xxx Goodbye xxx

[Zayt]

Formal Name: Nikkliss Benjamin Zaytsev

Informal Name: Zayt

Age: 19
Birthday: 4/17/92

Hair/Skin Color:

Hair: Ash Blond -hair is grayish, with few blond tints

Skin: Pale, almost vampiracly so.

Eye Color: Yellow

Gender: Boy

Paired To: Open

History:

My father was a leader in organized crime, building empires and tearing them down as he saw fit, and being Russian, many joked that it was in his blood. Truthly, it was in others' blood that my father rose from. My mother, being from Europe as she was, was incredibly lucky and made it into many of Britain's top agencies, so when she met my father, she was undercover. Ooh, secret romance, big deal. She truly fell in love with him, and he her, yay happy ending. So. Not. True. Learning what he truly did, it broke her. One day she accidentally cut her finger... Started sucking on it to dull the pain... Liked the blood... And that's how my mother became obsessed with blood. My father... He loved wolves. Insanely so. His father's father's father had bred a pack of purebred wolves, and then his son, and then his son, until they got to my father. He had grown up with those wolves, and he passed that love of wolves onto me. Speaking of me. I look strange, don't I? Mm? What with my ash blond hair, my yellow eyes, I could be a wolf myself, mm? My mother, with her entire family being blonde, passed said blond gene to me. My father, despite his genetics, was extremely pale, and passed that on. My father's father's father had had yellow eyes, and somehow I got them. That's my looks explained... Back to my... past life. My mother, obsessed with the life source made of cells, would drink her own blood and try to drink my father's, too. I... was young, I didn't know any better. She was strong, too. I will admit it, I have drunken blood before, and it is her fault, but now... Now that is ranked among one of my most prized possessions. Blood, that is. I drink my own, and others if I can get it... She almost killed me the first time, but my father found me in time. He then almost divorced her, but... He couldn't turn his back on the one woman he'd only ever truly loved. So he kept her around, like a pet, like he was a pimp and she, she his whore. Like a vampire and his human, the human drunk on the venom. Needless to say... One day she was drinking his blood... And she killed him. Lost in a daze, she bit and drank her own blood, killing herself when she could no longer feed from him. I was ten. I was the one who found them. I entered the room looking for my dad, who had promised to take my ice skating, right after he put mom to bed. I enter and find her lapping at her wrists, sitting over my father, staring at him with such rapture and such fear... And then she just slowly fell on her side. I ran from the room, running straight into one of my uncles. He went to go check their pulses and get a doctor if needed... The doctor was not needed. They put me on drugs then. All sorts of happy pills and antidepressants and... Stuff. I stopped taking them the day after they were brought home. I now lived with my uncles in my giant house in Russia; there was no else for me to be. When I was thirteen I assumed responsibility for all of my father's businesses. Now all the while all this worthless, relentless sh.t was going on, I was visiting the wolves. Remember that pack of purebred wolves I talked about earlier? They're the only thing that kept me sane, before and after their deaths. Remember my house? The wolves lived in and around it with me, and my uncles, frightened of them but managing for my sake to deal with them, they tried to shut them out. I wouldn't let them. I had found my link to sanity, and I wasn't ever going to let that go. The wolves accepted me into thier pack, and soon I was acting like them, being with them, no-- being them. My uncles didn't understand, how one minute I could be calm and running the business, and the next I would be running for the door, yellow eyes wide and breath fast and growling at anyone who tried to stop me. These episodes, as my uncles came to call them, led them to so many 'specialists' and therapists and others who didn't understand. ALL I wanted, ALL I wanted was to be with them, to be with them and rule my father's businesses and be with my father and my crazy but beloved mother all over again. When I turned fifteen they tried introducing me to girls; I shunned them for my pack. They tried introducing me to spies, assassins, government leaders and agents, anything and anyone serious enough to perhaps jog my memory, to make me 'normal' again. But this was normal for me. This is, and forever will be, my life. I look like a wolf, so why not act like one? Even with the wolves holding me to gravity, my uncles still paid more attention to rumors than I did. They heard of the bombs, and just before I turned nineteen they sent me off to this blasted island. Here I am, with all my psychotic past, all my wolf characteristics, all my...

Me.

Personality:

My name may be Nikkliss Benjamin Zaytsev, but I am nothing like my father. Or so I say. Wait, you say you don't recognize my name? How stupid are you? The Zaytsevs are incredibly powerful in many criminal syndicates throughout the world. In case you didn't know. Which you should have. With my slight Russian accent, that grows harder as I grow angry, and my so pale and fair coloring, you'd never guess I was a Zaytsev. Coloring wise, at least. Zayt, or Nik, as I like to be called, Nik to friends and Zayt to those closer, was many a person in my family's name. Having read my history, you know what happened to me. You know I drink blood on occasion, you know I can't live without my pack... Well, couldn't live. Now I have to, seeing no sort of living thing upon this isle, least of all wolves. I will find a pack, or I will make a human one. I need the... comfort, the loyalty a pack brings to me. They would never abandon me, never drink my blood and pretend to care, like my mother, or truly care for me and then go and die, like my father. The pack listens and cares and loves and hates and fears and above all, they know. They know that pack is pack and nothing that is pack is uncared for... Pack. Just the word brings back memories and smiles.

I suppose that I should say a bit of what I'm like, mm. Well, I'm screwed up in the head, as stated many many times beforehand, I use big words, and I insult people whether they deserve it or not. I may not always insult people, and once I take a shine to you I may never leave your side. Be careful, if you befriend me you must be true. If you try to leave me, I will kill you. Pack cares for pack, packmates never leave packmates behind, not even if they tell you to. I'm bloody vicious when it comes to fights, and I can use a knife. I can use a knife very well. I'm dangerous, and my uncles could never talk with me in the house for fear of me hearing them. I'm not ashamed; I eavesdrop and I sneak and I learn what I need to learn and I learn more than I need to learn so I know who in the pack is loyal and who needs to be put down like a rabid snake. Yes, a rabid snake. I'm not joking. Rabid. Snake. Don't laugh, I've seen them and they are not as cool as you may think. I am well trained in both street fighting and the military's various styles, mainly American styles, because I do like America. I spent a few years' vacation there, before and after my parents death. I brought my wolves with me. No one could refuse a tiny little crime lord they thought they could wheedle into controlling. Oh, how wrong they were. You'll find more about me as, if, you join my pack. As my voice is heard you will know, you will understand and while you may not like, you will at least not fault. I don't know if you could fault anything I say-- I twist words in skillful ways, mincing and prancing my way through various negotiations with various world leaders at age fourteen, I should know what I am doing.

Well... Really, as you read this, you'll know about me, but you won't. You'll see my words on this page and you'll understand and comprehend them, but you may not necessarily know me. You'll know past me, but you won't know me. No one knows me until they have heard my voice and been with my pack, understood the strength of my loyalty to those important to me and those important to mine. Me and mine, mine and me...

Pack.

[` k i w i `]

He's hot.
;p