InsaneJournal

Character Background: Cynthia
Cynthia was a were-raccoon played in a New World of Darkness game from August 2009 to October 2009. I didn't go nearly as far with this character as I would have liked given that gaming group broke down into petty arguing and childish PvP.

Cynthia was... shall we say on the verge of losing her grip on humanity. She'd picked up a speech issue where she added three more verbs per verb usage than necessary. Her goal in the game was to make the uptight werewolf chase his own tail in frustration.

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My name is Cynthia. I was born in the suburbs to a standard middle-class family. My mom stayed at home because of sickness and my dad spent all his time at work to get away from her. I have siblings, one looks like the mailman and one looks like dad’s brother. I at least look like my dad.

My parents divorced when I was nine. I was old enough to sit through all the court stuffs. The judge didn’t like my mom since paternity testing said my brothers looked like the mailman and my uncle for a reason. The judge didn’t like my dad either because mom demanded the divorce when she caught dad and one of dad’s coworkers in dad’s office at work late at night. So I ended up with my mom.

I didn’t like staying with my mom. I got used to spending lots of time outside at night away from the sickness and screaming and spoiled little brothers.

I met El Gato when I was 12. I just thought he was a pretty kitty who liked following me around. I didn’t learn better for a long time.

I started stealing cars when I was 14. The first time was easy; someone was in a 7-11 and left the keys in their car with the engine running. So I got in and drove away. It was more funny than anything, watching a big fat guy with donuts shouting at me from the 7-11. I ditched the car a few blocks down and ran off; it wasn’t a shiny-pretty car. It was a stinky generic car. I prefer the shiny-pretty cars.

I remember my first change. A few months ago I’d gotten caught stealing the wrong car. I was a minor, I had no ID, and I was caught red-pawed with a shiny-pretty black camero, late 60s.

Police are mean. They paw and laugh and point and kick and punch. So I pawed and laughed and pointed and kicked and punched back. And I bit. I bit a lot. I vaguely remember running from gunshots before disappearing into the suburbs with the rest of the night-coons.

I woke up a week later from the weirdest dream. At least I thought it was a dream then. I’d thought I was a raccoon stealing cars and food and shiny-pretties. And then I saw El Gato there except he turned into a man. He says his real name is Irving Peter Daily but I know that joke so I still call him El Gato. So I call myself El Bandito. So I’m a girl and the grammar doesn’t work but I am El Bandito. El Gato lives with a little old lady. I don’t know why, he turns into a man the same way I turn into a lady. Maybe he likes the free food. I like free food. There’s lots of free food in the trash cans.

El Gato and I started stealing shiny-pretties together. He taught me how people cover their shiny-pretties with blood to make them, how their best shiny-pretties are the bloodiest. Like blood-diamonds. Those are shiny-pretty but so covered in blood it’s in the name. And their shiny-pretty cars make all the smog and tear up the land for roads and oil and metal. The stinky generic cars are better in that they don’t run on so much blood. So are some shiny-pretty cars but they’re just so shiny.

I like shiny things. I like collecting shiny things like jewels and spoons and cars and shiny. I think it’s funny to steal things as a raccoon, people are so confused. They forget raccoons have hands too. Mean people don’t think you can be people unless you’re mean. I can be people too, I have hands and am smart and I can be mean if I have to.

I like vengeance. I like making people pay for crimes they’ve done. I know it doesn’t make sense but think about it, all the shiny-pretties that people keep and steal and kill for, they’re stealing and killing and hurting for them. So by removing the shiny-pretties from the mean people I’m making them pay for being mean. I’m a teacher like that, I teach the mean people that their shiny-pretties are on loan until the blood spilled on the shiny-pretties is washed away. And people never know how to clean the blood off the shiny-pretties.

Police are mean. The mean people who kick at me when I’m in their trash cans are mean. My mom is mean. The kids at school who bullied me before I stopped going are mean.

El Gato says I’m ready to go out on my own, that I don’t need his guidance all the time anymore. I’ll miss him always there but he says if I have to I can come to him for help. And to say hi and enjoy the free food.