Winters, Tulon

[Tulon Winters]

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CASE FILE: Creig Militant

My life has mimicked the properties of bone. It's been broken many times, but has regrown stronger. Someday, I'll be strong enough to withstand anything. Until then, my job is to protect those who are not strong.
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FULL NAME:
→ Tulon Grezel Winters

AGE:
→ 25

SEX:
→ Male

BIRTH PLACE:
→ The Winters Estate, Rigou Heights, Carriag

RACE:
→ 25% Esparian, 25% Cretan, 50% Amestrian

DEPARTMENT:
→ Super Sleuth Extraordinaire (Detective) of the CPD, specializing in Special Victims

DATE OF BIRTH:
→ January 5, 1988

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HEIGHT:
→ 5' 9”

WEIGHT:
→ 177 lbs.

PICTURE:
→

Spoiler:

DESCRIPTION:
→ When women walk by, they blush and look away. When men walk by, they sneer with jealousy. Why? Because Tulon Grezel Winters is who they're walking by. Standing at a very healthy 5' 9”, his body is incredibly masculine, with a broad chest and shoulders with well defined muscle. His jawline is sharp and comes to a semi-pointed chin, just below his thin lips. They are almost permanently curled in a innocent smile. His nose is of a normal size and shape and atop them sits the bridge of steel-framed oval glasses. Behind these shimmering lenses lie yellow-green eyes, bright with kindness and genuine glee. Above those is a head of tussled, messy, honey blond hair, carelessly strewn about to give him a rambunctious look. His skin is a light tan, polished to a cleansed perfection, besides the faint scars that dot his back and neck, as well as the burns on his thighs. His jeans fit him perfectly, clinging black denim to his muscle tone. His collared shirts hang loose on the tails and waist, but seem stretched by his broad chest, even when tied by his assortment of ties and then layered in dress jackets. In the breast pocket of his shirt is his wallet, which contains his CPD identification and his badge. When not in his fancy jackets, he's often found in a black trench coat, and in addition to it, a shoulder holster containing his pistol. He carries himself about his business with an aloof feeling; though he stands straight and keeps himself presentable. An officer of the law would do no less.

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PERSONALITY:
→ Tulon is a very hosh-posh collection of rivaling personality. Often times, he's very nice, yet snarky, making jokes and making friends too. When he's with friends, he's lively, happy, and entertaining, doing his best to be as he can and putting his all into being friendly. He's really a regular guy, he hangs out, he drinks, he has fun. Alone however, his teachings come through, his richer culture. He reads, he sips tea, he cleans, though he certainly is more at ease than around his friends though; when he's with his friends, it certainly feels more forced than his action when he's alone. To most he know, he's very nice, helping along the way of his day when it doesn't involve his job. It's just his nature to help though, but it's often very sudden and without a word. Though, if there's one thing that does make him act oddly different, it's women. They just make him more excited to help and he just finds their company welcome, though most women of his island stay away from him.

At work however, his rather kind countanance fades to seriousness, turning cold to the culprits of the crimes he investigates. He doesn't hesitate when it comes to work, not a shaky gun, not a wavering fist, nothing. He's strong, resiliant, and unwavering in this aspect. He is driven to succeed at his work for the sake of the people around him. His reason being is half and half: partially because he doesn't want others to experience what he did, and partially because a reputation takes hard work to recreate, even though amongst the middle class (in other words, the ones he's helped) he's a great man.

Though, he suffers from horrible mental trauma, which if reminded too much of and without medication, can trigger flashbacks to that day. He then acts like a small child in panic, crawling away from phantoms inside his mind, flashes of events gone by appearing and horrible sensations coming back up like sickening vomit. This factor has alienated himself from several who have witnessed it, and many others who have heard of it, though he often ignores the stares in favor of helping any who need it.

LOVE:
→ Playing music, going for drives, strong tea, Doctor Who, cracking cases, chatting with his many online friends, reading (mostly fictional stories involving mystery), his harmonium, his Mauser pistol, dancing, rum & wine

HATE:
→ Coffee, The color pink, lace, tabloid reporters (or sometimes just reporters in general), the rich and rude, rumors about himself

DEEPEST SECRET:
→ Even though it is uncommon knowledge on the island he lives on, even in Carriag, he still keeps a bit of information tucked away as if it never happened. Though, you can only figure it out from reading. Believe me...it will be quite obvious.

IDOL:
→ Detective Gerad Forzure

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HISTORY:
→ Tulon always remembered how much he loved the view from Rigou Heights, a cluster of mountains that, cradled between them, lied the Winters Estate, which had only been finished a year before his birth. He was born in his parent's bedroom, faintly remembering the light tan skin of his Cretan/Esparian mother and the blonde tresses of his Amestrian father. Both had met in Carraig, wealthy arms dealers brought together on the tiny island. Together, they created a great name in firearms with their line of Winter's Rifles, which are charted as some of the best assault and sniper rifles in Carriag. With that much wealth came a lavish lifestyle, but the Winters family was far from the arrogant, stuck up, rich families one could expect to see. They were kind and donated freely, whether it be with guns or money. Their son, Tulon, grew up in the expanse of the estate with his older sister, Celeste. Together, they were taught in the manor, fed in the manor, and lived there peacefully for many years. Both were cared for by many of the staff, but they often found Tulon very...selfish. He would take things as his own, do as he pleased, and teased the staff. Even his two teachers, Claude and Michealis, were not spared from his pranks and selfish ways. Throughout most of his younger years, before he was ten, he was able to get away with all of it, keeping it from his parents as his own personal joke. Still, he loved his parents and every maid and butler, but especially his sister. She cared for him most, looked after him when he was in trouble, and always managed to save him nasty punishment. He often remembered the times when Celeste would go with him to the natural springs cupped in the mountains and look at the stars. He would say he'd get all the stars somedays and give them to Celeste since he thought she deserved better than diamonds.

Though, not ALL would be happy, during a ski trip in Drachma, Tulon and Celeste's mother and father died in a horrible avalanche, leaving the two and a business to run. Celeste had been doing very well in her schooling, already working on her college degree, so she took charge of the household while little ten year old Tulon owned everything she took care of. Most heirs to empires like this are first born sons, and the Winters weren't much different. Though, this was a recipe for disaster. Unbeknownst to the Winters, the two butlers Claude and Michealis were a sort that would sicken most. Their eyes had been set on Tulon and when Celeste had left for a MONTH long business trip for the launch of the new assault models, they found their opportunity.

Tulon was a bad child, teasing and bullying people around, but what he did wasn't the whole of why he was put through such punishment. As a young lad, he looked very feminine, his pre-pubecent body could've been mistaken for a girl of the same age. One day, they invited "Master Tulon" to examine the new wardrobe that was ordered. The door was closed. Locked. There was a strong, nauseating smell on the cloth over his mouth. Then everything went black. He woke to the feel of a tightening feeling around his wrist. His eyes, wide with fright, turned to the hempen rope securing him to the bed posts. His upper body was flat agains the bed and his legs were spread by more rope secured to the same posts. He felt odd....undressed...but he couldn't feel his satin sheets. He looked behind him and he saw the most terrifying sight of his life. He was dressed, head to toe, in female attire. It was pink, diaphonous, and lacy, both the dress and the underwear that was secured around his knees. Michealis and Claude stood there, holding instruments of torture. Claude's was a long, plastic pole that shot blue sparks with a chilling sound of electricity. Michealis held a handle with many free hanging leather strips, making the leather creek with his tigthening hand.

From there, he was whipped, shocked, touched, defiled, abused, drugged...and the drugs were the worst. They made his mind hazy, his body only controlled by his new Masters, hanging on their every command like a lion. No...a lion has dignity left. They had turned this innocent...ten year old boy into one of those cases from CSI: Special Victims. He would touch as they wanted, do as they wanted without question. In fact, with his veins diluted by the drugs, his screams of pain and dislike turned to pleasure and praise. "I live to please Masters....As you wish Masters....Punish me, Masters..."

This event was like a broken record...constantly repeating over and over for a month. The pain, the shame, the humility...then the pleasure, more shame...the hate...Tulon was broken. Just a broken toy. But Claude and Michaelis' favorite. With Celeste gone, they could do as they pleased, be as loud as they want, because no servent would cross their path. Not without fear of swift and painful punishment....followed by a long death. The worst of it had yet to come. The last day of the month...the butlers thought to be more rough, more depraved, more detremental...and record it for all to see. Of course, this was only a DVD...but had yet to meet that wonderous invention known as the internet. After that session...Tulon was at peace, or at least what peace could be acheived now.

That is, until Celeste came back.

The day is forever burned into his mind. Sitting in the corner of the third floor bedroom, drained of all ability to walk, still dressed in that dress which had now turned matted and crusty. He was barely awake, barely even alive, when he heard the call. His sister...calling for his name. And outside the nearby window was the thudding of helicopter blades...and the flashes of red and blue lights.

Two shots. Just two. His heart seized up and kicked hard, propelling his body out at the door. It was still locked. He threw himself constantly at the door, rage and fear forming strength and tears in him. Soon the doors opened...and police caught him as he fell. He was kicking, screaming, trying to crain his head to see the foyer, whose marble floor was soaked in a pool of blood. There was one body....niether being his former masters...

Celeste's body was now covered in a white blanket. Tulon didn't even get to see the body as he was put into a squad car and sped to the nearest station. He didn't even get to say good-bye. But Detective Gerad was very comforting, gentle...much different from recent experience. He had informed Tulon that both of the butlers had escaped into the mountains and had not yet been found. The ceramic cup, now emptied of its hot chocolate, was thrown clear across the room and shattered on the wall. His body was running on what little energy it had, venting out the anger he felt by tearing apart the room until he collapsed. When he woke up THIS time, he was greeted with white. Just white. Four walls, a bed, and a toilet. The door was heavy steel.

This would be his home now. The Maronette House. The local psychiatric hospital. Of course, these were only his quarters after his treatments as he began to attend school again. But even then, the event still followed him like a faithful shadow. The news and tabloids had stretched the story far past what it was, hightlighting Tulon in the wake of a scandal of rape and murder. Every child has a reputation. Some were nerds, some were good at sports, some were readers...but unlike them all, Tulon was avoided by all, not just one group. No one would relate, they couldn't if they tried. He did well in school, nothing fun or exciting kept him from his school work, and his PTSD flashbacks didn't help either. It was a lonely existence.

Until Career Day. Detective Gerad was still on the force, representing the CPD at his school. When Gerad recognized the young teen, he didn't see the frightened, angry child. He saw an angry, driven young man.

And the rest of the story? Well...he isn't called "Detective Winters" for nothing, right?

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TRIVIA:
→ Tulon suffers from PTSD which manifests in flashbacks. Without his proper medication, remembering or thinking about the event can trigger a revertation to the events of that month.
→ He is a specialist in pistols, his favorite being the Mauser
→ Tulon sold off the company to an advisor when he was old enough to control the assets. His estate is paid for, but with no servents to speak of.
→ The bedroom in which he was kept for that month has not been changed since then, locked and covered in police tape
→ Tulon is very self-reliant thanks to a lack of staff, learning to cook, clean, and take care of himself all on his own
→ Prefers tea over coffee, in fact, he loathes coffee
→ Drives his father's Rolls-Royce
→ Can dance very well, from tango to waltz
→ Often serves as the entertainment at the Officer's Ball
→ While he is right handed, he shoot with his left
→ Wants to redeem his bad reputation through hard work and good deeds, as well as searching for Claude and Michealis. He will not bring them in, he will kill them. On sight.
→ Speaks Creig, Esparian, and Amestrian

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ALIAS:
→ Kume

OTHER CHARACTERS:
→ Kit Estenial, Mariette Lebreaux, Trevor Zolt, Chen Juun, Jocelyn Veska

CREATOR'S COMMENTS:
→ Tulon's history pained me to write....

FACE CLAIM:

Code:

[b]SERIES[/b] - [i]Shinomiya Natsuki[/i] - Tulon Winters

CUSTOM RANK:
→ Inspector Glasses

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[Iris]

Approved

Looks good to meeee

[Jay Furor]

RE-APPROVED~

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