jackson ( the wolf ) : (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} thereforeiam) wrote,@ 2009-07-20 21:34:00 |
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what about the place that we call home
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 | basics [top.] NAME: Jackson Christian Webber. GOES BY: Usually he lets people abbreviate his name as they see fit; if he recognises he’s being addressed, then he will respond. The most common nicknames are abbreviations, such as Jack or Webb. AGE AND DOB: 273. January 3rd 1746. Jackson appears to be in his thirties, physically. SPECIES: Therianthrope; Wolf. CAREER: None at present. CURRENT RESIDENCE: Jackson is currently living at The Sanctuary of Samyaza and will likely remain there until he is comfortable being on his own again. MARITAL STATUS: Widowed; Kira Danvers. SEXUALITY: Heterosexual and highly unlikely to enter into another relationship of any kind. ETHER: Yes. Jackson sometimes connects without meaning to, whether it be in his waking state, when his mind is wandering, or during sleep, usually during chaotic dreams of whatever kind. His presence is warm and somewhat musky, old earth and fallen leaves, slipping in from the sidelines and settling there as if he has always been present, comfortable and natural, but underlain with a subtle feral bite. supernatural [top.] ABILITIES THE WOLF. Jackson, as is to be expected, is not a small wolf when he transforms. He is a large animal, a grey wolf to be precise in terms of breed, with a jet black pelt and amber eyes. At a glimpse, he would just be mistaken for a very large dog, but on closer inspection, it’s obvious he’s not just any average animal. His size, for one, removes any confusion; he stands almost three and a half feet at the shoulder and is closing on seven feet in length, from nose to tail. He weighs close to two hundred pounds, and most of that is in muscle. His fur is thick and insulating, and rather long, giving him protection not only from the elements, but from opponents in combat. He has a tough ruff of hair around his neck and throat, meaning he can deflect fangs or claws and protect that vital area in a fight. As an old wolf who was born into his therianthropy, Jackson was never a stranger to his transformations or his nature in general, and as such, he has complete control over his changes and his animal side as a whole; he can, if he so wishes, sleep an entire night as a wolf and not have to worry about returning to human form at some point during the night. [X] SKILLS: Despite his more recent history, Jackson is actually a very skilled fighter, especially in unarmed combat and most noticeably in his wolf form; natural weapons are the best fit for him, he has found, and he has become quite adept at combining his speed and strength in order to be an effective fighter, whatever the situation. He is a very capable tracker and hunter, even without the wolf on his side, and would continue to be so even without his heightened senses. Jackson can play piano, something that his mother taught him -- along with each of his siblings in turn -- but he obviously hasn’t had many chances to practise or even simply play for pleasure in a way. LIMITATIONS: As previously mentioned, Jackson was bonded to his mate in a way that can only be described as supernatural, and when it was severed, it damaged him, physically and mentally; he relives his mate’s death frequently, usually in the form of nightmares, and suspects that he will never overcome the loss and trauma associated with losing Kira the way he did, violently and unnaturally, not to mention suddenly. Naturally as a werewolf he is deathly allergic to silver; not only will it permanently scar him -- like the letter carved into his chest -- but it could ultimately end his life if used on him to a great enough extent. His time with the Raidan has left its mark on him as well, and not only physically. He spent many years in their company, and that has unquestionably taken its toll, making him skittish and unpredictable; the smallest things can set him off, whether it be sudden movements or unexpected loud sounds; he has become much more animalistic and even feral thanks to his time with the Raidan, reverting to a more bestial mindset in order to survive what was done to him, but that makes him unsteady in more ways than one. On a much more mundane level, Jackson doesn’t know how to drive a car; he never learned, since he never saw the point, and likely wouldn’t want to learn nowadays. He prefers travelling on four legs. WEAPONRY TRAINING: When he was younger, Jackson was trained to use a sword, as were many of the wolves in his Pack; not all fights can be fought in wolf form, after all. He still has the knowledge, and if push came to shove and he needed to use a weapon, it would very likely come back to him, like second nature. Jackson doesn’t like to use weapons, however; he much prefers to use what he has naturally, in the form of tooth and claw and his sheer size. It means he is restricted to close combat, but it is infinitely more rewarding to win a fight using only his own inbuilt weapons and sheer strength. GROUP: The Watch. POSITION: Member. OPINION: It was thanks to the Watch that Jackson was freed from the Raidan and as such, he feels he owes them his life, and if that is not asked of him, then they at least deserve his unwavering loyalty; he would fight for them, die for a select few, and he fully intends to do everything in his power to repay the debt that was laid down when they rescued him, no matter how inadvertently. ALLIANCES: The Watch. RIVALRIES: The Raidan. The Elari. appearance [top.] Jackson is not a small man, standing at an eye-catching 6’4 and weighing in at an impressive 196lbs, most of which -- like with his wolf form -- is in muscle; there is very little fat on him to speak of, thanks in part to his being a therianthrope and also because of his lifestyle. He has somewhat feral hair that is brown in colour though if he catches the sun, it tends to lighten through the tips, ending up more or less blonde. Normally his eyes look more brown than anything, though they are in fact hazel; they look green under brighter lights, though when he is feeling the presence of the wolf, whether stressed or spooked or angered, they tend to streak or flash through with the amber hue of his animal side. In terms of facial hair, Jackson can go one way or the other, some days appearing clean-shaven while on others he has a full shadowing of rough stubble over the lower portion of his face, making him appear older and more scruffy in general. Though he is muscular in build, he somehow still manages to appear somewhat lanky, thanks to his height; he has long limbs and is very athletic, leading many to assume he’s fast as opposed to strong, but naturally, he is both, thanks to his therianthropy. In terms of clothing, Jackson is very simplistic in what he wears; block colours and neutral shades, no designs on his shirts or sweaters, hardy pants such as jeans and a very worn and scuffed pair of toe-capped boots that have seen better days. He has a beaten leather jacket that is black in colour and reaches his waist. Jackson wore a white gold wedding band on his left ring finger for years, but when he was taken by the Raidan, it was removed and he never managed to recover it. That doesn’t mean he won’t in the future, at least not if he has anything to say about it. DISTINGUISHING MARKS: For a wolf of his age, Jackson obviously has his fair share of old battle wounds, either from other wolves or just from close calls with other predators in his youth. In recent years, he has acquired more vivid scars spanning over various parts of his body. The most obvious and distinct scar is the large “R” on his chest that was obviously carved meticulously with a silver blade. This scar even shows when Jackson is in wolf form; it shifts to the respective location on his animal body, but his black fur never completely grows over it, and it never has since the wound was inflicted. personality [top.] Jackson isn’t the wolf he used to be, having lost much of his confidence and drive, the unfortunate result of loss and trauma. In his younger days he was an outgoing, often boisterous male, quick to make friends and always ready to help others, fiercely protective and loyal to a fault. He smiled and laughed and had a large social circle, a regular presence at gatherings and never out of place in large groups. Quite frankly, he fit in wherever he went, and naturally at that. It was effortless. Unfortunately the years have not been kind to him and he is essentially a different creature altogether; he is withdrawn and uncertain, wary around strangers and reluctant to trust. Trust and closeness leads to abandonment and pain, in his eyes, a jaded but justified outlook from someone who used to be so amicable and welcoming to all. There is a certain amount of bitterness to Jackson nowadays, and a definite degree of harsh melancholy; he has the air of a man constantly in pain, and he carries it everywhere with him. Underneath that caution and tentativeness, however, is a ferocity and an unpredictable animal. The simplest things can trigger that snap change, and try as he might, he cannot always rein himself in before something happens, though since leaving the Raidan, he has been trying to cage it; it wasn’t a choice whilst with the Raidan, he was made to be quiet or calm down, but now he wants to be in control of that himself. Whether it’s a sudden movement from a person close by -- taken instinctively as a challenge or a precursor to attack -- or loud noises such as bangs or even claps, Jackson isn’t always easy to judge in how he will react. The loyalty and compassion of the wolf is still inside of him, waiting to rise once again, once the worst of the turmoil and trauma has passed. He doesn’t know how long that will take, obviously, there’s no judging it, but even now, even after all he has been through, he is still a wolf, and wolves are pack animals. Whether his Pack is comprised of wolves or a variety of beings, such as the Watch, it doesn’t matter. In time more of those old traits will rise to the surface; the Watch will become his Pack well and truly and they will be treated as such, with respect and fondness, to varying degrees. They will be protected and obeyed, and they will be the ones with whom Jackson has close contact with again. As a tactile animal, that distance is actually hurtful to him, but after what he has endured, he cannot face it just yet. It will pass, steadily, he knows, if only because his wolf cannot bear to be so far apart from other living creatures. Once the trust has been established, it will progress naturally, and soon enough he will be slipping in small touches; grazes to the arm, hands to the shoulder, that sort of thing. How far it progresses will vary from person to person. Some may be greeted with a full embrace whilst others may remain at the very basic level of a simple graze with his fingertips. The loss of his mate is a pain that will never fade, and the ghost of the link he still possesses is something that he feels he will never understand. Having that hollow point in his soul is something that will always haunt him; it is as if Kira is still there, somewhere, but out of reach, and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot make contact with her. Jackson knows she is gone, and some part of him wishes that the link had gone with her, but in a way, it is all he has left of her, and as such, he is afraid to lose it. If he could just understand it, perhaps that would make the pain easier to handle, but until then, he has to live with that empty point in his life, that void that was left behind when she was killed. The Raidan and even the Elari -- though they had nothing to do with his treatment over the last several years, not directly -- provoke him, and likely always will. They are enemies now, threats that should be eliminated at any cost, and though they will always frighten him to some extent, the anger of the wolf and its need for retribution will overcome that fear and desire to cower and provide him with strength and determination if it ever came down to a fight. Real wolves don’t run from a fight, after all, not unless they are submissives, and even after what he has been through, Jackson is anything but submissive. history [top.] FAMILY FATHER: Cameron Webber. MOTHER: Madelyn Webber née Griffin. SIBLING(S): Bryan Webber (oldest brother). Jayden Webber (oldest sister). Noah Webber (older brother). Dylan Webber (youngest brother). Ava Webber (younger sister). Morgan Webber (youngest sister). Jackson Christian Webber was born into a decent-sized Pack in the north of America in 1746, before the nation was even declared. His parents were relatively old wolves and as a result, Jackson already had three siblings by the time he was born, with another three that would come in later years. The Harrison Pack was well established and pretty much kept to itself; they didn’t stick their noses into anyone else’s business and in return, they were left in peace. They ran and hunted on their own territory, steered clear of humans, and lived their lives as they saw fit without outside interference. It was comfortable and safe, and that suited everyone nicely. While Jackson’s parents weren’t leaders of any sort, they were well-respected in the Pack and as a result, their children were accepted right off the bat; they were an admirable pair of good standing who pulled their weight in the unit, and that boded well for the future of their children. Jackson and his siblings lived up to those expectations, maturing nicely and eventually reaching the age where they would be expected to contribute to the Pack in some capacity. His sisters found mates and worked on helping the Pack to grow, keeping the bloodlines pure and strong, and he and his brothers learned to fight, as was customary for the males. Jackson seemed to have a knack for it, as did his oldest brother Bryan, and the two were soon not only accompanying the older wolves during the big hunts but helping to patrol the territory’s borders to ensure that there were no threats or trespassers. Occasionally one of the Pack females would impress her peers enough to be granted the rare honour of joining the patrol unit, and Kira Danvers, another wolf who had been born into the Pack, was one such female. She and Jackson, from that point onward, proceeded to spend more and more time together, eventually becoming inseparable. Their Pack strongly believed in soul mates and the bond that came to exist between them, and Jackson and Kira were soon joined as one such pair. They became unquestionably united not only in the physical sense, one rarely seen without the other in tow, but also mentally. One always seemed to know when the other was in some sort of distress, where they were at any one time and they even came to finish each other’s sentences after a time, confirming to the rest of the Pack that they had well and truly bonded, going beyond the expected norm for mates. It was considered both a blessing and a curse, and though everything in their lives seemed to be going so smoothly, that was a lesson Jackson would learn later in life. For many more years, Jackson and Kira lived a happy, relatively peaceful life with their Pack in the same territory with only small hiccups; intrusions by lone wolves or other supernaturals, even the odd human trespasser, but nothing serious. Over the years, the pair had gotten in the habit of going for a run together, just the two of them, something that the Pack frowned on at first, but after countless excursions that ended without incident, they turned a blind eye to something that otherwise wouldn’t sit right with them. Jackson had proven himself to be a capable fighter and Kira was hardly a pushover in her own right. Sometimes they would hunt, as the Pack had been doing for years, something that was second nature to all wolves in the group, but on that particular night, it was just a run. They lost track of time, as they often did, and even managed to cross over the boundaries of the territory without meaning to, too wrapped up in chasing one another and charging through the trees and grasses. It wasn’t until they were ambushed out of nowhere that Jackson realised their mistake; immediately the two wolves launched into defence mode, snapping and snarling at their would-be attackers, determined to fight their way out. But they were outnumbered and outclassed; their ambushers were wielding range weapons where they only had their teeth and claws with which to defend themselves, and finally, those manmade tools overcame those the wolves had naturally. When Kira fell, it was obvious from the extent of her wounds that she would never rise again, and more than that, Jackson felt her death as if a part of him had literally been destroyed as well; he fell to the ground, unable to breathe and blinded by the agony and shock that coursed through his system. Either mistaking him for dead as well or writing him off as defeated anyway, the attackers left the wolves behind. When Jackson came around, it was to a whirlwind of confusion and pain, feeling sick to his stomach and barely able to get his legs under him. Seeing Kira’s body not ten feet away from him ripped everything out from under him and he fell once more, only having the strength to drag himself to her body. Even during the trauma that he had endured, Jackson had maintained his wolfen shape, and it was in this form that he attempted to rouse his lifeless mate, already knowing that she was lost. It didn’t feel right; there was a void where she had once been inside of him, and it threw him completely, robbing him of his senses and his bearings. Hating to leave her side, he was desperate to find the Pack; wounded from the fight himself, he didn’t have the strength to carry Kira’s body, and so he limped away, promising to return as soon as he could. But it soon became clear that his goal would be harder to achieve than he first thought. Jackson was lost. Well and truly lost, in every sense of the word. Nothing made sense, the world was spinning, and every thirty feet or so, he would stumble or collapse, inexplicably exhausted and aching all over. His wounds were already healing, but everything hurt. It was not only his comprehension of distance that left him then, but time also, and it was only when he stumbled upon civilisation, having no idea how many hours or even days had passed him by that he realised he was lost. And alone. So very, very alone, and therefore vulnerable. Jackson had never been alone in his life, raised in a pack, and being suddenly without one with no idea how to get back to them terrified him to the core. So he hid, wherever he could, whenever he could, taking shelter from the elements and from people, concealing his body the best he could and continuing in his frantic, aimless hunt for the only family he had ever known with questions burning madly through his brain: where was his Pack? Why hadn’t they come for him? Why hadn’t they followed his trail and brought him home? It was not the Pack who found him, but a dangerous, chaotic group named the Raidan. Catching Jackson well and truly off guard, they were quickly able to overwhelm him and ultimately capture him, labelling him as an easy target and therefore good sport. Jackson was still too disoriented from losing Kira to fight them off, despite his best efforts, and before long he found himself shut away from the world, claimed as a new plaything for the group of supernaturals. What followed were not only days or months of torment and torture, but years, in which he was forced to endure anything the Raidan members could concoct, physical and mental alike. Any attempts to fight against them were met with disciplinary violence, the members who had taken to ‘visiting’ him delighting in demeaning him and teaching him one lesson or another. Again Jackson lost track of time, barely even realising when they up and moved to Vegas in order to establish themselves and make trouble for the Elari. It wasn’t until the Raidan decided to have themselves a little massacre free-for-all that Jackson had any real chance at escape, and he had the Watch to thank for that. In crashing the Raidan’s party, the Watch managed to liberate not only the numerous humans -- the survivors, at least -- who had been rounded up for the night, but a scarred, haunted werewolf. | ||
and we’ve never been so alone