User Profile

Y U U  K A N D A ;


O O C;

Aiden; NAME;
aidenesque; PERSONAL LJ;
EST; TIMEZONE;
sixillusions; AIM;
aidenesque@gmail.com; E`MAIL;

I C;

Kanda Yuu; Character Name;
27; AGE;
Exorcist; OCCUPATION;
Ten years post canon; POINT IN TIMELINE;

ALTERNATE FUTURE; Before his death, Kanda was a pivotal member of the Black Order, one of the most powerful exorcists beneath its employ. He lasted nearly to the end of the war, relying on his tenacity, his unerring skill, and his superhuman healing ability to keep him alive and victorious. His rash, leap-before-looking style was reckless but powerful and unpredictable, and although he almost always sustained severe bodily damage ( especially later in the war ), he was always able to survive it, thanks so his healing ability. Over time, however, his overuse of this skill took its toll.

The more damage he took, the more quickly his tattoo spread, branching out over his torso, abdomen and back; his lotus dropped petals methodically, slowly losing its shine, wilting. As time passed, he grew more and more tired, his stamina suffered and his body ached beneath the weight of it -- and as a result, his battles grew more bloody, more desperate, and he sustained more damage. And yet despite it, he did not change his ways, he continued to fight recklessly, thrusting his all into every battle, clinging to the last dregs of his withering energy.

Linali's sudden death hit Kanda very hard. He'd been very attached to her, their bond had been a strong one, and it would not be a stretch to say that he loved her. It took him a very long time to recover from the loss, and he was never quite the same; she took a part of him with her when she died.

Around the age of thirty, Kanda's personality took a turn. Until then, ( and despite the setbacks of Linali's death ) he had been growing as a person, slowly becoming more tolerant, more open and less critical. However, something happened to sour him, and at that point he withdrew again, completely and thoroughly. Kanda spoke to no one unless it was required, he shut himself up in his room while home at headquarters, and he volunteered to take up longer, more dangerous missions. His temper flared up again, and he pushed away all those he had grown close to. By the time of his death, his cold, overwhelming apathy had alienated him from nearly everyone in the order.

It was in a fierce battle with the Noah Tyki that he met his end, while protecting Theodore, his general, mentor, and father-figure. When Kanda took a fierce blow in his master's place, his body was unable to recover. Horrified, Tiedoll was able to fend off the attacking Noah long enough to escape with Kanda's broken body, carting it back to their nearby headquarters as quickly as possible. The wounds he sustained were severe and fatal, and although his body struggled to heal itself, it was unable to; the wounds would heal, but only partially, and the internal struggle sickened him. Kanda suffered under a fever for five days before his body finally gave out, the falling of the final lotus petals marking his doom, only six months before the war came to an end.




PERSONALITY; As Kanda aged, he became more open and less aggressive. He's still stoic and prickly to a fault, but he's somewhat more careful now when it comes to handling sensitive situations and people. Kanda's an abrasive person, and his tongue is sharp; he does not open up to people, and he is not quick to trust. Brash and impulsive, he often leaps into situations without thinking about what he is doing, and is thusly always putting himself in harm's way.

With age, however, he acquired more patience. That is not to say that he's a lovely man to spend time with -- on the contrary, he is condescending and smug, still every bit the rough and scathing person he was in his youth, but time has disciplined him. He has a better grip on his temper now, and is less likely to fly into a rage over silly, harmless details, though he is still somewhat easy to provoke. He's quieter now, more open to respecting his peers, a bit less critical but still always appraising, always challenging. Maturation has knocked a bit of sense into him, but nothing will ever cure him of his contemptible, bastardly attitude. Around the age of thirty his personality soured again, but I'm taking him from before that change.



SPECIAL NOTES; This Kanda was written for kacfrog711's Lavi; in this canon, the two of them were 'involved', but no one would know to what extent -- it wasn't something Kanda ever spoke about.




S A M P L E POSTS;

FIRST PERSON;
What the -- thi-- [static]

My godda-- [static] --lem is -- [static]

[there's a pause, and Kanda's face comes into view, looking sour and displeased.]

This thing is b --- [static, the video feed flickers] -- oken already, dammit! Who the hell do I hav -- [more static and flickering] -- alk to to get this thing fixed!?




THIRD PERSON;
If hell on earth could have existed, Kanda would have been existing within it right now. Five days he had suffered beneath this, five long, grueling days. Fever burned through his body as it desperately attempted to heal broken bones and torn flesh, wounds it was incapable of mending. Years ago this would have been simple; a day at most, maybe two, considering the extent to which he'd damaged himself, but no more than that. Now, tired and spent and wrecked, he could do no more, and although his body was doing all that it could to keep him alive, his mind knew that it was failing. He'd gone too far this time, pushed himself beyond his limits; there was no coming back from this.

As the fever intensified, his senses had suffered -- everything looked and felt hazy, and he'd spent more time unconscious than he had spent awake. Theodore had been there, Kanda could feel him, his warm, callused old hands, the powdery smell of his skin. Around the edges of his awareness he could hear the sound of his heaving, heavy sobs. Theodore had always cried too much; it was a shame that Kanda hadn't had the wherewithal to tell him to shut up.

Lying in bed had left him with boundless time to think, he clung to the moments of clarity that occasionally drifted through his drugged and fevered mind. Funny, in his youth he would have fought this. He would have climbed out of bed like an idiot and sent all of the nurses into a tizzy, he would have yanked the IV feeds out of his arm and struggled to stand despite the pain and fever. And yet here he was, a different man, apart from the one he had been. Instead of fighting it, he lay here quiet; possibly because he did not have the energy to fight it anymore, or possibly because he was .. content. Kanda had always promised himself that he would die without regrets, but that felt somehow selfish, somehow wrong.

And as he lay there, voices passed in and out of his hearing range; nurses, Theodore, other exorcists. They were always drifting by his beside like ghosts when he opened his eyes, murmuring and touching him; he didn't bother to shove them away. There were only two shadowshapes that never left -- Theodore, of course, hunched in his chair, and the Bookman, who stood like a shadow in the corner. His arms were crossed, Kanda could see, and his single green eye stared hollowly outward; Kanda looked to him only once, his lips pulled back into a weak sneer.

It was late now, and Theodore was asleep, slumped forward in his chair -- whether or not the Bookman was still there, Kanda could not say; it was dark, and he had no attention left to spare on his inkheart. Night had fallen, and Kanda was alone in the infirmary, alone enough, accompanied only by the sound of humming machinery and his own faint breathing. His head felt heavy, and his body felt hot and foreign; everything burned, everything ached, and he was trapped in this broken body, unable to find solace even in his sleep, which was always shallow and fitful. Now was the time. Now, when he could see no eyes on him. He could feel it building inside of him: a cold, numb lump in his belly grew, branching out into his limbs, catching his lungs and heart and mind. Over his heart, the tattoo twinged again, gripping, squeezing him with cold fingers. Kanda opened his too-tired eyes just in time to see Theodore stir and lift his shaggy head -- his breath caught, his body twitched and then suddenly stilled. Behind the door to his abandoned room, the flower lost its faint glow.

He died with more regrets than he could count.