Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight
Five foot six and an appropriate weight to match, despite his flashy name, Mesmer is really nothing special. Boasting a slim yet athletically toned frame, Mesmer fits in the category of people who are tougher than they look. There are faint scarring in various parts of his legs and sides by his ribcage, but most of these don’t stand out in particular. His usual clothes are casual, practical, and comfortable mixed, shirts that are breathable, cargo pants that fit well and offer utility with deep pockets, and a loose, light jacket purple in color to provide a splash of color. He tends to wear black gloves along with whatever he’s wearing. Most people are barred from seeing his face, as a purple and white mask is almost constantly affixed to it. Should he reveal his face, it would look relatively youthful, with average features and purple eyes. His hair is a messy array of untamed blonde locks.
Natural: Enhanced senses, enhanced durability.
Enhanced Speed: Advanced.
Enhanced Strength: Advanced.
Shift: Advanced. Mesmer’s wolf form is quite average in all aspects of lycans, from height and muscles, down to the average coloring. His fur is a brown peppered, streaked, and marked in other shades of brown and gray, with a few touches of an almost blonde coloring here and there.
Born to a prolific, prestigious pack in the wild tundra of Alaska. The pack was made up of a mixture of all lycanthropes that either originated there or ended up migrating there, Mesmer born between a newly integrated female and one who’s line had always been alaskan. Mesmer was raised the same as all pups in the area, rough and tumble and learning survival skills from a young age.
As was customary for pack life, Mesmer was introduced to the allied clan of witches when he turned seven. Most of the pack worked closely as protectors to whichever witch or mage that they bonded closely with, Mesmer naturally forming a fast friendship with a female named Alessa. The girl was rougher than most females, but still gentler than Mesmer himself, and eventually, she became who he was assigned to.
Alessa had chestnut brown hair that shone almost like strands of fire in the sun, ocean blue eyes and her face was spattered in fawn brown speckles. Between learning with his packmates, Mesmer often watched her practice and hone her witch’s magic with fascination. Often after stressing out or exhausting herself, Alessa would flop onto the snow beside him, and run her delicate fingers through his rough fur. Those days were often and many, and were easily the lull in his life.
As time marched on and they grew older, Mesmer often had fights with the other members of his pack, an almost constant struggle of power dynamics, though often no hard feelings were kept, no serious injuries gained. Mesmer was a notably hot-tempered and reckless young wolf, his easy snappiness preventing him from rising too high in ranks, but also kept him from dropping too low.
Eventually, the time for his first official foray into the world outside Alaska had come. Alessa had a meeting with a contact of her family in Lorsette, and as her guard he was expected to come. The first few days passed smoothly, often resulting in him sleeping at the foot of her hotel room like an overgrown dog, though he always accompanied her to meetings in his more human form. The fourth day into their stay, as they were preparing to take news home, tragedy struck.
Rolling her wheeled suitcase behind her, Alessa and Mesmer were assaulted by the twisted visages of terrors. Hackles immediately raised, he instantly set on an assault as vicious as would be appropriate, blood filling his mouth, but ultimately, it was not enough. Through shredding flesh with his fangs, he froze as his eyes caught onto the fallen sight of a flash of red hair. Turning away to leap in her direction, the ground seemed to quake and launch beneath his paws, terrors intercepting and he crashed hard into the pavement as pain caught him in a vice-grip under an assault. His ears ringing and his vision fading, he was lost to the world of the waking.
When the wolf awakened, his head was searing in pain. Unable to remember where he was, what had happened, or what his name was, it was explained to him that some TRS agents had managed to scare off terrors that had almost killed him. He was given nothing but a small notebook in a woman’s writing, saying it was the only thing that had been salvaged aside from his mask. In messy but strangely familiar handwriting, was the word fascinate. Beneath it in smaller writing was, “also use mesmerizing, hypnotized, enthralled, or enchanted”. From this small section of words, he adopted the name Mesmer.
After spending time recovering and an unsuccessful series of events where he tried to recover clues of his identity or any memories, Mesmer showed up at the doorstep of the TRS, eventually becoming an apprentice hunter.
*Mesmer is a Leo.
*Mesmer absolutely hates his face being exposed unless he trusts the people around him. Trying to remove it or convince him to will cause irritation and possibly aggression.
*Mesmer’s actual name is Dæmon Snowblood.
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MADE BY ★MEULK