. However, to become his friend, you must have patience and very thick skin and somehow appeal to his soft gooey center. That or else just spark his dark sense of humor enough to make him forget the loop of tape in his head. Once he lets you into his very tiny ring of confidence, you can expect completely blunt opinions, quiet offers of help, and a diverse lending-library (he only loans his precious books to people he trusts, yes, he's that neurotic over them). However, unless you meet certain criteria for certain confidences, you will still be in the dark about parts of Leon's mind and life. For instance, his parents have no clue that their only child can sprout wings out of his back and has a wee man hiding in his closet and they fall under the Most Beloved category of confidences.

Leon remains a closed book to most of humanity and that is just how he likes it. He prefers to keep a tight grip on his emotions and his interactions; remaining in control soothes the feeling of runaway idiocy that the visions in his head produce. Thusly, he tends to proceed in a steady manner, clinging to every scrap of logic he can find, no matter how minute. This gets amusing and frustrating to those around him and is another thing that gives many the impression that he is a time-tried stoner used to thinking about exactly where his foot ought to go next when walking.

The fact of the matter is, though, that he doesn't really need to look where his foot is going because he already knows and this is what constantly has his temper on fray. Instead of allowing himself to lash out in frustration, though, he sharpens his tongue on anything he can. He is sarcastic, snide, quick-witted, and merciless. Though a man of few words, those words are well-chosen and cutting and he will utilize his not-unimpressive intellect to best effect on a hapless soul. He has no compunctions about offering criticism and, once given, he does not think twice about it; it is up to you to take it or leave it and he will not worry one way or the other.

Or, at least, that is what he would like you to believe. The fact of the matter is that, while Leon is not really a particularly nice person, he does have a heart inside of him and cares about some things and some people despite his rhinocerous skin. Half of the reason he criticizes is in the hope that someone will perk up and listen. He hates the thought of having to affect the changes himself but he is not above dropping hints to others and goading them with hot pokers to do what he thinks will be the best course. If anyone would ever dare point this out to him, he would, of course, berate them to his last breath. Much like if anyone pointed out that the concept of "best course" is the justification that Elisha uses, they would get a shoulder straight from the Antarctic. Simply put, though, there is enough altruistic dreamer buried deep within to make living as a callous bastard a bit uncomfortable. Leon appreciates the beauty in the world, mostly in the form of the written word, and would like to see it go on being beautiful. Idealy, he would like to help it out in that direction. Unfortunately, Leon carries the burden of utter practicality and cynicism on top of this little streak of helpful optimist. The equation of this tends to be more cranky criticism as his sense of What Is Possible and What Will Probably Happen overrides his hopes of What Would Be Nice. You could say he is an altruist who is his own worst enemy. He tries to vent this aggravation by doing little things for complete strangers and then disappearing into the crowd. For instance, he faithfully buys The Big Issue, sometimes coming home with three or more copies of them, in fact; then he goes home and actually reads them and ties them in neat bundles to go off to be recycled.

Leon is nothing if not responsible, you see. He bundles his papers like he's supposed to, he pays his bills on time, and he is punctual to a fault when he is reporting for work or other duties. Again, this is an aspect of his life which he can control and he does so rigorously. If he promises to do something, he will do it. He budgets out his spending, shops carefully for himself, and does his own laundry because, if he doesn't do it, who will, he says? This has led to some minor anal-retentive behaviors and is only one of the reasons he lives alone. After all, could -you- bear to live with someone who is so much more consistently "adult" than you? Another aspect of Leon that would make for a lousy roomie is his complete mule-headedness. Once he gets an idea stuck in his head, it takes wild horses to get it out once more. The most frequent symptom of his stubborn nature is a desire to never be wrong. He hates to be disproven. In fact, you could say he -loathes- it. If you can prove he was mistaken, do not expect a gracious acceptance. Prepare yourself for an arctic front.

Bless him, Leon is not really a people person and only most of it can be blamed on his visions.

Pros: intelligent, responsible, practical, loyal

Cons: cranky, stand-offish, critical, sarcastic, cynical

Appearance

The thing to remember about Leon is, unusual as some aspects of his appearance are, he tends to blend into the madding crowd and that is just the way he likes it. The last thing on earth that Leon wants is to be noticed. Positive or negative, attention bothers him. Which is kind of funny considering his appearance.

Leon is blessed with an interesting merging of his parents' features; he isn't really what you would call handsome but there is definite magnetism to him. Angles are a prominent theme in the chemistry of his face - high cheekbones, squared off chin, sharp jawline, and a high forehead. His wide mouth, thick-lipped and often slightly chapped, sets in a natural, loose downward turn; he always looks slightly disgruntled when relaxed. His nose is the product of a strange mix of genes, long and straight and resembling nothing so much as a Roman nose that met a wall at reasonable velocity; it flattens quite a bit towards the bottom and resists any application of the word "pert". He pulls most of his skin tone from his mum, though, and thusly resembles the color of burnt caramel all over with a surprising lack of blemishes and childhood scars. His eyes are slightly almond-shaped with heavy lids and disgustingly thick eyelashes, set beneath dark, straight eyebrows. A startling pale violet with a ring of grey around the pupil, Leon's eyes are his most unusual feature and make him noticeably self-concious. To better hide them, he wears his black, wooly hair in thick, neatly kept dredlocks that reach halfway down his back and fall into his face constantly. There are still traces of discoloration in the dreds - patches of milky coffee color and dark red from where he made test runs with bleaching and dying. His fiddly fingers have resulted, too, in each dred featuring a twist of thread on the end, each a different color as he picked up and traded off random spools found in his mother's sewing box.

Standing at six foot one, Leon is built lean and loose-limbed with ropey muscles in his arms and legs. Any muscle tone that exists is a fluke from a walking lifestyle and working at his father's cafe and, in fact, he has the tiniest beginnings of a tummy to him. Of course, part of the tummy issue might be because he slouches -everywhere-. The man has not stood properly upright in at least six years. Nor has he picked up his feet beyond the necessary inches to make forward progress. It isn't so much a matter of laziness as energy conservation mixed with a definite "who cares" philosophy. As a result of his poor posture, all of his clothes appear to be on the side of shoddy and unkempt. He keeps himself almost spotlessly clean, yes, but he has never mastered the use of an iron. Thus, he is Mr. Wrinkles as he pads about in worn t-shirts and too-big jeans and button-up shirts over top of everything on a chilly day. When it gets any colder, he wears sweaters with religious fervency; twelve years in the balmy climate of Jamaica has apparantly ruined him for anything below fifty degrees fahrenheit. Most of his clothing comes from a mix of op-shop finds, presents from a worried mother, and the rare splurge at Marks & Spencer. Even his mother, though, has not been able to convince him to wear a belt to keep those jeans up. Opening his closet will find you a range of too-big jeans, a lone pair of khakis, one solitary suit in a strange shade of navy blue, and a good dozen neutrally-colored button-ups. Within his drawers, you will discover the lost caverns of concert and promo tees mixed with solid colors and a veritable herd of sweaters (one or two even made by his mother, bless her; the neckholes and the sleeves are not Quite Right but he wears them, anyway). Shoe-wise, he lives in the most disreputable sneakers you've ever seen. He literally wears all of his clothing until it approaches his level of Too Worn, a state of being that means he can't darn it anymore without it looking like rag-bag cast-offs. Yes, ladies, he mends his own clothing. You may swoon if you like. Once the clothing is past the point of no return, well, where do you think dust-rags come from?

Other points of interest on the Leon's Body Tour include two piercings in his left ear that hold simple gold studs and a simple, tribal tattoo around his right bicep. The piercings happened in the year he entered college and the year he left college; the second one was obtained in a slightly drunken fit of rambunctiousness. The tattoo appeared when he was twenty and bored. Extremely bored. He won't ever regret it, though, because that takes too much effort and it means admitting he was wrong. Ironically, the only scars on his entire body also fall into the category of "I'm not telling you how I got them because I got them because I was wrong". Both of his palms are heavily scarred, looking like the skin was burnt right off and making it nearly impossible to read any of the so-called major lines of palmistry. Since this happened when he was twelve, he has long since lost any self-conciousness about it but he still refuses to tell most people what happened. It just isn't any of their business, he figures.

Oh, and when he tells you that it's none of your business? It will be in a sunny-sweet bass with quite a bit of Jamaica left in it. This cuts the pain of his words and it annoys him, of course.

Abilities

Tell Your Future, Guv? - While he regards the usual methods of divination (cards, bones, palm-reading, tea leaves) as utter bosh, he can fake it like a pro thanks to years at his mother's knee. He might not be sweet-tongued at anything else but, boy, can he make you think he's reading your future with all seriousness and all duty. He is best at faking tarot cards; he can also make do with a normal deck of playing cards in a pinch. He can manage to bilk you with a good palm-reading, tea leaves, or a suitably impressive Communion With The Spirits if he has to, though. Why would he do this? Just because it comes in handy sometimes and his mother sometimes drags him in to be her "assistant".

Give Me A Lever - Years of lifting things for his father has given Leon a nearly magical sense of how best to go about hoisting anything that needs shifting. It can be any shape or size at all and he can figure out the best plan of attack if you give him a minute to think about it. Of course, if he can't lift it on his own, then that's that. Time to call in reinforcements. Just because he knows the Best Way To Lift doesn't mean he can lift everything. He's only human, after all.

Stitch In Time - He might not look it but Leon is king of the invisible darns. He's had to be, after all, since his budget only stretches so far. Besides, he hates wasting things. Do you have a hole in your sock? See him. A tear in your favorite jeans? He can fix it. However, he could not make something new if you held a gun to his head. He falls on the maintennance side of things.

The Angelic

Foresight: 1. The act or power of forseeing; prescience; foreknowledge

2. Action in reference to the future; provident care; prudence; wise forethought

3. Perception of the significance and nature of events before they've occured

Color: Grey-tinged mother-of-pearl (hex code # EAF3F2). To be a bit more creepy about it, it's the color of cataracts.

Symbol: Two side-ways diamonds, one inside the other, with a dot in the center, Teiaiel's symbol is called "the eye of the medicine man" by some Native American tribes in the southwestern US. It is also synonymous with wisdom and the placement at the center of his forehead is not-coincidentally like the placement of the Third Eye, the center of psychic power. ( http://symbols.com/encyclopedia/30/3038.html )

Key to the Kingdom: Teiaiel's key is nothing spectacular, really. In fact, it hardly even looks like a key, more like a loop with a pointy stick attached. A grand total of four inches long, it is made from what appears to be slightly-tarnishing pewter but the tarnish never seems to grow; the blackened areas hang around the joints and crevices only. If you look very closely, you will see that the loop is actually formed from two very stylized angel wings, joined tip to tip and bottom to bottom to form a circle. From this loop, a thin cylinder extends to a small cone at the tip. There are two grooves and two bumps going down the cylinder in a line and that is about as close as you get to teeth on this sad little key.

Once it pops out (much to Leon's amusement, I'm sure), Leon will wear it on the keychain that snaps to his belt loop. Disrespectful much? Oh, YES.

Voile: Let's just say Teiaiel could have done worse with the voile. If we say it loud enough, he might believe it, too. Over all, the voile is without bells and whistles and all one color, the slightly shiney grey-tinted mother-of-pearl, and made from a light, cottony fabric. Teiaiel's chest is covered by a tailored vest that buttons from his sternum down to his waist. The vest then falls to mid-thigh, flaring slightly to allow for movement. There is some half-assed gold embroidery around the edges, random slashes of stitchery here and there in no particular order, almost as if a beginner seamstress was practicing her blanket stitch and failing. A thick cord of white shot through with gold is tied loosely around his waist and the ends hang down to his knees with small loops of gold knotted at them. Teiaiel's trousers are as simple as his shirt with the same underlying taint of silly. They are straight-legged and loose and fall to brush the tops of his feet. However, the dignity is marred by the fact that there is a slit up the front of each leg to his knee, flashing sexy shin every time he walks. At least it -would- flash sexy shin if his shins were uncovered. Alas, white lengths of fabric are wound around his limbs (from ankle to knee and from wrist to elbow) as if he is bandaged and thus deprives the world of copious skin. Teiaiel walks barefoot because he is tough like that. His hair is tied back loosely at the nape of his neck with a length of white fabric.

Wings: Teiaiel is a sad angel because there is nothing special about his wings. They are just wings and they keep him aloft (more or less) and they are a strangely irridescent white. That is all. Poor little Teiaiel. That will teach him to hog the vowels.

Weapon: Teiaiel's weapon no longer carries a name that any remember, not even Elisha. This is a good thing for Leon's ego since even he could not be expected to bear swinging a two foot fossilized femur, yellowed with age and dotted with symbolic pits, while telling you to fear his "Tale Bone". I kid you not. That is what the historical name is; is it any wonder that everyone chose to forget it? Anyway, the relevance of carrying a big, marked bone around falls back to the ancient practice of using bones to tell the future. Whether by "rolling" them or putting them in the fire so you could study the cracking pattern, bones held a place in many cultures when it came to peeking into the future. Leon, ironically, knows this and still doesn't care. He hates it and would glady ditch it if it didn't hurt so much when he hits you with it.

Climbing the Sephiroth: "Crown." Leon reaches down to grip the key at his waist and yanks hard, seperating it from its chain. "Wisdom." He brings the key up to press against his forehead and, as he pulls it away and says, "Understanding", his symbol comes to life in brilliant light. The light fades into his color and he brings the key to his lips, kissing it. "Mercy." His head tilts back and golden ribbons appear to spray from his wide open mouth. As soon as his mouth is unoccupied, he continues his chant with "Strength". The ribbons wrap around him tightly and he begins to flex and struggle beneath their confining lengths. "Beauty." A white light begins to glow around his form, gaining in strength until it blots him out at "Victory." The ribbons split apart in a shower of sparks and, during "Splendor" and "Foundation", his costume fades into existance on his form. At "Kingdom", Teiaiel stands in front of you with his big stupid dowsing rod. His pose is lazy and about as anti-climactic as these things get. He is literally just standing there, feet slightly apart, rod held at his side with its end in the ground, and his head is bowed slightly as he regards you from half-lidded eyes.

Gifts:

Now Or Never (innate) - At once the bane of his existance and the thing that has kept him alive through countless close-calls, this gift is present in both forms although it is stronger and further-reaching as Teiaiel. A part of Leon/Teiaiel's mind is always a few steps ahead of reality, lingering somewhere in the future by approximately thirty seconds. This allows him just enough time for one definitive action. It has to be an action, too, because the moment he tries to verbalize his sudden flash of insight, it is gone into the ether. He is foresight, not prophecy, and thus something within him shuts down in a most annoying way the moment he attempts to share his warnings with the world in any way other than actually shoving them out of the way of the proverbial car. This gift allows him to sense oncoming danger with just enough leeway to act, giving him "wiggies" until the climax is passed. At the same time, however, Leon is only human and so he can only act in plausible ways. If he can dodge the car, he does at his normal (albeit panicked) speed. He doesn't leap into the air, turn a double-somersault, and land gracefully on the other side. Therefore, Leon is shit out of luck if his only escape route is something that his natural, mortal body can't accomplish. By the by, this gift has been dandy for avoiding plenty of childhood calamities... Except when he hasn't listened to it. This gift encompasses himself and others emotionally close to him. Poor guy wouldn't be able to -ever- cope if he got premonitions over the mailman and the paperboy; just his own and his family's are quite bad enough, thanks.

Bringing The Umbrella (innate) - Teiaiel and Leon both have that very special gift that mothers everywhere wish they had. Another automatic gift that works better when he doesn't think about it, Bringing The Umbrella functions as the best aspect of foresight. What basically happens is that, unconciously, Leon/Teiaiel arranges things so he can survive and/or avoid being inconvenienced. This is why Leon happened to have that fire extinguisher next to the fryer that day it caught fire. This is why Leon happened to have an old wind-up alarm clock set and next to his regular electric one the night the power went out. This is why Leon gets the urge to buy three boxes of tissues before he catches the cold from hell. When he relaxes and lets things flow, when he trusts his inner wiggies, Leon never has worries about being prepared for the future (of up to two weeks). The moment he tries to analyze it all, though, it evaporates and he is completely out of luck. The impulses will get clearer and harder to resist as Teiaiel increases in power but, sadly, he will never be able to prearrange to have his favorite numbers picked the day they win the lottery. That is a Misuse of Power. Bollocks. Also this gift only applies to Leon at the moment; as his power increases, he should be able to smooth life's road for other angels as well.

Attack: If You Only Knew - The mother of all confusion attacks, this is the thing that gives Teiaiel a chance to a) run away or b) hit you with his stupid stick. The delivery system is as simple as it is embarrassing. Teiaiel stands with his feet together and raises his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with his eyes closed. Then he mutters, "If you only knew..." As he trails off, his eyes open and he removes his hand and points at his target. No sparkles, no fanfare, just a definite feeling that your mother just gave you the Look. Of course, the actual effect of the attack more than makes up for the pathetic delivery. When "If You Only Knew" hits you, you are temporarily gifted with Teiaiel's power of foresight. This is far from as cool as it sounds. After all, Teiaiel has lived with a near constant barrage of momentary images in his head for millenia (in a way). You, my friend, have not. For a two minute span, you recieve all of the next possible thirty-second-spans from everyone within a ten foot radius of yourself. The view inside your head is akin to trying to watch two dozen movies at a time in half-minute snips that are on a constant loop and you are expected to come up with a definitive plot for each. Most people, when confronted with this, will freeze up completely. A few particularly clever individuals might be able to attempt to sort through the scenarios and thus move jerkily as they try to react. Caught up in this attack, you might even believe that the images are happening as you are caught within them, leading you to act as if that piano really was about to fall on your teammate. There is no ducking this attack; however, Teiaiel must utilize careful aim when casting it because it does not differentiate between friend or foe. He literally can incapacitate his teammates if he fires wildly.

NPC

Elisha - the bloody-minded fairy git - First of all, Elisha stands out a bit amongst other sophiae from an appearance perspective. Standing at nearly seven and a half inches tall, he is wiry and sinewy and all of those words that make you think underfed and overworked and high-strung. The muscles he actually has tend to look out of place on his body as if someone had inserted small, hard marbles under tightly stretched skin, all knobbly and awkward. His dark eyes appear too large in his pointed, fine-boned face. Contrasting sharply with his paper-pale skin, his dark purple hair hangs just past his shoulders and, from a distance, seems to be smoothly brushed back from his face. Upon closer inspection, though, it is easy to see the numerous braids and twists within the heavy mass; some of them end in bits of bead and bone. He is absolutely fanatical about keeping himself covered and so flounces around in tawny-gold leggings and a cream-colored poet's shirt and wee soft-leather boots. His wings flutter hyperactively and shine slightly in bright light.

Personality-wise, he comes across about as stable as his wing movements. As in not at all. Shrill-voiced and demanding, Elisha carries a determined passion within him that would put most mortal zealots to shame. He is devoted to the Good Fight and insistent that he knows just what needs to be done to win it. His dealing with other opinions is the forced tolerance of someone determined to follow the Golden Rule no matter what; it is pretty clear that he doesn't approve and/or thinks you are an idiot/deviant/psychopath but far be it from him to actually tell you. Can we say passive-aggressive? Ironically, the person who could most use a bit of stoney silence, Leon, will never get it. All bets are off when it comes to telling Leon exactly what he thinks of him and exactly how he should be acting. Elisha is all edges with the nuturing talents of a cuckoo bird. He orders and demands. He refuses to talk to you if you have disobeyed him. Until he realizes this is a blessing in disguise and then he doesn't -stop- talking to you. He means well; he just has no concept of control and free will.

Believe it or not, Elisha did not used to be the Nazi Fairy From Hell. A minor prophet in the Keep, he was eccentric but well-meaning and eager to help. He hero-worshiped Teiaiel and followed him around as much as possible, reminding the other man of his more mundane tasks and worrying feverishly when Teiaiel went out into the battle field. He got it into his head that he should protect Teiaiel. This is made painfully ironic by the fact that he quite obviously outlived his would-be hero. Over the years, Elisha has grown more fervent and slightly crazed as he hunts down each Teiaiel incarnation that he can find and attempts to protect them. Some of those incarnations, by the way, have not been properly sane themselves. After centuries of failure and a growing sense of paranoia, Elisha is determined to bully Leon along to do things Just Right. Leon is not amused or ammenable.

Past Lives

Still in progress but Teiaiel was far sweeter back in the Holy War. While he often did the Mystic Thing and hung out with that crowd, he also went out with scouting parties to "feel" out locations for battles. Elisha, meanwhile, was much saner. Elisha was the Bunter to Teiaiel's Wimsey as it were.