walljumper | Cɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ Rᴇɢɪsᴛʀʏ

Cɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ Rᴇɢɪsᴛʀʏ
name: Talon
age: 18
appearance: Talon’s a white-haired, semi-shaggy-looking teen with gangly arms and light olive skin.
occupation: Gang member, odd-jobs
residence: Here
fix: Heroism. He likes stories about them too, but the ones with NIGH INSURMOUNTABLE DANGER? Those are definitely the best. He’s not very fast at reading so he tends to prefer movies, or having someone read to him. He also likes to put *himself* in a story as a hero, whether that be just daydreaming that he’s in one he’s read, or being a hero to someone out on the streets. The latter works best for him, and the more dangerous the protection, the better.
permissions: plonk
record:

Talon was born in the gutter, and that’s basically where he stayed for most of his life. A kid without a name, no one even knew where he came from – he just kind of appeared out of nowhere with a smile and a laugh.

Needless to say, people thought he was weird. Maybe even touched. What kind of person could possibly live in a place like Auslosen with no parents or positive influences and still be able to have a *genuine* smile, could still laugh freely? It was that baffling personality of his that basically got him through life, since people couldn’t seem to quite make themselves just abandon him to the wolves.

That isn’t to say he wasn’t taken *advantage* of, though. It wasn’t long before his happy-go-lucky personality had people all over his little area of influence asking him for favours. Take this paper here, carry these heavy items there.

Talon did all of it without complaint. He never even thought there was anything strange about it – he was helping his friends, after all, so why should he feel worried? Though he was usually referred to as “kid” or “brat”, he didn’t mind that either. They were just the names you called people whose names you didn’t know, right? Besides, he didn’t have one of his own to give. If someone asked him his name, he’d just shrug. If they asked about his family, he’d just tell them “the city is my family.”

As a lanky kid, he was small enough to fit into tight spaces and agile enough to fight – and fight *well*. When being an errand-boy didn’t pay for his food well enough, he found that out. First, it was helping someone who had a stalker. Later, it became duels of honour and rematches. Soon enough, someone introduced him to the underground fighting scene, where he met some of the biggest, baddest men and women in the area and fought against them. He won some and lost some of the matches, never holding grudges and never damaging his enemies too much.

Four spotted him during one of his matches when he was fifteen, fighting someone much larger and presumably more skilled than himself. Even if his messy white hair and unpredictable stance weren’t noteworthy on their own, the fact that he’d won the match using brutal, cutting, *fierce* attacks would have been. That wasn’t what made him *most* interesting, though.

After the fight, Talon had *helped his opponent* back to his feet. In a place where bloodshed and gore took the forefront over compassion and care, he’d taken the high road anyway. And maybe more miraculously, his opponent didn’t seem to resent him for it. They walked off still talking, even *laughing*.

He’d been shocked at the approach, honestly. Talon had a lot of friends, sure, but no one ever actually asked him to *join* them. Needless to say, he was quick to accept. Four represented a gang of people, a bunch of people who worked together and tried to live, and that was something Talon found interesting.

So, why Talon, then? They’d gotten to talking so much on the way back that Four hadn’t even realised he hadn’t asked for his name. It wasn’t until after initiation, when he’d already proven himself, that it came up. “What was your name, anyway?” – it was met with the same confused look he always gave when someone asked. He’d been introduced as “the white-haired menace”, but that didn’t work for him here. When he said he didn’t *have* a name, he asked about the other’s own name. Why Four?

It didn’t really matter, in the long run, what reason Four gave. Whatever his reasons, they struck a chord with Talon, and he was enthusiastic about getting a real name. He didn’t know where to begin, though. Something noteworthy about himself? That didn’t work – he didn’t think of himself as noteworthy. “Talon” had been Four’s suggestion – for the jagged way he fought, back in that ring. The same way he would always fight for them. He took to the name immediately – who knows if it’s because it was Four’s suggestion or because it just felt right.

Three years later, Talon continues to be a functioning (if mildly irritating) part of Four’s gang. His positive attitude still hasn’t been ditched, and there’s no sign that it ever will. Keeping him on a leash had been a bit tricky, but as long as they were careful with what information they gave him… well, everything was safe enough. Mostly, he tries to keep on jobs with the people he’s closest to – Four most of all. He looks up to him like a big brother, the first family he’d ever had.