REGGADE, OSSETIA

[OSSETIA REGGADE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=padding,0,true][atrb=background,http://i53.tinypic.com/s1p7pu.jpg][atrb=width,450,true] Reggade, Ossetia "Won't somebody make me afraid of what I've become? name: Ossetia Reggade; The part of it, I hear is from the name of some sort of region, while my surname may have its roots fram a weapon of some sort. Regardless of its origin, it is what I am, and as such I exist by it alone. age: Four-hundred-twenty-six, exact date unknown. Age can be enlightening, allowing you to see the cyclical nature of people and life itself. race: Grim Reaper grim reaper squad: III sexuality: Heterosexual death scythe: Ossetia's instrument is in the shape of a backhoe, topped by a fine-edged blade that can cut through even the darkest of souls. Streaks of maroon adorn its handle, forming thick red pools of color around the area gripped by his hands. A gold band wraps around the base of the device, inscribed with the phrase, "Memento Mori," more a warning to his victims than anything. personality strengths: Careful: Ossetia prefers to know all of the factors in a situation before throwing himself in whole-heartedly. Studious: He could spend hours reading before he's called again to reap the dead. Calm and Collected: It would take a lot of effort to get him furious since his occupation as a Soul Reaper has desensitized him so much. Sensible: He knows when to back down if things get too prickly. Self-Sufficient: Ossetia can do his job fine without the help of another Reaper. Methodical: He likes to get things done before settling down, having it all planned out in his head beforehand. Trustworthy: If you were to tell him a secret, he wouldn't care about it, but at least he'd keep it. As far as depending your life on him, you might want to look elsewhere. personality weaknesses: Often Cynical: The task of Soul Reaping can gjve somebody a grim view on life, constantly face-to-face with death and all of his friends. Emotionally Detached from most people: Again, being an Angel of Death does this to you, so he can't really sympathize with many humans these days. Blunt: Once he's weighed in all of the factors, Ossetia is not afraid to call somebody or to call things like he sees them. Unsentimental: Like I've said, he can't really take pity on people unless they've been shot, and even then it's in brief pangs. Looks at Death Analytically: Passing away is nothing more than a euphemism for statistics and numbers to him, rising every century with each generation. Obstinate: It's hard to pull a four-hundred-year-old from his ways, Ossetia being a perfect example. Often Takes too long while Planning: He likes to know what he's doing before he goes on a mission or is about to meet somebody, not taking fondly to surprises. likes: Tea: Multiple trips to India have shown me just how good a cup of tea can be. I leave coffee to the Western Hemisphere, but I can stay content for at least half an hour with just a glass of the steaming drink, preferably Green. Books: As far as methods of expression go, literature has piqued my interest multiple times over the ages. I enjoy the grim humor and wit that comes with depictions of Soul Reapers and how falsified some of them can be. In my one year of living in France, I've already become a fan of the local author Voltaire; he's entertaining, to say the least. Religion: I'm unbiased as far as beliefs are concerned (so long as there's an angel of death involved I'm content), yet one of the only times I ever grow nostalgic is when I hear the echoes of a hymn resound from a nearby cathedral. The other Reapers may not feel the same way, but I always find it soothing to be inside an abandoned church after the worship service; it must be my childhood experiences still rubbing off on me. Traveling: Given the opportunity to go to all four corners of the globe, I try to learn as much as possible about each culture before my job is complete. There's just something fascinating about how different tribes and civilizations cope with death, and a pasttime of mine has been to juxtapose two very different philosophies and see on which points they agree. Rain: It's so comforting to stand unfazed in a heavy shower while everybody around you is running from the water. There's a constant about its nature that makes me enjoy it no matter the conditions. dislikes: Criminals: I was killed by one, so it's little wonder as to whether or not I keep a grudge. I still gather their souls, of course, but I try to be more forceful with theirs. I hope that for the DuBois' and Rousseau's sakes that they don't have too many darker connections. Coffee: The drink tastes like liquid meat to me. Tea offers a chance for somebody to calm down and gather their thoughts while coffee just messes with their sleep schedules. Besides, what's the point of a Shinigami even drinking such a caffeinated beverage? Light Bulbs: Call me old school, but I prefer the natural glow of a candle over the artificial humming of newer lights. This isn't to say that I despise the City of Lights, but I would prefer to see its streets to be awash in orange than in yellow. Guns: What happened to chivalry these days? At least with a blade you can have a fair, long-lasting match with somebody; in a gunfight the winner is decided in less than ten seconds. I've heard rumors of the Reapers upgrading to rifles and other instruments, but I'll stick with my backhoe until the end of time if that's the case. Overcast Skies: This is when it's cloudy for an entire day and not a single drop of rain falls to Earth. It's unfair that way, especially to somebody that likes the precipitation as much as myself. hobbies: Writing small pieces of music (usually for the piano and violin) Attending plays, operas, and orchestras items: His Backhoe Scythe A pen and spare sheets of paper A box of matches (just in case) history: My life began in a village that was devoured by oblivion's insatiable desire eons ago. In its prime, though, the place was bustling with life and activity as it grew into a major harbor for explorers headed west. When influence went elsewhere, though, so did the good times, leaving my hometown an empty shell of prosperity. My Dad (Mother had died a few years earlier) hoped to move from his rural home near the city to the New World and start a new life; he probably did a couple of years later, but I didn't take the journey with him. Vandals had shot me one night on their midnight raid of the town, and I was dead before I hit the ground. Being a religious person from birth, I expected to end up in Paradise, only to find myself in a room fifteen feet by twelve feet without any windows. A man behind an giant oak desk explained that I had become a Grim Reaper (never saying why I was chosen, though) as he handed me a backhoe as scythe, eerie in its similarity to the one I used back home. After a brief induction into the job of soul reaping, he sent me off on my first assignment to reclaim the dead from some backalley brawl on the other side of the world. Most people in the society didn't like to associate themselves with a certain kind of death, but I often found myself face-to-face with the victims of murders and mass genocides (I guess it fit for somebody like myself). I never missed my homeland as I flew around from Washington to Whitechapel since the places and tasks always distracted me from looking back at the place that raised and killed me. Soul reaping desensitized my attitude towards death centuries ago as I took it as a fact of life. With the dawn of a new century I was assigned to the City of Lights to collect the dead from a series of recent murders; only staying to gather every last soul from the massacre while I waited for the murder's conclusion. There were also reports of demons lurking about at the time, so perhaps I'd be able to investigate them in my free time. OOC NAME: Nightmatrix FACECLAIM:Loveless, Soubi -Ossetia Reggade made by i k k i for black rain!

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[IKKI]

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