Cancercuss Drew Juliaust, PK shadow [Fin]

Ͼαлͻ϶яͽυςς Ԃʀɘɯ ϡцƪιдשʃʈ
جوليوست--- دريو -----كانسركَس

To say the least, Cancercuss has an oval- or heart-shaped head, a bold chin to make the point sharp and greater emphasis on implied strength. On the end and stretching to the far extremities of the cheeks is some stubble, little rough follicles; but, for the most part, the tanned prisoner is a clean man - in terms of facial hair. He will not be caught with sideburns; and, on a weekly basis, Drew shaves off them off, with a sour look on his face. His wide, healthy pink lips hardly smile, except for when great amounts of happiness come the man's way. More or less a simper or frown is common from Cancercuss, if not neutral in expression. Dryness sometimes happens for the mouth, but the lad attempts to lessen the condition by wetting them with his water provision. Little-to-no hairs will be detected around the philtrum area; they are treated much the same as the future sideburns.

Earth yellow cheeks are scarred from punishments and past acne problems, but they are small marks, hardly stretching, at most, to an inch each. All throughout the upper portion of the face will there be the occasional pimple and blackhead, the hormones not exactly settled all yet. Placed at the near the socket base - at the south spectrum - on both cheeks are flat moles, light enough to almost disappear to the rest of the skin from a good distance and angle. Much like pressured pencil marks, the dots hardly encompass much space. Cancercuss' nose is straight and narrow, producing tall nostrils; also, along with the rather largeness in the olfactory structure is a prominent bridge - meaning he can put a finger across and still be able to have his eyes open.

Simply put, Cancercuss' eyes are almost pitch black - a very dark brown (perhaps auburn) - that would take close inspection to distinguish the pigmentation. Unlike the irises, the eyebrows are easily detected to be a bistre brown - akin to all strands on the top of his head and all throughout the body. Containing the thickness of rectangle, they do. His large forehead and shy ears are slightly covered by the locks of recently-washed threads. Previously greasy like he had rubbed pure oil in there, Drew's hair and scalp are damaged from years of not tending to properly; but, with new events going on, each one might revitalize to a fine glow thanks to daily showering. Despite the contemporary care, he still leaves them to appear messy and brushed, for he prefers the style. Most reach down a bit past the eyes, but some of the strands tickle the brows with their ends.

Strength invested in the neck and back are a bit bulky, as Cancercuss has had to lift negligible yet heavy objects as a part of punishment; however, many lashing marks manifest bright in various directions throughout these regions - sometimes out of Peacekeeper anger rather than true payment for consequences. Additionally with the physical prominence of abuse comes along his progressive lack of sunlight. Slowly in the limbs, Drew is developing a series of joint pain that cripples him at the worst of times; the inadequate levels of vitamin D could procure cancer, should be left unchecked. Due to this, also, is a paler tan than what he could actually obtain; but, for good news, with his new 'job', Cancercuss is slowly going outside more and ridding away malaise he would suffer from childhood.

Overall, Drew's build is decent - not lanky, not tough. His feeding could have been better, but the Peacekeeper never starved the poor man. There are no abs to showcase to anyone. From the arms down is a greater susceptibility to bone-breakage, the low quantities of sunlight leaving the white structures almost brittle, soft as a twig. Cancercuss has had a few surgeries here and there. (Not that he would know why they would do such a thing for him). With the lacking nutrient also comes a shorter, feebler Juliaust descendant, created from a bit of a bow-legged phenomena. Should the ignorance continue, research says he might suffer from osteoporosis at a young age.

Comparatively diminutive legs has shirked him of obtaining his potential peak height, coming off as 5'7. Here is where most of the pains originate from, a sort of arthritis they say. Though they are slowly getting minimal as Cancercuss ventures out with Peackeepers, the sores still come out and hinder him like an injured dog. When the joint pains manifest, Drew will try to hide his limping state or keep himself upright before collapsing from sheer agony. Nothing is out of the ordinary for the feet. Yet has he to have the real privilege to cure himself of the ailment known as 'ashy skin' by lotions and moisturizers, though he wishes often just so they would not look so horrible.

Clothing has been provided for the exclusive 'shadow of Peackeeepers under probation'; they are not the most dressy of clothing - after all, he is of no true elite trained body - but are better than the rags and easily labeled 'loin cloths' that the man had worn as a child. For the top portion, an informal black shirt is adorn, with one miniature pocket on the right chest and buttoned cuffs. On the outside runs, Drew slips fingers through leather gloves that can be clipped together for more easier maintaining; the unusual feature of these hand gear is the holes for the knuckles to peek out, ready to ball up and strike against guilty offenders of the law. Wrapped around the shirt collar is a tie; preferred shades are a deep red, ocean blue, or a sandy white. As a part of dress code, Cancercuss tucks the shirt under the pants.

Black slacks with matching socks and shoes are the standard. Nowhere on any pair will there be pockets; if he must store away objects, the one of the shirt will have to be sufficient enough. Each slacks flow to the ankles, not enough length to kiss the ground and collect dirt and holes. Shoes given are to be polished or suffer a beating on a later unspecified date and time. Even though he is a half-prisoner, half-Peacekeeper hybrid, the young man will try to look the part of an executive official - even distorting his face to appear emotionless, distant, and unable to break down to human woe. His heart always tells him otherwise.

Hygiene was never practiced religiously. After all, since his childhood, Cancercuss was able to only function with a toilet and sink and the rare shower and toothbrush - to present their convicts better. Now as a Peacekeeper shadow does Drew get a few more liberties. Time will have to be taken to get accustomed to the available usage of perfumes, clippers, soaps, and the like - within a reasonable amount, of course. Either with the mentality to run off or snatch a legitimate place among the force, one of his goals is to obtain more cleaning privileges - and be free of their horrible reign.

Though he has not a personal item to his name, Cancercuss is handed some accessories he must wear while he is out and about. During the nights, there is a requirement to wrap a reflective, orange band around the right shoulder. Like as though the invisible leash was not short enough, anytime Drew must venture outside of the Detention Center, an ankle collar is snapped around the left foot. Acting as a radar of sorts that enables the other force to know his whereabouts inhibits the eighteen-year old to attempt fleeing away from his life. He does not even try to tinker with the device, for it might trigger off something should he try to. Among his goals is to detach himself from their ever-reaching grasp over his life - before it becomes an eternity of suffering.

Independence has been pondered many a time for Drew, although he also knows the consequences of going completely solo. He is contradictory when it comes to the concept of being alone, not knowing if he truly wants freedom or not. On one hand, he could deal with the economic hardship and physical burden, having been striving for anything he wanted for a while - what he can grasp in hand, of course; on the other hand, his emotional insecurity and clingy nature make him hesitant to strike out alone. Deep down, the half-prisoner wants the traits of both: To claim on the independence of ridding the control the Peacekeepers have over him since he was just a toddler, but to also own the dependence of having human support and companionship. Half and half, so to speak, is where his heart lays on the matter; at this moment of time, he could go either way.

Loyalty is akin to that of a dog. Once one has established a trusting bond with Cancercuss, he is willing to do a lot of actions and tasks for them - within good reason. To ask something from him will have to be supplied with a convincing explanation; but, in terms of general friendship loyalty, Drew is all ready to provide that kind of support. Those that appreciate him are appreciated back, as he will stand by for the very limited amount of people he can invest time with. In friendship, Drew is the one that tries to make others lift spirits instead of himself, which in turn derives what he wants: Feeling wanted and loved. This period of developing a fine bond, however, is a slow and gradual process hindered by his numerous trust issues.

Most of his people problems stem from the fact that trust is an enigma, a northern lights occurrence. Aside from the shyness factor, Cancercuss has a tendency to hide away his emotions even when he is hurt inside; because, while he does want people, he is also deathly afraid of rejection and worried about exposing the fragile inner body for welcoming pain. Due to him closing off himself, this in turn can distance the Peacekeeper shadow from others, repeating a cycle of depriving the wanting self of emotional adoration. Trust, still, is one of his desired objects, but him gaining that abstract concept will take a bit of time. Betraying Cancercuss' trust in any way will lead to a rocky friendship; his heart will not have any resolve left to amend the connection and will avoid the individual completely. So to speak, it is best to steer clear from breaking the man in any manner if they want a lasting bond with Drew.

Stated before, Cancercuss is extremely shy - stumbling over even convicted strangers. Complete with not being acquainted with proper speaking skills, he is left an awkward fellow. Not to believe that he cannot carry out a conversation fittingly; he just cannot get over the embarrassment of being spoken to so quickly at a suiting pace. Expect him to stammer a little throughout the initial word exchange. His mouth runs faster than the mind, because the young man is not accustomed to being able to talk back to anyone that did not confirm anything or propose his current condition. His throat is cleared better when talking to a Peacekeeper or any kind of government official, but his extreme trend to look away from a stranger's eye is very much apparent. With the inability to create new friends on the spot, Cancercuss would rather keep the old ones as long as he can, which can be attributed to the mentioned clingy nature of his soul.

Muted tongue gives way to powerful skills in observation and links to vast stores of intelligence. Attention perked to all the conversations held inside the District Center, containing worldly philosophical - sometimes blunt swears - advice and attentions of the universe. As he watches people's reactions, the information receptors bounce back and forth, nodes connected to each other mentally, and attempt to attach problems to the past discourses he would eavesdrop on. Cancercuss will repeat words from what he has heard in effort to help individuals with their own problems, but some of his advice might have to be taken with a grain of salt. He has filtered information and interpreted it in his own terms in order to not become a follower of whoever said the statements; but, all-in-all, each comment can be tinged with biased connotations.

Drew is extremely susceptible to emotional issues. He is definitely clingy, moody, and prone to swing feelings like a light switch. While other people might throw objects around the room in their temper tantrums, Cancercuss takes a subtle, self-consuming approach by walking away and sulking, easily offended but not having the courage to really tell off an individual. Most times, it is this way; his contradictory characteristic mentioned from the independence can also apply here. During the worst of days, he might actually get embitter, angry and raging mad as a rhino. Along with the depression periods comes times where he is self-absorbed in his 'oh so' miserable life, becoming a vehicle of lonely angst. Shadow of Peacekeepers pities himself, to be said honestly. His defense mechanism that protects the emotion engine is more of a semi-permeable membrane, in this sense.

Lacking lasting contact with anyone has hampered Drew's potential to love a girl without receiving pangs if she were to leave. True to his self, he would never be direct with her about his feelings. Perhaps lavish the maiden with items of adoration - if he had the finances - and hand off underlying intentions in the form of concentrated attention, but never tell her first. Tendencies to be clingy do not stop for the one he likes; in fact, he gets even worse, underplaying jealousy and bouts of clenched snarling. Cancercuss might show himself off as calm - cool, almost - but he feels intensely inside, catering to his shelled self. Hard, will it be, for the one he likes to try to pry the heart open, which might make him scuttle off. Showing his treasure box emotions is a difficult task for Drew when he might need to digest more pain from the person he likes compared to a friend.

Asking Cancercuss to recollect all the events before the Detention Center detainment, he will reply that he has had nothing prior to 'living' in the institution. Ever since he could remember were the grimy walls, the smell of musky mold, and the horrible air accompanied by the removal of glorious sunlight. He does not even have the knowledge of the crime that put him here. All he has an established conscious of is that he has been here since he was born. Which is partially true, in a sense. Drew has asked Peacekeepers to disclose the origins of his existence, only to be met with the grunt or - worse - the crack of the whip.

His youth was dark - literally. Shackled or caged and left without much grasp of vocabulary, Cancercuss would cry himself to sleep on the bitter nights, taunted by the glow earlier that would stretch to the entrance - and only exit - of his cell whenever a Peacekeeper entered the prison. To even kiss the outside world, not able to, too far to reach for his little arms. Attempts were punished by a hard slap. Breathing was hard, for there was no way to clean the forever stained small area of his 'room'.

Worse: He cannot even tell what or who he was. Everything about him had to be fed to him, much like an infant to a bottle. Take in, just keep taking in. Even if the truth was false, just digest it. Ultimately, the only 'real' things he knew were as followed: His name was Cancercuss Drew Juliaust, he was a bad boy, he was male, he was a bad boy, he was what he saw in the mirror, he was a bad boy, the Detention Center was his home, and he was a bad boy.

Time was relative. 'Dumb' Cancercuss Drew Juliaust - in his primitive youth - could not tell the difference between Tuesday day and Sunday night. He merely played by ear with the Peacekeepers to know what day of the week today was. Ignorance to time stretched to weeks, months, and years; he never knew when he had gotten older till one official would state it was his birthday - and give him his 'lovely' present of whippings.

One event he could tell someone was when he was five. Drew had overheard a prisoner mother saying to another that the greatest pride of having a child is when they grow up. She had laughed, saying that when her son spoke his first word, she squealed. So, when he also tried - pretty much doing what children his age already had hurdled over years ago - to speak his first word, the only one that came out with much concerted effort was "bad." Sharing with the Peacekeepers the fruit of his success, a harsh sting followed, along with a red mark across his face.

Withdrawing further into himself, unable to speak without a slapping, Drew learned to begrudgingly respect the executive force, silencing the sparking anger by stuffing the coals into an emotional treasure box. Each day was routine, any behavior punished accordingly. Contemplating the reason for his imprisonment was kept to hushed mumbles, much like his practice of speech.

At eight years of age, the period of opportunity manifested. Called into the main office, Drew walked clumsily - bow-legged - to the appointment, eyes knit up. Many conversations went on, all of which he ignored - none addressed him. For a few minutes, their discussions went on until one broke through and bluntly asked him a question, the window to turn around his life. With his weak speech skills, though, he was not able to decipher what the Peacekeeper meant until it was put into simpler terms. Immediately after, he nodded up and down like a giddy child.

"Do you want to go outside?"

Actually: "Do you want more freedom?"

Studies were automatically thrust upon the poor man, and he was not given what he was originally agreeing on. They all told him that he would still need to earn that privilege by being a 'good boy' and taking the learning seriously.

More years went by, the tan prisoner having almost a decade to catch up to the District age peers, physically punished whenever he did wrong on his answering. Every one of them reminded the dreadful hour to which he would have to return being a prisoner and not a 'student'. He took each session seriously, and snarled when the smacks came around. Each of them ignited that smothered coal, which took much mental reprimanding to conquer the rising anger.

Educated by the age of 17 - days away from 18 - Cancercuss Drew Juliaust finally deserved the right to 'go outside' - under supervision, of course. Turned from a bumbling child to a decent man, Drew could understand the topics from the past and interpret them into his own words, though he was still a mumbling 'child' in terms of talking to prisoners. Having received his 'place' among the Peacekeepers, he had also agreed to whip a certain older female prisoner on a weekly basis, swallowing down the guilt and emotional pain or hurting someone who he did not know or might have been in the Detention Center as long as him.

Deep down, he was also guiltily happy that he could get the opportunity to be outside in the sun he so desired for as a child - with joint pain and all. Under such academic and physical difficulties and years of torture, he pondered if he was truly selfish to do horrendous actions after they had done so on him.

Contradictory thoughts. Such contradictory notions. Both pleasure and horror could encompass Drew's face as the whip cracked at the older woman, a means to release the wrong in his childhood and a method to have the heart suffer against inhumane actions. Desperation ate away some of his old self and spat out the revised one. Despite committing painful doings, Cancercuss Drew Juliaust - in times of where he is alone in his cell and feeling insecure - repeats his mantra:

"I won't let them transform me into a true Peacekeeper. One of these days, I'll get the upperhand and demand they tell me my past. And then I'll flee. And that will be that."

In a nutshell, in the hardened cage is Eric Saade.
Not trusted to have anything, he would have nothing but the shell over his body.

Crustaceans feast on meat as well.
A "ماسكورَيد"[MASQUERADE] life, where prison has masked further the crab shell.