Vecht -- = Yeah, just Vecht

[Vecht]

Hello! My name is { .Lore. !
I am { .Sixteen years of age.
I have been roleplaying for { .five of those years. , and here is a sample post of mine.

Sample: { Please refer to next post, it was too long to add onto here.

{ .Vecht.

Name: Vecht
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: He's not sure yet.
Social Standing: { high school dropouts.

Physical Appearance: { Vecht is a rather normal build, with a fairly high metabolism and fair definition in his arms. He keeps himself just barely toned, enough to go between groups and cliques and hold his own on the streets, but not so much that it conflicts with his lazy nature. If he sees and opportunity to run instead of walk, he'll take it, but he won't go out to the gym or buy a weight set or anything like that.
He has no piercings or tattoos, mostly because he needs to keep his ability to take on multiple personalities in one day. If he's posing as a faithful Catholic, it wouldn't do very good to have some ink on his neck. Besides, clothes and makeup and hairstyles are all interchangable, things like piercings have to be covered up or needlessly flaunted. He has a few scars from streetfights, nothing too noticable, and close inspection of his skin brings up evidence of needles and tourniquets, but not too much. He stands at a little under 5"8.
His eyes are a very dark brown, the typical color. His hair is a similar color of brown naturally, but he tends to dye it black since he spends a bit more time on the streets than he does around with the preps, and he's careful to have his hair it's natural color and healthy-ish looking when he talks to them. .

Personality: Surprisingly, Vecht doesn't really have a set personality. He can be a bit clingy, jealous, possessive, sexual, et cetera, but all of that can really be credited to living on the street. Truth be told, Vecht tends to change how he acts depending on who he is around. It's a subconcious thing, and he sometimes doesn't even realize he's doing something completely...well, off. He always needs someone to remind him to stop conforming. When he is aware of what he's doing, however, he calls it a survival tactic.
Because he truly believes in whatever he's saying/doing, he is a magnificent liar. This is simply because he doesn't know that he's lying at all, so he can't convey any signs that say otherwise. The only time when this might be rendered useless is if he's in front of two different friends from two different gangs/cliques/parts of town. Though also because of this trait he tends to be very perceptive when it comes to someone's personality, since it is a necessity for him to either conform to it or adjust his so he becomes attractive to the other person, not to mention it's easier to pick out the gullible newbies that way so he can charge them more for his wares.
In business he tends to be very brusque, and demands punctual payments and arrival times from his customers. He doesn't accept any late money or anything like that, since he's always paranoid that they might get busted by the police or just die before he can get what's owed to him. Though around actual friends and especially in parties he tends to be a bit wild. Quiet, occasionally, but he definitely doesn't keep to himself. It is most often at these parties where the atmosphere simply gets to him, and within minutes he's always on the lookout for someone who would help him relieve his sexual tensions.
(( I know, it's short. Tell me and I shall see what I can do to lengthen it. n_n ))

History: He never knew his father. Vecht always doubted that his Mother did as well. He was born in Romania and there he remained for as long as his Mother attempted to be...well, a mother. Which, as it so happened, lasted until he was about ten. Despite her attempts, he grew up as a rather rebellious child because of the neighborhood they lived in. It was just barely on the outskirts of the inner city, and for some reason Vecht and his friends were always drawn to that side. They would dare each other to run alone two blocks in and then come back in the dead of night, marking how far they'd gotten with a penny or a bit of gum, whatever they could find. As a child, he and his friends were always mimicking the more hardcore side of the city. As yohng teenagers, they would walk through the tourist areas in perfectly silent groups just to secretly take pictures of those who gave them frightened looks or crossed the street. No matter their age, their looks and obvious living arrangements seemed to give them a certain fear factor, and this was something they used early on to their advantage.
He didn't really have a choice, anyway. His mother at the time was trying to be secretive about her whorish ways, by only going out on the weekends and just satisfying herself with her coworkers at the office on the weekdays. However, when Vecht began to act out in more and more less-ignorable ways, she started to care less and less about taking care of him. They moved to an apartment in the United States, Miami to be specific. The nightclub life was new to Vecht, since he was used to much less glamorous things, and he took to it immediately. For his fifteenth birthday a group of his friends snuck him into one of the clubs, where he got high for the first time, not to mention laid. It was a completely new buzz, much better than drinking, and he took to that, too. However, he envied the suppliers, the ones who had the power over the druggies and the ones who could pull all the strings. From that day forward, he started dealing.
At first he didn't really have a signature or anything like that, he was still finding himself, but as he went out more and more and snuck into more and more places, he began to realize how careless everyone seemed to get while in the atmosphere of the club life. It got far too easy to simply slip in a bit of ketamine, stolen from the local vet, or cajole a girl into taking a hit of X. These date rape drugs soon became that signature he was looking for, since he always seemed to be in a position where the demand for them was high, not to mention he could take a small amount for his own personal use. Because he was the dealer and had to pay nickels and dimes for the drugs that he used (if he didn't steal them), he fell into a habit of using them for his own benefit as well. Drugging girls (or sometimes even gay guys if they were willing to suck him off) became an addiction all his own. Though he wouldn't always just get up and leave the morning after, he honestly would spend the day with them if he had to promise that in order to get their clothes off. Unfortunately this would also lead to him getting attached to them more quickly than what was necessary, and resulted in more than a few sexual harrasment and stalking charges. Sure, he has a few restraining orders, but if you ask him it was worth it.
Hypocritically, however, his Mother kicked him out of the house one morning. They'd both woken up to find out that both mother and son had brought home someone last night without even realizing it. Since he had enough money he got as far away as possible from her by coming here, and buying a small place on his own in an apartment complex with the additional aid of a roommate paying half the rent. It also helps to swipe a few bills from drugged up girls now and again. Not all they have, just enough so they won't notice immediately. It's a lonely type of life but he evens it out by hitting downtown almost every night and hanging around after school every day.

Family Details:
Mother --
Name: Ruxandra
Age: Unknown, she lied about it far too much for even her son to tell.
Occupation: Prostitute.

Father --
Nothing about Vecht's father is known. If asked about him, Vecht will only answer with 'He was a dick' and then promptly drop the subject. Not because it's painful for him, but because he doesn't like dwelling on subjects that he knows nothing about.

Other: Tends to deal in ecstasy the most, a bit of weed on the side. Uses coke only on special occasions or when it is required of him by one gang or another, and uses roofies or liquid x for his own sexual use.

For my application to be approved, I know that: admin edit

[Vecht]

(( Now as a note, this is a combination of two seperate posts that I used for a thread a while back. I recently scrounged them up and tweaked them a bit. There are two seperate characters -- Vecht and Keith. The first is a drug dealer with a habit of slipping things into drinks and the latter is...well, explained above, and I'm not sure if I mentioned it but he has one Hell of a grudge against rapists, considering he's the product of one. ( Long stories on both counts. Please just take it as it is. ) It's in the middle of a party for a girl named Stella, and Vecht has been under Keith's watchful gaze the entire night with strict orders not to try anything stupid.
There is violence, reference to drugs and sex, and language. Written to the song Scared by Three Days Grace ))

Vecht had found a loophole in his 'orders.'

Since Stella had been rather visible when she chugged the bottle of her special vodka, and left only about half of it left, Vecht figured he'd take it upon himself to make the delivery of the new bottle. He tossed his hair slightly, moving his hair out of the way and giving him more visibility as he watched the birthday girls climb the stairs to the V.I.P. room. The poor girl was already buzzed, she wouldn't object to more alcohol. Who at this party WOULD? ...Unless they were Keith. But hey, they guy was a soldier -- a mercenary to be specific -- they probably got in loads of trouble for having 'sexual relations' up where he came from, let alone get completely smashed. Then again, the guy was from Greece, they used alcohol with everything in one way or another an ouzo was not an uncommon dinner drink. Such were the privledges of having no age limitations on drinking.

Shrugging the thoughts off, Vecht pulled a secondary bottle of vodka out from the stores underneath the bar, letting the small bottle that had vanished before reappear. Thank God for Evangeline or whatever her name was, since she was currently distracting Keith with some sort of logic of hers about parties and cages.

The cap was quickly discarded, a surge of anticipation and excitement shooting through him as he quickly poured the contents into the vodka. The vile was unceremoniously chucked into the crowd without regards for the barefoot dancers there. Maybe some girl would step on one of the shards and traces of the drug would enter her bloodstream. It was an entertaining and useless thought, though he was aiming for bigger fish tonight.

He swirled the liquid around in the glass a few times, making the alcohol open up and accept the hallucinogen in a both metaphorical and also a microscopic and visible way. The liquid shifted when he moved it, forming a small little whirlpool where her could only imagine the drug being pulled down. When really it was becoming just more and more blended with the vodka, making it even more undetectable than it already was.

But no less effective.

With one last furtive glance to Evangeline and Keith, Vecht smirked to himself and slipped away into the crowd, producing the V.I.P. pass and placing it around his neck as he approached the stairs. The bouncers didn't stop him, just glanced at the pass and let him be on his way. He paused halfway up, looking back down. Apparently Keith had recently noticed he'd gone, and the two locked gazes for a split second. Keith's was cold and threatening, subtly enraged. He could see the bright topaz eyes despite the distance and darkness. Vecht's gaze was amused and unworried, the bottle still in his hand as he quickly turned away and bounded up the steps. All he had to do was deliver it. If he could do that before Keith could interfere, than it would hardly even matter anymore.
These girls wanted to party hard enough that it would make things too easy. Besides, he was willing to suffer for an hour or so in the gutter until they came out so he could play the pity card.

Keith's eyes had suddenly ignited.

He watched as evenly as he could, his body becoming tense as Vecht casually walked into the V.I.P room and delivered the tainted alcohol bottle into Stella's hands. Immediately after that happened he was off. With no apparent regard for Evangeline or anyone else he darted through the crowd, shoving people aside if they weren't smart enough to get the Hell out of his way. He didn't bother with the bouncers at first, either, he just jumped up and grabbed onto the railing a little high up on the stairs, swinging himself once before pulling himself up and then pushing his entire body into a type of handstand that was balanced on the railing. He released one hand, twisting the other so his entire body turned one hundred eighty degrees before dropping onto the stairs.

"HEY! YOU! You can't go up there!" One of the guards on the stairs called. Two of them came running up toward him, apparently intending to drag him back down. Keith could have laughed at their ignorance. They were employed simply because they were big and intimidating, but they were facing down someone who'd been trained as a soldier since he was a kid, before he'd even hit thirteen years old -- someone who woke up at the same time as the Marines each and every morning to ensure that he got better each morning. They may be big, but that didn't matter to him.
They were going out of their league with every step they took.

The first bouncer went to grab him, but Keith's reflexes were faster. He grabbed the other males arm, taking control of it and delivering a quick blow to a nerve cluster on the tender side of his wrist before striking the nerves that connected his neck to his shoulder. It was a move that could kill if he had a blunter weapon than his hand, as it was it was efficient enough to stun. Swiftly Keith pushed the dazed and pained emoployee down the stairs, not even watching him roll as he turned towards the other.

Apparently the other caught on that this was no ordinary kid, and went to swing a punch at him. Keith calmly sidestepped it, delivering a much more powerful one to the other's gut before taking control of his neck and swiftly kicking him back down to join his co-worker.

Annoyed at the delay, Keith turned once more and darted up the stairs, ignoring everyone else in his way as he moved around them. His topaz eyes were aflame with utter hatred and disgust as they honed in on the Romanian drug dealer. Vecht looked up just in time to be faced down with a look that was dark enough to extinguish the lights that were flashing outside.

"Prostychos dimiourgima!!" Keith shouted, his utter rage completely blinding his knowledge of the English language and forcing him to revert back to his native tongue.

Nothing else mattered to him. He didn't even spare Stella a glance, didn't notice the tension that was already in the room due to Aaron's appearance. He didn't care that Ty was probably the only one (save Vecht) in the area who'd seen this vicious side of him. That one fight hadn't been anything close to this, though. This was hatred combined with untamable anger.

After all the warnings, after everything he threatened to do to the kid, he still intended to drug up the girl so he could have an easier time of raping her later on. Keith had seen what rape had done to his mother. It'd completely broken her, made her lose her entire sense of self. She only spoke coherently now to him, because he looked too much like his father and she was too afraid to not make sense. His brother and sister...they were both products of rape, too. Vecht disgusted him. He was willing to take advantage of women in such a way so he could get a kick? Just so he could satisfy himself and his sex drive when he could completely destroy another human being? He never knew the consequences of his actions, and Keith was about to teach him.

The fury that coursed through his veins now was a fire, so untamable that he was sure that if someone touched him he would be feel as if he himself was burning. His heart was racing, his breathing deep and body actually shaking slightly as the homicidal impulses came over him, the absolute sadism obvious as he smirked.
But it wasn't the normal type of devilish smirk that Keith normally had. This was something much more demonic, something that looked forward to shredding the little rapist in front of him.

Before he could even begin to control himself or respond to anything Vecht had said, Keith launched himself at the other. A moment later and a loud thud was heard as he quickly delivered a punch to the other's jaw, the other hand taking hold of his throat so he couldn't move too far and slamming him up against the wall. "WHAT did I tell you!?" He hissed. The next sound was that of metal moving on metal as Keith removed a knife from it's sheath on his left forearm. The well-crafted blade was held to Vecht's throat, the point hovering just over the point where his neck began. The name 'Arilai' was engraved upside-down on the blade itself, just after the hilt, so the victim could read it when they were staring down at it. The hilt itself was marvelously crafted silver, inlaid with small amethyst stones and engraved with symbols for freedom, power, truth, and the like. Vecht craned his head away from the point of the knife, but Keith compensated by pressing it harder into his flesh and drawing blood.

"I really wish I didn't enjoy doing this to you, Vecht," Keith said evenly before throwing the other from him, watching him roll across the room towards the door. He tried to get up, but Keith swiftly kicked his ribcage, causing the other to yelp. "STAY DOWN!" He barked, his entire body shaking with blatant fury. "You didn't listen before, so now you are going to move when I tell you to, how I tell you to, and where I tell you to, do you understand?! You pathetic little prick of a human being, can you not even COMPREHEND how disgusting your existance is?! How DARE you be so arrogant as to breathe!" Keith grabbed the back of Vecht's collar, dragging the other out of the V.I.P room and rather viciously throwing him down the stairs and then chasing him down to take a hold of him again and drag him out into the street.

His breathing was audible by now, his entire body shaking so badly he could hardly even keep a hold on his knife. Of course, it would have all been even worse if Keith knew that multiple girls were already drugged as it was. The soldier pulled Vecht upwards to look at him once before punching him once more out of disgust. When the other tried to get away, Keith firmly stepped on his back and shoved him into the cold pavement of the ground. The bouncers at the door and everyone else on the street was too horrified -- or scared -- to do anything about the display.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO MOVE!" Keith snarled, taking hold of the other's wrist and positioning his fingers around it meticulously before pressing down...hard, and then twisting.

Crack.

The sound of breaking bones and Vecht's howl of pain resonated through the street. Keith pretended to make the dealer 'wave' at passerbys by moving the wrist back and forth, the hand flopping about uselessly out of pain. Keith then came to one knee on the ground, still keeping one foot on Vecht's back as his knife went to work cutting open a decent part of Vecht's shirt.

"I warned you not to fuck with me," he told him in a hissing manner, laying the blade part of the knife flat on Vecht's back, the cold steel probably seering in such a moment. Finally he angled it only slightly, then pressed downward. Vecht whimpered in pain as the knife moved just deep enough to be under his skin, then continued in a horizontal motion so Keith could see the steel rippling under the flesh.

Keith brought the knife up again, and with it a part of Vecht's skin about the size of a lightbulb. Despite all pleas for forgiveness, all screams of terror and pain, all attempts to get away made by the other, Keith continued his work, going a bit deeper than was necessary on some parts until a thick, reletively straight line of skin was gone and in a pile in his free hand. Disgusted, Keith rose to his feet. Vecht wouldn't die...maybe. As long as he got those things checked out before they got infected. Besides, a skin graph would put him good as new. ...Well, save a nasty scar to remind him of it all.

Keith viciosly kicked the other one more time, causing him to roll over so his exposed flesh was pressed into the gritty concrete of the ground. Vecht screamed again, instantly moving away as best he could despite the pain. Keith resheathed his knife, grumbling about how he'd have to clean it it later. His front was rather splattered with crimson liquid, and it was streaked on his face by this point. Just as calmly as ever now, he dropped the pieces of flesh into Vecht's mouth, not seeming to draw any pleasure as he coughed and wretched as a result.
"Look what you made me do...now I'm covered in rapist blood."