|Text Color ||d67a99|
|Item ||An old backpack, a pocket knife (for utility purposes not as a weapon), a few blankets from the department store, some food and a thermos given to him by Micah, a handful of pencils and notebooks|
|Weapons ||The knife he took from a survivor who attacked him|
|Biological Sex ||-\_=]_/-|
|Gender Identity ||He|Him|
|Birthdate ||August 31st|
|Weight ||117 lbs|
|Region of origin ||Sinnoh|
|Occupation ||Was a student before the epidemic.|
|Party ||Has no Pokemon. His Furret and Nidoran are both lost to him, now.|
|Pkm 1 |
|Pkm 2 |
|Pkm 3 |
|Pkm 4 |
|Pkm 5 |
|Pkm 6 |
|Quote ||"It's...you know, um...it's, well, it's just that I'm not really...all that brave..."|
"Haha! Ha...that was a joke, right?"
"Oh my god, we are all going to die."
"Yeah, if you could not kill me, that would, that would be great."
Being the son of two people who hated each other, Brandon didn’t have the greatest start in life. He was the glue that held the family together in all the worst ways possible. His parents screamed and fought constantly, despising each other but refusing to split; by the time their son was old enough to understand the words and not simply that voices were being raised, he was already an anxious wreck. Even other children shouting while they played made him shut down; it forced more distance into Brandon’s already lonely life. He had barely any friends, even as he grew older. His peers were separated into two groups: the ones who bullied him, and the ones who didn’t or couldn’t befriend the “weird”, shy kid.
His only companion for a long time was his father’s Furret, Sunshine, an older Pokemon who loved lounging by the windows in their home. She was sweet, keeping him company in the midst of his indifferent parents and lack of friends, and was thus one of the few sources of comfort in young Brandon’s life. When he was too scared to leave his room for fear of punishment, Sunny would curl up next to him. When he hadn’t eaten all day, she would bring him food from the kitchen cabinets. Sunshine was always there; she was the only one who cared.
As a teenager, his parents simmered down from their old aggression, but that didn’t make him any more loved. They were still apathetic, and made it clear Brandon would not be wanted once he was a legal adult. At the age of sixteen, he had to get a part-time job to ‘build character’, which combined with the stress of school to make his life even more unbearable. His weight dropped, his eyes were always red from crying, he kept shutting himself in his room more and more.
The only silver lining was that he had a new friend, a wild male Nidoran Brandon often saw on his way back home. The little guy seemed very attached to him, often following as he walked and making cute little chirruping sounds. It was childish, but Brandon nicknamed him ‘Spines’. Spines and Sunshine: those were the only two in the entire world who loved him. If he died, no one would care except for them. That was the thought which haunted him every time his insomnia flared up.
The next part of his life took a sharp, violent turn. It started with weird rumors-normally harmless Pokemon were turning vicious, attacking people and other Pokemon for no reason. His anxiety had a field day with that one, taunting him with nightmarish thoughts about Sunny or Spines killing him, killing each other. Sometimes, they were literal nightmares; he stopped sleeping properly again after that. But even these awful experiences could not compare to the real thing.
He hadn’t been home when the worst of the attacks began, so Brandon ran-ran back to his house as fast as his sickly body possible could. He had no idea what was going on, if his parents were okay, he had to know. Home was never a haven but it was a hell of a lot safer than.. anywhere else then. Right? He was wrong. His front door was ajar, the broken doorknob suggesting a break-in. He didn’t think as he went in, and there, he found her.
Sunshine. His companion. Eating someone. Her once friendly face marred with gore, her body covered in wounds no one should have been able to live with. Her ears didn’t flick in familiar recognition as she turned to him. Her eyes were red, not like blood but glowing. A monster straight out of a horror film.
When she looked at him, it wasn’t his beloved Furret-it wasn’t her, the only person in that house who ever cared about him, it was something else. And that something wanted to kill him. She lunged at him, bloody teeth looking to tear him apart, and the only thing that saved him was pure survival instinct. He didn’t think as he fought back. The house was full of heavy blunt objects, objects he used to defend himself-to beat and bludgeon until the thing was dead, and he was covered in blood and viscera. The blood of someone who had cared about him.
Something broke in him then, as he ran. Brandon kept running until he couldn’t anymore. He left his home behind-left his parents behind, had they lived-left Spines behind like a coward, everything except what he’d had on him. By all rights, Brandon should have died. He should have been murdered in his sleep.
But instead, he woke up every day anyways. He survived, somehow. The only thing Brandon could rely on was his ability to hide well and be quiet, along with already having experience stealing food for himself; it carried him from day to day. If something went even slightly wrong, he ran. He was very lucky to not have anything ever chase him down. Still, it was far from an easy life, especially for someone so used to living apart from wilderness. Whenever Brandon saw his reflection in clear water, he looked so starved and weak it almost made him cry.
His next encounter with another human was... bad. Brandon was held at knifepoint by a taller, older man, one with messed up clothes and a terrifying expression. He demanded the boy’s supplies, but something must have spooked him as Brandon handed them over; he started shouting about something incomprehensible. Brandon tried to calm him down, but it didn’t help. The stranger attacked him instead.
By some miracle the man missed his first stab. They had a short, vicious fight that ended when the old man slammed his head against a rock. But before that, Brandon felt the knife slice through his cheek and jaw, and he screamed. It hurt so bad, he barely even registered shoving his attacker down. In the end, it didn’t matter. There was blood pouring down his face and neck; maybe Brandon had “won”, but the man was going to kill him with infection, or shock, or something. Either way, Brandon knew he was going to die. He tried to get back to his hiding place, to ‘safety’, but the pain and blood loss and his own messed up body was too much. There was nothing that could keep him from blacking out.
What dragged him out of unconsciousness was more pain, horrible pain he thought might’ve been worse than the actual stab. This, despite his paralyzing fear he felt for days, turned out to actually be an attempt at saving his life from the person who had found him. Their name was Micah, and eventually Brandon learned they’d been following his attacker after the man stole their belongings; they followed his own blood trail straight to him after finding the other’s body. With the help of a healer Pokemon, Brandon was able to be saved from blood loss, though the wound would definitely leave an obvious scar behind.
Even hearing that didn’t shock him as much as Micah then offering to let him travel with them and their Pokemon. Of course Brandon accepted, but it was less a desire for survival and more he had to find a way to pay his savior back, somehow. They had used some of their valuable medical supplies on him, they actually helped when leaving him to die would have been a much easier choice. How could he pretend the two of them were even after that? Micah seemed to like having Brandon around, at least. They were quiet and guarded at first, but warmed up over time, even letting a smile show on some occasions. Brandon did not know what to think. His new companion didn’t terrify him the way most people did; he was even able to sleep without the fear of being attacked. The safety, fragile as it was in their situation, he actually welcomed. It was almost the way he felt when Sunshine and Spines had been in his life.
Eventually, the two of them found Veilstone, and the community living there in the department store. Brandon did not like the idea of being around so many people, but the alternative was a much less safe existence for Micah in the rest of the region; he would have to learn to cope, somehow. Yet something about the place sets him on edge. Brandon can’t help but feel as though they’re not as safe as they should be; that something horrible is about to happen.
•White; sickly pale, has prominent dark circles from both sleep deprivation and an erratic sleep schedule
•Messy light brown hair; dark brown eyes
•Has a long, prominent scar running across his left cheek and jaw; without access to proper medical care, it has healed in a way that sadly invites unwanted stares
•Worryingly thin, can barely maintain weight
•Almost always in pain and fatigued due to untreated mental illness and unmet physical needs
•When stressed, he cannot seem to sit still; this includes pacing, messing with his hair, nail biting, et cetera. He has regular stims as well, but they’re distinct from his stress tics
•Most prominent part of his outfit is a dark blue hoodie he uses to make himself look smaller
|Religion ||Has a very shaky faith in Arceus|
|Personality ||•His confidence and self-image is a fractured mess, broken by both a traumatic childhood and the horrors of the epidemic. Brandon is intensely self-loathing, to the point he believes he deserves all the horrid things that have happened to him. Things such as compliments or praise bounce off of the boy; he’ll never accept anything good about himself, only listening to those who affirm his own self-hatred. Even his friendship with Micah is colored by these feelings, as Brandon believes they’re inherently better and more deserving of good things than he is.|
•Developed avoidance habits in his youth that were never addressed. He cannot stand large crowds or even small groups of people, and struggles with face-to-face conversation. Brandon has to force himself to speak even when he doesn’t want to, fearing backlash should he keep silent; everything he says requires deliberation, and so he tries to plan out every possible conversation to a near obsessive degree to avoid anger and humiliation. This happens with everyone, even Micah (though to a lesser degree with them).
•Has constant anxiety, and never truly relaxes. He’s barely able to sleep due to his nerves; intrusive thoughts plague his mind, usually revolving around all the ways he could die or the pain of his past. He has to know where everyone is, and becomes frightened if he cannot see others’ hands or faces. A lot of his physical symptoms (fatigue, body pain, etc.) are connected to his anxiety
•He has no ability to resist authority figures, mentally or physically, and is easily cowed and intimidated as a result. All one has to do is raise their voice or fist towards him, and he will be compliant out of terror. Unless Brandon feels his life is in immediate danger, he will not resist abuse, only endure it in the hopes that his tormentor will lose interest.
-(related to above) Goes nonverbal when under intense stress. This can cause his anxiety to spiral further; he will try to get words out, only to panic when his brain won’t allow it. Out of fight/flight/freeze, the third is his instinctive response to danger and overwhelming emotional responses.
•He cannot stand touch, no matter the reason behind it; it makes him either flinch or freeze up entirely. His personal space is very important to him because of this, and if someone gets too close, he’ll immediately become tense. Being grabbed on the shoulder is a trigger for him, as his parents often did this to him when angry; other bad, though not as intense, movements include being hugged or having his hands touched. Anyone who respects his personal space ends up on his good side by default.
•Fairly adept at sneaking due to his childhood. He knows how to make as little noise as possible and to keep himself from being seen, which is the only thing that’s allowed him to survive as long as he has. His fighting skills are nonexistent, and for a long time he had no one to protect him, so Brandon was forced to adapt the only way he knew how. He also used to steal food from his own house when Sunshine wasn’t able to help him, as his parents neglected him often, so food insecurity is not unusual for him
•In his happy moods, rare as they are, Brandon likes to have a content sort of quiet where he can stim freely. He never had a lot of hobbies in his life, so when he’s feeling alright, he spends a lot of time in daydreams. In the past Brandon has taken interest in a few hobbies, but they never really stuck. This is a big part of why he and Micah get along so well; the latter is perfectly comfortable with long stretches of silence.
tldr: he’s a maladaptive daydreamer
His only real affiliation is with Micah, who saved his life. They traveled together for some time before finding Veilstone. The closest thing he’s ever had to a human friend, as Brandon has only ever had companionship with Pokemon before them.
|User Notes ||•babey.|