Post by Django on Jun 25, 2017 0:44:31 GMT -5
Name: Django
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Species: Mouse
Occupation: Abbeybeast
Physical Appearance:
Jan is a piebald mouse, mostly dull white with big light brown spots all over. The most noticeable of these spots is the one that covers the left half of his face. The biggest one, most often covered by his tunic, starts just behind his wide pink ears and stops just below his ribs. He has another big spot, covered by breeches, on his rear that surrounds the base of his long pink tail. He has a noticeable kink in his tail about two thirds down from the base from when he broke it and it healed crooked. His eyes are the same color brown as his spots, but the bottom half of his left iris is blue, making his eye look half lidded. His paws are the same pink as his ears and tail.
He most often wears a simple blue or beige tunic and gray breeches.
Possessions:
Besides his clothes, Django owns a whittling knife and an uncountable amount of whittled bits of wood, a good percentage of which are often on his person at any given time. Some are shaped like animals, or birds, or flowers, or objects he thinks are interesting. One fist-sized wooden mouse that he did not carve is always in his pocket. He rubs its nose when he’s feeling nervous, so the wood is very shiny and smooth.
Personality:
Jan is a jittery fellow. He looks over his shoulder a lot, laughs nervously a lot, and rubs his little wooden mouse figure a lot. He can’t explain his nervousness. He just says he feels alone, and yet he does a lot of work to isolate himself from others. He only likes to talk to one or two beasts in the abbey. He does a lot of wordless actions, though. He’ll leave you a random gift made of wood for no real reason than maybe you mentioned you needed a walking stick, or it was your birthday coming up, or you said something nice to him once.
He has an astonishing memory, and it kills him that he can’t remember anything about his mother. He really shouldn’t, because she passed before he was even a year old, but he thinks he should. He remembers almost everyone’s birthdays in the abbey, and he has a mental map of the entire place in his head, because he’s explored every inch of it late at night.
He stays up way too late every night, and lives on short naps basically. Surprisingly, his eyes don’t have huge bags underneath them. He’s just one of those beasts who doesn’t need much sleep. He eats like crazy, but due to high metabolism, hardly gains an ounce. He also spends a lot of time walking or running about. He doesn’t sit still.
Jan has delayed echolalia, which means he’ll repeat things other beasts have said to him, but not right back at them. Usually when he’s alone or in bed trying to go to sleep. Of course, he doesn’t call it “echolalia,” but “a rather annoying habit of mine.”
He’s very aware of himself in space, and never really had a clumsy phase. It’s a little unsettling how he’s able to avoid tripping or stumbling over almost anything. In a crowd, he can weave his way out almost without touching anyone. He likes to hang on the edges of events at the abbey, sitting at the far ends of tables so he can sneak out quietly, curling up in a corner where no one else is sitting, finding a shady spot away from the crowd.
He’s meticulous to what is probably an unhealthy degree. Most beasts would call him “tedious.” He’s also quite the poet, able to make up pleasant lines and metaphors seemingly on the spot, but the truth is he thinks about them while whittling and stores them for later. Sometimes he’ll carve his little poems onto the gifts he gives.
Strengths:
Kind to others
Good at woodcarving
Excellent spatial awareness
Great memory
Weaknesses:
Nervous
Isolates himself
Tedious
Has echolalia
Stays up too late
Can’t sit still
History:
Django was born in the old barn out in Mossflower woods to a lone mousemaid who was far too young to be having children. Stella had run away from home upon discovering she was pregnant, afraid her baby’s father might hurt her new daughter. Once she had regained some strength, she made the long trek to Redwall. On the way, she met the Guosim, who vowed to protect her and her baby, and escorted her safely to the abbey.
Once at Redwall, Stella never allowed her baby to leave her sight. Everyone at Redwall was, of course, extremely kind to her, so she had no reason to fear for little Django, as she now called him, but try reasoning with trauma sometime. Despite the best efforts of the infirmary staff, Stella grew weaker as the months wore on, haunted by nightmares she wouldn’t talk about and a shrinking appetite she refused to do anything about.
Little Django soon had to be placed in the care of another nursing mouse mother named Orchid, and the separation proved too much for little Stella. She passed a month before Django’s first birthday, and was given a proper burial by the abbeybeasts. Django was raised with the other Dibbuns, a perfectly content little boy, until one day when he was about eleven, one of his caretakers, Sister Lyla, pulled him aside to tell him something.
Django had been born a girl, but because Stella had feared for his safety, she had told everyone he was a boy. She had been so traumatized that she had believed her baby would be safer if everyone thought he was a boy. Django didn’t really know how to process this. He eventually figured if his mother said he was a boy, then that’s what he was. Sister Lyla told him that she and Orchid were the only beasts who knew, and that he was always free to change his mind.
As Django went through puberty, he didn’t become particularly feminine, and never felt the need to change his mind about being a boy. He did spend a lot of time asking Sister Lyla and Orchid about his mother. Orchid’s twin sons Jareth and Cole became some of Django’s closest friends, almost brothers, since their mother had nursed him too. But when the boys turned 15, Orchid moved her family out of the abbey to a distant cousin’s home in the south, and Django hasn’t seen them since.
After this, Django became much more nervous. He felt like he didn’t have any family, anymore, and he was constantly on edge. Sister Lyla taught him how to whittle so he would have a hobby to keep his nervous paws busy. It worked. She also gave him a little wooden mouse she’d carved on his sixteenth birthday, and he’s used it as his stress toy since then. He started picking up sticks from the grounds to carve things, cutting whole branches off trees to carve. He made more than one walking stick for an aging abbey dweller.
Django broke his tail trying to chase a pretty squirrel up a tree. He lost his grip and fell right on his tail, fracturing it in two places. It healed crooked, but it healed. He doesn’t like to climb trees, anymore. That squirrel still teases him sometimes.
Currently, Django wanders the walls and upper parts of the abbey. Occasionally, he talks to the aging Sister Lyla, and he’ll hold polite conversation with anyone he meets.
Relationships:
Stella – mother – deceased
Orchid – surrogate mother
Jareth and Cole – friends
Sister Lyla – friend, old caretaker
Other:
It’s Django’s life goal to carve his mother’s likeness properly, but until he feels he’s got a really good idea of what she looks like, he dares not even try.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Species: Mouse
Occupation: Abbeybeast
Physical Appearance:
Jan is a piebald mouse, mostly dull white with big light brown spots all over. The most noticeable of these spots is the one that covers the left half of his face. The biggest one, most often covered by his tunic, starts just behind his wide pink ears and stops just below his ribs. He has another big spot, covered by breeches, on his rear that surrounds the base of his long pink tail. He has a noticeable kink in his tail about two thirds down from the base from when he broke it and it healed crooked. His eyes are the same color brown as his spots, but the bottom half of his left iris is blue, making his eye look half lidded. His paws are the same pink as his ears and tail.
He most often wears a simple blue or beige tunic and gray breeches.
Possessions:
Besides his clothes, Django owns a whittling knife and an uncountable amount of whittled bits of wood, a good percentage of which are often on his person at any given time. Some are shaped like animals, or birds, or flowers, or objects he thinks are interesting. One fist-sized wooden mouse that he did not carve is always in his pocket. He rubs its nose when he’s feeling nervous, so the wood is very shiny and smooth.
Personality:
Jan is a jittery fellow. He looks over his shoulder a lot, laughs nervously a lot, and rubs his little wooden mouse figure a lot. He can’t explain his nervousness. He just says he feels alone, and yet he does a lot of work to isolate himself from others. He only likes to talk to one or two beasts in the abbey. He does a lot of wordless actions, though. He’ll leave you a random gift made of wood for no real reason than maybe you mentioned you needed a walking stick, or it was your birthday coming up, or you said something nice to him once.
He has an astonishing memory, and it kills him that he can’t remember anything about his mother. He really shouldn’t, because she passed before he was even a year old, but he thinks he should. He remembers almost everyone’s birthdays in the abbey, and he has a mental map of the entire place in his head, because he’s explored every inch of it late at night.
He stays up way too late every night, and lives on short naps basically. Surprisingly, his eyes don’t have huge bags underneath them. He’s just one of those beasts who doesn’t need much sleep. He eats like crazy, but due to high metabolism, hardly gains an ounce. He also spends a lot of time walking or running about. He doesn’t sit still.
Jan has delayed echolalia, which means he’ll repeat things other beasts have said to him, but not right back at them. Usually when he’s alone or in bed trying to go to sleep. Of course, he doesn’t call it “echolalia,” but “a rather annoying habit of mine.”
He’s very aware of himself in space, and never really had a clumsy phase. It’s a little unsettling how he’s able to avoid tripping or stumbling over almost anything. In a crowd, he can weave his way out almost without touching anyone. He likes to hang on the edges of events at the abbey, sitting at the far ends of tables so he can sneak out quietly, curling up in a corner where no one else is sitting, finding a shady spot away from the crowd.
He’s meticulous to what is probably an unhealthy degree. Most beasts would call him “tedious.” He’s also quite the poet, able to make up pleasant lines and metaphors seemingly on the spot, but the truth is he thinks about them while whittling and stores them for later. Sometimes he’ll carve his little poems onto the gifts he gives.
Strengths:
Kind to others
Good at woodcarving
Excellent spatial awareness
Great memory
Weaknesses:
Nervous
Isolates himself
Tedious
Has echolalia
Stays up too late
Can’t sit still
History:
Django was born in the old barn out in Mossflower woods to a lone mousemaid who was far too young to be having children. Stella had run away from home upon discovering she was pregnant, afraid her baby’s father might hurt her new daughter. Once she had regained some strength, she made the long trek to Redwall. On the way, she met the Guosim, who vowed to protect her and her baby, and escorted her safely to the abbey.
Once at Redwall, Stella never allowed her baby to leave her sight. Everyone at Redwall was, of course, extremely kind to her, so she had no reason to fear for little Django, as she now called him, but try reasoning with trauma sometime. Despite the best efforts of the infirmary staff, Stella grew weaker as the months wore on, haunted by nightmares she wouldn’t talk about and a shrinking appetite she refused to do anything about.
Little Django soon had to be placed in the care of another nursing mouse mother named Orchid, and the separation proved too much for little Stella. She passed a month before Django’s first birthday, and was given a proper burial by the abbeybeasts. Django was raised with the other Dibbuns, a perfectly content little boy, until one day when he was about eleven, one of his caretakers, Sister Lyla, pulled him aside to tell him something.
Django had been born a girl, but because Stella had feared for his safety, she had told everyone he was a boy. She had been so traumatized that she had believed her baby would be safer if everyone thought he was a boy. Django didn’t really know how to process this. He eventually figured if his mother said he was a boy, then that’s what he was. Sister Lyla told him that she and Orchid were the only beasts who knew, and that he was always free to change his mind.
As Django went through puberty, he didn’t become particularly feminine, and never felt the need to change his mind about being a boy. He did spend a lot of time asking Sister Lyla and Orchid about his mother. Orchid’s twin sons Jareth and Cole became some of Django’s closest friends, almost brothers, since their mother had nursed him too. But when the boys turned 15, Orchid moved her family out of the abbey to a distant cousin’s home in the south, and Django hasn’t seen them since.
After this, Django became much more nervous. He felt like he didn’t have any family, anymore, and he was constantly on edge. Sister Lyla taught him how to whittle so he would have a hobby to keep his nervous paws busy. It worked. She also gave him a little wooden mouse she’d carved on his sixteenth birthday, and he’s used it as his stress toy since then. He started picking up sticks from the grounds to carve things, cutting whole branches off trees to carve. He made more than one walking stick for an aging abbey dweller.
Django broke his tail trying to chase a pretty squirrel up a tree. He lost his grip and fell right on his tail, fracturing it in two places. It healed crooked, but it healed. He doesn’t like to climb trees, anymore. That squirrel still teases him sometimes.
Currently, Django wanders the walls and upper parts of the abbey. Occasionally, he talks to the aging Sister Lyla, and he’ll hold polite conversation with anyone he meets.
Relationships:
Stella – mother – deceased
Orchid – surrogate mother
Jareth and Cole – friends
Sister Lyla – friend, old caretaker
Other:
It’s Django’s life goal to carve his mother’s likeness properly, but until he feels he’s got a really good idea of what she looks like, he dares not even try.