Information

Dehvin has a minion!

Bufe the Souva

Dehvin
Legacy Name: Dehvin

The

Twilight Tigrean
Owner: Vara

Age: 18 years, 10 months, 2 weeks

Born: May 2nd, 2007

Adopted: 18 years, 10 months, 2 weeks ago (Legacy)

Adopted: May 2nd, 2007 (Legacy)

Nominate Pet for Spotlight

Statistics

Level: 4
Strength: 13
Defense: 10
Speed: 12
Health: 11
HP: 11/11
Intelligence: 2
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

In spite of being only seventeen Dehvin has enough perspective to realise he'd not had the worst childhood ever, but that doesn't make things any better either.

His mother had been brought up on drug charges but was given clemency for the sake of the child growing in her belly. The deal offered was a good one; if she entered a programme and got 'cleaned up' the city would pay to help her start over new and teach her how to care for her baby, even train her for a job. Her attorney agreed for her but she slipped out of the detox facility early. A Good Samaritan called for an ambulance a few weeks later; she had gone into labour on a sidewalk. Stoned out of her mind and giving birth to an equally addicted son she managed to mumble a name for him, but didn't stay long enough to see him the next day.

Dehvin's first days of life were spent breaking a severe opium dependence. Nurses and volunteers coddled him and did what they could to give comfort him. It really wasn't until he came down off of and got over it that he opened his eyes enough for anyone to notice that he had cat's eyes.

Therians were not unheard of, in fact most medical schools were not only instructing their graduates how to identify and in general deal with such cases but were offering specialisations for this new group of 'genetic abnormalities'. Being able to get medical care, didn't mean he could get much else though. As an 'opium addicted baby' he appealed to a certain group of people, all wishing to save the child and give it a wonderful new life. He was fostered out to a very kind couple who did raise him well, for a few years. Then his ears and tail showed. Eyes are one thing, but a toddler who knocks things over with his tail, gets it stepped on, hears too much and throws a literal hissy-fit at bath time, was too much.

He was able to bring out or hide his rounded cat's ears and supple, furred tail, along with claws and slight fangs as he got older. For a time he did try to hide the traits which people found so disagreeable. But that was only after he got old enough to understand what it was about himself that was so unacceptable. By then he was too old to stand a good chance of adoption and the agency which had custody of him looked more toward long term foster care. Between stays with real families in real homes Dehvin was sent to an orphanage with other children who hadn't been adopted, most for behaviour 'issues'.

They made his life hell as soon as the older kids figured out that they could force him to change by beating him enough, or forcing his head underwater--any serious physical threat worked. Dehvin brought out claws and little fangs but being so much smaller and younger he couldn't really protect himself. The adults who supervised and monitored could not watch all the time, and some tended to turn a blind eye to the 'minor' things which made him reluctant to trust they'd help at all.

As he got older, so did the children who beat him up. Dehvin was moved to a group-home for teens when he entered high school. He was much younger than the others living there and while some were there because they, like him, hadn't been accepted into a family, some were in the communal style 'home' as part of their parole from juvenile detention. He knew they'd kill him, if he didn't get out. It took a lot of dealing, ferocious studying to make perfect marks at school and a sympathetic social worker or two who thought he could be one of the 'success stories' but he managed to get authorisation. He has to keep up his grades, maintain a safe, clean apartment and a job, but with frequent and random 'home checks' he was allowed out on his own.

The job he got was a night one, something that allowed him to attend classes and get enough money without having to try going entirely without sleep. Digging graves in the old cemetery is a job some of his fellow students find creepy, others think it's cool. The cemetery itself had been there before the current metropolis had even been officially declared a town. From overhead the grave stones make curving looping patterns, from ground level they're a confusing maze. Each new grave must be dug by hand since a backhoe or other equipment wouldn't be able to navigate the narrow, twisting paths. One of many gravediggers, Dehvin is assigned between one and three holes a night, a GPS unit to find the right spots and the faster he gets the task done the sooner he can go home to bed.

Most days he's too tired to bother with fighting and pushing his way through the halls just to run home. Somewhere between the end-of-school-bell and starting another grave he has to sleep, eat and do his homework. Nearing the crosswalk his attention is caught by a car's door opening. Thinking someone is about to step out he stops walking so they don't collide, and that's when he notices there's nobody sitting there, just some guy--a Therian--leaning across and staring at him. The guy offers...orders?--well the guy wants him to get in at any rate. About to tell the guy to go get creative with himself, because who the hell hops into some stranger's car? he pauses again. The guy's eyes... They aren't grey, they're silver, like tinfoil or mercury. Freakish, but somehow...familiar. He knows those eyes. He knows them and he trusts them. The guy sits back up and before he can drive off Dehvin hurries to get in, pulling the door shut and shoving his bag down on top of his feet. "Where're we headed?" he asks.