Mirun [WIP]

Human Name: Jene Clyde

Shinigami Name: Mirun [me-run]

Gender: Male

Age: 798 [appears 25]

Division: NA [probably going to recruit for one soon at the moment Not Applicable]

Rank: NA

Residence: Soul Society

Appearance: A wild mane of blue hair waves in the wind, appearing almost elf like in the spring breeze. He's handsome with effeminate features and pale skin, looking both like an insomniac and like a noble hero. His armor gleams blue in the sun, his outfit appears to be like a battlemage then some great warrior. He wears fingerless armored gloves. His lips appear blue due to malnutrition. His skin is pale and a bit peaky. His black robe, that is connected to his armor, has enchanted symbols on the trim. With long eyelashes and blue eyes he appears sad and dull.
Specific Image [which means the image represents exactly how he looks]

Spoiler:

Personality: He appears to be rather sad individual. He rather not talk to people and spends most his time on his own. Thinking, creating. He's a hardened warrior, probably due to his life in the real world. He appears heartless, lonesome and quiet. Despite these features, there are very few people who can pierce through his rather hardened exterior. But those who do, find a friendship with him very rewarding. He's loyal and trustworthy and never dishonored. It may be that he is a loner because he's forgotten how to love people. Its easy for him to forget these things when, he's lost so much.

Story:

I never really wanted to die, more or less I wanted to rot. Hide in a corner one day and never come out, until my whole body corroded and just died off. It seemed a sad way to go, but at least a better way to go. Better then to truly give up, better than sticking a gun to your head. Truth is I'm probably a coward either way. I am to stubborn to let myself wither away or even put a gun to my temple. Because if I did either one I don't think I could ever forgive myself. I was a country boy myself. The little countryside of France.

My childhood were days that I could remember waking up to the smell of hay and fresh coffee my mother would be brewing. All my brothers and sisters would come down stairs, no matter the age we poured ourselves a cup of mud [mud in this case is coffee] and we went off to help with the barn. I particularly liked the horses, strong, reliable, and smart. They always seemed so sad to me though. There they were, smart, and clever. And people only saw them as beast to ride and race.

I'll never forget my first horse, I raised him from a baby to a full born horse by my own hands. His name was Coby and I loved him a great deal. He was smart and he loved apples. If we didn't have to worry about his teeth, I would have fed him apples everyday. I always had considered my childhood quite a happy childhood. It didn't ever seem wrong to me, not wrong in any sense of the way. I never considered my parents were unhappy. I only considered that were fine.

It was when I was a teenager had my parents announced their pain. When I was only thirteen, my parents split. Mom taking me and my eldest brother to the see. It was sad saying goodbye to Coby my only friend since childhood. I understood him and he had always understood me. I found myself in a foreign city, they called it New York. I called it frightening. There were so many noises and so many distractions I had never seen. Mother did seem happier now, freer now. Like she had been an electronic maiden stolen into the country. From New York we took money to see Los Angeles, and then Europe. Until mother settled in Japan. I had learned many languages, many foods.

But unlike my brother, I hadn't particular adjusted as well as he did. He had friends, he was well liked and he was adored. He became popular and he was never bullied. However, I was the one that took most of the blows. I was laughed out, and people even began to call me horse boy. I found myself beginning to slightly escape into realms where I was a hero. Where I was someone else. I came up with an alternative persona, the person I wanted to be. A brave warrior I could never be. In this world, I was happy.

When I was in my late teens, at seventeen I graduated earlier and moved back to New York to study the art scene. I loved to draw, loved to design. And one day I was going to make my own video game. One with the character that had saved me from utter despair. It was at this time around nineteen that I had received a letter from my father saying Coby had passed. I as so distraught it seems so silly now, to be so distraught over a horse. But he was more than that. He was more than a horse to me. He was a person and a friend.

Along the way of designing and culture, I met a girl. She seemed to change me and complete my life. I had many loves before, farm boy loves and of course loves in the many places I moved, but she was different. She was beautiful with a smile that made me glow and beam a complete happiness. But by twenty-two, I had lost her as well. I got a call saying she had been in an accident and that she had died.
I had never cried so much for a human being until then. Even so, even though I wanted to rot and die. I continued going because I knew I couldn't give up.

Funny thing about dying is I don't ever remember actually dying. Its like I closed my eyes and I am in a dream. A dream where I am the warrior that I had always wanted to be. And that I had become the hero I had always wanted to be. It wasn't like I ever died. More like my life continued. I find myself wandering, alone, and losing. But I don't ever think about it in any other way. I'm not even sure if this is life or death any more.

Zanpakuto Information

Zanpakuto Name: Réflexion [Reflection-in French]

Sealed Appearance: A medieval great sword that is wielded like a Katana. Fast and deadly, but more blunt than a katana. looks like this, except the blade is blue and looks more glass like

Zanpakuto Spirit Description: A white horse

Release Phrase: échappée [eh-shaw-pay] French- Breakaway

Shikai

Released Appearance: Similar to unreleased form blue, but now its made from a sort of crystal that cannot shatter.

Other Changes: Its made from crystal instead of steel

Passive abilities

Name: Miroir de la peur [meer-oowrah day law per] -Mirror of Fear

Description: Step into the swords boundaries and it will begin to reflect your most horrible nightmares. Like a mirror it isn't afraid to show to you all that you have done and all that you haven't done. Whom you have left behind and whom you haven't. Let the crystal, and the power of this blade show you what haunts you in the back of your mind.

Downside: Someone who has a strong will of mind could deaden the sounds of the sword, maybe not stop it completely, but dull it so it has less of an effect

Name: Pénale de l'hiver [pen-nal] [hee-ver] -Criminal's Winter

Description: Within in a small radius of the owner and his enemy the sword releases a cold kind of air that chills you to the bone. All the sword is not ice, it certainly has the cold of ice. Its fueled with the feelings of shame and regret. And gets colder with the more regret it feeds on.

Downside: If the owner isn't feeling shamed like a criminal and neither is the opponent, the cold of the sword is meek and feeble. It doesn't give him or the sword any ice resistance either.

Name: Malédiction [malay-diction] -Curse

Description: When the blade comes into contact with flesh, like a fungus of ice, but in this case cold crystal. It turns the area that had been sliced into crystal. Only defeating the sword, or unreleased it will release you from the blade's curse.

Downside: Didn't say the crystal was unbreakable. Want to keep yourself from being a human chandelier you can crack the crystal off the infected areas.


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Bankai
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Passive abilities (passive abilities are abilities that need no activation. maximum of 3)

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Active abilities (Active abilities are abilities that needs activation. maximum of 3)

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