[nick / name]: Lys
[personal LJ name]: bringmepie
[other characters currently played]:

Father Abel Nightroad :: Trinity Blood: whofelltoearth
Auron :: Final Fantasy X :: delightfulirony
Natsu Dragonil :: Fairy Tail :: imusteatit
Son Gohan :: Dragonball Z :: satancompels
Sumimura Masamori :: Kekkaishi :: stillwaterrun
Urahara Kisuke :: BLEACH :: vivememorleti
Uzumaki Naruto :: Naruto :: icouldnotkeep

[e-mail]: lysandra.sylier@gmail.com
[AIM / messenger]: pochirabume, y!m: shinjiteeth

[series]: Baccano!
[character]: Claire Stanfield | Vino | The Rail Tracer
[character history / background]:

Claire was raised with the Gandor brothers, and as such, is a part of the family. Claire is now an assassin named Vino--Italian for "wine"--earning the name because of his predilection for mutilating the bodies of his victims beyond recognition, which usually leaves him covered in a thick layer of blood. He works undercover as a conductor on the Flying Pussyfoot, and later happily takes on the persona of the vengeful "Rail Tracer" monster. Claire believes that the world is a show put on for him, and that he has complete control over it. He proposes to Chane at their first meeting, and is now searching for her in Manhattan.

(lifted from the Wikipedia article, which doesn't have a link to the specific entry, for mod convenience)

[character abilities]:

As a former acrobat who excelled in his field, Claire's strength and flexibility are at the peak of human ability. Additionally, he is a well-trained killer, and his physical prowess and experience when combined with his unwavering confidence and mental instability have led him to become what is possibly the most successful assassin and serial killer of his time.

[character personality]:

Based on first appearances, Claire Stanfield is polite and formal, a respectable young man. He seems well-bred, well-spoken and well-educated, likely the result of his education as an affluent youth and his time spent around the Gandor brothers after his own family died. Perhaps the first appearance is true enough—he is well-spoken and well-educated, even when committing filthy crimes, covering every surface with blood as if it was soaked in a fine red wine.

Red; the color of passion, the color of power.

Claire has, though somewhat warped, a strong sense of personal justice and a code of ethics. Apologies are necessary, a clear understanding of the wrong committed. Pity and compassion are sentiments reserved for the strong, those who have no chance of dying. Claire can kill anyone he wants to, at any time he wants to, because believing that he can do whatever he believes he can do, believing that he is strong, Claire can do anything. Because he is able to, Claire treats the world at large with pity, kindness and compassion, those things which he reserves only for himself. Only his marks, job-related or more personal, are treated as a proof of his own strength and existence, as sacrificial lambs for the slaughter. He makes them die, and he makes them die in whatever way he wants them to.

Claire is deeply psychotic, deeply megalomaniacal. He believes he can never die, that the world is his to control; a long, long dream that he is watching and that he has sovereignty over.

In this world, only Claire is immortal. Everything else that exists, the supposed immortals that he has such a surprising wealth of knowledge about, just needs to be reminded that Claire can make it forget how to come back to life, that it may or may not even really exist. Everything else can simply die—feel pitiful, feel humiliated, feel inconsequential, be devoured and die.


[point in timeline you're picking your character from]: The end of the anime, episode 13, as he leaves to later search for Chane Laforet.

[journal post]:

Hello again! Sorry to bother you, but I’ve heard that there is an underground train system, a subway they called it, in this city. Is this true?

I’ve been looking for a job, and I think I have a very respectable set of credentials for a position working in the subway.

I would also love to get any temporary work anyone has to offer. I’m a reliable mechanic and extremely efficient and friendly.


[third person / log sample]:

Vino was in a very good mood. He was on his way to Manhattan, to find his fiancée, a beautiful woman, a strong woman. He would marry her. There was no question about it in his mind-- he would marry her, because he desired to. His influence on the world was total, far beyond simply being an arbiter of life and death. She would marry him. He would make her want to.

The room was covered in the blood, making it seem cooler, earthier. The metallic smell was strong, and Vino’s nostrils flared, the corners of his lips curling just slightly as he leaned in closer to the face of the man he was brutalizing, the victim—no, not a victim. He was a sacrifice made to bring more control into the world that belonged to Vino.

He pressed his lips softly to the man’s sweaty, clammy temple. So terrified. They were always so very terrified, but, of course, they were weak. It was one against everything else in the world of the weak. They weren’t like Vino. The burly man struggled slightly beneath Vino’s form, summoning his last energy, trying to flee for his life. He had to laugh at the display, the dried blood that covered his neck and streaked up the side of his face from the torture he had been administering cracking and flaking away.

He took a minute to scratch at it with short nails, ignoring the whimpers below him. The man could wait for death. He had no luxury to rush Vino into finishing him. He took his time, as always, killing in the way he had decided he wanted to in this instance. Slowly, he had worn the man down, because Vino had decided to do this slowly and had decided to spare no mercy, no pity or compassion. He was a crook and a womanizer. Not a man who belonged in Vino's world, simply useless. He would die for Vino. Painfully, as a celebration.

Vino was in fact particularly creative with this current mark. Vino was in a very good mood this evening.

He had proposed to a very beautiful woman. A week ago he had proposed to the daughter of Huey Laforet.

The mark, near-death as he was, broken and humiliated and disempowered, had the audacity to make noises—disgusting, guttural noises, frothy. Blood and saliva were mixing in his mouth. It was distracting, irritating.

Vino ripped the man’s lower jaw off with a flick of his wrist, like a python striking.

“Be quiet now, like a good lamb.”