Summary

PHYSICAL DETAILS

Clove is well-built, having a regular exercise regime to keep his physical appearance up to par. With a well toned set of biceps, stomach and thighs. He's relatively on the taller side, but not quite over the usual limit; just right. He has pale skin, almost sickeningly so, this makes it hard for him to tan. Unfortunately this means he receives sun burns effortlessly without a decent barrier of sunblock. His arms and legs are littered in a mishmash of self inflicted laceration scars. These being from his own mental debilitations, but some also from his infatuation with blood research.

His ears are pierced, each lobe hosting an 11mm black gauge, but his left shares a cartilage hoop. His brows are on the thicker side, dark and a bit unruly at times. His natural hair colour is a deep mocha hue, but he bleaches all but the right fringe. His roots are often seen, because upkeep can be rough out here. His style can be described as parted with some natural volume, but amplified with an old pot of hair wax. He does have an undercut, so the shorter areas there and near his side burns are his natural brown tone.

Clove's eyes are a beautiful glossy grey colour. But this is conveniently hidden behind a pair of circular lenses. His eyesight is largely hindered without his spectacles; the frames a dark gunmetal with silver chains. He speaks with a British accent just as his parents before him.

His arms are wrapped in stroke-like tattoos received on Mars from his shoulder down to the gradient ink coverage of his hands. There is also a concealed matching neck tattoo under the collar of his skintight tank top. His black tank leads into a pair of matching trousers with a belt. He can occasionally be seen wearing a transparent lab coat that haphazardly falls from his shoulders and tucks into his pants. An ID badge hangs from a lanyard at his neck, but he only wears this when on the clock wandering around Salus.

Medical File

Personality

😏 + Quick-Witted, Attentive, Flirtatious
🤨 = Enigmatic, Outspoken, Guarded
💀 - Morbid, Lonely, Fake
- - -

Clove has a multifaceted personality; he is outspoken and never holds back in expressing his thoughts. However, this behavior might stem from loneliness he's carried since birth. He's actively seeking attention or connections with others for his own gain and sense of self worth. He showers those he finds interesting with sweet words, potentially with an underlying agenda, but this is mostly concealed and unknown to his particular prey in the moment.

His eccentricity, when discussing his pastimes related to research projects, can be off-putting to most. He has a certain level of social awareness and a desire for attention, even if it means putting on a mask. This allows him to adapt his personality to fit others in order to gain trust and friendship.

His more hidden emotions, including guilt, pain and deep-seated depression is high in contrast with his surface level persona that he presents for others. Clove's fake grin and facade of being an outlandish beefcake with a peculiar blood obsession verses his inner most struggles makes him more complex despite first impression with others.

Under this fabricated guise, Clove is actually rather quiet, attentive and well aware of his surroundings. He's secretly gentle and sensitive when treating those he adores most. Though, this comes with his extreme obsessive habits. Which can be alarming, but ultimately he means well; it's his ...unfortunate love language.

His perspective on romance, is almost off the table due to his past experiences. He usually engages in flirting for his own benefit rather than genuine connection. It's assumed this is out of self-protection; he probably fears a repeat in what he's already been through. Being flustered isn't something common in him, romantic notions in general don't exactly reach since he's formed a natural way to emotionally distance himself in the time he's spent in solitude. But despite this, it doesn't necessarily mean he's a wall that cannot be broken down. It just takes time and someone with the right gusto.

Backstory and Trivia

• Enjoys collecting samples from others. (ie. human hair, blood, used bandaging, etc.) What he uses this for... no one really knows... But he always asks first; never does this without consent.
• Will go on extensively about blood, blood typing and common ailments that can be descovered through testing. To be honest the way he speaks on the subject often leads others astray, though he never really understands why.
• Can easily mold himself into something others will want to be around; like a weird form of social camouflauge. But this doesn't exactly mean some parties can't see through his behavior at times.
• Knows very little Korean despite his cultural background. His parents weren't readily avaliable in his life so he knows broken bits of the language at most unfortunately.
• He stands a little too close to people sometimes when speaking with them.
  
  
• ♫♪♬♩ His Song
  Predator - Lee Gi Kwang
  
• 
  

*TW Blood, Death, Chronic Illness, General Mental Unwellness, Abuse, etc.

Clove’s childhood was pitiful actually. Born into a wealthy lineage settled in Valhalla located on Mars. His mother Eliana Jeong was a bustling socialite, while his father Junseo Jeong, an illustrious doctor acknowledged by many affluent individuals. They were considered an extremely comfortable upper class unit. He had no siblings and was often regarded as the mistake under the hushed breath of his parents. Mental abuse was common within their walls as he grew in age; these exchanges never left their estate however. Parties were frequent as the casino lay at the epicenter of everything that was Valhalla. Said events were always about showboating. His mother feigned affection in front of her associates before shoving him off to fend for himself elsewhere. His father, disingenuous in manner, boasted about the incredible brainiac that was his son with a forged cackle to boot. It was all so fake and superficial. Clove was left alone, with an ever growing sense of isolation and loneliness which scarred him greatly. But as time progressed Clove regrettably became accustomed to this facade. It was his normal.

It was this upbringing that left him psychologically ill fit in making connections with fellow schoolmates in his youth. He was timid, a voice so small that none a neighboring ear could possibly ever give him the light of day. School acquaintances would often prod at him, disbelieving he was in-fact the son of the notorious woman that was his mother. This only emphasized the disconnection he felt from his social status. Why was he here? Why was he born? No one cared about him in the way he wanted. The way he desired. So he began lying. Creating a different narative for himself, to escape his reality.

Fabricated truth was the basis of his parent’s agenda with his presence after all. It was when he entered high school that he took on a whole new persona. Using the break from school as a way to reinvent himself, and to watch and strongly take on traits of his own mother and father. Someone bolder, someone who could speak up for himself and someone magnetic that any eye drawn to him would be practically begging to be his friend. His smile was curled and fictitious as he would tell the grandest of stories to every person willing to listen. His hair slicked and freshly bleached, eyes smoldering and sharp. He was everyone’s dream boat, but also an absolute heart crusher.

He kept his marks high to please his parents, it was the only way to receive their routine pay. He learned to not take their periodic displeasing comments to heart; the mental punching bag was his familial role after all. But if it meant change in his pocket to spend on cigarettes and alcohol sure. Whatever, call him a waste of space, amongst other far more unrepeatable horrific things.

It was when Clove graduated university in Zaratán that things changed drastically. Getting a job under his father’s practice as a phlebotomist. This was where he met Ezra. He was none like any other Clove’s eyes laid upon. He was fragile, in a way that made him seem almost breakable at a single touch. A shorter thin man with an olive complexion; freckles that sat pretty on his cheeks and nose like powdered sugar. His eyes were verdant and his expression kind. The way his curled dark locks sat politely upon his gentle features like a perfectly framed renaissance painting. It left Clove almost speechless, like he was small. Small and timid. Just like he once was; like he rightfully was under that hardened exterior. Which was almost laughable considering his stature. Ezra sure found it so with the way his giggle chimed beautifully behind a dainty hand. Clove shushed him with a rosy face as he began his familiar routine. This was a new beginning.

It became tradition for the two. Ezra’s visits only prolonged with each appointment then… no appointment became a thing. God when did that happen? Clove felt the warmth that was true and utter devotion for another. Something new, something believed to be authentic, like he could finally shed his skin around another human being for once in his life. This phony role he’s assigned himself all those years ago gone in almost an instant when orbiting everything that was Ezra. He was hooked; latched on like an anchor that sat heavy on the seabed.

Though eventually all that was once good does end. Ezra’s fragile form only grew weaker and more feeble as the years progressed. To the point that even Clove’s own fragmented mental state took its own toll as he began racking his brain on any/all possible routes he could reach in order to keep Ezra alive. Even if it meant illegal measures. It was here his unhealthy obsession with fixing his partner began. Ezra’s coughing led to pools of blood often sitting upon his lips, face and even clothing. That too, despite its abhorrent reality, was beautiful to Clove.

He began studies; late endless night-long sessions of analyzing Ezra’s incurable ailment. But no matter the route… It was never enough. He began stealing medications, running illegitimate scans and even using equipment prohibited for his specifications. Clove would go out of his way to collect unwarranted blood samples from other patients in order to concoct a potential cure. Though, all this groundwork only took time away from their relationship with no avail, and Ezra would complain about this often. Wishing to spend his remaining time with Clove properly. But Clove’s mind couldn’t focus; it was like an unhealthy itch that wouldn’t go away. He had to save Ezra, no matter the cost. He needed this time to fix him. To prolong his life so Clove could be with him forever. This was all he had.

Forever was cut shortly after however. Clove was messy, leaving a visible trail for others under his father’s practice to follow. Notably things were missing, and patients were troubled by Clove’s erratic behavior in his slow descent into madness. His parents neglected to claim his wrongdoings as their own. He was no son of theirs, not anymore. Never seemed like he was. No money was paid, and Antares’ rule was dominant. The last time Clove got to see Ezra was the night prior. They had no true goodbye before Clove was ejected from Mars under law. The only physical remnant of Ezra’s existence being the blood caked handkerchief tucked discreetly in the inner pocket of Clove’s jacket.

On arrival to Earth he was immediately sent to the biome of Modron as newly enlisted in maintenance. This was his official home away from home as he faced his sentencing. Life here was the worst possibility for his psyche. He was deteriorating at an expeditious rate; his eyes were dull and lacked life. He was a shell of himself. Spending his nights pressing that same handkerchief to his lips and nose, inhaling the scent that was Ezra’s essence left on its surface. He would never admit it, but… he cried a lot then too. The disgusting lump in his arm was a reminder that he would be watched, that his every move would be under surveillance as the chip implanted within sat between his flesh. He was miserable.

Life was mundane, the same regime on repeat, like a cycle of never ending hell. Work. Eat. Evaluation. Sleep. He wanted off this god forsaken planet, but he feared stepping out of the confines of this biome. What with this planet being ridden in heinous creatures and terrifying beasts. Earth was, in its entirety, a death trap. Or so he was convinced to believe.

It was during an unexpected invasion that he sought out his first possibility of change. Salus. That’s what they called themselves. Initially believing them to be an extremely dangerous band of Earth monstrosities upon first word of their arrival… but they were human? This seemed entirely impossible. But there was no time to process as he was swept up in the mess that was Modron’s unit of Guards. Slipping away blade in hand as he mutilated his wrist in order to remove the tracking chip. He was desperately seeking an escape, any possible route back to Mars. But how? Ships were almost unimaginable to come by. The last time he remembered witnessing one was the same exact ride taken the day he was arrested and issued expulsion for his misdemeanor. That was years ago at this point.

He instead, against better judgment, disappeared amongst the chaos. Leaving the biome for the first time since arrival. Earth’s air was crisp as he took his first breath outside of Modron. In all honesty, he completely expected to croak and die on the spot. Presuming the Earth’s atmosphere to be thick and filled with toxic fumes. But it was normal. Completely… normal. He clutched his blood soaked arm as he began his trek. To where, he didn’t know. 

Clove has spent a good amount of time living amongst the Earthlings. Initially questioning all he ever learned from his time on Mars. He was a mad man, words spilling from his mouth that were completely incoherent. Many raiders he faced feared his presence as he was one of large stature petrified in filth and blood. Not that he was completely cognitive at the time, but even killing a few in his wake. Was it out of fear? Hunger? Probably, but that doesn’t exactly explain his weird fascination with the way their wounds would spill the prettiest color. It reminded him of Ezra… god his dear beloved Ezra… so far away from him.

It took a run in with a particular group of travelers to snap him into some semblance of his former self. He was originally taken in as a prisoner, though in time he eventually molded himself into something that would slip under their skin. Anything for food and decent drinking water. His violence for the time being locked away as his gut felt the wonder that was rabbit meat. Word of mouth eventually led back to Salus. That damn name again. The group that managed to infiltrate Modron. Learning it was in-fact a society of people, a settlement not far from where he was. With the idea in mind that they could easily permeate Mars’ system alone piqued interest. Perhaps they could get him home, or at least point him in the right direction. That was where he set off to. His next destination.

[coming soon]

Skills and Items

Handler