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[falloutnpcs]

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Original | Naren Skinner | Not Reserved | 3/3

[bloodymurder]

He has an irrational fear of fire. Why is not actually known and he’s not actually able to explain why to anyone. He’s never had any traumatic experience with fire before or anything like that. Nonetheless, he’s scared of fire and will stay as far away from it as possible. Around other people he tries not to act like he’s afraid of fire and won’t willingly admit it. He’ll do his best to seem like he’s perfectly alright. In actuality though, fire makes him panic and he won’t do well stuck in enclosed spaces with it. He also, of course, has a fear of burning to death, though it’s not his main reason for fearing fire. For whatever the real reason is, he just doesn’t like it.

Water, on the other hand, comforts him. It’s mostly the sound of it that he enjoys. The sound of the ocean and the waves can calm him down and lull him to sleep, even. Water is cool and peaceful-and kind of the opposite of fire, which might be another reason why he likes it so much. Rivers and brooks, sound-wise, are also calming to him. Basically, the sound of any sort of running or moving water is soothing.
Possessions: A black tuxedo jacket with red lace around the cuffs, a red silk tie, black leather pants, and black combat boots.
Abilities:
Naren is a shapeshifter. He can change his appearance to that of any other human form, anything he sees or imagines. This is, though, limited to just human forms. Along with this, he’s somewhat faster and stronger than a normal human being as well as possessing a heightened sense of smell to such a degree that he can smell fear. He is also skilled at various forms of torture as well as being a decent actor and fighter.


Samples
First Person: [Audio]

If you think that kidnapping me is supposed to scare me, you’re wrong. This is actually kind of nice. I’ve been meaning to visit the East Coast sometime, really. Not that there’s anything wrong with California, but traveling is nice. Thank you for making things easier for me.

[He laughs a little, sounding to all the world that he’s completely unbothered by everything that’s going on.]

In fact, I’d like to shake the hand of the necromancer you’ve got around here, because this work is quite impressive. [Incredibly illegal, at least as far as he’s aware of, but impressive all the same.] Takes a lot of gall to do all of this. Must be fun.

But I digress. Good job getting me here, but your luck just might be wearing thin now-even thinner as soon as I find out who’s responsible for this. [It’s a threat. A very cheerfully stated threat, but a threat all the same.] Try to have a good day until then, though.

[Click.]

Third Person:
Crimson. It was the most beautiful shade of crimson. It fell from the ceiling as rain, through the sprinkler systems, since they were of course inside and so it couldn’t possibly be real rain. Pools and puddles were forming across the floor already, and the black haired young man splashed through them as he twirled, his feet bare. His boots, along with his jacket, sat off to the side, out of the way of the blood. He was bare-chested, and the crimson drops fell bright against his pale, silken skin, making tracks. His eyes were closed as he tilted his head back, stretching out his arms, his palms upturned.

He was dancing through the blood like an ethereal spirit, or a small child in the rain. Carefree and joyous, he spun on one foot, managing to keep his balance even through a puddle. He laughed a bit as he opened his eyes, running his hands back through his hair, smearing blood on both. Who knew whose blood he was frolicking in-most likely more than one person-but their unfortunate demise had brought a sparkle to his blue eyes. He appeared so young and innocent, and yet there was a sadistic edge about him-there had to be, after all, considering the crimson rain he’d created.

Performing another elegant twirl, he spotted his lover standing off to the side, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall. He was safe from the falling blood as he watched Naren dancing.

“Olexei,” Naren called in a sing-song voice, flashing a smile to the older man before spinning again.

“Yeah, Naren?” Olexei replied, smiling in return.

“Come over here.” Naren had stopped dancing now, standing there with one hand on his hip, his other stretched out towards Olexei, making come hither motions.

Olexei turned his eyes up to the ceiling and then looked back to Naren, uncrossing his arms and stepping forward. “Who did you kill for all of this, anyway?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Does it really matter?” Naren replied with a wicked smirk, licking away some of the blood that had fallen on his lips, savoring the coppery, metallic taste.

“Nah. Just wonderin’,” the other said, crimson drops falling on his hair and skin now.

“A bunch of people who deserved it anyway. They got in my way,” Naren said with a shrug and another smirk, snaking his arms around Olexei’s shoulders when he’d reached him.