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permissions. ( tw ; suicide )
Dec. 1st, 2020 12:51 amNAME. Kieren Walker
CANON. In the Flesh
OOC PREFERENCES.
IC CHARACTERISTICS.
IC PERMISSIONS.
OPT-OUT.
CANON. In the Flesh
OOC PREFERENCES.
→ CONTACT: My plurk (porphyrogene) is always open for friendage, or PMs work too!
→ FOURTH WALLING / CANON PUNCTURE: No fourth walling; the series isn't popular enough to warrant it, so I'd rather not. Canon puncture is perfectly fine, though, if the show actually gets renewed!
→ BACKTAGGING: Hell yes!
→ THREADJACKING: Fuck yeah!
→ OFFENSIVE SUBJECTS: Sexual assault/abuse and rape are difficult subjects for me OOCly. Please PM me if you think they are going to come up.
→ PREFERRED GENDER PRONOUN: She/her/hers are fine!
IC CHARACTERISTICS.
→ CANON POINT: Post-2x06.
→ PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Kieren is a tall, white, gangly young man who walks with an unsteady gait. He tends to wear neutral colors and overlarge clothes, particularly outdated sweaters. Think a lot of brown. His blond hair is cut conservatively. There is a large vertical scar on each of his forearms; he usually covers these scars with long sleeves. When Kieren is wearing his cover-up and contacts, he looks perhaps overly tanned with occasional patchy/paler spots on parts of his face and hands. It is very obvious that he's wearing makeup and an overabundance of it. He has brown eyes. When Kieren is not wearing his cover-up and contacts, he's deathly (ha) pale with bright blue veins evident through his skin, gangrene visible under his nails, and white eyes with very small black pupils. He smells normal to someone with ordinary senses, but the supernatural residents on board might be able to catch a whiff of death on him.
→ DEMEANOR: Kieren has a tendency to make himself smaller than he is. This is evident in his choice of clothes (subdued), the way he moves (shoulders hunched), and the way he speaks (generally very quietly, with little interruption and the intent not to intrude).
→ ABILITIES: Kieren is a Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferer; essentially, a sentient zombie. More information available in his app!
→ MEDICAL INFORMATION: He needs a once-daily injection of neurotryptyline to rebuild brain cells.
→ CABIN INFORMATION: 3-20; his room at his parents' home, with dark reddish-pink walls, a small bed in the center of the room, heavy curtains, various knick-knacks, and his paintings and painting supplies all around.
→ OFFENSIVE SUBJECTS: Prejudice of any kind, mental health.
IC PERMISSIONS.
→ PHYSICAL AFFECTION: Possibly. He might not react positively depending on the situation, but I'm open to it.
→ MENTAL: PM me first, but broadly yes!
→ MIMICRY: Go for it! But PM me.
→ PHYSICAL VIOLENCE: Absolutely.
→ PSYCHOLOGICAL VIOLENCE: PM me first, please!
→ MAGIC: PM me!
→ DEBATE: Go for it!
→ CHARACTER DEATH: PM me, but probably!
OPT-OUT.
Kieren's canon and history delve into issues of depression and suicide, as well as the obvious zombie gore. If you would like to opt out of discussion of any or all of these topics, please comment below and I will be sure to keep it out of our threads. If you would like to opt out of playing with Kieren at all, for any reason, let me know in the comments as well! All comments are screened.
03 ☢ i'm gonna make this place your home
Feb. 6th, 2015 05:57 pm[He's starting to catch on to how this works, now. When he speaks up, it's tentative but hopeful. There are people he misses, misses so much, and if he has even the smallest chance of talking to them he's got to take it.]
My name's Kieren Walker. I'm, um. I'm looking for the Walkers, from Roarton? And anyone - who remembers me, I suppose.
My name's Kieren Walker. I'm, um. I'm looking for the Walkers, from Roarton? And anyone - who remembers me, I suppose.
( snafu & gene. )
spam } enclosure
[After meeting with Snaf - a mixed bag, as he expects these meetings might be for a while - he wants to walk. To be alone, or as alone as he can be in a place like this, but to be outside, too - as outside as you can be indoors. The obvious solution to this is programming a wide, empty field with sparse treeline in the distance into the Enclosure and go for a long walk.]
[His gait is still not quite steady, his skin deathly pale, eyes dead white. But he's smiling in the face of the wind, even if this place isn't natural and he knows it.]
( giftsssss. )
spam } enclosure
[After meeting with Snaf - a mixed bag, as he expects these meetings might be for a while - he wants to walk. To be alone, or as alone as he can be in a place like this, but to be outside, too - as outside as you can be indoors. The obvious solution to this is programming a wide, empty field with sparse treeline in the distance into the Enclosure and go for a long walk.]
[His gait is still not quite steady, his skin deathly pale, eyes dead white. But he's smiling in the face of the wind, even if this place isn't natural and he knows it.]
( giftsssss. )
01 ☢ disappear into the trees
Dec. 1st, 2014 09:26 pm( spam, cut for reading lists. )
spam } infirmary
[The second thing he does is go to the infirmary. He has already made his request, packed away in a canvas back thick enough to obscure its contents. It only takes a few moments to make his way to the infirmary; once he's there, he finds himself calmed, if only minutely, by its clean lines and relative efficiency. It reminds him of Shirley's friendly bustle. He thinks, if he can just find someone willing to listen and ask a minimum number of questions, he'll be fine.]
[Maybe he ought to have brought a brochure. But he has what he has, and so he goes looking for someone in charge.]
spam } open
[He happens across the art therapy room almost by accident, as he's tripping up and down the stairs trying to get a feel for the place. Once he gets a sense for it, what this room is for, he feels a bit like going in would be intruding on a place not meant for him, but he can't help himself. It's full of all the tools and materials too expensive or impractical to keep in his room, a smorgasbord of paints and pastels and clays. Before long he's situated himself at an easel by the door, canvas spread in front of him, and sketching out the beginnings of a portrait in violet outlines.]
[The library is his next time-consuming stop, after he's washed all the paint off his hands, of course. It only takes him a minute to get lost in one of the corridors connecting the reference to the nonfiction section, and he wanders helplessly in near-darkness for a moment before emerging, inexplicably, by the movies. They're in all kinds of formats, some totally alien to him. He wonders what his dad would say about living in a post-BluRay environment and then, after a pang in the general region of his heart, decides not to think about it anymore. Instead he spreads a selection of films out on the nearest table and tries to pick one to watch for the evening. Assistance from the peanut gallery is welcome.]
[At last he finds himself on the deck, where he finds himself both awed and nauseated by the expansive sky - and really, it's only a sky because that's the most reassuring way to mentally categorize it. It's actually space, which he is in, and in all honesty he could do with sitting down right now. Fortunately there's a bench nearby. He collapses onto it and hunches his shoulders against the encroaching everything, counting the seconds until he can in good conscience retreat back into his room.]
voice } open
[A few hours later, safely ensconced in his cabin once again, he feels less homesick, more equipped to address everyone all at once - which seems to be the thing to do. Not face to face, though. He isn't completely ready for that.]
Hi. [. . . yes.] I'm Kieren. New. Thought I'd say hi.
I've never actually. Been to space, not sure if that puts me in the minority or not, but. It's beautiful here. [Terrifying. But beautiful.]
spam } infirmary
[The second thing he does is go to the infirmary. He has already made his request, packed away in a canvas back thick enough to obscure its contents. It only takes a few moments to make his way to the infirmary; once he's there, he finds himself calmed, if only minutely, by its clean lines and relative efficiency. It reminds him of Shirley's friendly bustle. He thinks, if he can just find someone willing to listen and ask a minimum number of questions, he'll be fine.]
[Maybe he ought to have brought a brochure. But he has what he has, and so he goes looking for someone in charge.]
spam } open
[He happens across the art therapy room almost by accident, as he's tripping up and down the stairs trying to get a feel for the place. Once he gets a sense for it, what this room is for, he feels a bit like going in would be intruding on a place not meant for him, but he can't help himself. It's full of all the tools and materials too expensive or impractical to keep in his room, a smorgasbord of paints and pastels and clays. Before long he's situated himself at an easel by the door, canvas spread in front of him, and sketching out the beginnings of a portrait in violet outlines.]
[The library is his next time-consuming stop, after he's washed all the paint off his hands, of course. It only takes him a minute to get lost in one of the corridors connecting the reference to the nonfiction section, and he wanders helplessly in near-darkness for a moment before emerging, inexplicably, by the movies. They're in all kinds of formats, some totally alien to him. He wonders what his dad would say about living in a post-BluRay environment and then, after a pang in the general region of his heart, decides not to think about it anymore. Instead he spreads a selection of films out on the nearest table and tries to pick one to watch for the evening. Assistance from the peanut gallery is welcome.]
[At last he finds himself on the deck, where he finds himself both awed and nauseated by the expansive sky - and really, it's only a sky because that's the most reassuring way to mentally categorize it. It's actually space, which he is in, and in all honesty he could do with sitting down right now. Fortunately there's a bench nearby. He collapses onto it and hunches his shoulders against the encroaching everything, counting the seconds until he can in good conscience retreat back into his room.]
voice } open
[A few hours later, safely ensconced in his cabin once again, he feels less homesick, more equipped to address everyone all at once - which seems to be the thing to do. Not face to face, though. He isn't completely ready for that.]
Hi. [. . . yes.] I'm Kieren. New. Thought I'd say hi.
I've never actually. Been to space, not sure if that puts me in the minority or not, but. It's beautiful here. [Terrifying. But beautiful.]
