{tylenol cristille- district six wip}

Tylenol Cristille
appearance/history still not done

History

I still remember what Myrick said to me on that day. When he found me, just another dirt-poor kid on the side of the street, bright blue eyes begging passerby for anything they had left to give. Jaded, rude, and yet constantly trying too hard to make a good impression- that was me. Then again, I already had a penchant for crime.

I had been living on the streets for a few years, maybe four or five, by then. Funny, really, how Ada Cristille found me one day, with no one to take care of me- except, it seemed, for her. It was great, for about three years. But when her husband died, she was left with four birth children, already too many for her to handle without a father. She gave me a pat on the back and sent me on my way. No matter what, I seemed destined to live out my life as just another homeless bum.

I'll admit, I fell into some hard times right around then. Some rather unsavory encounters with Peacekeepers. I still have a scar across my cheek. But I stole, begged, whatever I had to to live. You either fight, or you give up. And I'm a fighter.

Then, I got the first job. A shady guy in a coat showed up and asked if I wanted to earn a bit of extra money, at an oh-so-slight risk. I said yes, of course- who doesn't want money?- and before I knew it, I was stealing from the elite, high class people who didn't go hungry. I took what he said to take, found him again and passed it over, and after that, the offers just kept coming.

Everyone's good for something. I just so happen to be good for a life of crime.

Being a burglar for hire, you meet a lot of people. People who owe you debts. I've got so many favors owed to me, I've lost track of them all.

Well, after a while of that, I met Myrick. He came up to me like any other customer, asked if I could steal him a weaponry set he fancied. I told him I would do him one better- just get it from one of my contacts, no risk involved.

"So you know all these guys- and they all want to help you out? Could be useful. Come with me." he said.

He took me to meet the rest of the gang- the Royals. Said they were an organized gang, with a far better lifestyle than what I had. I'll admit, I tried a bit too hard to get them to like me, and I came off as kind of ditzy, but it's not my fault I can't pay attention to people droning on and on about stuff I don't even care about!

Well, I joined up with the gang. It was about two years ago, so I'm around nineteen. They still don't really see me as one of them, I guess, but it's okay. I've been able to afford an apartment, cramped and tiny as it may be. I'm as much a Royal as them, and I'll do whatever I have to to prove it.

Appearance

I stare into the mirror, not much liking what I see. My scruffy black hair hangs over my sharp blue eyes. It provides a stark contrast to my pale skin, which is dotted with a few freckles. My high cheekbones and slender look may be desirable on a female, but on a guy like me, they look strange. The one thing I like about my appearance are my teeth. Straight, somehow, even though I could never afford dental work. They're nice and shiny, too. My crooked smile shows them off well enough. Hey, if I've only got one good thing about me, I may as well show it off.

I turn away from the mirror and look down at myself. My scruffy clothes hang off of my thin frame. Even with enough to eat- more than I can say for most people- I look like a twig. Brittle, frail, weak. I'm not that strong, but moreso than one would expect. I'm tall, too. I haven't measured in a while, but I tower over most people. My clothes are inconspicuous and ordinary. Plain grey button down, faded jeans, and old boots- my usual attire. The only thing about my appearance that would give away my position as part of a gang is the tiny scar under my left eye, a trophy of an armed scuffle. Knives may be fun to play with, but they hurt. 
Personality




ODAIR