Application - Underworld Wars
|| Player Information ||
Name: Heather
Personal Journal: agentgrrl
Time zone: CST
Contact: adeolucror [at] Gmail; [aim] adeolucror
Current Characters:
Akihiko Sanada | Persona 3 | tobestronger
Brennan Mulwray | Mutant X | theshockvalue
Fenris | Dragon Age II | doesnotbrood
Sephiroth | Final Fantasy VII | wutaiwarhero
Vincent Valentine | Final Fantasy VII | dirgingcerberus
|| Character Information ||
Fandom: The Dresden Files
Name: Thomas Raith
Canon Point: Just after the end of the Novella BackUp
Is this character dead? Negative
History: [OMG WIKI YAY]
[Optional] Character Development and Relationship Transfer from previous RP: Nope! He's coming in clean...well, for Thomas
Personality: Thomas is cunning with a capital C, and a gifted actor. He uses those gifts in various instances and situations, both to get his way and to keep people around him from knowing things he doesn’t want them to. Those things can be as simple as keeping them from knowing exactly how smart he is or as complex as hiding exactly whose side he’s on. His personas are as varied as the people he’s deceiving, and they’re not mutually exclusive. Thomas’ deceptions leave even the person closest to him, his half-brother Harry Dresden, guessing as to what he’s really up to.
To his family, he appears to be a flippant pretty-boy, incapable of anything except feeding, carousing, and carrying on in one form or another. Before his sister Lara’s less-than-hostle takeover of the House, his carelessness and lack of intelligence was so well known and detested that he was often sent in his father’s stead for various invitations where insult to the inviting party was intended. Thomas always hated being used in such a manner, of course, and would make the insult even worse by varying means. He was sent to respond to an invitation sent by Bianca St. Claire, for instance, and he chose to ally himself, though rather subversively, with Harry (who also wasn’t exactly liked at the party). Later on, he was sent to be Duke Ortega of the Red Court’s second in a dual against Harry Dresden. He showed up intoxicated in more than one respect and wearing a Buffy the Vampire Slayer t-shirt.
Thomas’ alliance with Harry at the party, and the fact that he met with Harry secretly before the dual to inform him that it was rigged, stem from his unerring loyalty to his family. Thomas would lay down his life for Harry, and expend even the last dregs of his energy to keep him safe. In all honesty, he’d lay down his life for any member of his family, save his father, and that aspect of his personality is one of his defining characteristics. That fact is also one of his most closely guarded secrets, though it’s well known to only a few (namely his eldest sister, Lara, and Harry himself).
He detests his demonic side, knowing that its thirst for the life-force of humans is unending and insatiable, but also knowing that feeding it is unavoidable. After he drained Justine to the point of death and was cast out of his family’s holding by Lara, he lived with Harry for a while, trying to get by on single encounters with random people, and barely sating the Hunger. He learned from his experience with Justine that, no matter how much he, the human side, may yearn for a loving, caring relationship, the demon inside him would always keep that from happening. What he did to Justine keeps him in charge of the demon inside, though, giving him the strength of resolve he needs to keep it in the cage he’s built for it in his thoughts, lest he let it have its way, and there be nothing left of him.
In order to keep Justine safe both from his family and from things she need not know, he would often use the power his demon had over her to distract her and keep her from asking questions. He’s learned now, having spoken to her without the influence of the Hunger, that he barely knows her, having never let her just be herself, and that fact makes him hate his demonic side all the more. It’s because of his secrecy around her that not even his love truly knows him. The only person who really does is his brother, Harry. He lived with Harry for a time, after Lara kicked him out of the house, and Harry has seen the darkest parts of his personality. Harry knows exactly how much Thomas hates what he is, and hates even more the fact that there is no controlling it.
Harry is often subjected to Thomas’ crass and often sarcastic humor as well, because of their closeness. Thomas is much like Harry in his banter, though unlike his younger brother, he knows when to shut up and get serious. In contrast to how he portrays himself to the outside world, in private Thomas is knowledge, capable, caring, loyal, and stubborn to a fault.
Skills/Abilities: When Thomas isn't tapping into the Hunger, he is still super-humanly strong, agile, and fast, can heal very quickly, and see in the dark. He's skilled in the use of kukris (large, curved knives) and shotguns. Much to many peoples' surprise, he's very intelligent and capable of acting quickly in tense situations. He's also a hair-stylist.
The Hunger, which must be fed regularly through either sipping at human psyches or through the act of sex, grately increases all his preternatural skills, but it's very taxing on his reserves. Because Thomas refuses to feed through sex, his reserves are lower than the usual white court vampire, and he doesn't use them if he doesn't have to. They allow him to regrow appendages. He can also extend psychic tendrils into the minds of potential prey, convincing them that what he wants from them they want to give, and can inspire the unbridled desire and lust in them. His demon makes him supernaturally beautiful and he's always surrounded by an aura of desire that makes women and men both follow him around when he's hungry.
His greatest strength, the demon, is also his greatest weakness. While other vampires are vulnerable to sunlight, holy water, crosses, and objects of faith, white court vampires are burned by the touch of one protected by selfless love. It burns them just like an acid.
First Person Sample:
| (Partially) Accidental Video |
[The video clicks on to show a beautiful man of pale complexion and chisled, almost perfect, features. HIs storm grey eyes are scanning the surface of the device with a quizzical expression. Curtains of ebony ringlets frame his face.]
Sweet. Charon gave me an iPad. [He smiles, his teeth perfectly white.] The Underworld only uses Apple product. Heh. Poetic justice.
[His brow creases slightly that next moment.] And it's on. [His eyes dart to the upper-left corner of the device.] Transmitting...?
[He blinks, then he turns his gaze to the camera itself, sliding on a charismatic smile with effortless grace.] Well, this isn't fair. I didn't even get to check my hair. I wonder who this is transmitting to. You don't have to be shy, you know.
Third Person Sample: He’d never thought he’d feel that way, but Thomas liked the early mornings. He wasn’t an early bird by any means. It wasn’t the dew in the air or the orange glow upon, well, everything. No, it wasn’t the striking beauty of a new day that he’d grown to like so much. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, “or the Beholden,” he muttered bitterly as he leaned forward to press the power button on the computer terminal that served as the brain of his business.
As the computer booted up he noticed the red light blinking on his cell, indicating he’d missed a call. Go figure it would ring during the minute he’d stepped to the café to get a cup of coffee. It wasn’t the freshness of that first cup of Joe that made him love the morning so much either, but it helped. He took a sip of the delicious, caffeinated nectar of the gods and slid the cell open. It made a neat little snick sound, reminiscent of wolverine drawing his claws as he did, and it put a sly little smile on his face. Toe-moss may be a flaming homosexual, painfully French, and a primped little weasel, but his income sure did afford a lot of cool toys.
His smile broadened as he thought about Toe-moss, his hair-stylist alter-ego. So many women fell for it, and hard. A pang of shame struck him in the gut as he realized more than a small part of him enjoyed it. Not the ruse, no. Toe-moss wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t like Toe-moss’ apartment. He didn’t really even like Toe-moss’ clothes. He liked the power-trip. He liked that the kin-women. He liked that the women took to the ruse so readily. They came in droves to feed his Hunger. No, they came to get their hair done. They came because he was good and he made them feel better about themselves. Who was he kidding? It was for the demon. It was all for the demon. It was to feed it, lest he go insane, nothing more. No, that wasn’t true either. He liked what he did. He liked that his clients all left with a smile of their faces and a skip in their steps. It couldn’t all have been because of the Hunger, could it?
It could have been, and he knew it. All day, every day, he fought to keep the thing in its cage. Always eager for more than the meager scraps washing hair threw it, it paced about like a lion behind bars, whispering, pleading, urging. One day, he knew, the pull would be too much to bear. One day…one day he’d slip and it would all be over. One day…well, that was one thing he didn’t like about the mornings. It was a new ‘one day.’
Thomas cleared away that train of thought with a slight shake of his head. This was not the time, even though it may have been the place, for that sort of thinking. It was morning, damn it. It wasn’t time for, well, for It. He blinked for a second when he realized he still had his phone open and looked down at it. Another stab hit him, but this time it was somewhere in the realm of his throat. He must have tapped the back button or something, because what was displayed on his screen wasn’t a message alert stating whose call he’d missed or anything as useful and painless as that. No, what he saw was the background of his home screen. Something he made a mental note to change immediately. It wasn’t something obvious like a picture of her, or anything like that. It was a shot he’d taken off the balcony of the house in Aruba, the gentle waves of the Caribbean lapping at the shore, Justine, in all her petite little glory, splayed out on a beach towel, hair tousled by the wind. It made him think of all the times he’d taken her, of the nights he’d chased her down the beach, ambushed her on the sand…enough of that. He beat the demon back down, cursing himself all the while for the arousal thinking about slowly eating her soul inspired in him. Why didn’t he just change the damned wallpaper? Oh, because he was a self-hating masochist, that’s right.
He cursed himself for allowing an unsuspecting mobile device ruin his morning, and deftly pressed the key combination that allowed him to view his missed calls, and there it was, the diseased cherry on the top of the malignant sundae that was this day: 1 Missed Call; Gandalf. Really, Harry? Today? Thomas heaved a sigh that put him back in the right frame of mind. Harry wouldn’t have called this early if it wasn’t really important, and he did seem to have left a voicemail, so it was probably best to at least give it a listen. Besides, it wouldn’t do to leave the little brother in mortal danger when there may be something he could do to prevent it. He only hoped it wouldn’t interrupt the rest of his work day. According to his appointment list, Toe-moss was booked solid from 8am onward, which meant solid meals and great tips. Oh, this had better be good, Harry.
He pressed the speed-dial number on the cell that patched him over to his voicemail and waited impatiently through the introductory message. He started to get the sick little feeling he sometimes got in his stomach when he began to realize something might be wrong. Harry didn’t usually show up at his office until 9am. It was only twenty-past seven in the morning now, which meant that Harry would just be getting out of bed. Thomas had never known Harry to call him first thing in the morning before, especially when he knew Thomas was working, which probably meant he’d been up all night. If that was the case, this was serious with a capital “S.”
After what seemed like an eternity, the automated voice of Thomas’ voicemail finally cut the crap and decided to play back the message:
“Toe-moss, my good friend. My very good friend. Need a hand. It's dangerous, pays nothing, and won't get you any dates. But you get to spend some quality time with my charming self. Oh, if you could return the call before 8, that would be great. If it's after that, don't bother, I’m probably dead. Ciao.”
Thomas slid the phone closed with another snick and sat back in his desk chair. Harry’s in trouble. Must be Tuesday. At that thought, he decided it was better not to check the calendar and started when he heard a faint knock on his office door. “Oui,” he called, slipping into the persona of Toe-moss as easily as someone slips into their favorite pants. It was his receptionist, letting him know she’d arrived. Ah, he thought, so the morning was over already, was it? The demon seemed to think so, rearing up at the sound of the cute little blonds voice. He forced it down and called her in, explaining to her in rushed, heavily accented words that something dreadful had come up with ‘Arry’s dog and he simply had to be at his side. Toe-moss told her to cancel all his appointments for the day and bustled off before the girl could question his motives.
He was outside and in his gratuitous tank of a vehicle before he pulled out his phone again and hit Harry’s speed-dial number. As it rang, he mused. The mornings, with their solitude and lack of other people (and thus lack of temptation), seemed to be getting shorter and shorter. Then there were mornings like these, where he had to drop all his clients and about $500 in business to pull his little brother’s ass out of the fire. He heaved a sigh and kicked the Hummer into gear as he heard the other line pick up. Well, at least if he was with Harry, he’d be sure his brother would still be breathing tomorrow. Yeah, Harry would get his ticket punched one day, but it wasn’t going to be on his watch. He reached for the cup of coffee that was almost always in his handy little cup holder and found it empty. He must have left it behind when he’d rushed out. He heaved another, more annoyed sigh. Why did he like mornings again?