Calibras_748
Legacy Name: Calibras_748

"I existed from all eternity and, behold, I am here; and I shall exist till the end of time, for my being has no end." - Kahlil Gibran

"You are my son, Cal. Never forget that."

Despite hearing these words often, Cal, also known as Calibras, also-also known as X309, knew he was not the son of Mr. James Pritchard. He was a construct of brass, copper and gears - not to mention the thick cables that served as hair, or the glass bits that protected the tiny lamps that served as his eyes. Or, even, the leather that was stretched over parts of his delicate metal frame, acting as a protective "skin". Any way you looked at it, Calibras was not human, nor would he ever be.

"I care so very much for you. You are my son. I love you."

Mrs. Pritchard had died some ten years earlier, in childbirth, at the age of twenty. She took their infant son with her. Distraught, the famous inventor, James Pritchard, took to heavy drinking for six months. Eventually, he knew he needed to move on - though his grief still remained. Rather than search for a new wife, a new wife who could give him a new child, he decided to skip straight to making that new child. And, eighteen months after the simultaneous deaths of his wife and child, he did indeed finish creating that child. Calibras was activated on March 9th, 1901.

"Cal, no! You can't do that; it'll hurt you."

His new son had his limits, of course. There would be no father-son fishing trips; water could severely damage Calibras' delicate inner workings. There would be no birthday dinners, no trips to the ice cream parlour, no Sunday roasts; Calibras, as a non-human construct, had no need for nourishment. Eating and drinking only caused complications that required hours of cleaning.

"Calibras . . . I'm sorry. I should have told you. I'm dying. Do you know what that means? What it means, to die? No . . . I suppose you don't. I'm sorry, my son. I'm sorry."

Calibras would never grow old, and would never die. The construct had little understanding of any human emotion, to be honest. Calibras had heard of love, of course - had "Father" not repeatedly, over the course of nearly fifty years, declared how much he loved his creation? But what exactly was love? Why could Calibras not express this? Tears had began to well up in the eyes of Pritchard, but Calibras was as dry as a bone.

James Pritchard died on a Sunday morning, May of 1950. He was eighty years old, and Calibras was his only "living" relative. The funeral was a lonely one, and the only one who showed could not even shed a tear for the man that had brought it into being. Sadly, because Calibras was a non-living entity, and therefore did not matter, the bank took the Pritchard residence; the robot was left to wander the streets.

Four years later, Calibras happened to be walking across from a cinema. Parents and their young children were waiting in line - some patiently, others not quite so much. The film being advertised was a re-issue of Walt Disney's Pinocchio. Calibras remembered the story - Pritchard had read the original tale to the mechanical child years ago. Shoulders creaking as they pulled into a shrugging motion, Calibras crossed the street, and stood in line.

Something about the film had made Calibras wonder - was it possible, as it was for the little wooden Pinocchio, for his mechanical body to turn organic? Could Calibras, the eternal child, finally find a way to join in on the human experience? Learn to love, learn to cry . . . And, maybe . . . die? Was it obtainable? In a world where vampires, werewolves, and other monsters existed . . . Could this robotic wonder someday aspire to become human?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifty-seven years later . . .

"Hello, my name is Cal Pritchard. I would like to ask about your ad in the paper - the room for rent? No, it will be for me. My age? One hundred and ten. I assure you, sir, this is not a joke. Yes, I have some money. I do not work - people will not hire me, they think I am too young. Of course, they also do not realise that I have been around since before they were conceived." Calibras paused, now relatively annoyed. "Mr. McClintock, I re-assure you, this is not a joke. My birthdate? Ninth March. Nineteen-oh-one. If you do not believe me, I can set up an appointment to meet with you - in person? Is tomorrow afternoon suitable? Yes? Wonderful. I look forward to meeting you; I think you will be surprised."

He pressed the 'off' button on the phone, and sighed heavily. People never believed him when he mentioned his age - and how could he blame them? He entered the little shop's bathroom, and looked himself over the mirror. Copper-colored curls clung to his head delicately; nobody would guess that they had been wire cable as little as five decades ago. His skin was a light bronze tone; most assumed he tanned artificially - but in truth, it was completely natural, and had been for the past fifty years or so. Eyes with irises the colour of the amber lamps they had once been looked back at him, still bright and inquisitive.

Calibras had gotten his wish; he finally knew what it was like to be human. Now if only that stupid fairy would have realized he would have liked to be able to age as well. Thanks to the sprite taking his request literally, Calibras was human, but regretfully, still ageless:

He was one-hundred-and-ten years old, in the body of a ten-year old boy.

Name: Calibras Pritchard
Alias: Cal, X309
Age: 110 (see Special)
Birthdate: 9th March (Pisces)
Gender: Male (see Special)
Sexuality: N/A
Species: Anyu Construct
Height: 5'1
Build: 31kg/68lb; stocky
Nationality: English
Language(s): English (fluent, preferred)
Special: Calibras was not born, he was created. He was activated on the ninth of March, 1901. However, in 1961, he accomplished the transition to near-humanity (barring mortality). He now appears the same as any other young boy, however, he will never age, or - possibly - never die.

Hairstyle: Short curls that cling close to his head.
Haircolour: Coppery-brown
Eyes: Amber
Skintone: Lightly bronzed (naturally so - slightly resembling tanned leather)
Marking(s): Serial number (X309) on left ankle; as a construct, this had been etched into the leather that acted as a protective skin - upon becoming human, the mark remained. Calibras can easily hide this by wearing socks at all times.
Tattoo(s): N/A
Piercing(s)/Jewelry: Wears a cog-shaped pendant on a thin silver chain around his neck; possibly a reminder of his origins.
Fashion: Despite living in 21st-century London, Calibras seems to like wearing period clothing; he wears a black, cotton newsboy cap, and a starched-and-ironed, white, collared button-down shirt underneath either a black or dark brown vest (either way, the buttons are brass). Despite covering his torso as though it's still the Roaring 20s, he prefers black jeans and brown-and-white sneakers.
Other: N/A


Personality: Calibras is a shy and sweet "young" man. Very wise despite his appearance, Cal can sometimes seem a little too precocious for some people. He's very quiet when it concerns his past existence - though he will elaborate somewhat for those curious enough to ask (however, where it concerns the process, it's best to just accept the notion of a fairy, and move on). Despite living a human life for the past forty years, things still tend to catch him by surprise - with the exception of technology. Perhaps it's due to his origins, but the eternally-ten-year-old boy has quite the skill with machines and electronics.
Enjoys: Machines, animated films, electronics, classical music, ethnic food
Despises: Water, sticky foods, being treated as a child

Mother: N/A
FatherCreator: James Pritchard (deceased)
Brother(s): N/A
Sister(s): N/A
Lover: N/A
Friend(s): Kellian

Located: Calibras has never been outside of London
Roommate(s):
Occupation(s): N/A


Profile by Jen