Zeraphia's Character

Name: Jaxion (Jax) Rossi
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Role: Detective

Personality:

For a man with a mind that enjoys detangling the mysteries of life and death--mostly death since that's his line of work as a detective, Jax has not yet figured out the art of self-preservation. He's largely intertwined in a lot of things and prefers to leave his past behind. He's not afraid to speak his mind and sometimes, he should be. He gets in trouble quite a bit but at least when he does speak his mind, he's semi-nice about it.

Jax is the type of person to absolutely hide a lot of his emotions. Even his anger. He will appear lightly frustrated or a little weary or tired of something but he won't ever show true anger. For the most part. But he will chastise a lot of people on what they've done wrong when he finally catches them. Which sucks to be them because he doesn't just go for a trial. He collects every single piece of evidence against them that he can possibly find so that the trial is airtight. He refuses to do it any other way.

Under the facade of a happier sort of person, Jax finds himself tired and worn out. He enjoys being on the hunt but once its done, he has a tendency to shut down. It takes a lot to pry his deep emotions out of him and even then, he probably won't do much anyways. He doesn't care for love or affection--not in a romantic sort of way. He is quite touchy and is a hugger though.

Appearance:

Jaxion Rossi is rather tall at 6' 4" with broad shoulders. He is a mountain of a figure which definitely adds to his initial appearance. His skin is warm and tan but marred with brighter white patches. Jaxion has vitiligo.

His eyes are a deep jade green, they stand out from the rest of him. His hair is a bit more dark and red with a small white patch right in the middle of his forehead.

When Jaxion isn't in his formal work-wear, he's wearing a brown bomber jacket.

After he's... been affected, Jaxion begins to have dazzling feathered wings.

Other:

Not that I can think of!

Nicholas (“Nick”) Williamson

Mechanic - 23 - Male

“Oh… what? Yeah… give me a moment-”

~

Nicholas is… an unremarkable guy, in terms of appearance. Mostly. Slightly untidy dirt brown hair with similarly coloured eyes, he’s not entirely remarkable through his appearance. Standing at a solid 184cm, like his characteristic of being unremarkable in terms of his appearance, he’s built… normally. Not overly broad in the shoulders, but respectful enough that he doesn’t look thin, like everything that he looks… he’s unremarkable. You wouldn’t pick him out of a crowd specifically for his looks if you tried.

~

He’s a mechanic. Yes, he’s the one that fixes your car when the horn stops working because you’ve leaned too much on it. A mechanic by trade, what makes him stand out is his dedication to tasks that he’s been set. You need your car fixed by Friday for a drive down to the city, or whatever paltry excuse you give to get it fixed faster? The job goes to Nicholas - he’ll actually try his best to get it down by Friday. He enjoys his occupation - it’s fulfilling enough for him, at least. Therefore, he works hard for it - and actually fixes what needs fixing.

He’s not the mechanic that just replaces the whole engine if one bolt goes missing simply for the company’s profit, though. To him, that’s just a waste, and why would you bother to do that if the only result is charging the customer more? Nicholas is practical in the sense of what actually needs to be done, versus what’s best sometimes - which is… well, interesting.

This also comes with strings, though. With his practicality comes a sense that it kind of has to be doable, or he’d sooner find a way than have to restart. This gives him a dose of stubbornness that he displays outside of the workplace too.

Inter-personally, he’s not the greatest social butterfly either. He doesn’t actively seek out people to talk to - usually, in his experience people are more difficult to deal with than machines. Yeah, he’ll talk with you and crack jokes - but if he’s got something important to do, you’ll know it because he’s probably prioritizing it over talking. At least machines don’t give a snarky comeback line if he gets something wrong.

Without something pressing to do, he’s more likely to just drift off and pass time through some hobby, than stay and talk for an extended period. Nicholas doesn’t exactly take much comfort in social interaction with most people. He does, however, have ‘close’ friends that he actually talks to - when he’s not busy, of course. He isn’t a social butterfly, consistently seeking out new interactions, though - he’s fine as it is now.

At least, he's fine by himself until some things that happen shouldn't happen. Like... gosh, maybe developing a telekinetic ability?

Thump

The car door closed with a faint click as the man stepped out with a faint breath. His breath curled upward in a faint mist as the chill of the spring night air wrapped around the small and quiet town. The breeze was quiet but seemed to carry a soft hint of a night storm.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. It was too early for a storm of that sort. Or at least what he thought.

Jaxion moved past to his small home, stepping inside. The night was dark, stars glittering overhead with little regard to what was going on below. Some were hidden behind clouds--though it was hard to really see in the darkness. He sat down at the table, running one hand through his hair as he sifted over the latest case.

A break-in that held all the wrong characteristics. Items had been stolen but the main problem was the fact that there were palm prints and fingerprints. Those were tied to a missing person who had disappeared two weeks before. And the fact that those prints?

They had been discovered on the ceiling.

Jax ran a hand through his hair, chewing on his lip for a few moments before his head lifted. The wind had begun to howl outside. The furious howl whipping his shutters back and forth. Slowly, carefully, he stood up from the table and made his way toward the window.

Rain began to slowly patter down, blown by the howling wind. It smashed and splattered against the window pane and in the distance, nothing but darkness. Until a flash illuminated--

His jade eyes widened.

"Holy--"

Jax didn't have time to finish his sentence.

Illuminated in the darknesss was a massive funnel.

He ran to the table, grabbed the case file and his radio and then thundered down the steps into his basement, where he barricaded the door to keep them from flying open. It was going to be a horrendous storm and the worst part... was the fact that it was headed straight for them.

Straight for Golden Falls.

Jax flicked his radio on, looking up at the ceiling. "Detective Rossi," he said firmly, "we've got a funnel coming in. Put the sirens on now--"

In the distance, he could hear the city's tired sirens slowly raise their whine to the dark night air. A warning to get to safety while one could.

Jax shut his eyes, clutched the radio and shoved himself into the corner of the basement--as much as he could while he listened to the wind go from a howl... to a roar.

The roar almost seemed... like a train whistle and it wasn't hindered by anything but the sounds of destruction above him.

Nicholas was completing the sudoku on the back of the weekly newspaper when the sirens started wailing.

3... 3... that couldn't be there, could it... wait... it could... why are the sirens on?

Looking up from his position at his table, it took him a moment to register that damn, it was already close to midnight - and in between him settling in, it had started raining at some point. Moving to the window, he opened the curtains a crack to see anything.

Why were the sirens on? It was February, for god's sake. That siren was for tornadoes, and they didn't come in February. Maybe some idiot tripped it on by accident, but seriously at midnight -

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky for a second, and in that moment Nick saw it.

So... maybe the siren was right. As impossible as it may have seemed, there was definitely a twister heading straight their way, holy crap - and in the second he delayed from moving away from the window, something that looked like some stick of sorts flew past the window.

Far too fast to be a normal wind. The hurricane was coming now, and they'd had zero warning prior to now.

Sudoku page abandoned on the desk, he could now vaguely hear the roar of the hurricane as he left the window and hurried to his garage and pulled opened the trapdoor that led down into the small basement. Descending down the ladder, it was a matter of seconds to flick the lights on and pull down on the trapdoor above him to shut with a thud. Another quick movement had the latch locked from the inside.

Gosh, he couldn't believe it. February -

His basement was a bit cramped, with various odds and ends he'd picked up and stashed here crowding the edges of the basement. Stuff that didn't fit in the shelves in the garage above, and he'd taken and forgotten. Usually related to his work, but then he'd also stashed the most random things here too - there sat his old filing cabinet, and on the other side a slightly dusty roll of carpet sat unused.

He'd just started moving towards his emergency bag that he kept down here when the solitary lightbulb flickered, then went off, plunging him into darkness with only howling wind above him.

Nothing could accurately prepare Jax for the sheer sound. As it amplified, past a train whistle... there was something entirely unholy about the howl of the wind. It wasn't... it was almost more than a howl--it was more of a scream. There was something unearthly. The wind sounded like a jet engine, the sound whistling through any and all cracks it could get through. The pressure of the air dropped suddenly.

The sound of things being torn apart was horrendous. Every sharp snap, every thump sent his heart sinking. It wasn't sounding great and he had a deep feeling that it was going to be a long, long next few days. If not month.

It sounded bad.

His hands clutched to his radio.

Through the static, his stomach felt like it was being pulled through his throat. The howl screamed overhead.

And then it was done.

The sound of the rain pelting the top of the door was a stomach sinking sound. He could hear the rain. That could mean everything above him had been demolished. Or just the roof was pulled off... he hoped it was just... that.

His eyes lifted slightly to the door of the basement. Slowly, Jax crept up the stairs and pushed through the doors.

Jaxion's heart sank.

The whole house, everything, had been shredded. His eyes widened slightly as he stepped out and then let out a weak breath, blowing it through his lips.

In the distance, the lightning flashes illuminated the fleeting funnel. A small red flash illuminated the wedge before it fizzled out.

Jax lifted his radio to his mouth. "Rossi... anyone copy?"

The silence was deafening. The static was disheartening and finally, Jax lowered the radio to his side and looked out across the damage. There was nothing left of his home, it had been strewn across the feild behind what was left of his home. His jade green eyes dimmed as he stepped back and set his hand on his back. Something ached a little bit but he didn't think much of it.

Jax stepped over the wreckage, piecing through before clipping his radio to his belt again and grabbed his emergency pack. There was bound to be someone who needed assistance.

He ran to the next house, tossing the wreckage away.

"Hello?" He called out, stepping to the basement door. "Is anyone there?" His unsteady footing was awkward but he finally stepped down to the door and pried it open, his bag on his back swinging onto his shoulder.

"Anyone injured?" His voice echoed in the basement, empty. Luckily.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Hisssssssssssssss...

Unable to navigate what appeared to be his own personal warren of random items in pitch-dark, he'd been unable to find his tornado pack he'd stashed away. Which, honestly, was quite silly of him to have put it in a box somewhere, but he hadn't expected to need it in this season.

... sssssssssssssss...

The wind had died down from the shatteringly loud sound that it had been a third of an hour ago. Nicholas had a bad feeling about the state of things above him - it hadn't sounded promising, honestly.

... sssssssssssssss...

He'd raise hell for his insurance company. If they even let him file a request.

... ssssssssssssss - glug - sssssssssss...

Nicholas moved slightly, and water sloshed around his shoes in response.

Water sloshed. Wait - oh, oh crap, was the hissing -

... sssssssssssssss...

Nicholas blindly made his way over to the trapdoor, water - yes, it was definitely water, definitely wet, and definitely cold - splashed wherever he stepped. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be too high... yet.

... sssssssssssssss...

Nicholas didn't want to be inside the basement when it turned into a swimming pool. A oily, debris-ridden tornado-rain swimming pool.

... sssssssssssssss...

Reaching the trapdoor, Nicholas blindly felt around, and... that was definitely some water spraying from one of the edges of the trapdoor. And definitely a veritable mini-waterfall trickling down the side of the wall. Which could only really mean one thing - there was a fair bit of water on the other side of the trapdoor. Which meant...

... sssssssssssssss...

Was there a word for how bad this was? Stuck in a basement, with only a leaking trapdoor between his slightly watery basement and an endless supply of water.

... ssssssssSSSSS...

Nicholas gingerly pushed on the trapdoor. It opened outwards, which meant the weight of the water was pushing the trapdoor shut.

... SSSSSSSSSSS...

The designers who made it open outwards should have been fired. He'd rather face swimming upwards through the water above rather than being stuck down here.

... SSSSSSSSSSS...

Not giving himself time to second-guess himself, he gripped the ladder tightly and hurled his shoulder into the trapdoor - which groaned, then gave out entirely, cracking into it's component pieces as water flooded the basement.

Nicholas clutched the ladder with all he had as the water cascaded in - and only let go to be spat out by the escaping air out onto something that felt hard and solid.

That was definitely rain falling onto him, but soaked to the bone, he could only cough as he lay down and regained his breath.