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 Hunger Sacrifice [Sacrifice Defense Instructor]

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Posts : 171
Join date : 2010-09-07
Age : 25

PostSubject: Hunger Sacrifice [Sacrifice Defense Instructor]   Sun Oct 03, 2010 7:21 pm

Full Name: Mace Ubiitsa (Мейс убийцы)
Nickname: none
True Name: Hunger
Partner's Name: No partner at the moment
Gender: male
Marital Status: single
Age: 26
Birth Date: August 24, 1984
Occupation/Grade: Sacrifice Defense teacher at Seven Moons
Dreams/Life Goals: to forgive himself for the death of his fighter

Hair: just under his ears, blonde
Eyes: pale blueish purple
Height: 5'8”
Build: thin, but with muscle tone
Name location: Just above his left shoulder blade

Mace is painfully shy, but he opens up a bit once he considers someone a friend. He's very neat, and is meticulous about keeping his house clean. Except his office, which is the messiest thing in his life. He's a bit of a pushover. Once people get to know him, Mace is very playful, only being serious when he has to be. But Mace has 'bad days,' when the guilt of his fighter's death eats at him. On those days, he's quiet, reserved. He gets lost in thought and winds up places he'd never go normally. The nights following bad days are worse. Mace gets drunk, and stumbles around his house, lamenting angrily about Kylan, the details of his death, and a woman named Viktoriya. Eventually, he passes out.

Mace was born into a fairly well off family. His parents had made money through little jobs adding up. They were considered the black sheep part of their family though, because neither his father nor mother had 'proven' themselves. I.e. been very successful in their early lives. Either way, they were happy, not fighting very often and always making sure they were together for holidays and such. He had a very good relationship with both of his parents.
Mace had always known he was gay. He wasn't flamboyant, and he didn't flaunt his lifestyle, but his parents had also known. They were very accepting. His parents were a fighting pair. Still are, actually, though they're considered 'veterans,' and are left alone for the most part. He's an only child, but was very close with his cousin Alex, until nine years ago.
Kylan had family. He had two baby sisters. Two sisters that, for the most part, grew up without their brother.

We met when we were fifteen. Seven Moons had brought us together, and Seven Moons would eventually tear us apart. I'll always remember the first words he said to me. ”Stare a little harder, sacrifice.” Prick. He was cocky and sure of himself. I wasn't, not then. So I averted my eyes, watched the ground as if the tile had suddenly become interesting. It hadn't. He didn't apologize.
The headmaster was 'replaced' maybe a week after our meeting. Some girl just a few years older than us took his place. But we didn't pay attention to that. Kylan played sports, I tagged along to watch (and very, very rarely, cheer.) I had already fallen for him. I'm sure he knew it, too. Prick. The knots in my stomach when I caught that barely noticeable smirk tilting up the corners of his lips... He had to have felt it through the thread. If not, his end of it had a wire loose.
The first year was... awkward. At least, at first it was. We didn't get along too well at first, because I was a pushover and he figured it out quickly. He was nothing less than a con artist. Could've been an actor, as convincing as he was. But eventually we started arguing less, and though I understood that I had a horribly torturous crush on my fighter, I wouldn't bring myself to tell him. After all, who knew if he was even gay, period, let alone harboring feelings for me?
After the first half a year or so, we had established a platonic friendship. I told my parents I had found him. My other half. My fighter. They insisted on meeting him, but wouldn't until a little before the year mark. He talked about girls, about sports, about his excitement to battle. He wanted to train. I wanted to keep him safe. I also talked about girls, but only in a friendly way. Pointing out little things that normally, guys wouldn't notice. I didn't talk about sports; they didn't catch my interest. I talked about good grades and swimming. Did swimming count as a sport? Who knows. We always argued about it. Ky said no, kicking through water did not count. I said yes, propelling oneself strategically as to beat your competitors did in fact count.
I'm getting off subject.
My birthday was just after our one year mark. I asked him to sleep over. There was a swim meet the next morning. I would turn sixteen literally in the water. My nerves were eating me alive, I would never be able to sleep. He agreed, knowing my motives. Kylan knew he calmed me down. I was an anxious little shit back then. We lay in my bed, facing each other. He seemed to be sleeping; deep, even breathing, his eyes weren't moving beneath their lids... I watched him, just as anxious about the morning as ever. My clock ticked midnight. It was the date of my birth. He opened his eyes. How he had known the exact time, I'll never know. His eyes... People called them hazel, they called them brown. They were neither. His eyes were gold. Jesus, he was amazing. Again, I'll never forget what he did. He took my chin in between his thumb and forefinger and pulled my lips against his, not giving me time to react at all, before pulling back and whispering
”Happy birthday. I love you.”
I absolutely died. Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. He did, of course. Prick. But I lay awake the entire night, reveling in the fact that he had said such words. Somehow, I came in first the next morning. I thank Kylan for that.
Ky met Alex a few months later. Alex and I had always been close. He was 'helping' the new headmaster, from what he said. I knew he was a fighter. Ky could feel his ring. I hoped he would find his sacrifice soon. I'm still not sure how well they got along. Guess it'd be better to ask Alex. Anyway, we started training. One battle was all we ever did. It pissed Ky off to no end. He went on and on about not getting called back for more, about Viktoriya being a powerhungry bitch, etcetera. Maybe he knew something I didn't. Who knows.
Now think of the worst pain you've ever felt in your life. Go ahead, I'll wait. Make it a good one, like getting your nipple bitten off by a beaver (saw that on an American television show one day. What kind of bullshit do you guys watch?) Okay. Think of one? It's nothing. NOTHING, compared to what happened when we were seventeen. Kylan and I had become inseparable. We were one person, really. Already planning our future together. Oh yeah, we were teenagers. We were in love. What did you expect? Anyway, he finally got that call back battle he wanted so badly. Only it wasn't a call back. More like a field test. I can't go into details of what happened. It hurts me too much. Hell, just admitting it still hurts me this much makes it hurt worse. I need a drink.
Alright. Well, needless to say... Kylan was... Well, no longer in the picture, after that.
Wow. Didn't think I'd down it that fast. Need another.
So. Yeah. I didn't exist after that. I graduated, barely. I went off to college. Also barely. I started bartending. Even the shadiest of places will hire an underage if you're good enough. Guess it's just a knack I have. I got a degree in English and started teaching. Teaching and bartending. What a mix. But it helped a lot, because I lost myself. I had lived for years just floating, being there and not knowing why or how. Hold on.
Kay. Years of 'bad days' have helped my alcohol tolerance, I swear. And that's not a good thing. Back to the story.
My parents held an intervention one day. I worried them. I had saved up a pretty penny, but didn't do anything with my life. They quit both my jobs for me. I stay with them for a year or so. They tried to get my life back for me. I didn't want it. I still don't want it, if I have to be completely honest. But I gained some kind of personality back. They say it's almost like my old one, just a few minor changes. Like I'm a replacement me or something.
Fourth one. Finally feeling the buzz. So yeah, I moved here. I don't want to type anymore. Take it over, creator!

Basically, Mace blames himself for Kylan's death. Hence the drinking. He doesn't like thinking about it. To wrap up ties he didn't, Alex and himself stopped talking after Kylan's death. All of Mace's relationships with people died after that. Mace moved because he couldn't handle being in the same town anymore. The same country. He needed a new start. His parents helped him get here (they're fairly well off) with the hopes that he'd emerge again, himself, the one from before Kylan's passing. Mace doubts he ever will.

These are optional fields. If there are other fields not listed below, you may add them.
Origin: Russian
Language: Russian/American/Japanese
Weight/Body Structure/Physical Faults: Mace's body isn't bad. He's skinny, but keeps enough muscle mass to look and be healthy.
Career/Past Careers: English teacher/bartender
Hobbies: swimming, reading, cooking, keeping his house and car in perfect condition.
Likes: soup and sandwiches. Bacon. Water. Kitchens.
Loves: all of the above.
Dislikes: the past and everything about it. Existing.
Fears: letting anyone as close as Kylan was, because he thinks it's inevitable that they'll meet the same end.
Strengths: swimming ability.
Turn ons &Turn offs: you'll just have to find out, hm?

This form template was created by DK/firefly of and exclusively for Loveless: Redemption.
Stealing shall merit a lifetime of being chased by rainbow unicorn tanks and visions of the most horrific gut-wrenching nude
dancing you will ever encounter...same goes for modifying it without permission (outside of the information fields).

Last edited by Calidane on Sun Oct 03, 2010 8:58 pm; edited 1 time in total
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