Information

Dilapidated has a minion!

Fleabag the Shriffles

Dilapidated
Legacy Name: Dilapidated

The Graveyard Manchu

Owner: kitsche

Age: 14 years, 4 months, 3 weeks

Born: November 27th, 2009

Adopted: 14 years, 4 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: November 27th, 2009

Pet Spotlight Winner
January 21st, 2015

Statistics

• Level: 12
   
• Strength: 26
   
• Defense: 24
   
• Speed: 19
   
• Health: 28
   
• HP: 28/28
   
• Intelligence: 34
   
• Books Read: 34
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

Dilan Cassidy Beauregard, as he was christened by his hypocritically pious mother, is a volatile young man whose greatest achievement in life is finding a relatively-safe place to lay his head at night. The product of a drunken one-night stand, a mistake, Dilan was raised primarily by his nymphomaniac mother - although to say that his upbringing was a touch unorthodox would be a massive understatement. However, when she went missing on her son's fourteenth birthday, he was passed along to his unwilling biological father, who had, in the years absent from Dilan's life, had created a family for himself. Surprisingly, Dilan bonded with his new, six-year old half brother, Turpentyne, extremely well - much to his stepmother's chagrin.

Unfortunately for them all, Dilan fell in with the wrong crowd in school and, through a series of awkward coincidences, met one Murphet Du Maurier. Alike so many others before him ( as well as those after him ) he was quickly whisked away by the criminal overlord under the pretence that he would help Dil find his long-absent mother. As time went by, and Dil was suckered into living with a man who he gradually realised had lied to him from the very start, the teenager was coerced into doing Murphet's bidding- the increasingly inhumane acts slowly weathered down Dilan's morals and, to a lesser extent, his own opinion of people - most likely to his new found boss' love for dabbling in things that most certainly weren't supposed to be dabbled in. When exposed to that kind of lifestyle for any length of time, it's fairly hard to look at people in the same way.

His life as Murphet's plaything came to an abrupt end when he discovered that he was being used for a certain experimentation on the part of the Unseelie Court of which Murphet belonged; cursed, as many a mortal happened upon by the fae find themselves. Unfortunately for Dilan, the plan went to term - and the teenager found himself catapulted into a life of something significantly less than human. This, of course, was the breaking point for the youngster; fleeing from his boss, and therefore his home, he found himself without a place to go. His 'family' had declared him as dead publicly not a year after his disappearance, holding a brief remembrance ceremony shortly afterwards - his father wore the madatory black suit, stepmother sobbed prettily, and his younger half brother balled his fists by the graveside: mother, of course, was absent as always - and his time with Du Maurier had changed him; long gone were the days where he had played with his younger brother in the park, without a care - how could he return to that, with all this weight on his conscience and the hunger in his belly? To the monster in him - the new creature he had become - flesh was flesh; family had no place in its mind.

It wasn't until much later that Dilan ventured back to the residence of Murphet Du Maurier, the confusion and despair driving him towards the only man who held the answers. He had seemed pleased to see him - proud, eerily so, Dilan had thought; proud like a craftsman admiring his work. It made him nervous - scared in a way he hadn't felt for a long time. Sitting in Murphet's lavish parlour, awkwardly leaning against a plush velvet throw-cushion - a joke: some higher power must surely be laughing at him - Murphet had calmly explained over a glass of expensive pinot grigio that yes, Dilan was infact a zombie, although he was the only subject to retain any semblance of humanity - what had happened to the other 'subjects' that the fiendish man's tone of voice implied, Dilan did not want to know and did not dare ask. Murphet told him tales of botched science- of how his brain had maintained its fully functioning anterior cingulate cortex; how this tiny but significant fact had allowed him to keep his 'humanity', to still be himself even with the hunger coursing through every fibre of his being. Dilan sat in silence, painfully aware that his heart was beating in hollow thuds that failed entirely to make his blood circulate: so, his brain worked - what of it? Was it really better, being able to think like a human as he sunk his teeth into soft flesh?

Instead, Dilan chose to the life of a vagabond, regularly flitting from squat to squat. He finds himself suited to living rough - his brush with the notorious crime boss had toughened him up, to say the least - and his talent for thievery means he very rarely goes hungry (though the real hunger is rarely sated). Nevertheless, he is a stoic creature, choosing to distance himself from other people rather than seek company. When faced with a particularly strong emotion, he becomes overwhelmed - he has been known to get violent due to abrupt bursts of anger. A psychologist might attribute this perhaps to some form of manic depression, or even bipolar disorder - Dilan, however, avoids such labels. He is what he is, after all - and he's learned the hard way that no matter how hard you hope, no matter what stars you wish on, there is no rewind button; he is a monster, and monsters do not have therapists.