Major Ursa — Roleplayer Guild

Appearance [+]

Name: Otto “Odd” Kistler

Gender: Male

Age: 12-15 (Appearance), 25 (Stunted), 98+(Actuality)

Role in the Circus: Contortionist and Escape Artist

Magic (If Any): Contortionist Flexibility, Dance, Escape Artistry (Escape Anything?)

Reason for Joining Cirque de Noir: The woman who saved him promised that they’d meet again if he were to work at the Cirque de Noir…Otto has yet to see her again.

Past Life: There isn't a whole lot Otto can remember from his childhood. Initially raised by his grandparents, he didn't remember when he started living with his father, who blamed him for the death of his mother. Sometimes beaten, largely underfed, it was most common for his father forced into a trunk on any small whim. A normal morning consisted of waking to find himself in the trunk, and after an hour or so, either his father would let him out…or he'd find a way to open it himself.

One day, he didn't just wake up to the cold interior of the trunk…he woke up inside of the trunk, the motion of waves, and water steadily filling up the small space he was forced into. Trying desperately to open the trunk, he came to the realization that it must have been locked multiple times on the outside. If only there had been more time, maybe…having let too much water inside the trunk, then into his lungs, the boy closed his eyes, prayed for a peaceful death, and blacked out in his panic.

Waking up to the sensation of sand beneath him, and the water soaking into his bones, the crash of the waves around him…Otto woke up on shore with a woman leaning over him, her lips on his, the sun setting and darkness falling. After coughing out quite a bit of water, looking away in an embarrassed manner, Otto Kistler turned to find that his saviour stood watching further away now. Thinking of his life before this, then the kindness and bravery of this stranger, he approached to beg the woman to let him follow her as a servant, or at least repay his debt in some small way. The woman led her saddled horse out and mounted the horse, smiling a bitter smile over her shoulder…she told him to join the Cirque de Noir, before finally taking off. It was only hours later that he realised that she had secured the trunk onto the horse, and had left with it...leaving only the boy behind.

The years that followed, Odd travelled as a street performer, fitting in small trunks and cases with ease…and at the same time, self-studying how to break out of such locked containers. Several years later, he would end up finding the old abandoned home him and his father 'lived', if you could call it living. With the last bits of information remaining, he had learned of his family being German immigrants, that his grandparents had died only a few years ago...and though Odd asked around, nobody knew of his father whereabouts.

Despite growing past his teens and into adulthood, and though the past malnutrition and mistreatment couldn't be identified in the exact cause, the boy didn't seem to mature past being preteen physically. At age 25, he finally joined up with the Cirque de Noir, and has been a member for a good number of years...though he still hasn't met up with his savior again.

People often wonder why Odd hasn't developed Claustrophobia...to that, his response is that he had long since gotten used to small spaces, got used to the tents of circus life. But, the one thing he can't get used to is the wide open space of the the free sky...which in contrast to the safe enclosed tight space of any given trunk, opens up the world up and around him, spaces far away that he could fall away into at any given moment.

Watching the humans from afar, listening in with sharp ears...the beast wasn't getting much, other than their idea of perhaps going to important public places in hopes of humans gathering 'round like a confused flock of sheep. Taking a moment to leaned on the branch a little more, stretching out her body a little, the beast finally sat up before dropping down onto the dirt once more. Noiselessly making her way to the hospital...

...

The main doors slid open as she entered the building, having taken measures to hop and skip forward quickly ahead of whatever groups was going to gather soon. Now, all that was left to do was wait. The stark white of the interior walls seemed to try and project a cleanliness, but under the scent of medicine there was the sickness that emanated from the ill--none of which were still present, due to the spell, but the old scent remained like a scar. Padding along on her dirty, bare feet, brushing a dirty hand through her hair, the beast strode purposefully through the halls, curiously observing what she saw as an oppressive environment.

One of the first doors down the first hall was to some sort of cleaning room. Machines that rumbled and tumbled and swirled about, baskets of dirty and even filthy clothing were to the side, and clean cloth of sorts were folded on shelves. Crouching to the basket of the cleanest looking cloth, she pulled out the medical scrubs and tossed them over shoulder, in the beast's hands was a relatively clean white coat of a jacket...relatively clean, as in, just a few deep red blood stain. Righting herself, the beast held the coat out before her, tilting her head this way and that before, finally, pulling it on.

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