Frostbrook, Marcus

FULL NAME:
→ Leon Marcus Damian Frostbrook III (Goes by Marcus Frostbrook)

AGE:
→ 29

SEX:
→ Male

BIRTH PLACE:
→ Birmingham, Creta

RACE:
→ Cretan

DATE OF BIRTH:
→ 6th December 1982




HEIGHT:
→ 5'11

WEIGHT:
→ 11st. 6lbs/161lbs

PICTURE:
→

Spoiler:

DESCRIPTION:
→ Normally, Marcus Frostbrook would stand at 5'11, with a slender build; but not now. His depression has caused him to fall into a slump, both mentally as well as physically, and the majority of the time, he slouches. His posture brings him down an inch or two; but you can't really blame him, all things considered.

Marcus has a head of short, spiky black hair. He wears prescription glasses over pale blue-grey irises; thanks to both his parents having bad eyesight, genetically, he has to wear a pair of glasses. He doesn't mind, too much; they double as sunglasses when he goes out, and help him to really conceal himself, and keep more hidden. The lenses are light-sensitive; dim under light, clear when the light intensity drops below a certain level.

Marcus has a small mouth, and generally smooth, lightly tanned skin, thanks to spending time in the hot climates of Esparia and La Cerisé - though his complexion is returning to its usual paler state. He's generally beset with a somewhat less-than-pleased emotion; although, if you're good with words, and say the right things properly, you'll cause him to smile. Or, if you're a kid. That works, too.

Marcus usually wears a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a shirt, over which he'll usually wear his favourite dark-fabric thin jacket. He wears it pretty much everywhere, having an extreme intolerance for the cold.

Marcus can generally be seen scribbling in a notebook or with a pensive, dreamy expression on his face. Constantly lost in thought when he's not mourning over the losses over the past, you can't really blame him, either; considering the man's creativity is really his only escape from the harsh reality he has, most people who know about his troubles are simply content with... letting him daydream.

Marcus will never really be seen driving a car. Marcus is also usually soft-spoken, and, in some (usually most) cases, monosyllabic. It's hard to get him to open up, but, when you do, if it all comes flooding out, he'll talk a lot, and his voice tends to have a nice, smooth sound to it.

*****

In the past few months, during Marcus' brief tenure with the Yakuza, his fears dwindled some. Many a time he was back behind the wheel of a car eagerly waiting for Makoto; and realised that in spite of his wife's passing, slowly, and gradually, it came to him that cars weren't dangerous, ninety percent of the time. It was just the people behind the wheel of them.

His time at the Yakuza adorned him with a pair of fresh tattoos on his temple and the pad of his left index finger; they're intended to be, at best, negligible, and are for alkahestric purposes. As well as this, as he spent more time with the Yakuza, Marcus is now significantly less pale and a good deal thicker-looking (probably all that ramen). Before, he was unusually slender and almost malnourished; now, he looks healthy enough to be a regular person.



PERSONALITY:
→ Marcus was once a truly charming man. He was kind, gentle, a sweet-talker, and above all else, a brilliant romantic. He still holds these aspects today, and is still very much pleasant and approachable, but he's often prone to fits and pangs of guilt; meaning that the moments that you'll find him to be of a positive mood are now few and far between.

Marcus can become very paranoid and depressed at the simplest and slightest of triggers; the stupidest things will push him over the edge. Once in a depressive mood, Marcus becomes incredibly self-destructive, and it's highly likely that he won't be seen for days, or perhaps weeks.

There are few things which cause Marcus to light up. The first is children; Marcus is great with kids. As a writer, he has a specific way with words, and considering children are impressionable, well... they're the best sort of audience. His knowledge of magic and apparition of certain objects (usually from behind ears) is fairly basic, but still enough to entertain a child or two. He's incredibly good at dealing with them.

Marcus is still charismatic; although he's shut tight as a clam. It takes a lot of talking or a lot of alcohol to open him up, and one wrong turn and he won't tell you anything. He has very few confidants, and considering almost all of those have been taken away from him - for one reason or another - it takes someone special to add to the list again.

Marcus is, however, wildly creative. He has a very passionate side to his creativity, which means, with enough inspiration, he will write for days, and its importance will transcend that of even eating and sleeping; more than once, he has collapsed at his desk, and awoken to read over something that he's written, and remember not a single word of it.

Marcus has a terrible memory. He seems to struggle at remembering facts; be they menial and simple or complex as all hell, although everything important relating to the late Maria and his son, Leon Frostbrook IV, seems to stay with him.

Charismatic to a T, Marcus is still approachable and enjoyable to be around if you catch him in the right mood. However, he's submissive, a majority of the time - especially with women - and will always rely on the other person to make the first move. Marcus means well; life has just backed him into a corner where he's not sure who he can trust and who he can love.

Marcus has a good moral compass, albeit a skewed one at some of his most desperate times. When in a destructive state, simple bullies become public enemies, and he's always a step away from breaking, and becoming a vigilante.

Marcus shows an appreciation for the smaller, yet often finer, things in life. Music, art, food, writing... it's all good to him. And considering he can't afford it, this makes for a rather odd picture; alongside an exceptionally intriguing history behind it all.

Marcus usually chooses to reveal the truth about himself in excerpts; the whole story never gets told at once. He also despises periods of self-reflection, and tends to think that he 'rambles' if he's talking with someone too much whilst they listen. If he's coaxed open properly, he will talk himself into a state where he's close to tears, thanks to what he's been through, but this is incredibly difficult to do. In short: it takes an incredibly good listener AND talker to cause Marcus to open up.

He's usually rather stoic, and will defend someone if they're worth it. He also has goals which are good-natured, but can become corrupted in some of his... worse... moods. Marcus never cries. Ever. He comes close, and even strains, but he will never cry.

Marcus is piqued and intrigued by other people and how they act; considering he's had a rather strict, sheltered lifestyle, and hasn't travelled beyond the reaches of Malos Ciudad, a small town in La Cerisé, and the outskirts of Birmingham, the monopolic city of Central is fairly new to him. Whilst Marcus knocks from place to place - and, really, city to city - every now and then, he generally tends to stay in Central. He can't afford real excursions.

Thanks to his past, and Raul Esparez, Marcus is also slightly shifty about getting close to people, and will often try to push them away for this reason. However, someone persistent will break through this.

In short, Marcus is generally depressive. He hides a lot from people that aren't ridiculously close to him. He's quiet and stoic. But if you open him up properly, he's a whole new world of possibilities; and dangers, too. He's submissive yet charismatic, intelligent, and wildly creative, and often appears to have two sides to him. He's definitely got baggage; infact, he really defines 'damaged goods'. Rub him the wrong way, hard enough, and he will react badly. He usually only tends to open up people who come across as similarly-aligned to him. He generally has a good moral radar as well as compass.

But beneath this exterior, beneath the acts he puts on to try and keep himself as 'ordinary' as possible, even whilst being as quiet as is humanly possible... Marcus Frostbrook is an interesting guy. Beyond that, he's an excellent companion, if you can break through to him.

But really, what matters the most, above all those problems, and all those things that make him seem like a real risk? Marcus has a kind heart. He means well. And if you're perhaps that one special person, you'll be able to lead him towards getting his son back; and he'll truly love you for it.

Despite being technically on-par with Makoto in the Yakuza's rank system, and despite the pair being fairly close, Marcus treats Makoto as a somewhat-insane older sibling of his, and acts as his inferior and close to an assistant to him, as Marcus IS indebted to him, and undoubtedly will be even more so when the time comes to liberate Leon from Esparez' clutches.


The Yakuza changed Marcus. Even if he was only there for a brief flash in the organisation's bloody history before its dissolution, the Yamaguchi-gumi made its impact on the writer straight away. From meeting Makoto, Marcus immediately became dependent upon him. As the saiko-komon, or, administrator, Marcus was on par with the man, but still felt it necessary to view him as a superior for all of his gleeful insanity.

From the moment that the auburn-haired madman came into his life, the seeds of bravery were sown within Marcus' mind. Something clicked. Suddenly, the cold metal of a gun was a touch less intimidating. The squeal of hot rubber on tarmac. The hungry crackling of flames rifling through a building or a crime scene. By all means, Marcus, by his nature, was still offset by it. Over time, being with the Yakuza and becoming accustomed to it all simply dulled the edge of what would otherwise be a sharp slash through his once-idealistic way of living.

So Marcus' fear was dulled. His pragmatism time and time again came in handy for the organisation; his alchemy working in tandem with Makoto's made them that cliché criminal team of brains and brawn. He never really bonded with the others; the small girl in the Pikachu pyjamas, the short, violent woman whose advances the boss continually ignored... and he didn't have time to. Before long, the entire operation was brought down. Mako was gone.

Marcus retracted into himself, shrunk back into the pale shell of a man he had been before. And whilst fear is still at the forefront of the ex-writer's mind... a spark within germinates and grows. A spark that will forge a man ready to seek action for his son's kidnapping.

LOVE:
→ Writing. Be it poetry or prose, Marcus loves writing.
→ Being a romantic.
→ Hair metal/glam rock.
→ Fruit.
→ His black cat, Giselle, although she mainly lives with Marcus' parents. ^_^
→ Children and seeing them happy.
→ Chicken strips!
→ Magic tricks. He can perform them, too! ^_^
→ Weaker, lower-percentage alcohol. Beer he doesn't like as much, usually preferring cider and sweeter drinks.
→ Chocolate.
→ Holidays and Christmas.
→ Hot weather.
→ Calligraphy and pens.
→ Learning new languages.
→ Smoking. It helps him cope.
→ Reading! Contemporary or classic, he loves it.
→ Tidiness.

HATE:
→ Himself. Marcus blames himself for his wife's death, and the fact that his drop in his career caused his only son to be taken from him.
→ Mathematics.
→ People who can't appreciate good literature.
→ Adoption services and orphanages.
→ Crying. Seriously, he absolutely hates it when people cry.
→ Strong alcohol. Just doesn't like the taste.
→ Guns and knives. Growing up in a large Cretan city does this to you; not so much a hate as a fear.
→ Mess.
→ Loud noises.
→ High speeds.
→ The cold and snow.
→ More a pet peeve, but bad handwriting. He finds it stubbornly hard to decipher.
→ Canasta. I'unno why.


DEEPEST SECRET:
→ Marcus secretly fears that he will never be able to feel love like the type he held for his wife again. He fears that his heart has been struck with something and that his blood tainted; and now that the one woman he loved is dead, he fears that the memories he holds of her will forever haunt him, and he will feel guilt if he so much as looks at another woman.

IDOL:
→ His grandfather, Leon Frostbrook I.
→ Makoto. Marcus desperately wants to be as strong as Mako is.



HISTORY:
→ Born in 1982 to Sarah Michelle (neé Rogan) and Leon Thomas Frostbrook II, Marcus Frostbrook had a simple upbringing. From a young age, he was determined to be the most creative of the four Frostbrook children; Marcus being the eldest, with Donald two years younger, and twins Miranda and Dorian six years younger.

To distinguish between himself and the boy, the young child was quickly given the name that he now uses to actually avoid confusion; however, since then, he has grown as Marcus, the name having stuck, and uses it as his given name, despite his birth certificate reading 'Leon Frostbrook III'.

As a young child, Marcus quickly taught himself to read, and indulged himself in literary classics that some adults struggle with before the age of 10; whilst his knowledge of the world kept the meaning behind the books usually somewhat dampened, Marcus always seemed to enjoy reading any fiction novel placed in front of him. A child of literature by any mark, Marcus found that by the time he could pick up a pen and learn to write, his parents' paper supply began to quickly diminish.

A young boy's floor is usually expected to be littered with toys and food wrappers; not neatly stacked piles of childish - yet eloquent - poems and short stories. It wasn't long before the boy's prowess reached beyond his family; with supportive parents, Marcus quickly enrolled in poetry and prose competitions; as well as being welcomed into Creta's new 'Young Prodigies' program, with an IQ above the desired bar.

Whilst private education - courtesy of his father, a well-paid businessman in shipping and trading - helped, the majority of Marcus' development as a writer came of his own accord. For years, he would spend the entirety of his leisure time with a book in one hand, and a pen in the other; scribblings in a notebook would quickly come to replace the typical teenage stereotype of loud music and rebellious attitude.

The boy was by no means introverted; charismatic and extremely pleasant, he simply wished to follow his passion, and considering that his family were supportive enough, this was simple.

Towards the end of his grandfather's last years, and the dawn of Marcus' teenage years, the elderly man growing to almost a century, the pair began to quickly bond. Whilst his grandfather bore several scars from border clashes with Amestris - still taking a slight frown towards the country and its people - he was an intellectual, and not too long after his service was completed, he took to shipping, with writing as a hobby. Always having meant to publish a book, Marcus' grandfather spoke of how his middle-aged years came on too fast, and before he knew it, he was an old, withering man with three children; now the head of the Frostbrook family had been passed down to Marcus' father, and Leon Frostbrook's - the first - legacy had began to fade, his creativity did too.

Beyond this all, however, Marcus' real inspiration was seeing just how enthusiastic the man was. When Marcus completed his first manuscript at the early age of twelve, he passed it straight on to his grandfather; who looked through, and, despite the inevitable plethora of mistakes, decided instead to smile at it, and brand it an excellent story, despite the development needed. Always a fan of positive reinforcement, together, the pair worked on the manuscript until it was polished enough to be sent off to a publisher; but, by this time, Marcus was 14, and several new ideas had cropped up in the back of his mind.

With his grandfather endorsing every new idea that came up, the pair grew closer and closer; the old man's creativity, despite what he said, very much still rich, much more so than his father's.

With Leon Frostbrook I quickly growing older and withering with every day, he soon moved into the large Frostbrook family home; much to Marcus' happiness. The pair spent yet more time together, with Marcus often falling asleep in the old man's room as he smiled and sat back on an ancient, carved rocking chair, smoking a pipe by a warm, open fire.

One day, in the middle of the night, this exact thing having happened, Marcus was awakened by an oddly close heat; in reality, what had happened, the boy realised, was that the bed had been set on fire. Quickly managing to extinguish the small patch of flames and opening a window, the poisonous fabric smoke drifted out, with the engraved mahogany pipe sitting in the middle of it, obviously the source of the fire... and not too far by, an old, withered, cold hand.

Marcus soon realised that his grandfather had passed away in his sleep. At the ripe old age of ninety three, the best man that Marcus had ever known had died one of the best deaths that his grandson now thinks possible; it was quick, quiet, and whilst the old man slept.

Despite how comfortable the man had been in his passing on, Marcus was still stricken with a bout of depression; finding himself unable to write, in his fury and bereavement, he shredded notebook after notebook, his room, for once, decorated with the tattered scraps of paper. The fifteen year old shut himself upstairs in the attic for thirty six hours straight, not eating, or sleeping, despite his exhaustion and hunger. Life was simply not fair, to him. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have been one of those criminals? This man deserved longer. He deserved to see just one more act of beauty in his life; he deserved to see a book of Marcus' published.

And then, at the end of the funeral, came the reading of Leon Frostbrook I's will and last testament. Surprisingly enough, the money was to go into a bank account established two or three months prior to the man's death, and every last penny of it was to go towards finding Marcus a publisher.

Despite this all, however, Marcus was given one more thing. The only physical dedication from the best man he'd ever known... was a beautiful, embossed, engraved, black-and-gold fountain pen. Despite the computerisation of even literature at this point, nothing would compare, in Marcus' eyes, to the beauty of that pen.

Treasuring it, the boy let it leave his sight not once over the next coming three years. As he began to finish school, he decided that the lapse in his studies had left him time enough to recover... and to solidify an idea. It was then, on the day of his graduation, that Marcus Frostbrook went home and began to plan and scheme the plot of his first book - now released in over five countries as The Sound of Murder.

The struggle to finish the book was hard; but not nearly as difficult when compared to how horrific it was to get the book published. As his grandfather had said, even with his parents' support, the finances he'd left were almost completely diminished by the time that a publisher even agreed to look at his manuscript, with Marcus now nineteen.

Just when all hope seemed lost, one day, Marcus alone around the mansion, the phone began to ring. The boy's ears pricked up, and he darted into the halls to grasp it, and placed the phone to his ears. It was the publisher; and bearing excellent news. Marcus beamed, and his heart was lifted further than it had ever been before when he was informed that the man on the other end would be more than happy to publish Marcus Frostbrook's first novel.

Beyond the next three years, Marcus' novel brought in enough money for the boy to support himself alone. Constantly writing, he didn't even consider going into the family business as poem after poem was published. He became one of the biggest literary names of Birmingham, an established poet and author by the age of twenty-two.

Within the next three years, Marcus moved to Esparia, and published his next two books - Crowshold and Crimson through Creta once more. Calming down, and surviving on the funds produced from the series and the odd poem sent through to the publisher - now one of his greatest friends - Marcus was as happy as he'd ever been.

And that... was when he met Maria.

Maria Salina Esparez was an Esparian native. Her father was, up until a few years ago, a high-ranking official in Vasco Allende's military forces; Colonel Esparez. She was barely twenty, and whilst studying off-and-on in Malos Ciudad's premier university, worked at a small café on the outskirts of the city.

Fiercely loyal to her father, her job, her studies, and her country, Maria and Marcus first met when the author sat, staring into the horizon, at the café where she worked. He turned to her, not fully paying attention, and smiled up, pushing his aviators down, as he admired her form and tried to make his as attractive as possible.

She was beautiful. Olive-skinned, with a wild spark in her eyes; a small seahorse tattoo on her neck. Perfectly shaped, slender, yet athletic, and, above all else, wildfire in her heart. There and then, Marcus Frostbrook saw, to this day, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His appreciation for her beauty knew no bounds; it was then that he knew he would fall in love with Maria Esparez.

And that's when she told him to get his feet off the table.

Despite his many attempts, the fiery-hearted Colonel's daughter refused the advances of the Cretan author, simply bringing him his coffee, and that was it. As he sat there every day for two weeks, turning away any other waiter or waitress who attempted to take his order, her expression didn't flinch. She ignored his advances all the same, until, finally, on the last day, he sat back, defeated, sighing. And that was when he asked: 'Why do you turn me away like this, Maria?'

And she responded with a beautiful, seductive smile, and these words: 'Because... I believe that only a man I can break is worthy of being with me.'

With that, Marcus was entranced. Whilst cheered and flattered by his serenading her, she was still reluctant to come out with the man; for if her father saw the pair of them together, she knew he would be not best pleased.

But Marcus didn't care. He was in love. Total adoration for Maria. And whilst she didn't yet return those feelings, it wasn't long into their time together that she began to get serious, and consider him as more than just an on-and-off boyfriend; they truly began to harbour real emotion for each other, brought together by their love.

However, one thing it couldn't quite transcend was the Colonel's concern.

Colonel Esparez was a hard, thick-skinned man, who constantly presented man after man, each one handsome and usually lined up with a promising military career, to his daughter, who refused them all, labelling them 'brutes'. He frowned upon his daughter's relationship with Marcus; who was no Esparian, and did little to help the country, Esparez being a true Esparian loyalist.

It was later that year, not long after Maria's 21st birthday, that Marcus came to the Esparez manor and asked 'Why? Why do you disapprove of me like this, Colonel?'. And with the same fire in his heart as his daughter, he replied simply by shutting the door in the man's face.

For three months, Marcus made fruitless daily attempts at trying to sway Colonel Esparez to his side; he presented him with unimaginable gifts, tokens of his appreciation, money, jewellery - he even offered to donate to the Esparian military, but nothing seemed to sway the hard-headed military man.

After being denied it all, Marcus simply gave in. He was not meant for this; he had nothing else to offer up but his service, and even then, he was no soldier. Returning to his large estate on the outskirts of the island, with Maria, he took her out to Esparia's pier, late one night, and proposed to her, handing her the largest jewelled ring he could find. He told her that the wedding procession would not go on til he managed to gain Colonel Esparez' blessing, but that he simply needed to profess his love as best he could.

With that, the pair quickly returned to the manor. Maria left for her father's house that night; and it wasn't long before he awoke to the sound of a car pulling up in the drive. The doorbell rang; and Marcus was sure that it was his father, armed and ready to kill him for not seeking his approval first.

But Marcus, a fearful man as he was, loved Maria. He adored everything about her; the twenty-four year old drew up to the door, and opened it, ready for anything the man could unleash upon him... and what did he get in return?

A hug. The man brought him into an embrace, and, almost crying, announced that Marcus was 'his son' and that he truly now approved of their relationship. It wasn't long after that that Colonel Esparez indeed retired, and is simply now Raul Esparez.

The wedding procession was huge; taking place in a small rural town near Malos Ciudad, with at least six hundred guests, considering the size of Marcus' family, his father's business associates, his publishing friends... but the majority came from Colonel Esparez. Having requested that his younger brother, Donald, was to be his best man, the wedding was almost flawless, and after the guests departed, the pair retreated further into La Cerisé for their honeymoon, and soon announced that they would be moving there.

Colonel Esparez was somewhat reluctant about this considering Esparia's shaky relationship with Gelemorté, what with the island being part of the Ciel Dominion, and all, but he kept his blessing in mind, simply reinforcing that the pair of them should be careful whilst living there, due to Esparez' status in the Esparian military - despite his oncoming retirement.

Marcus couldn't have been happier. He had the woman of his dreams, his job was going perfectly... all he could have wanted now was a child; and not two years later, Maria brought him exactly that. Leon Luca Miguel Frostbrook IV was born in January 2008, and began his life happy with both parents, truly a happy family.

Marcus indulged himself all too quickly in his vices; he bought an outlandish collection of ancient books, a bar filled with every liquor known to man, even casino tables - with a hired pair of dealers once a weekend. But above all else, Marcus' greatest indulgence was a selection of old Ferraris; considering they were in the birthplace of the car, why shouldn't he?

Thick in the heart of La Cerisé, Marcus' funds were beginning to deplete; but he had a plan. He was writing the fourth book; that which would make his trilogy a saga. The Watchtower, it was called; the fourth adventure of Detective Mikhail Imber, set in the fictional town of Ravens' Watch, Creta... and then, this perfect illusion was shattered on one regular day. Everything toppled and crushed in an instant; the all-too-perfect lifestyle coming quickly to an end.

Like any other day, Marcus had driven Leon IV to pre-school in the morning, there for 10AM sharp. Insistent on being independent, still fiery as ever, Maria had a job as a secretary nearby. She worked from 10AM til 6PM; Marcus returned home to an empty house, save for the cleaner.

When Maria didn't call for the entire duration of the day, Marcus became concerned. However, when she didn't return home after 7 or 8PM, he began to become extremely worried; never was she away this long without calling. Not once, in two and a half years of beautiful marriage, had this happened.

And then, the call came through.

"Mr. Frostbrook?"

"Yes?"

"We're sorry to inform you this... but... your wife was involved in a car accident two hours ago. She's been transported to the Roma Hospital-"

With that, the phone was slammed down. Leon was taken into the car, and Marcus sped to the hospital; however, upon his arrival, the single piece of most devastating news he'd ever heard came to light.

Maria Salina Frostbrook... had been pronounced dead.

Not moments before his arrival, she had told the nurse looking over her to give her husband one thing; she then opened her clenched hand to reveal a single, jammed-shut silver locket, brushed by the flames which had marred her body. Having been transported quickly to the morgue, the funeral was held not three days later.

Devastated by the loss of the person he loved most in his life, Marcus, mirroring his behaviour upon the death of the first Leon Frostbrook, tore up all his notebooks. He toppled furniture, and sobbed for hours upon end, carving her name into the wall, his desk, and even considered snapping his now alchemically-engraved pen; but no. That was his last source of colour in the world. Despite what had happened, despite his near-lapsing into insanity... that was his one object of solace. Taking it with him, and packing bags, Marcus didn't bother selling the house. He simply took Leon and a single car, telling himself that he would leave the second the funeral processions finished.

It was a small, private memorial; and much to Marcus' surprise, whilst all of her family, her sisters, her mother, and even all of his family had turned up, Raul Esparez was vacant from the service. And now, the thing that he'd feared most of all... came to happen. The man approached him, eyes stinging, grasping the largest knife that Marcus had ever seen.

'I'm going to take my grandson back,' He said, seething rage evident through gritted teeth. 'and you're going to pay for what happened to my baby girl.' It was implicated that Marcus was blamed for the entire thing; their moving to La Cerisé, something which Esparez had never been happy about in the first place, only complicated matters further.

Before he could even respond, and try to claim that it wasn't his fault, Marcus dropped to his knees, and the ex-Colonel was gone. Devastated by Raul's words, he now realised that it was his fault. He could have done everything to stop it. Why did she get that job? Why did he let her? Why did he buy those cars?

Inches away from killing himself time and time again, the only thing that kept him alive was the thought of Leon IV, and how he'd be left fatherless; one day, upon returning back to the Cerisian mansion - having decided to stay, after all - with a pack of cigarettes, a black van was outside, with social services personnel flanking it; policemen, too.

It wasn't long before Marcus realised what was happening. His cars had already been taken; the house was barren inside, all that was left were the two bags he'd packed, and a few clothes. They'd taken all the paintings; all the furniture, all the ornaments... calling up his estate agent in Esparia, he found that the other manor had been repossessed.

Then, the men appeared, clutching Marcus' son in their arms. The man broke down crying once more, and was beaten to the floor and restrained when he so much as attempted to take his son back. Now, everything had been taken from him. His life had been made a living hell. How, just how... would he work his way out of this?

His bank accounts had been emptied and rewired; his publishing agent was told that if any calls to him could be logged, that Esparez would kill him. There was no way for Marcus to make money; and when Marcus went inside, ready to kill himself, he found that all the knives had been taken. All the chairs; all the tables. All the rope. And at the bottom of it all was one note; scrawled in Esparian:

'You took everything from me; now I've taken everything from you. This is only the beginning. If you return to your family, we will kill them. If we find that you are dead, the boy dies. You'll live through this hell, just as I do.'

Marcus had seen enough crime films to know how this worked. They were looking for an excuse to let him kick the bucket. All he had to do was say a word to his parents, and everyone died. He was on a precarious balance; and with thirty Cenz, a pack of cigarettes, two bags, his pen, and a jacket, the ex-author left with his past over his shoulder, desperately depressed.

Wandering, doing odd jobs, Marcus somehow managed to keep himself together. Not much more could go wrong in his life; for the best part of three years, he became a soulless, lifeless husk. And whilst maybe Esparez' hand could extend to Creta, if he went off the radar... maybe he'd be able to start a new life. It was a horrific thing to do; but thoughts of his son, Leon, were the only things that kept him going. He needed to build himself up again before he had the resources to bring his former father-in-law's crimes to light...

Marcus has since landed himself in Amestris. He's unemployed, and has around a thousand Cenz to his name; he lives in a cheap single-bedroom apartment. It's not much... but it suffices. He desperately thinks of ways to release another book; but time is slowly running out for him.

And above all else, he has since kept a journal. Every page is addressed to his son, Leon, and in it is recorded every step of Marcus' journey from La Cerisé to Amestris.


His name was Makoto Kiyoshino. And he had set Marcus' apartment on fire.

Spluttering out thick black smoke he emerged from the wreckage, watching all but his most valuable objects go up in flames, the hot metal of Maria's locket burning heavy on his chest. They were looking for the wrong guy. They'd made a mistake. Even Mako admitted it. Then, kneeling down, the auburn-haired man offered Marcus the last thing he thought he'd hear at that moment.

A job.

It offered housing. Money. Good friends. And that spark in Makoto's eyes made Marcus know that this man wouldn't shy from killing to help him find Leon. So biting down his pride and morals, Marcus joined the Yakuza. He and Makoto became close friends; Marcus was an administrator, and technically on-par with the Yamaguchi-gumi's underboss, the son of Oyabun Kiyoshino himself, but Marcus always viewed the man as superior.

As days came and went, and numerous acquaintances and jobs passed him by, Marcus slowly came out of his shell. Makoto was teaching him the way of the Yakuza. And Leon was so close it was almost palpable. A job or two more and he could ask the question he'd wanted to for so long. "Will you help me... will you help me find my son?"

Then the stark reality of it all hit him. Makoto was missing. Probably dead. The Yakuza was being disbanded. Alarm bells rang; and for a few moments, Marcus couldn't believe his ears. Everything he'd stood for, everything he'd worked for, everything he'd hoped for... clutching a pistol, all the money he'd made, and scraping together a couple of bags of personal belongings, before he could do anything, he leapt into a car and drove.

He drove to the only place he remembered. Central.

With enough money to secure himself a fresh apartment and a new space... Marcus settled back in. But depression and fear took hold again. Brutal reality beat him to a pulp and tossed him aside. He had no source of income. No-one to help him find Leon. No way out of here. Esparez was still controlling his life from overseas. And to add to it all? He was now a fugitive and a criminal, possibly on a number of counts of bank fraud.

Curling himself up and retracting into the shell of Marcus that had been there before, part of him just wished for the world outside to leave; but within, that deadly pragmatism the Yakuza had spawned swirled and turned. That survivor instinct he'd needed to survive. So he became strong. He put on a brave face. The world threw bills at him. The world threw boredom and depression at him.

The world threw his next-door neighbour, a chimera serial killer, at him. In truth, that... didn't go too well.

Marcus, however, has reset the slate. He's back to square one with no fresh leads. For now, he can only hope that another criminal madman comes along and burns his hope down with a job opportunity as lucrative as the other one. Leon feels as far away as ever, now; and on the surface, Marcus appears not to be sure if he'll ever get him back.

But underneath?

He knows he will.



TRIVIA:
→ Marcus has published three fictional crime adventure books, set in the dark, violent town of Ravens' Watch, a trilogy intended to be a saga; The Sound of Murder, Crowshold, and Crimson. These books are available in bookstores in Amestris, Creta, La Cerisé, Gelemorté, Drachma, and Aerugo. Before his wife's death, Marcus was planning on a Xingese import.
→ Marcus can write fluently in only Cretan and Amestrian; beyond that, his cadence and adjective knowledge begins to diminish.
→ Marcus is short-sighted.
→ Marcus is an established poet and has written over thirty poems officially published; he has a poetry anthology published, called The Frostbrook Collection. This is only published in Creta and Amestris.
→ Before becoming a writer, Marcus was a semi-professional cardshark. He still plays a mean game of Texas Hold'em, Five Card Draw, and is still pretty good at Blackjack, despite it requiring no real skill at all. He hates Canasta, for some reason.
→ Marcus can't decide on whether to brand himself a poet or a writer.
→ Marcus has lived in Esparia, Creta, and La Cerisé. He currently resides in a small apartment in Central, although he travels a lot; crossing the Creta-Amestris border can be tough, however, and as such, he doesn't see a lot of his family.
→ Marcus only carries with him notebooks, his pen, and a small silver locket which won't open, engraved with the initials 'M.S.F.' on top, his wife's.
→ Marcus becomes incredibly nervous when in a car, or around a road; even more so when on a highway/motorway. He will always refuse the proposal of driving, always opting to be a passenger. Usually takes a train, bus, etc to get around.
→ Marcus suffers from bad migraines; since his wife's death, they've only gotten worse.
→ Marcus' overall aim is to earn enough money - through whatever means - and prove his stability to social services, with the goal of eventually getting Leon IV back.
→ Marcus is in desperate need of companionship and assistance; he needs someone to take on a journey to retrieve his child, someone who he can stand by, and someone that, when three-year-old Leon Frostbrook IV is finally back with his father, the young boy can call 'Mom' again.
→ Marcus counts himself as a stoic man, only having cried twice since his turning into an adult; and even then, he was fairly dry-eyed as a kid. He won't reveal the times that they've happened, but it's presumed that they were around the times of his wife's death and his child's abduction by social services.
→ Marcus owns, but, has never fired a gun.
→ Marcus speaks Amestrian, native Cretan, accented Cerisian, Aerugese and Esparian, flawed Drachman, and typical greetings - out of courtesy - in Xingese.




ALIAS:
→ Ross/KoH

OTHER CHARACTERS:
→ Ayden Derocha, Balthazar, Zen Howler, Alastair Carson, Zach "King" Krow, Victor Dresden, Marco Falzone.

CREATOR'S COMMENTS:
→ I think I've made enough psychos for now. This is a guy with real, genuine, deep-seated emotional problems, and a true romantic. And, if you couldn't tell, this entire sign-up was inspired by +44's No, It Isn't - a beautiful song if you haven't yet heard it.
→ Level Two changes in pale purple.

I also felt that I should make someone not intended for battle; Marcus is a character whose alchemy is not intended to be lethal, or, indeed, battle-oriented, and for once, he's a guy with real, actual morals.

FACE CLAIM:

Code:

[b]DURARARA![/b]/[i]Orihara Izaya[/i]

CUSTOM RANK:
→ POETIC INJUSTICE
→ SINS OF THE FATHER

OFFICIAL TITLE:
→ Colour - The Colour Alchemist

APPROVED

After reading all that, but alchemy will be judged in a different application.

LOL. I just realized that your FC is taken. And you're so damn lucky that it's by one of my characters. I'll just pretend I didn't notice.

Really? I checked the FC list...

Ba-dump-adump. This is all et finito too, just had to make some small changes because of a slight tech hitch.

Ready for review.

APPROVED

T_T MAKOOOOOOOO