Evan Marshall Tudor

From Changeling Venue

Seeming	Fairest Draconic
Court	Spring Court ••••
Freehold
Player	Richard RicBlasko@aol.com

1 Overview
- 1.1 Pawn
2 History
3 Associations & Associates
- 3.1 The_Family
4 Character Inspirations
5 Soundtrack
6 Quotes
7 Said about Evan
8 Rumors

Ms. Wheel's secretary and bodyguard hard at work.

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Overview

Alias(es):

Real Name: Evan Tudor

Location: Cincinnati, Ohio and Northern Kentucky

Age: 27

Seeming: Fairest

Kith: Draconic

Court: Spring

Virtue: Hope

Vice: Lust

Concept:

Physical description Mein: Pointed Ears, Ice Blue Serpent Eyes, Long Fire Red Hair, Pointed Talons for Finger Nails.

Relevant Mechanics:

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Pawn

1-A chessman of the lowest value: it can be moved only forward and one square at a time (or two squares on its first move), but it captures with a diagonal move
2-A person used to advance another's purposes; tool

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History

A Night Out

I look in the mirror and ice blue eyes look back at me, the reptilian pupils shift from side to side. I fix my glasses on my face, and think, “It would be nice if I didn’t need these anymore” I raise my hand so fingertips can touch the side of my face. Weathered as it is, I am still pretty. If life had not been so hard, maybe I would look a little better. I cannot complain about how I look really, but just what if? I shake my hair lose again, and let the long strands in front of my face bob up and down. With a lopsided grin, I push it back again and tilt my head. Flaming red hair parted in the middle falls down along both sides of my shoulders. Really, of all things, fire hair, I mean come on what was the Hedge thinking.

I fix my rings and reach for my trench coat. Well a white trench coat is what everyone else will see, what the Lost will see is a white dragon scaled coat. You would almost not even think I am a Fairest of the Spring Court at this point. I start to drift back to standing in a pit, looking at one of the Beasts; I feel my breath grow stiff as I suck in air. Just like I did that night. Blinking I clear my mind, I do not want to have a flash back right now. I will let those come to me later. Nevertheless, the look on that lizard person’s face, those eyes that looked so much like mine. Forget it, I mean this wont be the last time something about me can be confused with something else. The white coat, the red hair, damnit if I didn’t look like I was in the wrong court or a different seeming some times. That is the price you pay I guess for being something else. Good thing I didn’t turn out as one of the glowing night light fucking Fairest.

I take a side look into the mirror and see my pointed ears peek out from my hair, and smile again. Okay, some things I like. Good thing they didn’t come out like Vulcan ears, or I would have to march back to Fairy land and kick someone’s ass.

I walk out and jump in the car. Some things I will never take for granted again, and driving is one of them.

I get to the club, and do not even pause for the bouncer to check me out. I'm here for one reason only. Now I've thought about gift wrapping one of these people and sending them as a gift to my old employers, but then that would be wrong. Like an insult maybe. Either way, I see my prey as she dances. Her hair flies about as she twirls and spins. I drift back again, and twitch. Muttering, “No, it can't be Fiona, she’s dead” I walk forward with a smile.

She looks up at me, I tilt my head “May I have this dance?” no need to be rude and demand it of her, and it is not as if she will say “no” anyway. Then she does it, that glance over her shoulder. Great, I was hoping I was just enough to make her forget about anyone she might be with, I so did not want to deal with her friends on a "girls night out".

I look up, ready for it, and then I see who she was looking at. Not a friend, but a boyfriend stomping his drunken ass over. I sigh, “Great” another muscle bound, frat boy. I raise my hands with a smile. “Look, didn't know she was with someone.” He doesn't care, and his two friends are walking up with him. Good. The regulars here know me, and they step back to see what happens next. I am sure a few broken hearts are cheering for those three, right now.

I watch his eyes and shoulders, all that I care about right now. Those give away so much. “Look, sorry, I'll move on”

He opens his mouth, and I know what he is going to say, it is as if everyone of these people have the same script. I am guessing they need it, I mean being one-step up from an ape, it can be hard to think up something new.

He starts “I should kick your ass, you fa…”

That’s were I stop him, I raise my hand, one finger and just say, “Hey, no need for that. But it doesn't say much, if you think only gay guys hit on your girlfriend, and why on earth are you hiding behind your two friends there?”

I think I just took it to the next level. Good. He waves back at them, and the girl steps back with a smile, happy to see people fight for her. I move my left foot forward just a little and wait.

He pulls back, and lets go with a punch from his side, that big slow fist hanging in the air in the middle of a right hook. First mistake was pissing me off, the second was pulling back to punch. Pivoting on the ball of one foot, and the heel of the other, I twist my hips and lean my back, well back. He misses, and like they all do, he puts his weight into it, putting it all into one knock out style punch. As soon as the fist passes by me, I reach out and push the back of his neck. He stumbles forward and down, head bouncing off the ground. He’s out cold. I look back to see a bouncer grabbing one of the other guys and holding him. I wave on the third, because as of right now, I am one angry Dragon. He rushes forward and punches, this one starts from back behind his head, and heads down. Really, other than drunk frat boys, who fights like this? I reach out with one hand, and as his fist come down, I take hold of his wrist lightly, and lean all the way back, pulling his arm forward, then down. Once I get it back, I loop it down, and then back at him. He flips in mid air as sails past me.

Now most of my kind would turn on the charm, or try to kick it up with some sort of magic. Not me, this is how I do it. The good old fashion way is how I do it, well when I can. As it is, all I can do right now is fight the urge to give in. To revert, back to before, in that place and time. If I do that, this won't end good. I will not stop until these people are almost dead.

By now, people are getting the idea. I guess someone should have told them I sign the paychecks around here, and no one is going to stop me, kick me out, or even say a word to me.

I wave on the last of them, and the bouncer lets him go. He reaches for a bar stool and comes right at me, like a charging rhino. No more grace and style, I step back as he starts, and mid way to me, I soccer kick him in the balls. He falls down to his knees, the stool over his head falls around his shoulders, and he curls up in a ball to cry.

The bouncers pull the three out, and toss them in the street. The girl looks at me, first upset, then almost like I had just won her as some sort of prize, and she was happy for it. I turn and walk away, leaving her pissed off that I would reject her. Who wants it, when it’s given to you? At this point, everyone here seen me take on all three of them, seen me win, and watched as all of the staff let me go. I have power, and I'm strong and good looking. The line can start to the left ladies.

As I walk past each woman that now wants my affection, I see what I really want. Sitting alone, her turtleneck sweater a little too big, her long skirt touching her ankles, a bottled water, and thick framed glasses. Her long brown hair falls forward as she looks down, trying to avoid being noticed by anyone. Someone thought it was a good idea to bring this mousey little bookworm out and see if she would open up. Mousey, I like that. Maybe I should see if I can get little, round, velvet, mouse ears on her. Maybe even paint her nose black, and add little whisker lines.

I stop right in front of her and smile, offering her my hand. I know she wont let me buy her a drink, but I can at least offer to take her somewhere less noisy than this club dance floor. Offer her some cheese maybe, well at least a little snack, and somewhere less loud and flashy.

I take her upstairs to a private room of mine. By the end of the hour, she will be facing the wall, arms chained high, begging me to stop as I whip and fuck her. By the second hour, she will be begging me not to stop. By the end of the night she will be loving it as the sweat rolls down her naked body. By next week she will be back here, having men pay her way in, buying her drinks, and doing as she orders, but I will know, as will she, that all she will really want is one more night with me. I'll make this lovely little thing into something more, I'll turn this mouse into a lioness. She will not be who I am looking for in the end, none of them are, really. None of the power, the cruel streak, the love that is only given by someone to a pet. Nor can any of them ever be that big tender monster, with a shiny toy to pet and hug. Or that sneaky, scary type of sexy that makes you scared what they will do to you, but scared of what you will be missing if you do not give in. I'll cast this little girl off, and she will hate me for it, but love what I turned her into. She may even want to try and break me. I'll love her tonight, love her like no one else has, and she will fall in love with me, like no one else before or after me. In the end, I will feel bad that I hurt her, but I will get over it. I did after all leave her better than when I found her. I'm thinking I like this one, just enough, that she should get a tattoo to remember me by. If anything, I take plenty of pictures to remember her by, as I do all of the girls that pass through my life.

I look at my watch and think, “Damnit” it’s late, and Catherine might need something in the morning. I should get a few hours sleep before morning.

Current Activities:

He stands. The wind picks up around him as he thinks "For Christ's sake, it's Spring, why the hell is it snowing? Well, that's Cincinnati for you." He closes his eyes, for only a second, and the shivering stops. He has gotten used to the cold by now. He turns and looks in to the window of his car. The reflection that looks back is so different. Of course the others can't see it. The people that pass him on the street always give him another look. Sometimes he hears the "so pretty" or "yum" as they walk by. That's not what is on his mind right now. They can't see his eyes like he sees them. His blue eyes look back, and he sees the cold blue serpent's eyes star back. Ice blue. Cold. Hard.

With a deep breath he pulls his hair back, red to the rest of the world, but the shade of a bright fire to him..to him and the others like him. He drops his hair thinking better about pulling it back. It's not that he doesn't like to see the pointed ears hiding under his hair. He tells himself it's just because of the "cold wind on his neck."

He is happy with what he is. Just not by the fact he has to hide it. With a slight turn of his head his neck cracks. He reaches into his pocket and pulls on a cigarette. With a glance to the talons where his finger nails should be, he lights up and takes a deep breath.

His white coat thrashes in the wind, but he looks on. He doesn't mind driving her around. He enjoys looking after her, but deep down he doesn't feel trusted. With a slight huff he mumbles under his breath "just another body taking up space."

Turning, he leans back onto his Mercedes. It's his car, but he is the driver sometimes. Not really the go to guy, they have someone else for that. Not really the muscle either. They have a few people for that. Not the "brains" the "reason" or anything else. Trusted enough to be let lose with his own goals and means to reach them at least. Just not cared about enough for anyone to bother asking if he is doing something stupid.

With a sigh and a glance in the window again. Not even as pretty as some of the others of his "type". More rugged he guesses.

"That's life" It always seems he is talking to himself as of late. Does anyone really care what he is up to? Maybe being a loner for so long did effect him, maybe this was all in his head, and the hate and love he felt now for his friends was just a passing thing with the season. With a sigh "if I could cry, I would."

Looking up he sees them walk back to the car talking and chattering away. Smirking and making a playful comment about keeping them warm on a cold day like this, he opens the back door to the car to let them in.

He stands over the coffee pot waiting for it to do whatever it is it does to make the coffee. Smiling he laughs a little. He never did care much for how things worked, just that they did what they needed to do. Maybe it was how he was raised. Maybe it was what the Marine Corp trained him to think in the little time he spent there.

He thinks back of that pretty Fiona, and how it was his fault she died, but shakes it off. He's done worse things in his life. Any peace is broken by the yelling behind him. Those two girls never get along. He adores one more than he would anyone else, and the other. She is just like him, only less prone to fist fights. Could be why they do not get along as much. That or it could be him. "Most likely me" he thinks as he puts his coffee cup under the machine. "Should have gone to Starbucks." Looking over his shoulder he looks at the girls as they part for different parts of the house. One so pretty it makes his heart jump, the other so sweet at times, yet so cold. She's the one that matters to him. The one he would die for. If only she would smile. The other he just likes to make smile when he can. It's nice when she smiles. So pretty, and sweet.

Drinking down the coffee he looks out the window in the kitchen. The newspaper read and folded at his side. His breakfast half eaten. "I need to sleep more. Maybe tomorrow I will sleep in. Just 15 minutes. It will be nice" rolling his eyes at the thought of 15 minutes being such a gift. At least the girls stop bitching at each other.

Tilting his head he listens for the others. Can never hear that sneaky little fellow move around, but worth the try. He could be in here, eaten, and left without a sound. He is a little to bossy at times, but that's just him. The big man himself is somewhere, mostly likely pissed at all the fighting going on this morning.

With a shrug and one last drink of the worst coffee ever made he turns and goes about cleaning up the kitchen. Not that it takes much, some fast food bags, and silverware. "I wonder who does the dishes here?" with another smile, and some cheer he thinks about it. Maybe the big man himself in an apron doing dishes. That would be a sight. "Maybe I should spend a full night here and see how it happens myself."

With a thought he remembers his friend, the little Darkling girl with a wicked streak. She wont call back, they never do when they have their fun. "And boy was it fun." Shaking it off, he goes back to wiping the table down. She made him feel wanted, even if it was as an object, for that weekend. "Maybe I can go see..No best not." her face fills his mind, and he remembers the last two times he seen her. Once she was a basket case, the other time she all but ignored him for someone else. "Well there is..No" the prettiest of them all. The one he felt he could relate to more than anyone else..she didn't even know he was alive.

Looking at the clock "I'll take an early out..I have a nice lonely bed waiting on me" and with a shrug he wonders back out to his car. "Let's see if they even notice I am gone" They never do.

He looks up, and sighs. An arm moves to cross his body as the red hair from the tiny girl shifts to rest on his chest. What was her name again? It's so hard to keep all these names straight at times. Better yet he thinks "Who's home did they go back to?" With a glance he notices her stuffed unicorn in the corner, and relaxes, he didn't bring this one back home with him. Still what was it with grown women and stuffed animals?

Sliding out from under her to the edge of the bed, he sits. Looking around and stretching a little "This would be a nice place to wake up every morning." Looking back at the girl as she curls up a little, tugging at the covers, hair matted to the side of her head. "I could enjoy having a normal life here with her..whatever her name is."

Standing, he gets dressed, pulling his hair back before tossing his jacket over his shoulder. With a look out the window "I know this street from somewhere" he goes down the hall to the kitchen. No use waking the girl up while he desides if he will stay here and abandoned his "family" or leave this girl. Maybe he can juggle the two he thinks. Then again, the others would want to much of his free time, she would want to meet his "friends" sooner or later. It would get odd. Best to think about it over coffee or something. He checks to make sure the palm sized gun is safely in his pocket.

While standing over the sink, cigarette in one hand, one of those cold bottled coffee drinks in the other, he hears a woman's voice. "So you came back, I've been waiting for months, I missed you so much"

He jumps more from suprise than anything. That voice, he has heard it before. Now it's so fully of joy, pure, love and joy. Turning to look..she stands there an older woman..well older than him...his heart sinks and mind races "This has to be a bad dream, or a poorly written sitcom" She's in her mid 30s, but to pretty for her own good. Curved in just the right places, her hair short and bobbed. Standing there in an old robe. He looks at the woman with a smile, then at the pictures past her on the wall and closes his eyes, trying not to but failing when the word "shit" slips past his lips in a whisper. No wonder that street looked familiar. He has been here before...with the mother of the girl he just woke up next to. "Damn damn God damn, what is with my luck?"

With a smile, he walks up to the woman and kisses her cheek softly, trying to think of a way to get out of this mess quickly. "You know I had to come back sooner or later, how could I stay away from you?"

Catching her eyes "I will be around from time to time. I just needed to tell you that. But you wont have to wait on me.." He was going to destroy this woman, and her daughter..and worse of all, he liked one of them, and felt bad about doing both. "I need to go. But I want your number, so I can call you later, and we can go out again" not that he would know which one answered the phone. Damnit.

Leaving her there full of joy, he slips around the house to the girls bedroom, cracking the window open he leaves her a note to call him later. And to not tell her mother about him. If he could cry, he would sob right now. Kissing her cheek and leaving out the window before she can wake, he leaves again. Her mother in the living room, still bouncing and laughing. So happy to find her "true love" again. Damn.

As the car pulls into the driveway of the large house full of "family" he parks. With a glance he thinks of what is in the glove box. Thinking it over, he opens the little door to pull out the handgun, and thumbs it. Sighing he slips the barrel into his mouth and thinks as his thumb moves over the hammer, and his finger pets the trigger. "No" he puts the gun away and gets out of the car. Time to put on a brave face for his wonderful Queen, the crazy and sexy little Pasley, and the others. What does it matter anymore? He thinks of the crazy one"What was it they said in that movie? Look but don't touch, Touch but don't tast, Tast but don't swallow. I swear, that was written for this girl" With a laugh he goes up to the house. "Maybe tomorrow I can work on some of that sewing I was going to do."

As the door opens and he walks in, he is all smiles. Warm, loving and happy. Not a care in the fucking world.

Merit Details: Striking Looks 4, Court Goodwill (Winter) 3, Barfly

Background: Tricked his way past the Hedge. Kept for Gladiatorial Combat. Was forced back through the Hedge. Fills his time now with sex and violence. Sometimes both at the same time.

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