Lokai Daniels

[Lokai Daniels]

Lokai Daniels

....the mask

Your Name: Robyn, hi!
Where did you find us?: Affiliate at The Secret
How long have you been roleplaying?: Since I was eleven. I'm twenty-four now. Yeah - you do the math. :x When I do it, I feel old. .__.
Password: [admin edit!]

...basic character information

Birth Name: Lokai ( pronouned Lo-keye ) Daniels - no middle name.
Nickname: Lo, Kai.
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Grade: 12
Birth date: August, 29
Program: Bachelor of Arts
Major: Criminal Justice
Major Explanation: With an accute sense of smell, and a particular infatuation with blood and remains of bodies, a predator would make a fascinating crime scene investigator, able to hone in on details that the typical human eye, nose, and quite possibly even ear, could miss out on. Lokai has a particular interest in crime scene investigation, which would give him the ability to use his enhanced senses - and besides. Talk about a kickass job, yeah?? Forensic Anthropology was Lokai's backup plan, but that dealt more with being inside the lab, not out on the field. Plus .. it was more school than criminal justice. Lokai had plans for the future, sure - plans that involved him out of school as soon as possible.
Animal Identity: Mountain Lion, aka Florida Panther, or Puma, or Cougar, etc.

...personality

Likes:(at least 10)

• Solitude - Freedom to lie back and reflect on things, sort things out in his mind, or just to space out without anyone bothering him.
  
• The Outdoors - Hiking and mountain climbing are two of his most favored hobbies.
  
• The Beach - Although not a huge fan of the ocean ( too vast and swimming in it makes him feel like he's not in control ), he likes the atmosphere, and playing sand volleyball or just laying out by himself.
  
• Being in Charge - Lokai has a hard time dealing with authority, so he prefers if he is his own boss, and can see it that things are done his way.
  
• Rare Steaks - Lokai would actually prefer his red meat to be lightly seared rather than raw. The hint of heat brings out more flavors.
  
• Silence - Loud noises or frequent noises cloud his mind and give him headaches.
  
• Classical Music - Oddly enough, instrumentals. When partaking in faux crime scene investigations for practice, He pops his ipod full of Frank Zappa, Brian Eno, and Charlie Zaa.
  
• Dim Light - too harsh of light hurts Lokai's eyes.
  
• Coffee - He has to have it in the morning before he's fully awake. Plus it helps him focus and stay awake at night, studying for tests.
  
• Hot Tubs - Especially at night.
  
• Texting - He'd much rather text you, than call you.
  
• Suspense Novels - He's on a James Patterson kick ever since he read 'When the Wind Blows'
  
• Mysterious, Confident Women - He likes women, as most men do, but the ones that are open books for all to read are boring to him. He likes a bit of a challenge.
  

Dislikes: (at least 10)

• Ignorance - Dealing with the stupid is torture - he'd much rather not.
  
• Salad - Although he'll indulge in his veggies enough for nutritional purposes, he'd much rather stay away from the greens.
  
• Cockiness - He hates arrogance with a venomous passion, especially when it is stemmed from nothing but backless pride.
  
• Tricksters - He has a very dry sense of humor, if it can be called a 'sense of humor' at all.
  
• Cowardice - The weight of fear is a handicap, he feels.
  
• Flying - Cats are not meant to fly - enough said.
  
• Embarassment - This should be self-explanitory. He likes to save face, not break it.
  
• Relying on Anyone other than Himself - He doesn't trust many others, therefore he does not wish to rely on anyone for anything.
  
• Long Conversations - He likes to keep things short and sweet when it comes to talking, either on the phone or face to face.
  
• Large Crowds - Solitary animals do not fair well in a group.
  
• Authority Figures - Probably why he has gotten in trouble with the law in his past. Also probably why he is now going to become a member of the law.
  
• Driving Slow - He loves speed - drivign behind Grandpa or Grandma gets his skin crawling.
  

Fears: (At least 3)

• Never Making an Impact - What is life without making a difference? He's afraid of living a pointless life, so he strives everyday to make something of himself.
  
• Ending up like his Father - His worst nightmare, probably a good reason why he segregates himself from people so much, too.
  
• Drowning - Although he's a decent swimmer, the thought of suffocation by water creeps him out.
  

Strengths: (At least 3)

• Athletic Ability - He's strong and fast, which help him should things get physical.
  
• Intellect - His mind works just as fast as his body does.
  
• Curiosity - Wasn't it curiosity that killed the cat? Not for this cat - it makes him strive forward and forces him to work through accomplishments in order to achieve mental satisfaction.
  
• Perspective - Even for as young as he is, Lokai views the world wth a mature aspect, and should any chance to ask for advice, he usually has a good phrase or two up his sleeve to share.
  

Weaknesses: (At least 3)

• Resentment - Cats are like elephants - they never forget. It's hard for Lokai to forgive, let alone forget, when someone does him wrong.
  
• Anti-Social - Lokai lacks a lot of social skills that are gained through experience by communicating with others. He is alone much too often.
  
• Temper - Lokai has a quick temper that gets him in trouble more times than not, and aides in pushing people further away.
  

Overall: [400 words minimum]

When a human looks at Lokai and attempts to describe him, one might come up with a few key terms – self-sufficient, loner, pessimist, thoughtful, intelligent – and they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. But what’s underneath the Arizonian’s exterior is what actually describes him, mysteries that the majority of the human population will never know about him, and he is more than content in keeping it that way. Lokai’s predatory instincts give him the persona of being instinctual, which might make him come across as judgmental, but that is to be expected. His first impressions and ruling on any matter is usually right on target, and he rarely sugar coats a negative judgment on a person or situation. He is quiet and solitary, enjoying the time spent away from the rest of the civilization to reflect, think, and daydream. There are a thousand thoughts swirling around in that head of his, as he is mostly silent, and rarely offers any sort of input from his end unless it’s absolutely necessary. When he does speak, however, his words are thoughtfully chosen and he is often a speaker of wise.

Lokai faced influences of both predatory and human-like upbringings while growing up – which ended up been a blessing and a curse all in one. As an end result, he is now abrasively self-sufficient and yet wary of other people. He is extraordinarily confident, and yet quiet and reserved in social settings. He is fierce, but not just with aggression – he is fierce with passion over something he believes to be worth the time spent over it. If he were to ever acquire a lover, she would be his ultimate world, and she would get the pleasure of being fawned over behind closed doors, because Lokai is, and always will be, controlled and self-restrained in public.

The mountain lion in him is solitary and quite happy that way – basking in the sun when it wants to, hunting with a vicious and voracious appeal when it wants to, snoozing in the back of the classroom by the heater when it wants to – the cat is pretty much only about itself, fending and taking care of itself and those few and far in between that it holds most dear. He relies on no others for safety, support, warmth, food or survival. There is a weakness that comes with depending on others, even if those others are consistent of family or friends. He has learned, in his past, that even the thickest of blood shared between two people can still flow different directions, causing horrid breaks and rips in the family tree, and ultimately, in trust issues.

The internal battles that wage war in his mind are suppressed and sheltered, kept to him only as the confident, don’t-give-a-shit-about-nobody cat mauls the remnants of a scared, quiet, pessimistic little boy, who always fears the worst. Lokai has subdued that portion of himself for the most part, because it was so much easier to follow the instincts of a solitary predator than the shaky uncertainties of a human trying desperately to fit in and find a niche where he belongs. It was solitary life versus the need to be a part of society. It was black against white, left against right, but the battle would be hidden behind those odd eyes of morning dew haze. There was no need to bring anyone else into the matter – it was simply a matter of hereditary instinct against societal influence. Who would win?

...appearance

x x

Celebrity Play By: Taylor E Proffitt
Appearance: [400 words minimum]
When Lokai smiled – should he ever, it might’ve been picture perfect, if it weren’t for the fact that he looked awkward with his typical tight-lipped mouth drawn up into a grin. His face was mildly angular, wide-set jaw tapering to his chin, which was constantly set in a tight locked position, firm and angled upwards out of self-pride that he had every right to flash, and set upon a pedestal of a long, feline-flexible neck. His hair was tawny blonde, shaggy usually, except the few times he cared to take a comb to it. His eyes were always serious, a unique aloe green, light in the sun and darker in the night, mirroring the cat’s own irises that he shifted into. They were thoughtful, calculating eyes that rarely showed remorse and never showed vulnerability. His facial visage could’ve been subjected to modelesque appeal, but with the almost inability to smile, he wouldn’t get far with the camera.

Lokai’s shoulders could have been broader if he had wanted them to be, but as they were, they were wide enough, muscled and sinewed for movement rather than heavy lifting. Washboard abs were every girls’ dream, it was too bad for them that Lokai was very, very particular about his lovers. His legs were what held the most muscle, thighs akin to solid steel and calves thick, and bulging behind femur and tibia bones. His lightly sun kissed skin combined with his sandy blonde hair and muscled legs made him appear to be the ideal surfer type – but although he chanced at looking the part, he never acted it, nor subjected himself to the waters. He stood a towering six foot even, and weighed in at close to one seventy-eight, one eighty on a good day. His entire stance that he carried himself with screamed of power – if not of physical attributes, then of wit, intellect, and confidence.

The puma side of Lokai was hardly any different than the human side, self-restrained, calculated, and quick as lightning. Far was of the same sandy hue of Lokai’s own hair, tawny and russet. The fur was coarse and thick, yet soft to the touch and bestowing a sheen of cleanliness – no self-righteous cat ever was satisfied with an unkempt coat. White splashed the cougar’s underside, spreading to the insides of his paw pads and up underneath his regal chin. His long tail averaged at thirty-six inches from base to tip, which was dipsticked in a chocolate hue. His skin hung limp at his stomach, muscled back and flanks carrying the brunt of the weight, and the extra skin aiding in keeping the cat warm during cold weather conditions. Thick, huge paws hid savage secrets in their sheaths – talons of intense density and impeccable sharpness.

His face was always drawn in a single line, eyes never offset from each other, hued in light aloe, and nose directly in the lower center of them both, pert and salmon colored. His ears were slightly rounded instead of pointy like his domestic kin, tufts of white fur fluffing about the openings. Tawny hues darkened around a white mouth, thick whiskers protruding from cheeks that covered vicious, carnivorous teeth underneath. When bared, his teeth gleamed from beneath wrinkled jowls, his tongue curling in a menacing manner. The loud scream his vocal chords could produce was not only ear shattering and eerie, it was a most sufficient warning to stay away, coupled with the spitting hiss of exhaled air and the brewing growl that bubbled deep within his guttural chest cavity.
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...history

Parents: Tasha Daniels - mother / Calvin Churchill - father
Siblings: None.
[400 words minimum]
The ability to shift into your corresponding animal’s form is a genetic trait passed down from generations, a certain splice in the gene pool that produced metamorphing DNA strands that, upon will, altered forms, from one to another – only two positions of fixation, and yet two drastically different types.

Yet, in Lokai’s instance, you couldn’t reason with him that his gene had been passed down by family. To the young man, he was an exception, an omission to the rule. As far as he knew ( and he had done some genealogy research ), he was the only member of his family with this ability. It didn’t help, however, that he did not know his father’s side of the family, and could only reach a few misplaced members blood related to his father, who knew nothing of what he was talking about, or hid their knowledge incredibly well.

But, let’s start at the beginning; it’ll all make sense that way.

Eighteen years ago, a busy young woman from Manhattan, New York was flying in to Chicago for a business meeting with high-end political officials. She was dressed to impress: pencil skirt, ruffled blouse and bouffant blonde hair with closed toe high heels and thigh high hose. She was a looker – but her job was nothing short of a gopher’s job – she was there to meet the political parties when they came out of the airport after their trip from San Diego, take them out to lunch, and then escort them back to Manhattan, where they would leave her with their luggage and entrust her to check them into their rooms, drop off their belongings and set up meeting agendas for the next day while they go out drinking and socializing with only the cream of the crop officials and classy models from New York. It was a mediocre job done up in bright lights and flashy rhinestones to make it look glamorous and enticing. It wasn’t. Her back hurt, her feet hurt, and if the politicians called her “Dollface” one more time, she would punch them in their jaw. Once she had brought all of their possessions to the hotel and had checked into each of their rooms, had dispensed the luggage accordingly and had left messages in each room notifying them of meeting times and places for the next few days, she was officially off the clock and needing a stiff drink.

At the hotel bar with her bloody mary in hand, she happened to run into a very dashing young man dressed sharply in a classic, tailored pilot’s uniform. He had the most amazing eyes, she kept finding herself getting lost in their light green gaze of confidence and power. His face was hard, but he smiled some, for her. They began talking, which turned into drinking, which turned into a shameless rendezvous in one of the politician’s rooms – up against the cold marble wall, tied to the lavish avery oak bedposts, over the ottoman of fine silk and pressed heatedly up against a wide, oval mirror in the powder room. It was a night of raw passion and carnal desire. A night that didn’t amount to much – or, rather, shouldn’t have amounted to much.

But, nine months later, it amounted to a bouncing baby boy with shocking pale green eyes, and try as the young, single mother might, she could not get ahold of the dashing pilot that stole away into the darkness after a night on the prowl until the boy was two years of age, babbling, screaming, pulling hair, and soaking up the life of a toddler with a single mother, scraping by to make ends meet. When the pilot was finally chased down by the mother, he half-heartedly agreed to help take care of the son, but would not sign paperwork that would tie him down to his decision. For awhile, he was around when he could be, he cut checks to Lokai’s mother to help support the child, but the meager generosity ran out when Lokai was seven years old. Home sick from daycare one day, he got to witness his father coming to the house to give his mother a check, and his mother pleading for the man to stay in his son’s life more. Drunk, and with those vicious, cutting eyes, he furiously hurled the woman away from him when she tried to press up against him in a last ditch effort of pleading.

Hospital bills later, the mother and son team left the pilot in their dust, and moved to Texas to attempt to start a new life in Amarillo. Lokai grew up the life of a child with a single parent – long, lonely nights while his mother worked her new job as a nurse at the local hospital – grueling days of school without proper motivation to make something of himself, and the lack of discipline from a father figure. When Lokai was 12-13, he went through a bit of a “phase” as his mother calls it – religiously getting into trouble every day at school, and sometimes even skipping entirely, to be found dazed and worn out in the rocky hill country forests on the outskirts of the county line. He never had a good – or even faulty – excuse for why he skipped, or why he had anger problems and problems paying attention in class, but his mother just blamed it on the absence of his father.

Lokai’s mother put him in counseling and anger management, and it was here that Lokai learned how to control his impulsive urges that came with shifting – the savagery that lead to violence, the urge to seek solitude which lead to depression and anti-social behaviors, and the confusion which lead to angry outbursts and destruction of property. No therapist could even have the slightest hint as to what the boy was going through, However, they gave his intellectual mind insight on how to handle himself within society, and helped him mentally grasp the idea of motivation to be something other than just an outcast of society. He entered in sports, excelling in football and track and field, and he took up hunting. ( Little did his mother know that although he owned a hunting rifle, he rarely used the weapon, and often took down deer in his mountain lion form, out in the deer leases around Amarillo. )

As Lokai progressed into high school, he still suffered from anxiety in social settings, and his therapist not only blamed the lack of a father figure, but also the overcompensation of mothering from his mother. The diagnosis was actually far from the truth, his mother was rarely prying and only scolded when she needed to, yet the therapist insisted on Lokai to get a change of scenery. When she suggested moving again, the counselor dismissed the idea – Lokai needed to move, she needed to stay. He suggested the military, or a boarding school. Lokai’s mother wouldn’t have her only son out in the armed forces, so she agreed to send him to an academy that – she believed – specialized in rehabilitating those that needed help in social settings.

The Academy.

...connecting human to animal

[One Paragraph Minimum (Can be point form)]

• Physique – Languid and toned muscle, yet not enough that it weighs him down. His body is relatively full sinew, toned upper body and strong lower body giving him the mobility to run and not carry too much excess weight.
  
  
• Eyes – The same offset color of limelight green that a mountain lion bestows. His pupils are smaller than average, making his irises seem big, bright, and cat-like.
  
  
• Self-Sufficiency – Lokai, like the cat, enjoys solitude and can take care of himself without the help of any others. Fending for himself throughout life as a human has advanced his natural puma-like instinct of self survival as well.
  
  
• Tawny hair – Lokai’s hair barely changes hue upon shifting from human to feline, and back again. The sandy blonde color simply thickens into fur, and spreads across his altering body like grass growing on crack.
  
  
• Confidence – Even in the worst situations – and Lokai has been in some tough ones – he was never worried about his outcome. His confidence reigned in the fact that everything will work itself out from problem to problem to solution. His self-confidence guided him through lows to highs, and he kept true to the faith that he knew what he was made of, and that he would last yet another day.
  

...literacy

RP Sample[/i]

Lokai

The forest was eerie at twilight, slivers of setting sunlight leaking in through the trees like sifting through filter fabric, shards and splinters of light erratic in the darkening canopies of treetops and wide, gnarled branches. This process occurred every night, the sun setting and its reddening hues bursting through the cracks, the night descending inside the heart of the thicket long before it drew up anywhere else outside the walls of towering trees. What was eerie about this particular night, however, was the lack of lulled noise in the receding throes of the woods. Naught a sound was uttered, the entire ecosystem seemingly silenced by some unseen form that loomed in the growing shadows, frightening all into hushed nonexistence. Fireflies blinked here and there, though their meager bulbs of light that sporadically illuminated for a mere amount of seconds at a time did nothing to show what was spooking the woodland into quiet reserve.

A scarce glow of a posterior of a lightning bug would flit past eyes of aloe green – the boy, six foot tall, clad in jeans, a white wife beater, and an unbuttoned collared shirt. No, not the boy. The young man, his hair a mess atop his head, his eyes narrowed into the darkness, lucid greens that pierced the shadows with uncanny ease. His mouth was drawn tight, almost in a frown, but without trying to damper those lip-corners into a downward spiral. He stood on an old, dead tree, mossed and fungused from years in its canopied, yet shallow grave. It still supported weight though, and he lingered on the meager pedestal, still, silent, listening and feeling the forest around him through senses so acute, he wasn’t even sure how they fared in a body as weak as this one. Even though the forest was deathly quiet, Lokai could sense the life all around him, moving with caution, trepidation, and calculated progression. To his east, a trout darted in the stream, skirting through the shallow waters onto bigger and deeper ponds. An owl, high in the tree tops, was just waking up, its feathers frictionizing against the dried leaves of its cubby hole in the tall, tall oak. To the west, a woodland hare carefully picked its way along the forest floor, cautioning itself to tiptoe around twigs that would snap and leaves that would crunch. Ahead of him some kilometers or so, a buck and his doe were quietly within the confines of a shaded clearing, the buck courting the little, shy doe to further pass on his genes.

The firefly flickered and darted away, its light disappearing within the shadows as it flew upwards, and wheeled about in the air, languidly perusing the tree branches, fltting past the mouth of a hungry tree frog, who could not see it in the dimming light, and therefore missed a perfectly good morsel of dinner.

In the darkness, suddenly an explosion of sound – noise that although was muffled behind layers of muscle, flesh and now – fur – was still easily detected in the silence of the forest, and quite many-a prey animal gave a terrified shudder. Sickening pops and crunches molded together as bones shrunk, joints rotated and muscles expanded. Shoulders dislocated and relocated along a different vertebrae than they had been originally conjoined up to. Bones formed from where there were none – lengthy and curling over a back that once was clad in Calvin Klein denim, now only shrouded with a thick blanket of tawny, coarsed fur. A mouth shifted and protruded from its chin, a nose shrinking and widening into spacious-set nostrils. Carnivorous teeth formed over blunt enamels, covering the human molars with edges and points. Claws grew from fingernails and retracted back into the skin, where they belonged. Height diminished, posture was lost.

And all this while, the primry firefly that had darted across the boy’s face on the log now burst into luminance about the same colored eyes, aloe green, set abroad a predator of feline articulations, thick skulled and jowls parted as the forest became even more alive, moving, crawling with potential meals.

This is what he loved to do – hunting was almost assessed as a stress reliever, something to mold all hardships of the day together and unleash a ravenous vendetta against a prey-item, acting out in savage brutality, and then in sheer instinct, to lick away the blood and eat what was rightfully his to feed on.

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