If anything need be changed, just let me know. Will gladly oblige. ;)Name: Edwin Alexander Braxton III
Nicknames:In high school, the kids always called him Alex, but once he moved away to college, his peers latched onto a shortened version of his last name, often yelling out "Brax" from across the campus square. Of course, when he returns him, to his family, he will once again be known as Edwin, the name of his father and his grandfather before him.
Family:Braxton
Age:24
Gender:Male
Species:N/A
Sexual Preference:Heterosexual
Avatar: Kyle Schmid
Appearance: Standing, Alex reaches a respectable five-foot-ten. He is no giant, but at the same time, he finds himself with a few extra inches on some of his comrades. Athletically built with broad shoulders and a medium frame, Alex usually dresses himself in a style akin to dressed-up casual, with jeans and tennis shoes, accompanied by a plain shirt and a blazer. Sometimes, he changes up it, wearing a button up with his favorite black leather shoes, but most of the time, he goes for comfort.
The spitting image of his father, Edwin, the young son, Alexander Braxton has an angularly shaped face with a square jaw and a cleft chin. His high cheekbones and defined brow only enhance his air of self-importance, while his smooth forehead gives him some sense of intelligence, based on appearances. From time to time, narrow glasses can be seen gracing the bridge of his sloped, yet slightly crooked nose. Yes, the perfect son does needs glasses. What a disappointment, but at least the angle of the frames enhanced the beauty of his oval eyes, and makes the light green stand out even more predominantly against his tanned skin.
His jaw hosts a bit of stubble and his lips are bottom heavy, with a slight Cupid's bow forming at the top in a most asymmetrical pattern. When he smiles, a set of pearly whites gleam, though slightly imperfect, which only adds character to his killer smile that always carries into his nearly iridescent eyes.
Alex's hair often falls into his eyes, creating shadows along the bridge of his nose and his high cheekbones, and he can regularly be seen running a hand back through it in annoyance when it blocks his vision. Despite that, the dirty blonde mass atop his head is still allowed to hang free and with no restraint to his jaw, curls turning her and there with a natural part slightly offcentered of his forehead.
On his body, there are no marks or scars to mar his skin. He was always careful, even if he was the wildcard. The only thing that breaks up the taut skin is a tattoo on the back of his neck, done in white ink to be ever so subtle, since his father would probably kill him if it was discovered. It is simple, perhaps even cliche to some, but to him, it is his last will and testament, the Gaelic word for Strength,
Neart, done in Celtic letters and flanked on either side by a simple not that has neither a beginning nor an end.
Personality:Years of "brains, breeding, and bounty", as his father liked to joke, gave Alex an air of self-importance growing up in Roswell. As a boy, he wasn't the childish, laughing type that ran everywhere, but more of the upper-class firstborn son that stood by his father's side and shared with him the same nonchalance and superiority of the Braxton men in regards to their inferiors. Everyone knew their name, knew their story, but...they didn't know of the lowly place they held in the eyes of the White Witch. Perhaps it made him all the more eager to prove himself to those he considered nothing more than lower class hicks. He was a Braxton, after all. He does what he feels is necessary to maintain his title and legacy. All that he does or hopes to do is in the effort to make a name for himself and outlive the shadow of the Curse that follows him. The strong will to prove them all wrong drives him to accomplish his dreams, and see that he is never destroyed by the power he possesses.
Because of the way he was raised, Alex nevers shows a wide range of emotions. He shows power and pride, but happiness, sadness, and fear are rather devoid from his life. Though those emotions do come forth from time to time, it is only when he is alone that he allows himself to reflect on them. In the dark of night, when he lies awake wondering about his life, a sense of melancholy comes over him. His normalcy was scratched out when he was just a child and his father told him of the White Witch, the Cursed, and his place as the last in line of the six families. He doesn't grieve for his lack of a childhood, but moreso for the parents he does not know. Though he saw them every day of his life, he knows nothing about them. His mother, for the most part of his young life, was never there, but at her hotel suite in Atlanta, working on one case after the other. His father's job kept him away until the late hours of the evening, and even then, there was no playing catch or watching the television, but only the maintenance of the museum in which they lived. It saddens him to know that they are merely the strangers of the world, as well as it saddens him to realize how he has pushed everyone else away. Friends, lovers, and even other family members.
Alex is happiest when alone, working with his hands. Of course, the aristocracy, however dreamed-up it may be, causes him to love being in a crowd. His looks get him noticed, and that only increases his vanity. Fear isn't something he will willingly admit, but in the end, he fears being utterly alone. Whether it be by death, or by his own actions. Alex may love himself, as anyone does, but he doesn't like the person he has been born into, or the man he let himself become. Another secret never to be revealed to anyone...
The fury of impassioned anger, that he will let free. Because Braxton men know anger. In fact, they've had a long, drawn-out affair with it over the years. Depending on the situation, anything can encounter Alex's wrath. A sideways glance, a rude comment, a disrespectful attitude...He may not be the best example to follow, but he is always polite to those who deserve it. (A contradiction, perhaps.) While his temper is not the worst of his family, it is hard for him to keep it in check. He has learned, over the years, to tone down his reactions and assess the situation.
Despite it all, he is loyal to those who somehow gain his trust, and, though not an admirable trait, puts himself first. He is the firstborn male, after all. His father's protege...That's a heavy load for anyone to bear, especially the son of Edwin Braxton.
Powers: [ Metal ]
Alex, it can be said, has an interesting relationship with metals, namely stronger metals such as steel. He can bend them at will, due to his inhuman strength. However, because he is a "half-breed" and his mother was not from any part of the Braxton family, his strength is less than that of his father's. It seems that nothing can stop him, and if he concentrates long enough, slight changes can be seen in the contours of the metals. He finds it easy to shape and mold the ores, even if tools are sometimes necessary.
In bouts of anger, Alex often finds his powers enhanced, and in times of sadness or deep though, the powers are more subdued. If something puzzles or bothers him, then his focus is lacking and using any of his powers is a trial.
When using his powers deliberately, there seems to be no side effect, unless the power is exacted for long periods of time. If that is the case, then Alex will grow incredibly fatigued and must sleep in order to restore his strength. Also, he tends to have muscle pains across his shoulders and down his arms, perhaps from his habit of visualizing himself physically adapting the medium he's dealing with.
Always, he must be careful and heed his father's warning. The power can easily become out of his control and cause his demise. It happened to his sister; it can happen to him.
Hobbies:Metalworking was once one of his passions, and was rekindled while he was away at college. In fact, he nearly changed his major to mechanical engineering or architecture, just so that he could work with metal as much as he chose. Eventually, his other love of mystery and justice won out and he stuck to to the degree that would land him a job as a Forensic Detective in the years to come. Alex also spends much of his time listening to the heavy metal bands of this new age era, as well as days gone by, such as Alice Cooper, Metallica, AC/DC, Korn, and the like. Occasionally, he throws in a little classical music of Bach or Mozart, as well as the bluegrass genre embedded so deeply into his Southern roots with it's twangs and high lonesome sounds. He will never pass up a chance for a swim in the river or a walk on the wild side. He enjoys cars and motorcycles, like any normal, testosterone-driven man. The finer arts have never interested him and a deep discussion over the mysteries of the universe is not his idea of fun. He's a man of action, of purpose, and would rather do anything than sit around all day. So, his hobbies are often something that allows him to work with his hands, and also put his mind to use, but he can be caught reading a murder mystery every now and then.
Occupation:Before he left Roswell, Alex worked at the museum with his Father, while his mother was off in Atlanta, working for the State Government and smoothing over their errors and mistakes. It was a simple job, to clean and show the tourists around, and even easier to make it to work on time since he and his family lived in the upper levels of the museum. Now, upon his arrival home, Alex will find himself in a prime position as a Forensic Detective (other wise known as a Crime Scene Investigator for those corrupted by that ridiculous show) at Roswell Police Department.
Extra:Parents:Father: Edwin Alexander Braxton II, Representative for a major Pharmaceutical, InPharm; assists in the management of Roswell's Historical Museum
Mother: Lorelai Jules Lamont-Braxton, Former Defense Attorney for the State of Georgia; Assistant at Roswell's Historical Museum.
Siblings:Sister: Julia Margaret Braxton, Deceased at age 16.
Other Members: None worth mentioning.
History: August 10, 1982: On a day where thunderstorms rumbled in the distance and still the sun peeked through the clouds, Edwin Alexander Braxton III was born, and due to his name, most were certain he'd never grow to be taller than four, maybe five feet. He was born to Edwin Braxton II and Lorelai Lamont-Braxton, who because of her own prestigious family had insisted that she hyphenate her name. Much to Edwin's displeasure, he agreed, but once his son was born, he was firmly planted in the decision that it would be Braxton. Just Braxton. The name was a power all its own and needed no additions to enhance it. His daughter, Julia, who was already seven when Alex was born, had not taken the Lamont name, and neither would his son.
The years passed and Alex grew into a nearly perfect copy tacked onto the end of the long line of Braxton men, even going so far as to clash constantly with his older sister; the two of them never saw eye-to-eye on anything, no matter how big or how small. At a young age, his strength was clearly greater than that of the other children his age, and when this came to the young man's attention, at the age of six, his father set him down and told him the tale that had been passed down among every generation. The words changed the young boy, even so early on, and the changed were more and more evident with each passing year.
In between then. tragedy struck. His sister, Julia, had been showing off with her friends, others of the Braxton clan, and thought herself far more skilled than she truly was. She attempted to shield herself as another transformed the metal within his grasp into a dagger, sharp and pointed. But she lost control. All control. The shield failed and the dagger split, piercing her heart and scarring her cousin forever. The story was hushed among the town and nothing was ever revealed, but Alex knew the truth. He had been watching from the upstairs window. The White Witch had come to call.
After that event, he was cautious, but never afraid, though he should have been. As a child, he tried to hide it in public, but then, as he hit his teenage years and that phenomenon of girls and high school erupted, he embraced the strength, the power, and used it wholly to his advantage. He knew no moderation, until the day he was once again humbled by his curse. He had spent his years honing his talents and letting them grow more and more powerful. He could bend metal with a wave of his hands, and ties fences into knots with hardly any effort. But then, the headaches came, pain the blinded him so much that he began to lack the necessary senses to function, with sight and sound. He was left only with touch, for some time. Once it faded, he was certain it had been the work of the White Witch, and it was then that he decided to leave Roswell, where he had lived all his life and attended school.
The day after he graduated, Alex packed his belongings and headed up North, to the University of Michigan. While there, he did fall in love, but his snobbery got the better of him, causing him to lose once again. For some time, he blamed it on the curse, but one night, it all became clear. It wasn't the curse; it was him. He worked to change, and little by little, he had embraced his heritage, his power, but had become someone far different from the snob he had once been. Though still putting on his superior airs, he was considerate and in tune to those around him. It would take a long while before he would be anymore humble. Lessons by the Braxton men seem to be rarely learned.
He studied to become a detective of the Forensic field, and after putting his mind to use, graduated in the top 15% of his class with a B.S. in Biology and a A.S. in Criminal Justice. He had accomplished what he set out to do, and the arrogance swung back in as he remembered his desire to prove them all wrong. Once the courses were finalized and the few goodbyes spoken, Alex made his way back home, to Roswell. It would be a lie to say he was a changed man, but it would be permissible to say that maybe, just maybe, a change would soon come.
Greeted by his family with open arms, and the title of, once again, "Edwin", he made his way to the Rose Police Station and asked in way of a demand for a job. Granted. Accepted. Now, he could really show this town. He was a Braxton, and they would remember it.