Name: Darran Isanyeti Age: 23 Date of Birth: November 18 Astrological Sign: Scorpio Bloodtype: B Likes: Darran is surprisingly good with little squirmy things like animals and young children. Though everything has a time and a place-- he wouldn't, say, pass up a night of clubbing to baby-sit some kid-- he does have more of a soft spot than he admits for little children. Besides, he doesn't usually need to deal with them too much, so the novelty never really wears off for him. Though Darran will willingly dance to whatever techno or rock is circling around the clubs, his tastes in private run more towards "goth" music and blues, with Lacuna Coil presently taking up more of his listening time than strictly necessary. He likes clubbing for the chance to unwind, the casual drugs, the acknowledgement he receives from those who know Tiger Claw (his assassin alias), and, of course, all the cute singles. He's a very, very furtive anime watcher-- the kind that would deny any knowledge of their favorite show, then go home, lock all the doors and windows, and take out the special CD they've burned with all their favorite episodes. Dislikes: Though Darran does his share of party drugs, he hates anything seriously addictive. He can barely tolerate it when other people show signs of dependency on drugs or alcohol, and it even rankles when an acquaintance seems addicted to something less apparent, like a person or hobby. Indirectly, this causes him to steer away from most medications; besides, if it's just a headache or an aching muscle, he'd prefer to tough it out. Naturally, he mistrusts anyone involved in the law, and also avoids religious 'freaks'-- possibly out of fear that they could convert him. Serious people don't mesh very well with his personality, and they usually bore him so badly he'll just drop them and move on without worrying as to etiquette. Purely because of Kein, he's an enemy of the Capulets, and even goes so far as to not listen to Wingless. Favorite Food: Cheese crackers, or pistachios. They're savory and yummy, and he can pop them all day long. Least Favorite Food: Sweets nauseate him. About the only candy he likes is peppermint patties, and only one at a time. What grade are they in: He's a dropout. Marks: Generally, his grades hovered in the Ds and Cs, with an occasional B for spice; he was a smart slacker. (That is, smart enough to never actually flunk.) The one exception was Biology, where actually paid attention, got involved, and received As. Favorite Class: Biology; he once dreamed of becoming a veterinarian. Least Favorite Class: Most classes bored the hell out of him, but US History was by far the worst. Utterly tedious, with brief, infuriating and even embarrassing episodes on the subjugation of Native Americans. Appearance: As a full-blooded Sioux of the Siha Sapa band, Darran has a dark complexion, brown eyes, and slightly coarse hair. He stands at 5'8", has dyed his hair orange, and keeps it short and messily spiked. His frame is lithe and wiry, as he has a hard time putting on weight, even with his muscle. He carries himself well, though if he's sitting he'll have a tendency to slump back a little and sprawl himself out. For identifying marks, he has a tattoo that stretches clear across his upper back and shoulder blades, of a slinking, black-inked tiger. He has a piercing in his lower lip, as well as two in his upper left ear. His hands, including the palms, bear heavy scarring in the form of long, thick white gashes. Darran's normal fashion style has a lot to do with so-called punk; he's never happier than when in a pair of bondage or orange-toned camouflage pants, paired with a band T-shirt. He also likes those huge, heavy wallet chains, and owns quite a few leather arm cuffs, chokers, spiked bracelets/collars and the like. When "on assignment", Darran wears all black, including a facemask, gloves, and a black t- shirt with a back made entirely of fishnet, thus allowing his victims a view of his tiger tattoo before they die. He has a custom belt that accommodates his kodachi sheaths, a gun holster, and three knife sheaths. He also wears heavy black boots that each conceal an emergency knife. Pictures: On assignment||With Kein Social Status: Darran enjoys the respect he gets as 'Tiger Claw' a little too much to be totally discreet; thus, in the underground, it's a badly kept secret. Those who might usually make trouble respect and avoid him, and those who are attracted to such things (a surprisingly large number) flock to him. The police are the least of his worries; law enforcement's gone to hell in his opinion, and he's perfectly sure he could outfight or outrun them anyway (if it ever came to that). Love Life: Whoever it is has to be fun and hot, but since "hot" can be defined broadly, Darran's good with pretty much any clubber who comes along. However, he's currently battling a hopeless crush on Kein. It's both embarrassing and frustrating to him. Birthplace: Spencer, South Dakota Current Residence: A luxurious suite in the Montague complex, adjoining Kein's own. There is, in fact, a door leading to Kein's living room, just in case some attacker actually manages to penetrate security. Before he moved in it was actually part of Kein's apartment, but has been modified into its own space. The first door upon entering leads to the bathroom, primarily because often, the very first thing Darran must do upon arriving home is wash off all the blood. The room has a full bath and showerhead, and the most gigantic towel you ever saw in your life, ordered from a specialty catalog. When towels are too small, it annoys him. Continuing down the hallway and into the living room, Darran's walls are painted light orange, edged with green tracing. His furniture is all made with natural, unstained wood and white cushions, and large windows let light come streaming in at all hours of the day. Though he has more than enough space, everything manages to be comfortably cluttered, what with the stacks of books, CDs, videos and utterly random junk filling all possible corners. Kein keeps nagging him to get more shelves-- obviously, if one moved the piles, there would be room to accommodate them-- but he keeps dragging his heels, and so his rooms stay looking as if he'd only just shoved everything out of the way for company. His bedroom is no different, though Debbie has guilted him into not leaving clothes, at least, lying all over the place. Instead, he strews around the various tools of his trade; knives, bullets, a gun, and a sword (but never a naked blade) can be spotted here and there. Oddly, though there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to their "storage," Darran can tell you in a heartbeat exactly where every single one of his weapons lies. There are a couple posters on the walls, for his favorite bands as well as one Hellsing-- but not, he's quick to qualify, because he watches anime, just because that one particular show happens to have a totally kick ass soundtrack. Uh-huh. His bed is a pretty generous queen-size, and matches his other furniture in that it's just a plain wooden frame with white sheets and comforter. However, it's very expensive because it's a massage bed-- and no, not just for that. After a particularly tough fight, Darran may well stagger home aching from head to toe, and he's never so grateful for this bed than on such nights. A bit beyond the bed is the sliding glass door to a large patio, with a couple chairs and a table perfect for summer nights and a drink or two. |