Board Thread:Citizenship Applications/@comment-24743498-20150420231214

Character Name: Kotone

Bender Type: Nonbender

Age: 13

Appearance:

Personality: Kotone suffers from dissociative identity disorder and a mild case of schizophrenia. Due to the schizophrenia, her mind is often in a messy jumble. This makes it hard for her to focus on things. Her schizophrenia often causes her to hallucinate and to hear soft voices in her head. When she’s not suffering from her schizophrenia, she actually is quite attentive.

Sometimes, Kotone is very quiet, to the point where one might think she’s mute. She handles situations shyly and does not wish to draw attention to herself. She’s very vulnerable and sensitive and as such, she puts up walls constantly. Due to her walls, Kotone will act very apathetic. When acting this way, she’s actually quite observant and calculating in her thoughts.

Other times, when one brings out Kotone’s violent side, she’s a beserker of sorts, going on quite the rampage. Her mind goes wild, seeking out anything that could be perceived as a threat. Kotone is very jittery and energetic as this personality, and she’s rather talkative as opposed to her other personality. Kotone’s actions truly are most unpredictable in this violence-oriented personality.

History: I’m not perfect. In fact, I’ve been told I’m a mistake my entire life. I was born because of a one night stand, and my mother never let me forget it. She’d never cared about. Can I blame her? No, not really. Truth was, she had quite the life going for her before I came along. She enjoyed writing and playing music. She was on tour in the Earth Republic, but having a child put a stop to that pretty quickly. She had to settle in the Earth Republic, for she could not afford a ticket to home. She had to sell everything relating to her musical career. She blamed me for her misery. I still remember the nights. Beating after beating, day after day, wishing all day she wouldn’t have much to drink. I couldn’t handle it.

I took solace in my stuffed bunny. He was my only friend. Sometimes he’d talk to me. Sometimes his friends would talk to me. His friends talk to me a lot, actually. I hear them in my head very often. Anyways, my stuffed bunny, whom I named Arata, was the reason why I sorta ran away. I was 9 at the time, and the beatings were getting worse. I still was comforted by Arata daily. I started to think I could be okay with my life. Oh, how wrong I was.

My mother turned her fire on Arata one night. I was still a mere 9 year old. She was cooking dinner, and I asked her if I could have the leftovers. She called me spoiled and took Arata, whom I had been holding. That monster took a kitchen knife and began cutting Arata all over. I winced and flinched in response. Then, she made a fatal mistake. She began to cut Arata’s head off! Built up rage over the years suddenly broke loose. I grabbed the knife, and, in a complete adrenaline rush, I repeatedly stabbed my own mother. “YOU CAN’T HURT HIM!” I yelled as I stabbed her, over and over. I didn’t stop when she dead. I mutilated her corpse. Her face was unrecognizable, her body was intensely disfigured.

I breathed heavily for the next few moments. I then picked up my sliced-up, blood-stained stuffed rabbit and ran. To where? I wasn’t sure. All I had was Arata. I did some amateur stitching and washed him a little. I was given food from people on the streets for reasons unknown to me, but I ate. I lived this way for 2 weeks. Eventually, somebody even took me to an orphanage. I was adopted a week later for being “so cute.” These people were the exact opposite of my mother. They were caring, compassionate, and supportive. I grew tired of it in a single month. On my 10th birthday, I killed all of them. I cursed myself for the monster I was becoming. I sat in the corner, holding Arata in my hands. The voices were really loud, but I still couldn’t make out what they were telling me. I felt lightheaded and fainted.

I came to to find myself in a small room. I lay in a bed, and...Arata was gone! I cried out in agony for my dear stuffed rabbit. A nurse eventually came to my aid and asked what was wrong. I explained my problem to her. She explained that the toy, as she called it, was a possible source to stimulate my mental deficiency. She explained they would give it back as soon as they noticed some improvements in my condition. I dismissed her and cried myself to sleep that night. I’d never felt like such a mistake in my life.

3 years I stayed in that asylum, “improving” my condition. I counted the days away. Every day was just like the last. Reassurance that I was doing so well and a few misleading promises of hope. They had finally given me Arata a week prior, and I finally started to feel connected to myself again. They noted my deteriorating position, and, instead of taking my rabbit away, they sent me away to be transferred to another, higher quality asylum by train. I packed my things and left that horrid asylum. I still had no hope in my mind, however. All that awaited me was misery and pain in this new “home.” I looked down at my dear rabbit Arata one last time on the train ride. I knew they would separate us again. I knew.

Character Alignment: Neutral Evil 