Filler

WIP

Name: Garvin Pyxis-Chip Nami.

~

Gender: Male.

~

Garvin stands rather tall at 6’ 5”, though he’s usually hunched to around 6’ 3”. His skin tone is a pale fair color with cool undertones that only add to how pale he is. Though, given that he has spent quite some time traveling through Meridian before, he’s managed to get a slight tan compared to what most people outside of Meridian have. He has freckles practically everywhere on his body.

--

Garvin has a rather oval face shape, meaning he has a smaller forehead and a smaller chin, but the middle of his face is wider, the whole thing on the longer side. Now for the nose, slightly crooked with just how many times he’s broken it, he has a hawk shaped nose, meaning it starts off the same way a ‘normal’ nose would, and then goes off the deep end at a slight angle, the tip of it a bit lower than the nasals. His lips are thinner in shape, and you can usually find him with a grin or smirk of some kind, especially his signature Garvin grin.

--

His eyebrows are rather thin. Despite them being thin and rather straight, they have a slight bush to them towards the end which gives them the illusion of an arrow pointing. Finally, his eyes with deep, heavy eye bags underneath them and usually bloodshot, (and whether that be from lack of sleep or his unhealthy habits, is unclear) are a deepset downturned hooded shape and dark gray in color, which he is glad for. Because if he had green eyes with his freckles and red hair, he’d certainly huff and puff unhappily(sarcastically, of course). His face is framed by unruly and wavy, almost to the point of curly, (2C to 3B) ginger hair. Well, if he would take good care of it, that is. Firey in color, though more on the gray side of the red hair spectrum, that is most oftenly messy and in his face, the tips of all of it going just below the ears in length, the back going down just past the nape of his neck with so many split ends one would probably think he cuts it himself. Which, he does.

--

His body structure could quickly be described as rectangular, with everything about him pushing towards the idea that the muscle he does have is a lean sort of muscle. Especially when taking into consideration the fact that this man weighs in at around 170 lbs, his BMI at a healthy 20.16.

--

As for scars, he possesses many. From scars on his back and shoulders that look like they’re from whipping, to burn scars on his legs and arms and feet, to cuts on his arms, to a singular one that looks like a slash across his neck, to scars that make it seem like patches of skin had just been scrapped off of him in different places (mostly his arms and back), to a scattering of small scars at his jawline, eyebrows, and across nose. He’s just covered in scars. His left hand has a small scar of a cut across his palm. And both hands have tiny scars all over, which along with his feet are just extremely calloused too. His wrists both have scars circling them. And, of course, there’s plenty of smaller burn scars in various places in order to avoid infections.

~

Garvin stands rather tall at 6’ 5”, though he’s usually hunched to around 6’ 3”. His skin tone is a pale fair color with cool undertones that only add to how pale he is. He’s managed to mostly lose the tan he’d gotten from stays and travels through Meridian too. He has freckles practically everywhere on his body.

--

Garvin has a rather oval face shape, meaning he has a smaller forehead and a smaller chin, but the middle of his face is wider, the whole thing on the longer side and gaining more of a hollowed look by the week. Now for the nose, slightly crooked with just how many times he’s broken it, he has a hawk shaped nose, meaning it starts off the same way a ‘normal’ nose would, and then goes off the deep end at a slight angle, the tip of it a bit lower than the nasals. His lips are thinner in shape, and you can still usually find him with a grin or smirk of some kind, especially his signature Garvin grin.

--

His eyebrows are rather thin. Despite them being thin and rather straight, they have a slight bush to them towards the end which gives them the illusion of an arrow pointing. Finally, his eyes with deep, heavy eye bags underneath them and usually bloodshot, (and whether that be from lack of sleep or his infection, is unclear) are a deepset downturned hooded shape and dark gray in color, which he is glad for. His face is framed by unruly and wavy, almost to the point of curly, (2C to 3B) ginger hair. Well, if he would take good care of it, that is. Firey in color, though more on the gray side of the red hair spectrum, that is most oftenly messy and in his face, the tips of all of it going just below the ears in length, the back going down to just above his shoulders with so many split ends one would probably think he cuts it himself. Which, he does.

--

His body structure could quickly be described as rectangular, with everything about him pushing towards the idea that the muscle he does have is a lean sort of muscle. Especially when taking into consideration the fact that this man weighs in at around 160 lbs, his BMI at an, admittedly barely, healthy 18.97. Then again, pretty much all of that weight is muscle now.

--

As for scars, he possesses many. From scars on his back and shoulders that look like they’re from whipping, to burn scars on his legs and arms and feet, to cuts on his arms, to a singular one that looks like a slash across his neck, to scars that make it seem like patches of skin had just been scrapped off of him in different places (mostly his arms and back), to a scattering of small scars at his jawline, eyebrows, and across nose. He’s just covered in scars. His left hand has a small scar of a cut across his palm. And both hands have tiny scars all over, which along with his feet are just extremely calloused too. His wrists both have scars circling them. And, of course, there’s plenty of smaller burn scars in various places in order to avoid infections. Which is just hilarious now, given he’s still ended up infected.

-

As for the infection itself? The original site of infection was somewhere around his right shin, the exacts are rather lost on him now though. It’s managed to make a good portion of his right ankle to right calf black by now, after all. The blackened veins have gotten rather far too, managing to make their way almost entirely up his right leg before fading back into how veins are supposed to look. He’d cut the infection off but he kind of needs both of his legs to survive DON. So. He’s just a little stuck.

~

Personality: He's a dumbass. He's sad. He's suprisingly charismatic. He's not having fun but damn is he good at pretending he is. Unless a job calls for silence and stealth, he's incredibly talkative. He's also a great storyteller, though how many stories of his are true and how many are lies, who knows. He dissociates rather easily, oops. He can still play a 12 string banjo, of course. I'll fix everything later.

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Strengths: Sewing, Thievery, Lying, Star Navigation, Small/Simple Repairs, Pain Tolerance, Hunting/Trapping, Stealth, Parkour Shit, and Alert.

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Weaknesses: Aquaphobia, Shitty Lungs, Apathetic, Can't Read/Write, Zero Good Coping Methods, Shitty Memory, Self-Worth Issues, Brute Force(He is Not a Tank), and Incredibly Selfish/Self-Preserving. (Infection Post-Prologue?)

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History: Orphan street rat. Where he's originally from, he hasn't got a clue. He's been traveling for basically forever. Well, up until the hunting group, more or less. You know, other than the people that would every so often take him in. It never lasted very long. The longest it did was with a group of travelers and even that was only for a few years. He got some names to put behind Garvin out of it though, kind of, so that's nice at least.

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Other: My poor orphan boy has come back, ready to face my evil whims yet again. (He's not ready, but I'm throwing him in. It's an evil whim. He shall never catch a break.)

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Because I have already made him a playlist oops.

Kings by Adam Jensen.

Rule #9 - Child of the Stars by Fish in a Birdcage.

For The Wicked by Friday Pilots Club.

Fallohides by We The Heathens.

Sail by AWOLNATION.

Back to the Ground by The Crane Wives.

Ship in a Bottle by fin.

Constellations by The Oh Hellos.

Architect by Livingston.

Oblivion by Dirty Palms.

Ain't No Crying by Derivakat.

Weight of the World by Shayfer James.

Play with Fire by Sam Tinnesz & Yacht Money.

Burning Pile by Mother Mother.

Pompeii by Bastille.

In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier.

Garvin Pyxis-Chip Nami

*~*~*~*

Losing a bet wasn’t usually something he had to worry about, reading odds had always been easier than reading words, after all. Except for when it came to Tam, apparently, who spouted the wildest shit to bet on and still managed to have it happen in his favor. Seriously. What were the chances of some fucking guy yelling out for Canis to take off his pants and him actually listening? As hilarious as it was to watch the youngest of their group dancing on the table and making a fool of himself… Well, Garvin wasn’t one to complain. Even if it seemed a little too in line with Lee’s predictions.

--

The laughter in the tavern was a good enough sign of later luck for him anyways. He’d probably manage to win something back at some point. He lifted his mug as Lass leaned back in her seat, laughing through her words. By the time he was setting his mug back down from taking a swig, he was watching Mini fall back into his chair.

--

Garvin made sure he’d finished swallowing what was in his mouth before laughing again, feeling his eyebrows raise as Sin hit Gary square in the face with his pants. He grinned, watching as Wart went to grab the pants clinging to his nose, “An’ that’s a bullseye! Not bad, Phoenix.”

--

He shifted, rolled the constellation over again in his mind, and glanced at Mar when the eldest spoke up, slamming an empty mug down a moment later. “Alright, pay up. Y’all lost the bet. Don’t tell me ‘yer chickenin’ out now.”

--

He huffed, running a finger around the rim of his own mug before reaching into one of his inner pockets for a Sanguine. “As if, Leo. But you better be ready to lose all’a it the next time ‘round.” He dropped the crystal onto the table, watched as Winter pushed one in front of her with a grumble. As much as he wasn’t a fan of losing a bet, reacting like that didn’t seem too smart of a choice for later bets. There were always worse things to lose than Sanguine when it came to betting, after all.

--

Her reply to Lion sweeping his winnings up was nothing more than amusing, if he were being honest. He took a drink to keep from snorting, knowing full well that laughing at her wasn’t likely a smart move. “You rigged it. What’re the chances it went down exactly like you said?”

--

“And you sound like a jealous bitch, I got on lady luck’s good side.”

--

“Stop fight.. Fightin’, Lass. ‘Thought we were all friensh.” He didn’t have anything left in his mug to keep him from laughing at Walt’s poor attempt at tempering Ford’s flame. Garvin figured he probably would’ve had better luck if he wasn’t on the edge of passing out. It was still hilarious to listen to him try.

--

“You don’t get to talk. Lost my earnings because of you. What’re you gonna do with all that money anyways? Shiny sword? New armor? An all-you-can-eat feast?“

--

Garvin shifted from where he’d been reaching towards the sleeping Canis Minor, glancing at the other two at the mention of food before his mind caught up with what was actually being asked. He coughed subtly, and looked back at Gary. He hummed, barely listening to the words other’s conversation as he tilted his head.

--

“Nah, gonna save it up. Gonna get us out of this hellhole one day. Maybe afford a nice house in the countryside. Prob’bly Mer’dian.”

--

He narrowed his eyes and ignored the pit in his stomach. He rolled Leo around in his mind, rolled the constellation over his tongue. Meridian was nice enough, there were always people looking for farmhands. The stars weren’t as visible as they were in Post. It was still better than Ante though. His eyes shifted, looking for Argo Navis. The banjo was easy enough to find leaning against the table.

--

“Shit, now I feel like a bad person for thinking I was gonna join those Ante bastards and make you all my personal servants.”

--

Garvin blinked, and moved his eyes back to Wart before snorting. He looked over at the other two and smirked. “Hafta say, both’a those ideas suck ass. I think I’ll go wit’ that feast ya mentioned, Sin.” He paused, glancing over to Walt before pushing on the table to stand up, his grin only growing as he did. “Now, while he might’ve already ruined his chances with, well, anyone. But ‘m thinkin’ we throw ‘im in some mud fer good measure, y’know, let ‘im sleep in a stable t’night. Y’all gonna help or am I on my own?”