Name: Baxter Arthur Aaron Alexander Agatha Adelaide Augustus Anthony Abernathy, II
Codename: None. That would be a celebration of his HORRID deformity and he won't indulge the idea of nicknames.
Age: 23
Date of Birth: October 5
Height: 6'2"
Weight: That's a RUDE thing to ask.
Hair Color: Pale, cornsilk blonde
Eye Color: Pale gray/blue
Place of Origin: Wiltshire, England
Nationality/Race: Caucasian, pure-bred English
Classification/Origin of Powers: Mutant
Status: Trainee
Occupation: Cobalt Hill Library Staff
Personality Profile:
Bookwormish, studious, precisely follows protocol (or at least tries to). A good boy, he does as mumsy says, and is the apple of his father's eye. Baxter's manners are impeccable, his focus unshaken by distractions, delights, or other such nonsense. Sports are brutish, females are forbidden, and the most important thing above *all* things is to study hard enough to run the family business, like his father, his father's father, his father's father's father, his father's father's father's mother, his father's father's father's mother's mother, and his father's father's father's mother's mother's father before him.
Before becoming afflicted, the family view on mutants was that of polite, if someone put-off, tolerance. Mutants weren't to be -hated- or gassed off of the earth, but you wouldn't want one working for you. Now he's attempting to be far more tolerant, but... it's difficult.
(Also, when I'm writing his dialogue, I've got Delbert Doppler from Treasure Planet in mind for intonation, cadence, and all else! Have a look! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mZC--YX ... re=related )
Physical Description: (Feel free to use text, an image, or both.)
Above average in height, certainly, but far from in breadth or brawn. Though not a walking skeleton, it's painfully apparent that Baxter has favored books and computers over any manner of outdoor activity. He's a lean chap, sturdy of shoulder and narrow of hip, but most noticeable aside from his features would be his hands. Fine, elegant, long-fingered hands, porcelain-made, and they haven't seen a *day's* hard labor. Barely even marred by a papercut! Those hands are confident, charismatic, and at times... hopelessly fastidious and fidgety.
Features are cut finely, with slender masculinity. Long jaw, blunt chin, high cheekbones and a perfectly precise nose made of long, slim bone and a neatly up-tilted tip. His brows are as slim as he is, and just as sensitive. Eyes have been bred to be haughtily low-lidded, and so they stay, though easily popped wide when caught off guard or embarrassed. When hooded, the color seems quite stormy, but closer inspection would reveal a pale bluegray, guarded by clean, clear-cut glasses on the thinnest silver frames resting on his nose's bridge.
Speaking of pale, the only one who may rival this Abernathy would be an albino. Mumsy always prided him for his perfect skin, and the lad grew up with the forced habit of going as far as to carry an umbrella when he may be exposed to too much sun. Mumsy's made him aware, too much sun may KILL him, why it killed his Uncle Percivus! Cornsilk hair is long, quite long, actually, near beyond his shoulderblades, but always kept back in imacculate nape-of-the-neck tie or monogrammed clip.
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Powerset: Sonic Voice (uncontrolled and erratic)
Ability One: Whenever it decides to pop up, Baxter's voice becomes incredibly loud. Most of the time, it's at the same level of obnoxiousness as an air horn. Twice, though, it's been enough to briefly deafen the person(s) nearest to him. It's incredibly embarrassing and very inconvenient.
Ability Two: NONE
Ability Three: NONE
Drawbacks & Weaknesses: Social stigma, and the potential of intimate conversation being put on blast.
Projected Power Growth & Development: Baxter has everything to learn. In the future, he will have control over his volume. This is very important to him, as until he's able to guarantee that his volume knob is turned down, he risks embarrassing himself and his family socially. If one were to decide, for SOME reason, that the delicate chap would be a valuable team member, he could also work on honing his sound waves for defensive/offensive purposes.
Skills: While far from being an incredibly dedicated Maestro, Baxter is quite good with the piano, violin, and cello. In his younger years his mother was quite set on having him grow up to be a concert musician, but his father insisted he become bookish enough to handle the company. Music wasn't thrown out the window, though. Mumsy opted to keep him going with his classes, so that he might play at parties and for guests, as she's always loved showing off her baby boy. With the feverish seed of music planted, Baxter continued to take lessons and dedicate time each day to the instruments. It's a casual hobby more than anything, but one he's very, very fond of. If ever overly worked up, the instruments are a wonderful source of relaxation for him.
Background:
Mumsy and Popsy--- er. Misses and Mister Abernathy could be considered your archetypal high-class, socialite British couple. They're of lifted noses and soft hands, snide remarks and an undefeatable addiction to lavishness and posh extravagance. However, one thing that could be said of the Abernathy family is this: While the professional title of CEO of Abernathy Gas and Electric has almost always been passed through the family, every son and daughter has had to *work* those fine fingers bloody on books and education to get it. Nepotism is stoutly looked down upon in the family, and those that rely on it are cast aside as classless. This made for a very bookwormish, delicate line-- there are no men of strength, among the Abernathy males, though the Abernathy females do seem to flock to the huskiest, brawniest of men outside their family line.
Baxter was a miracle baby-- his father was quite a good deal older than his mother when they married, and age had robbed him of virility when it came time to have a child. When one throws enough money at a problem, however, they tend to get fixed. As he was cherished gift, he was coddled straight from the start--- private schools, private tutoring, nothing but the best, the most safe, the most sheltered, the most perfect, for little Baxter.
Not even a scant month ago, the Abernathy household played host to the company's top shareholders and business partners. Sat at the long, crystal-lined table, surrounded by caviar, champagne and utter style, Baxter was having a polite conversation with the wife of one of his father's top partners. "Such a -handsome- young man," she'd tutted sweetly, "My niece would just adore you. You -must- let me arrange tea for you two." Dabbing at the corner of his mouth neatly with his napkin, Baxter's head dipped and with utmost sincerity, "Thank you, Misses Cumberfleet. I'm sure your niece is an absolute prize, but I haven't the time for YOUNG LADIES---" Misses Cumberfleet's wine glass shattered in her hand, and her husband's toupee flew off of his head. Baxter was blown backwards by the two-word boom, and the domino effect that began with the Cumberfleets rolled down the table. Guest after guest knocked back into eachother, china broke, food few, drinks sloshed, and the din became that of a panicked uproar. Those not affected by the boom had jerked up from their seats, startled, staring. Baxter, stunned, winded, pulled himself up, his glasses askew, his chest heaving, mouth slack. He looked to his parents. His father, red faced and furious, with the slow-dawning knowledge that one of *those* types had pockmarked their perfect family. His mother was clutching her mouth, one tear shimmering down from her eye. The din settled and the murmuring, the whispering began.
The Abernathy boy was a mutant.
Mumsy threw an absolute tantrum when he asked to take treatment in America. She couldn't bear to think of her darling little wisp amid whores, harlots and SLUTS, stamped her foot and tried desperately to convince Popsy that no good would come of that *Cobalt Hill hellhole,* but amid all of this, Baxter held up his point it was statistically proven to be the most successful in control and rehabilitation, and carried oh so much merit.
After a half hour Power Point presentation in his father's study, it was decided that Cobalt Hill was the right place for Baxter to be. He was quietly and swiftly packed and shipped away, much to the dismay of his mother.
Criminal Record: Why I NEVER. WHAT do you think he is, some sort of BARBARIAN?
Quirks, Extras, Random Character Facts:
- Baxter's only imperfection before his mutation, much to the dismay of Mumsy and Popsy, is an unfortunately pronounced stutter. Years of expensive therapy have taken it from his day-to-day speech, but should the young man become flustered, it rears its h-h-h, h, h, head. The stutter frustrates him unendingly, and the lifetime reactions of his family have made him loathe it.
- A bit of a neat freak and perfectionist, never eats without first washing his hands, perhaps a little OCD about organization.
- He lives and breathes archives, timelines, history and art, and has since the tender age that he was first shuffled off to his all male boarding schools. Books are a treasure, and knowledge is luxurious.