Raphael, Angel of Healing
played by Chauni

Name: Aaron Joseph Anderson

Nickname: Botch

Gender: Male

Age: 22

Birth Date: January 24th

Birthplace: Redford, MI

Blood Type: O

Family: Two younger sisters, Jessica and Becca, Shelley, his mother, and Mike, his stepfather, although he lives with two roommates, Shannon and Russ.

Hair: Naturally a dark brown, he takes to dying it rather often. Recently, he has enjoyed the platinum look, darkish roots starting to peer in through the bottoms. It's cut short, the top a little longer by a couple inches, spiked up and gel-slicked, adding for a nice "wet look". However, more often than not, it's beneath his hat, hidden from everyone.

Eyes: He has shockingly bright sapphire eyes, that dull slightly when he's not in the best of weather. They slightly squint, and no one knows why.

Body: The shocking paleness of his complexion leads to him making jokes, standing in front of open windows with a naked chest and commenting how he's blinding people half a country away. He's 5'11'', with a moderately trim body, broad shoulders, and nicely defined arms, though not "stacked" by any means. He is moderately attractive, but nothing no one would notice if he happened to be walking down the street; it's more of a charisma aspect.

Marks: A three inch puckered pink scar lines the inside of his left arm from an accident concerning a woman and a razor blade; don't ask. On that same arm lies a tattoo of a tonberry from Final Fantasy legend (Why, you inquire? One night, he promised that anyone could get any body art on him as long as they paid for it. Want a slice of cheese on his ass? He'd do it, but just pull out your wallet first. His roommate, having a small obsession with the creature, had suggested the enemy, and Aaron had readily agreed, leading them both to a trip to Eternal Tattoo.)

Clothing: Upon pulling open his closet, God help you if you have any fashion taste for it would surely drive you insane (in other words, this proves to be Kazu's worst nightmare). Shirts covered in dancing Hawaiian drinks, bright blinding neon button down tops, pants that are five sizes too large for his narrow frame all hang from the cheap plastic hangers. Cheap cotton novelty boxers with such "sexy" items as red ants, more of those dancing exotic drinks, and little crabs are stacked in the trunk that serves as he "dresser". His shoes are beaten beyond recognition of name brands and original intentions, the dusty black ends curled upwards, and his hat is a dirty brown with a blackened rim, beaten beyond any sort of standard form and curling perfectly around his head.

Most Prized Possession: His two younger sisters and his beloved, beaten hat.

Hobbies: He loves to read, mostly fantasy based fiction. In addition, he also enjoys video games and table top roleplaying sessions, which occur religiously every Sunday afternoon and last roughly nine to ten hours. Music is another passion, and has a radio turned on whenever he can, no matter where he is. He enjoys socializing, reminiscing, and talking to his female roommate, which he does roughly every five minutes, regardless of what she's doing.

Occupation: Professional slacker and mooch extraordinaire.

Food: Adoring blueberries, he has a strange love for blueberry pancakes, and has proclaimed he could live his life eating solely cheeseburgers. The only thing he craves more than that are potatoes, any style. Some whisper of some potato fetish and joke that he needs to move to Idaho. Coke is with him at all times, a two-liter always at his side.

Fears: Very few things actually frighten him, as it's more of a comfort factor with him. Heights and enclosed spaces are not appealing to him, and the only thing that truly constitutes a "fear" would be something happening to his family.

Goals: Achieving as much as he can with doing as little work as possible.

Positive Characteristics: Far more intelligent than first physical impressions let on, he thrives off mental challenges and problem solving. He's loyal to his friends, but never blind to the dealings of the world. He is a complete realist, never seeing the cup as half full or half empty, but simply "there with some stuff in it". He always seems to have the inside track, though it is never purposeful, as if he is the ear everyone turns to. It doesn't matter if he's never met the person, he seems to know their birthday was last week and they celebrated it by cheating on their husband with their spouse's mistress at a movie theatre. When it comes to the big things (like infractions with the law and the like), his luck his strangely powerful, and all the stars line up just for him, always paving the way for something good.

Negative Characteristics: The slacker nature always wins out in the end. Three feet seems too far away to go to the fridge to grab a drink, and anything that could be done today can be put off for the next three months. At times, it's difficult to know if you're being tugged along in his mind games as well, and if left alone and bored, he will come into whatever room you're in every five minutes and spend up to two hours talking about the latest roleplaying session he had with his friends, or how annoying this one fighter's moves are in Virtua Fighter 4.

Personality: Indifferent in most matters, little bothers him outwardly on a whole. He can view things with apathy, and give out the best, objective, rational advice available to him. He is blunt and harbors no fears on telling you if you're stupid, and all the many reasons why. He can look at a problem on several different sides and chose the best way to follow it, but once he discovers that route, there is little to dissuade him. Steadfast, stubborn, his temper is fiery given the right mood, and such leads to many doors being slammed and clocks falling from walls. He's loyal to his friends, but will forever cover his own ass first, no matter what the costs. Patience is a virtue he was not blessed with. He is constantly looking in mirrors as he walks by them, staring for a good five minutes before making a rather derogatory comment usually consisting of "God, I'm getting fat!" or "My hair looks funny!" Fading out of his teenage rebellion stage, the slight taints of "society is a useless piece of matter" still remain, though it's quickly fading to a passive, "whatever". He has a strong charisma, almost insanely high, and seems to always get along wonderful at parties and meeting people. His humor is mostly based on sarcasm, and is more of an acquired taste.


Past - Created to become a playmate for The Almighty, he was wide-eyed and complacent concerning the wishes of all. But soon fervor slipped into his veins and a need to understand the complete workings of God and all His deeds began to corrupt his slim line of sanity. Imperfections seemed impossible, and he gathered a growing need to understand how failure in the guise of the wingless could occur. Coming across lesser angels, he coaxed them back to his private quarters, only to eventually slaughter them, dissecting each piece as best he could. All was accomplished with swift strokes and dispassionate, clinical eyes. Finding no answers in the winged, in the closest to perfection possible, he took to the lessers.

He was finally discovered while ripping a fetus from the quivering womb of its mother's still warm cadaver. Blood coated up to his elbows, splattered across his cheeks, he saw no error in ways, still working to tear the stubborn gray umbilical cord from her. Organs lay strewn about, some sliced like lunch meat, some still whole, colored and hot. "This is the only way to understand Him!" he explained. "To comprehend the Maker, you must know what He creates!"

Brought before God, little was done in light of coming events, and since he was favored in the eyes of the Almighty, he was simply banished to his room. When the rebellion struck, hard and quick, he burst from his loosely guarded quarters and dashed to the fray, screaming his allegiance and devotion to God, thus clearing his name.

He was cut down on a set of cool marble steps, ripped open like he had done so many times...

Present - Kicked out of his mother's house at sixteen due to the normal teenage bouts of rebellion, he turned to a strange lifestyle of decadence. He dropped out of high school for the simple sake of finding it boring and knowing most of what they taught in those "sacred" halls anyway. He lived in places where acid flowed like (and on) SweetTarts, and it was not uncommon to watch him put away a half gallon of Five O'Clock Vodka in two days. He would steal from stores for the simple sake of the thrill, including such random things as "For Sale" signs, leashes, collars, Magic cards, ect. For five years, he simply drank and relished in the drug lifestyle, until responsibility came in, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook the Hell out of him. Woken up, he changed... somewhat.

After living a more sober lifestyle and holding down a job for eight months, he was recently fired from his place of employment for being roughly an hour late every day for those last eight months. Disheartened, he has spent the last month and a half sort of looking for work. Finally having taken his GED, he discovered he was in the top 2% of the learning populace.

Four months ago, he moved into a small home with his two long time companions, Russ and Shannon, and so far... nothing has been broken.

If you ignore that hole in the wall.

Writing Sample: The sound of the feet proclaimed his approach, wrenching a groan from her throat.

Oh, it didn't matter if she was on the phone, on the computer, writing, or in the middle of a video game, that knock would rattle against that thin wooden door and he would walk in, heading straight to one of the dual mirrored closet doors on either side of the room.

Just like he did now.

The screen was a flurry of words, and she heard him begin his normal tale, one she listened to with only half an ear.

"So, then my Uruk-Hai, Gage and Sin blah blah blah..."

The pale mocha of her eyes found him standing in front of the door, fixing his hat, eyes animated. Blindly, the enter key was struck, sending another flurry of actions to her friend several states away, an with a hand, turned her swivel chair to stare at him.

"You look for a job yet?" she interrupted.

"That's what tomorrow's for," he dismissed, waving a hand. But she knew he would sleep until one, easy, then play his games, then would find something else to do, as usual. She let it drop as he began about his trip to Mordor and the death in his wake.

"Um, Aaron, I want to go to bed soon."

"I know," he said, moving to her bed and laying across the entire length. He snagged the translated Evangelion manga 6 from her bookshelf, paging through it. "But it's still early. It's only one."

"I have work at eight." Another sound of tapping keys, accenting with a rough strike of an enter key. "I'd like to sleep."

"C'mon, Shannon," he muttered, turning the page to see Shinji flipping out for the umpteenth time. "We both know you'll be up for another hour."

She was afraid to get him started on his MERPing again; it'd be another two hours before he'd grow tire and leave, and for once, the idea of sleep was enticing rather than overrated. Sighing, she reached over and grabbed her cell phone, making sure he wasn't looking. She pressed the silent autodial, then laid it in her lap, letting it ring.

The little tune of his phone hung in the air, and he muttered, "Who's calling me this late?" before dropping the book and dashing back to the sanctity of his room to retrieve it. Pushing up from her seat, she closed her door and pressed the lock, before holding the phone up to her ear and smirking. "'Night, Aaron."