Serra Deneath

[Serra Deneath]

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[I DON'T WANT TO SET THE WORLD ON FIRE]

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serra deneath

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[ONE SIGNATURE SIZED IMAGE HERE]
Male : Forty-Nine : Odd-jobs : Homeless

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Likes:

Dislikes:

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Character Appearance:

Serra carries himself above nobody. His face is dotted with the effects of premature aging, noticeable wrinkles and creases all accentuated by the stress of living in these harsh times. A bed of dirty-blond hair covers his head, but is absent about his neck and face, shaved clean on a daily basis. He has gentle, sympathetic blue eyes and somehow manages to always carry a smile, which unfortunately serves to makes others suspicious, even if it is meant in earnest. His body is built with a noticeable bit of muscle, even though that has mostly waned due to age and disuse.
Main/Casual outfit(assumed to always be wearing):
On his back he carried the remains of a T-shirt which once read "Elect Bob Goodman," but the words are heavily smudged out by thick, black goop. A pair of sturdily over-patched blue jeans, torn at the base of the legs several times hang from his waist, likely as old as him.

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i've lost all ambition

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FOR WORLDLY ACCLAIM[/font][/color]
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Character History/Personality:

Serra used to be a carpenter working for a small business until the year after the Bob Goodman election. The Fat Cats were rarely interested in buying hand-crafted furniture and small crafts, preferring the gothic and designer brands. The medium class was rapidly splitting at a seam and breaking off into low and high classes, and no money was available for the middle class to buy either, so the business shut down. From there followed odd jobs, bankruptcy, foreclosure, and eviction, putting him out onto the street and giving him a taste of the harsh life he'd have pitied before.

Serra is light-hearted for the sake of others and himself, to avoid the perilous trap of despair. He tends to the hurt, the cold, and the sick as best he can with his skill (or lack thereof), at least providing shelter to the homeless as he can without sacrificing his own box entirely. He carries a sense of morality akin to governmental standards pre-Goodman: We are all human, don't do drugs, etc., even if it goes against common sense. Some day, he dreams of returning to society as it was before, and with little else to devote his effort toward, has made it his goal.

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I JUST WANT TO START
a flame in your heart

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