Clay gave another fingers through the hair thoughtless gesture before committing. It was sort of a miracle he had survived Kindred society for the last fourty odd years while being so intensely transparent. Not much of a player, this one. He wages a little internal battle at having to actually...
Taking a second to cast an eye down at his clothes- blue jeans worn in to perfect softness and a plain collared shirt in a color so over worn it is more a muddy gray than anything else anymore, Clay turns towards the Nosferatu. Having been working on his accent for many years now, trying to...
Clay absently gnaws at his lower lip as information rolls in. He nods at Argyle, having just sorted his own thoughts enough to respond, if a little delayed. “Yes, yes. For the good of...” With a vague gesture of his hand he trails off as if lost in thought when really he is fumbling for more...
Clay sits in the rusty old chair and shifts uncomfortably as if the sensation of it bothers him. It does not, of course. Many affects of being... alive still seem to sit as a part of the collective that creates his being. Even after fourty years as Kindred Clay still feels like he should...
I am okay with groups but I do hope my character could act almost as a floater (much like I think Bug and Chip could) and maybe have cross over due to flexibility. I think being put in uncomfortable situations is such an enjoyable way to grow a character.
Clay sort of just happened, mostly to fill a potential muscle roll for the group earlier on. He is a more genteel sort than sheer brute though as he has some moral throw back from when he was kine so less likely to be a real jerkwad.
That being said I do not mind making a whole new character if...
Claire - Possibly once Clay moved into the area and met Claire through Elysium he may have asked her assistance in setting up his own lab where he keeps his in city cows that needed the veneer of being for research even if that is not entirely true? This would however let Claire in on the fact...
With a grimace that matches his expression each “morning” he awakes, Clay’s eyes snap open. No slow or gentle awakening as he experienced as a mortal, feeling the trickle of the sun’s rays wash over the countryside. Taking a moment to stretch out his gangly limbs (more out of habit than need...