Name: ----------

Alias: Mijime Kumon

Age: 17

Personality: He is blase most of the time, leaving no hint of sympathy or of caring any. He stares into space and thinks to himself alot, mostly about death, how it will come to him, if it will come to him. He always seems to not be in the same room when someone talks to him, even though his body is still there. Most of the time, he will draw at random, sometimes, when he see's someone new, he will draw them in a standing position or just their face. It literally depends on the time.

Appearance: He wears a black uniform like outfit where the only difference is a small incision in each sleeve that has three buttons for where it attached, they are left unbuttoned to increase moveablity. He stands at an even 5'11" and is not fairly muscular, but quite agile. He has white hair and eyes, his eyes have a slight black line around the iris of his eye and has a black pupil. His right arm has a red tribal-like tattoo going down it.

Character type: human

Housing: Apartments, two bed, two bath, kitchen, livingroom, recreation area.

Item list: he carries a backpack-like sidebag that carries things like pencils, erasers, pens, a sketch diary and small bottles of ink with a few calligraphy pens. He has a wallet, with a chain attached to his belt loop, along with a pocket watch with a skull in the center of it. He carries, exactly, 700 dollars with him at all times.

Biography: He had always been an orphan. Most people had gossiped about this, stared at him even, just to relise that he was different than most people. He had never fit in, he had never had friends, just enemies. Mijime hated his life ever since he could think, many people tortured and teased him simply for the fact of being alone. He hated being this way, and has tried to stay from physical contact of people. This failed miserably and he continued his life alone, and ignored. He lived in desolation for years after being skipped several grades ahead of the people he hated, only to find more people he hated. This continued until he was 14, He had successfully gone through highschool and didn't go to college for he merely hated school, and didn't want to see anyone else.

Three years passed and he finally left his apartment for things other than essentials. He had gotten bored with the close space, and he didn't want to do anything else there besides live there, he didn't want to spend his entire time there.
Over the years he had drawn to occupy his time, his walls were full of his drawings of people he had seen, things, places. The one thing he couldn't draw, were his parents, he couldn't remember them at all, and this is what drived him to tearing up every attempt he made to draw them.