*Note: Images subject to change if I find more suitable ones. Sources are still given at the bottom, and will be changed when the pictures change.

**Note: This character is constantly being improved. Some minor details might be different from now to a few minutes later.

***Note: When a puppet is speaking, it will look like this ""___"". When Slate is speaking, it will look like this "___".

"..."

一

:heavy_check_mark: Basic Details :heavy_check_mark:

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➤Personality

Slate is a ventriloquist who manages conversations between puppets that don't include himself. He doesn't speak; not as himself, at least. No one--recently--has ever heard his true voice. He only talks through the 50cm tall puppets that he keeps with him all the time. Like both parents, he can be a little irritable and hates himself quite a bit, to the point where he finds it enjoyable when others degrade him as well. It's questionable whether or not he's unknowingly a masochist. He's fairly self conscious of his burns, and is a bit of a wanderer. He also always concedes to whatever Charlie says. Deep inside though, he's actually very empathetic, and is also surprisingly optimistic and kind.

Charlie is very irritable, and will constantly send out a stream of insults towards Slate. He's a collection of Slate's self loathing, and will harshly lash out him. Despite this, he's incredibly diplomatic towards others. Charlie has a strange sense of humour. He's a reflection of everything Slate's been made to believe and hear as opposed to what he truly thinks. He despises anything related to woodwork, and speaks in a manner similar to a young child. He's the puppet that Slate uses the most.

➤ Hobbies

Being in the company of his collection of puppets and having them engage in conversation, wood work.

➤ Likes

Puppets, Charlie, wood carving, the scent of wood, straws.

➤ Dislikes

Himself, his voice, fire.

➤ Goals/Dreams

1. To live alone with his puppets.

2. To make people laugh.

➤ Extra

N/A

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"..."

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:heavy_check_mark: Physical Characteristics :heavy_check_mark:

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➤ Skin Complexion

He has fair skin, though there are severe burns on the left side of his body that creep up along the side of his face and reach down to just below his knee. These marks are often hidden behind his hair and collar.

➤ Face

Slate's eyes are honey coloured and framed with long lashes. There's a dull look in them nowadays. He looks fairly healthy, with the exception of the left side of his face where there is scarring from past burns. His lips are sewn shut with jet black thread.

➤ Hair

He has messy, coarsely cut white hair that reaches down and a little past his chin. When he was younger, it was a little bit more well kept and shorter.

➤ Body description

5'9" / 136lbs

He is of a more slender build due to his preferred diet of liquid foods.

➤ Voical characteristics

He rarely uses his true voice; more often than not, he'll speak through Charlie's. His real one is unknown. Charlie's voice is of a higher pitch and sounds like a young boy's. It can sound innocent and sweet at times, but harsh and condescending at others.

➤ Misc

He keeps the lower half of his face out of sight behind a high collar. He also always keeps a metal straw with him that he cleans almost religiously since it's what he eats--or rather, drinks--with. He's almost always completely bundled up in clothes, and has a black duffle bag with him where he keeps his puppets when he's not using them.

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"..."

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:heavy_check_mark: General Abilities :heavy_check_mark:

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➤ Physical abilities

He's able to fight back if need be, though has next to no formal experience in a one on one. Against a seasoned fighter or someone who's trained all their lives for a profession that involves physical labour, it isn't likely that he'd win in of strength.

➤ Mental abilities

He's creative in the artistic sense, and is very good at ing things despite his somewhat unstable mentality. He's also fluent in multiple different languages (English, French, Chinese, Spanish, German), though ironically, he never tried to learn how to speak the language of his mother's side.

➤ Special/magical abilities

N/A

➤ Misc abilities

He's spectacular at ventriloquism and wood carving. He can quickly carve and construct intricate wooden pieces. As with any ventriloquist, he's also more than able to mimic different voices all without ever having to ever visibly move his mouth. Slate's also decently skilled at puppetry, though it isn't what he'd like to do full time.

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:heavy_check_mark: Puppets (more to come) :heavy_check_mark:

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➤ Charlie

Negative, deprecating, diplomatic, childish. Innocent, boyish voice.

➤ Hart

Blunt, painstakingly obvious, hyper, overreacts. High, screeching voice.

➤ Gilbert

Kind, optimistic, reasonable. Soft, calming, British accent.

➤ Bouchard

Dreamer, flirt, exaggerates, romantic. Heavy French accent, low voice.

➤ Anne

Stubborn, primitive, deadpan, rude. Incredibly low female voice.

➤ Joanne

Sarcastic, nerd, egotistical. Stuffy, nasally voice.

一

:heavy_check_mark: Stats :heavy_check_mark:

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➤ Strength

8/10

➤ Dexterity

10/10

➤ Charisma

5/10

➤ Stamina

6/10

➤ Diplomacy

5/10

➤ Intelligence

8/10

➤ Resilience

6/10

➤ Perception

9/10

➤ Willpower

7/10

➤ Stealth

7/10

➤ Overall

7.1/10

一

"It was for the best."

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:heavy_check_mark: History :heavy_check_mark:

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Slate grew up in a fairly well off family. His father, George, managed a furniture store and his mother, Marianne, was an actress. They were a functional family who would get along with each other very well, for a while at least. As a child, Slate was very interested in woodworking, much like his father. He learned to carve pieces of art out of wood scraps that he found littered around their rather homey house, making a detailed chess board when he was eight.

Acting was a fickle job though; any job in the arts was. Marianne soon lost hers, and started to take up drinking after numerous failed attempts to find another one. After two years of her freeloading, George finally filed for a divorce, taking Slate with him and leaving his mother. His mother pleaded for them to not leave, saying that she was pregnant and had a child, which only made things worse as her former husband believed that it was someone else's child, and it was. And so, they moved when Slate turned eleven.

Slate wasn't as willing to completely part with his mother as George was. He would secretly sneak out to go see her without telling his father, and was even with her when she gave birth to her second child, and his half brother, Charlie. He had light brown eyes just like his mother's, but pitch black hair unlike Slate's. From then on forth, he would sneak over to watch over his younger brother and mother more and more often, taking care of Charlie in the evening when Marianne was out looking for work. He'd occupy those quiet times with puppets that he'd made, and practiced ventriloquism to make he space seem less lonely for the both of them.

One day, his father trailed him as he walked over to his mother's small apartment. He was enraged upon happening upon the small group of three. He had allowed for Marianna to not pay for child out of pity, but seeing her using her money to her bastard made him feel as if he had been taken advantage of. Slate being there and visiting her without his father knowing only worsened the situation. The argument escalated until finally, his mother with the help of Slate, accidentally killed George.

When the police came around, Marianne pinned all the blame on her fourteen year old son, for the sole reason that she didn't want to go to jail. If she went, there'd be no one to Charlie. She told Slate over and over again that it was his fault, so much so that he believed that he was the one who murdered his father, even after his act had been proclaimed self defence. Her mother gained all of George's money as he had, surprisingly, never changed his will, perhaps out of lingering feelings for his ex wife. Marianne began to verbally assault Slate more and more after the event; she found pleasure in it, a power that she had never had before. She told him how he hated him, how everything about him reminded her of her 'cruel' husband. His voice, his mannerisms, and his appearance were all disgusting to her. And he always accepted it. It was her way of living; her way of expressing her dissatisfaction at everything that had happened in her life. Everyone stood to gain if he just accepted it. The puppets that he used to use to keep him and his brother company were now becoming more of an outlet for himself. It was only through his puppets that he could say what he truly thought.

His mother happened upon him as he was talking to himself about how he hated life as it was. Angered, she grabbed all his puppets and broke and burned them all, saying that he was just like his father: crazy, obsessed with woodwork, and with absolutely no understanding or kindness. He attempted to save his puppets, desperately trying to pull the pieces of of the fire, only for his mother to push him into the flames as well. If he wanted to be wth his toys so badly, he could be with them in the fireplace.

Child services came and rescued him some time later upon worried reports of screaming from Marianne's apartment. Before they could remove Charlie from her as well though, she killed both her and her younger son. Slate was saved, though left alone to wander around aimlessly with no direction whatsoever. He was lost now that his brother, his only solace, had gone. He just wanted to be with his puppets for all of eternity, and never worry about anything else. He knew that wasn't possible: a job was necessary to survive in this world. He went around performing on the streets and doing small flings for certain groups and bars. More often than not though, he was paid and introduced as a puppet master as opposed to a ventriloquist, much to his dismay. His job slowly started to earn him less and less despite his steadily increasing ability. Finally, he found a job in a circus where his talents and ions would be put to good use.

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:heavy_check_mark: Notable Relations :heavy_check_mark:

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➤ Marianne Fubuki

Slate's mother. She was once a relatively well known actor before losing her job. Afterwards, she became a parasitic alcoholic who clung on to her husband for , after despairing at her inability to find a job. She continued to work hard until a certain incident occurred. Upon her ex husband's death by her hands, she received his savings, transforming from a kind to a selfish woman. Underneath all this though, she was battling depression. She died a few short years later.

➤ George Harnden

Slate's father. He was a carpenter as well as a manager for a furniture store. He left Marianne along with his first born after his patience ran out. He was always kind, if not somewhat irritable to Slate, even up to his death.

➤ Charlie Fubuki

Slate's younger half-brother. He died at the age of five, two years after Slate's father's death.

一

"Shh."

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:heavy_check_mark: Character RP Sample :heavy_check_mark:

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""Slate, why are you so disgusting?""

Shrug.

""Slate, why do you stink up the place?""

Shrug.

""Slate, why does everyone hate you?""

Shrug.

""Slate, why are you smiling?""

"..." He didn't respond; had he been smiling? He didn't realize. Sure, he had felt a strange tugging sensation on his lips, but was it because he was smiling? He moved his tongue around, caressing the inside of his parched mouth. Slate needed a job--an actual job--soon. They wouldn't last much longer otherwise. He looked into the smaller figure's round and soft brown eyes; a surprising contrast to his harsh words.

There was a slight buzzing, a tingling sensation echoing around his mouth as the boy, Charlie, opened his mouth to speak once more. Slate's fingers moved up and down, in a perfect synchronized motion with the other's wooden mouth.

""Stop being annoying and get me water. I'm thirsty,"" said Charlie, brown eyes blinking in irritation as Slate curled his pinky, tugging at the wire circling through the inside of the other's firm, oaken body.

He let out a small, pleasurable sigh at the other's words, smile widening as his chest filled up with warmth. He nodded, white hair shaking around and tickling the scarred skin that tattooed the lower part of his face, holding back an urge to laugh at the sensation. With a slight grunt, he pushed himself off of the cold steel bench, the seat creaking in relief as it was relieved of his weight. The male stared tenderly at the wooden figure he was now cradling in his grasp, running his fingers through the other's fine ebony-coloured hair. He used one arm to shift his bag to the back, the wooden pieces within clattering in response as he did so. He glanced up, honey eyes dancing over the flashing neon guarding the way to a village of vibrant colours and tents. And he began to walk.

➤ Images

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