WEST, ryder hawke

[Ryder Hawke West]

I go by (it's a secret), and my time zone is (one of the popular ones). I found this site by (trolling). You can contact me (pm).

`time to figure, time to sin
your time is done when you begin*

NAME:

Ryder Hawke West.

AGE:

134 (born in 1878), died at 22 and became a demon. Turned at 24 and so his appearance is as such.

GENDER:

Male.

SEXUALITY:

Bisexual; leans more to women.

SPECIES:

Shapeshifter Demon Were-tigon (gray offset).

NATIONALITY:

Russian & Brazilian.

OCCUPATION:

Federal U.S. Air Marshall.

`live for suffer, live for revenge
know your life comes to an end*

APPEARANCE:

If it's one thing that makes him stand out a little, it is his height. He stands well over six feet tall, nearing six four. You could probably spot him in a crowd walking just with his height alone. Ryder has teal eyes; sometimes they look bright blue and sometimes look more green, it just depends on lighting. His hair is a tan-ish color and he keeps his hair short enough to gel and not bother his neck. Usually he leaves his face with some peach-fuzz as some women like it. Ryder is very muscular. Six pack, defined biceps, triceps, and everything. He works out quite a lot to keep his metabolism up and for him to be healthier. As for clothes, he usually wears something sleeveless and comfortable. He isn't one to discriminate against color or anything.

CELEB CLAIM:

Rafael Lazzini.

`taste the blood, taste your fate
swallow your pride with your hate*

PERSONALITY:

In the past the man used to be such a bad boy. He'd rob, steal, do almost everything. Though now-a-day's, he is more relaxed. Though don't press your luck. That bad boy nature can come out and usually when it does, you're being hit with the short stick in life. He has the alpha male quality about him and he loves to be dominate as well as authoritative. Why not be a police officer? Well, the man likes to fly and travel, so begin a Marshall in the air seemed like the perfect job for him to muster. Second chances are slim to none with the man. Though he may seem a little cold here and there, he really isn't all that bad. If he believes you truly and honestly deserve it, he'd give you a second or maybe third chance. He is a sucker for the puppy-eye techniques. So if you want him to go easy, play the pity-cute card and you sure as heck will win that battle.

The man is a protective one – to himself, those he cares about, and to those on the plane that he rides on. Though he is more of a lone wolf character, he does like to hang around a good crowd. But note that he gets bored easily and isn't one to censor whatever is on his mind. Call him blunt and a little inconsiderate, but that's Ryder for you. Though yes, besides his rough personality, he can be quite the sweetie-pie in other words. Like with the bird he found, he'd take someone injured in or try to help. They haven't done him wrong so he really has no reason to act bad – unless you look at him wrong, that's like a big no-no in his books and that bad boy side of him comes out. He can be a little risk taker and he loves the adrenaline rushes, though the man is somewhat of a changed soul, he prefers the more relaxed lifestyle off of work, unlike his wild, wild set past.

LIKES:

Women, adrenaline rushes, guns, flying, new sights, traveling, culture, history, food, sports, driving, exercising, getting his way, having fun, dreaming, going on dates.

DISLIKES:

Opinionated people that get on his nerves, religion, getting blamed, being late, his veggies, chess (can never win), teenagers, not getting his way, when history is incorrect, things not turning out as planned, when he fails, losing anything, getting hurt (though he sometimes likes it), not having his morning coffee.

SECRETS:

His past is a secret, his species is a secret, and his life's journey is a secret.

FEARS:

He's scared of dying (though is somewhat fearless/has courage with his job, though nonetheless, the fact still remains) – or well, the afterlife. He is scared of being robbed again. He is also scared of finally falling in love for real this time.

DREAMS:

Personally, he wants to have children more than anything in the world. Why? He wants to have that feeling of being a father... It's one experience he hasn't felt and really, raising a little him sounds awesome!

STRENGTHS:

Assertive, authoritative, good aim, sixth sense, heightened senses, stubborn.

WEAKNESSES:

People that need help, coffee and other caffeinated drinks, jobs that take him out of New Jersey and America, sucker for having fun, work.

`your last breath, your last stance
the last of all in your command*

HISTORY:

I wasn't there or yet, I was but I was too small to remember, but my mother, Constance, always told me whenever I asked, so, I just visioned it. The sky was of a light blue in color, turning orange and my mother, nine months pregnant at the time – despite her large and bloated belly, went out to the field with my father to enjoy a sunset together. They were madly and deeply in love and this was just “one of their things” that they did that defined them. With his hand in hers, fingers intertwined, my father told my mother that he loved her dearly. She of course, started to return the gesture as the sun was on the horizon – painting the sky in a deep red color, but was unable to. It was at that time that I wanted to come out. My mother was a fighter and managed to stand up from her sitting position upon the desert ground, but soon fell to her knees in immense pain. My father, Jericho, didn't know what to do at the time. They were a few miles away from town and well, my mother was going into labor. There was basically no time. With no medical experience whatsoever, my father helped assist my mother as much as he could. I was born with no problem thanks to my father. I was born in the desert with the sun just under the horizon and the stars poking around in the sky as coyotes howled and yipped around them. But they wouldn't hurt my parents. For after all, they were one of them.

They returned on horseback that night with a little addiction to the West family. A little baby boy with eyes as green as nature itself. My chubby hands kept on grabbing every single fabric and anything that trailed itself in front of my path. I was a lively little thing. People from the Saloon came to see the Sheriff's son They thought I was adorable and so precious. I was born on April 7, 1878 at twilight. As the days passed on by, they finally got a name for me; Ryder. It wasn't what my father wanted, he wanted me to be named after his granddad Eugene, but my mother was persistent and so, that was my name. Days upon days, months upon months, I grew up like any normal little child out there. I started to walk on my own, picked up words and soon started to talk. My motor skills were developing and so was my personality. I was a happy little child. Naïve, content, and just loving live. I was smart, kind, nice... The whole nine yards. It was as if nothing could change me. Except for one day... Everything I knew to love just came on shattering down.

My father was a skeptical man, though nonetheless he was kind at heart despite his rough nature. There were these new folk passing by in town. My father was the first to greet them. They seemed friendly so he welcomed to St. Monica. Though that was his one mistake. These folk, they started trouble in the taverns and soon got all riled up outside of the Saloon, roughing up some folk. My father, the sheriff of the town and a few of his deputies, went to disperse them and break them up – send them on their way out of St. Monica's if they couldn't cooperate. They started to comply then one fired a gun. That in return, caused my father to draw his. Though before he could defend himself, one of the men shot my father right in the chest before stealing a horse and riding off out of town in the middle of the night. All the shooting woke my little nine year old self up and I ventured out of our home. At first my mother sheltered me before I ran out to my father, pushing some of the townspeople aside to cling onto my father. “Daddy! Daddy!” I remember crying out, tears burning in my eyes. He said not one word, only a hand guided itself to my face. That was when his eyes grew colder and lifeless before that hand of his so filled with warmth, slid off of my face and fell limp to the ground below. “Daddy!” I last cried out, but it was too late. I saw my father die that night. T'was that night that I started to grow cold...

Now I was begin raised by my mother, whom was half the time at the Saloon, cleaning and serving gentlefolk while I was learning by my grandmother as well as a private tutor and my uncle. Though that never really went so well. I was a smart young lad, though when I was done with my studies, I started trouble. It wasn't until I was seventeen that I started to get a name for myself. What was that you ask? Smoke. Why that name? Because, my dear friends... Every time I am chased, I am never caught. Once I turn a corner, that is the last one sees of me. My secret was that I turned into a coyote and watched from nearby as people tried to figure out what happened. They never thought of anything. It was funny to me. Hilarious. People were so dumb. Though as I aged and got even a worse reputation, my mother showed her disapproval. Her actions showed dislike but her eyes showed concern and sadness. What had her little boy become? A criminal, unlike his father.

I had my own posse and soon enough, I started to wander off. We left St. Monica and I left my family and everything to join the life of the criminal mindset. We were a small group of people, just under ten; a handful or so. We knew each other by name and alias and we worked well together; clicked fine if you will. We robbed banks, stole cars, had a thing with the ladies. Life was all great and good, until one heist. My posse... Some of them got caught the other day without em knowing. Instead of being put in the slammer, the Sheriff made a deal with them and let them go. They wanted to bring me down. Me. The head leader... As they say – if the leader is gone, the men wouldn't know what to do so getting the rest of them – which was seven – would be easier since the three they caught were going to be safe and scott-free for tricking and turning me in. The night of the heist, I went into the bank with three of my 'friends', we were starting to collect some money when a few of my posse turned against us. There was a small gunfight and like my father, I got shot in the chest. Though unlike him, I actually fought and left the bank and got on my horse. I only got one bag of money and gold as I rode off out of the town. Much like where I was born, was where I died. My sight was fading and I couldn't make it to the next town, so I took a little detour and decided to make camp by some rocks, a little cave of sorts. As the sun started to set was when the pain hit me more. Death... Was coming, I could feel it. Much like where I was born with the sun below the horizon and the coyotes yipping away in the distance, was where I died.

Instead of being granted death fully, or what I thought it was supposed to be, the next thing I remember was breathing free air once more, though in a different place, further up some more. My senses were heightened and my ability to shift into a coyote was taken from me. At first I didn't know what the heck had happened to me, but when I bumped into some old man, he was old and mistook me for his son. He said a few things but soon came to realize that I wasn't his son, but then at the same time I learned a few things from him. What I became. Apparently much like his son, he was reborn as a demon due to the bad that he had done in the past. Which made sense for me too, considering I killed and looted people of their money and possessions. I stayed with this man for some days before leaving on my own. It was the early 1900's now and now it was time for me to start a new life. The years went by really fast. So did the wars and where I lived. I moved around like a flock of geese. Living in one home in one state then moving onto the next. I did return to my home one time to collect some secret stashed of money that I kept hidden form my posse. I was so glad that none of them found it. With some thousands under my belt, I began to live normal lives here and there. I did do some looting but only if I knew I wouldn't get away with it. Call it thievery with vengeance. I didn't do much but I did it occasionally. I lived the silent life for many years until I finally moved to Pennsylvania... Philadelphia, to be exact.

In the 1990's I started to attend school, though a few classes at a time, not much. I had a job as a secretary and that I usually worked over-time. Rent there was horrible and it seemed that the money that I had in the past was soon gone. I lived for a little under a hundred years on that and it seemed to be gone before I knew it. So, I got a job. School took a lot of money so I had to get another job. I worked as a cashier downtown for years. Soon enough, in 2001, I finally got my degree! A Master's in Criminal Justice with a minor in business. Though not too long after I graduated, I moved to New York, New York and started my new job as an airport security officer. I was not a cop, but under some laws and taken some courses, I had arresting powers and it felt good. I was looking for a better job around the busy city. I needed to move anyways as I was starting to out-live my stay by not aging. Later on that year, a tragedy happened in September, not too far from where I was working at. Everything shut down that day and no one flew for weeks after. New York became such a depressing and tragic place to live. A year later, I got a new job down south in Sussex, New Jersey, so I took up my stuff and moved down there. Though things changed in the airport department so I ended up having to take some more courses in school as well as some side-courses. Don't worry. I was hired by the Federal government when I fixed up my courses thanks to September's incident. I got my Marshall job that year and I couldn't be happier.

I lived in Sussex for a while. A few years. It wasn't until 2006 that I got sick of the place. The place I was living in wasn't really good. it was near the ghetto and some of the gangs were moving to where I lived. Sure, I could fend them off and all that but if only I was there. One day I wasn't and they broke into my place and stole quite a bit of my stuff. After I filed some things, I decided to move and switch job venues. I managed to get one in the Newark Liberty International Airport. I moved into a nice house down on Grand State Boulevard in Essex, New Jersey and lived there with no problem up until 2012. In 2011 though. I found an injured bird on my way form the gas station to get some junk food, back home. I took the little guy inside my home and helped heal it. Though some days after, the bird was fine and dandy so I tried to set it free. It didn't want to go, then some weeks later I found out why. The bird wasn't really a bird but a woman. Her name was Bryn. I didn't mind this at all. She was more or less liking her bird form so I treated her more like a pet than anything else. Though like I mentioned before, 2012 was when I had a problem. During a flight to Indonesia was where I was mauled. It wasn't any normal attack either. One of the people said it was a tiger attack, but I knew better. I was left there for a few days until a new flight came over and was sent back home, but I changed. How did I know? I was forced to change into this tiger-lion thing that later I found out to be a Tigon. Great, just what I needed... I was a were-tigon. And now, oddly, my aging was starting to show. Guess being a demon ceased it. But it was back to normal now. Lovely...

FAMILY LIFE:

Jericho, father, dead.
Constance, mother, dead.

OTHER:

Nothing!

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