Arano said:</COLOR>
<COLOR color="steelblue">Basic Data
Name: Arano
Rank: Chuunin
Bloodline: Haku
Status: Mute Wanderer w/ Sassy Animal Sidekick
Personal Info
Gender: Male
Eye Colour: Icy Blue
Hair Colour: Black
Height: 5'11”
Weight: 160 lbs.
Age: 17
Birthday:
Blood Type: O-
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance
Arano, being cooler than the frost he emits, has ice-tinted blue eyes that are complimented by his chilling porcelain skin tone (well, he has quite the slight tan nowadays). His textured, short hair is as black as raven's wings and acts as a deep contrast to his snowy appearance. His facial features are delicately masculine (typical yet contrary to his bloodline) as if Zeus had tenderly wove it together with the finest of thread. Arano's slender physical build reflects that of a determined shinobi youth who finds the importance in both the growth of mind and body; his physicality, from every toned ripple and lean muscle, is a testament to this. While he doesn't tower over most who were fertilized by beanstalks, his height (5'11”) is sufficient enough to have vertical distance advantage over many.
Originating from a nomadic tribe south of Sunagakure, Arano's attire is utterly desert-esque from the top of his skull to the bottom of his soles. His gear was designed to protect one from the harmful affect of the sun and to ventilate one from the desert's scorching and blistering heat. It's complexities are too great and extensive to mention all at once, but know that it accomplishes its duty for the environment he habituates.
Aside from fleshly perceptions, Arano conveys a solemnity apparent to those who dare gaze into the windows of his being. Within that muted-mindedness is a vehemence as hidden as the most stealthiest of icebergs (like, more than Titanic stealthy). Dare to venture in, but do not be baffled once your vessel sinks into a regrettable abyss.
(Fun Fact: I totally exaggerated this on purpose. Just look at the picture dangit!)
Personality
<i></i>Being a mute for as far as he can remember, Arano has gone through quite the number of struggles that has molded him into who he is today. Despite the fact that he lacks the ability to communicate verbally, he's quite the introvert by nature. He prefers to be alone (even though Snow is with him 24/7) and likes keeping his interactions within the smaller crowds.
While he values his alone time, Arano is a friendly guy. He takes great value in the phrase “actions are louder than words” and learned to channel this idealism through genuine gestures and random acts of kindness. The sight of people expressing joy rejuvenates him in a sense. He isn't overly generous in his good deeds (never over-bearing or too much of a people-pleaser) but, backed by his keen sense of integrity, strictly uses this to help those who are in need.
It's also safe to say that Arano's curiosity has killed a dozen cats (at least). He loves to learn and absorb information; he enjoys reading, but is more of a 'social' learner than anything else. He likes to observe people and analyze why they act the way they act (what makes them tick!). Cultures, perspectives, lifestyles, and life's untold mysteries – these are all categorized concepts he sometimes immerses himself into in order to gain information despite his reserved nature. This inquisitiveness has probably stemmed from the fact that he doesn't remember much (or anything) about his past. His want and need to restore his lost memories regarding who he is and where he came from has pretty much seeped into part of his nature and character.
While his empathy and untainted spirit of inquiry presents him as an entity of pure innocence, many individuals get the completely opposite impression of him. Some interpret his seclusion as cold-hearted cockiness. Arano can and has given off a rude impression to many civilians, shinobi, and foreigners that meet him solely due to the fact that he's unable to speak. His spirit of independence sometimes rubs off as arrogance and an attitude of “I'm better than you” (which is far from the truth). It's a stereotype that he usually carries, but he usually doesn't pay any mind. Arano feels no need to justify himself or his disability; all that matters is that the people he cares about recognize his authenticity. That in itself gives him all the confidence he needs.
For reasons he can't really explain, Arano holds grudges like no other. Granted, it takes a lot for him to snap and fantasize about your untimely death, but when it happens Hell (literally) freezes over. He's very protective over his friends and 'good' people in general. He gets ticked if an innocent is being bullied or harmed in any way. He considers it a great evil when purposeful harm is done unto others in the name of corrupt motivation and considers those who initiate it “weak” and “deserving of punishment”. He has a tendency of going overboard with this, but again, this is a rare occurrence.
Whether he likes to admit it or not, Arano sometimes is consumed by apathy (which can play a role in some impressions people can get of him). While he is very caring of all creatures on God's little green earth, he sometimes is entertained by dark thoughts that numb his basic senses and instincts. This is a growing thorn on his side – a thorn whose nature is slowly unraveling as he begins to discover who he is (or what he is). Will this side of him grow? We'll see!
(Fun Fact: There's a lot of things that make Arano nervous or bashful in a sense. There are key ways to bring him blush-filled discomfort and embarrassment [hint: think dirty].)
History
Arano was born in- [Inaudible static] His father's pact with the noma- [Inaudible static]
The boy awoke to the middle of some ritualistic circle with savages in warpaint surrounding him. They looked like monsters. They all chanted- [Inaudible static]
“ARANO-CHAN!” screamed a horrified female voice. Who was she? [Inaudible static]
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Arano, ten-years old, awoke to a bearded geezer hovering over him whose large body shaded the boy from the scorching sun. His vision was still blurred and his mind disoriented; he couldn't make out specific details about the man's appearance. Who was he? Wait, where was he?
“Who am I?”
For some reason his body ached, also, as if he had gotten hit by a raging boulder. Pain? Yes, this was a familiar concept to him. He recognized this. Actually, this was the only thing that made sense to him at the moment.
The old man, who's face was painted with concern, finally spoke to the child who lied on the desert floor in the middle of no-man's land. His voice was raspy and edgy, but had a certain ring to it that soothed the boy. He felt like he could trust him.
“Are you ok, boy? My god! You look terrible! Here...” the man shuffled into his pouch and pulled out some metal container. A canteen? Yeah, that's what it was. “..drink!” Arano eyed it suspiciously. Should he drink? “DRINK!” The man forced the canteen to his lips.
He drank.
Well, it started out that way. Two-seconds in, he began to guzzle desperately as the cool waters entered his parched, blistered throat. He wanted more; he couldn't stop chugging. He clenched onto the canteen as if a baby to his mother's nipple; it was the body's response to his state of dehydration. The man yanked it away with immeasurable might and with stern care raised his voice slightly. “Enough, enough! If you drink too fast you'll end up just puking it all out.” The man paused for a second and surveyed the area around himself with some conflicted confusion in his eyes. It was in that moment Arano was saved.
“It looks like you've either been abandoned or kidnapped and left to dead. I'm assuming your parents are not around...” the man suddenly leaned over, grabbed the boy, and threw him over his shoulders as if he was a sack of potatoes. Arano didn't resist. His instincts told him this was necessary to his survival.
“You're riding with me, kid. Well, just until we find your parents or people who are associated to you. I got your back till' then.” Little did the man know that “till' then” was going to be a very long time.
The man placed the boy into his sturdy caravan full of essentials and went up front to ride out of the area. The boy wasn't the only passenger behind the man's caravan, though. No, hidden and tucked into the child's tattered shirt was an white weasel-like animal that rested comfortably on him. He had a pet?
After half a day's travel, the trio ended up at some camping site named “Merchant's Convoy” where sellers gathered to trade goods and rest from days worth of traveling. It was here where the old man, known literally by 'Old Man' by everyone at the site, patched Arano up and tried to get information out of him. To his surprise it wasn't the lonesome boy who answered his questions...
“Demon!” shouted the man in an exasperated tone. He grabbed a pan and waved it in front of himself to fend off the being. “How in the hell?!”
“Can it, Old Man! I'm no demon.” It was a lie – well, partially anyways. “I'm surprised that such an experienced and seasoned traveler like yourself hasn't come across any talking animals! There's quite a few of us.” The voice was feminine and filled with sass. It came from a little white ermine that called herself “Snow”. She stood on top of Arano's head with a certain arrogance and comfort as if he was her territory. He didn't seem bothered at all by it.
Old Man, still scared sh*tless, eased up a little and slightly lowered the pan down. “How can you talk? What are you and what relation do you have to this boy?”
“I'm Snow the Magnificent, but you can drop the title for convenience.” She announced this in a matter-of-fact kind of tone with a tint of spunk. “I am an ermine... and I talk. What don't you get? As for Arano...” she circled down to the child's shoulder, “..yes, his name is Arano if you're wondering. He's my boy-slave.”
The man blank a few times and stared at her blankly before bursting out in an abrupt laugh. “Your his master? YOU?! Please, you wouldn't be able to win a wrestling match against a pup!” His chuckling did not stop. “Is this true, Arano-kun. Is this your slave-driver?” The boy shrugged in response while the sassy ermine hissed.
“Just so that you're aware... he can't talk. The boy's a mute if you're not stupid enough to notice. He is lucky to have such a vocal being like myself in charge of him.”
It was true. Arano couldn't speak at all. He tried and tried again with all the might he could muster, but to no avail. It's as if his voice was completely stripped from him (if he ever had one at all). Snow leaned her little ermine body on his head as if it was a stand and continued.
“And please, don't bother asking him any further questions. He also doesn't remember who he is or where he's from. I'm pretty sure he has amnesia.”
The man continued to stare at the duo in bewilderment. A mute boy with amnesia and a sassy talking ermine... what in the world did he get himself into?! “Well, it's fine. Maybe questions aren't necessary right now.” Old Man dropped the pan and approached the two. The duo tensed up, but immediately were relaxed with the man put his firm, comforting hands onto his shoulder. “I don't necessarily trust you two, but I told you I'd have your back 'till we find out who you are and who you actually belong to. I recognize this is a 'meet-halfway' type of thing since you probably don't trust me either, but...” the merchant smiled that brought warmth into Arano's body. He was so kind. “...if we learn to trust each other, I guess you can call yourself at home.”
The boy grinned as if he had received the ultimate Christmas gift and, surprisingly, so did Snow. The man then laughed aloud again and scratched the back of his head. “But don't think you're going to get off so easy! You're going to be put to work. I'ma make a man out of you, Arano-kun!”
With that, the next three years of Arano's life were learning the ways of the trade and traveling alongside the Old Man and Yuki. Those years went well and all three formed some type of strange, dysfunctional bond. They became a family – a weird one – but a family nonetheless. Those three years were well-spent and peaceful until one fateful day.
“ARANO-KUN!!!”
An 'incident' happened regarding Arano that led to the Old Man getting severely injured. Due to this, the Old Man had to retire and they decided to settle within Sunagakure. There the old man used his savings to build a shop. Recognizing Arano's gifts, he enrolled the boy in the shinobi academy to earn extra income. The boy didn't mind; he felt like it was the least he could do for causing the Old Man so much grief. Snow, on the other hand, did mine. She loved violence. This was her calling!
Arano was recognized early on for his ninjutsu talents and his natural affinity towards ice, so he excelled towards Geninhood and then at the age of 15 became a Chuunin. He's been so since.
Nowadays, Arano focuses solely on completing his duties as a shinobi and supporting both the Old Man and Snow. Deep down, though, he hungers to find his lost memories and uncover the mysteries of his past. “What am I? Who am I? Where do I belong?” These are all questions he asks himself on a daily basis, and these are all questions that will one day be answered.
This is where the tale of Arano and Snow begins! A grand adventure awaits!
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