• Determined || Though he seldom comes across something worth pursuing with such tenacity, when Zaven decides on a course of action, nothing can stand in his way. He is resourceful and will find a way to make whatever he wants happen. Whether or not the means of which he accomplishes this are completely legal is another matter.
• Intelligent || Though he chooses to keep this concealed from others, Zaven possesses an IQ over 140. He scored a 1590 on the SATs, despite making less than stellar grades in high school. His teachers often suspected his potential, however, he refused to apply himself academically, likely because the pace was too slow for him and he became easily bored in a normal educational atmosphere.
• Protective || Though the number of people he actually gives a shit about are few, Zaven is extremely protective and defensive of those who make it on the short list to his heart. He will put himself between them and danger, ready to combat any threat to their wellbeing. Anyone foolish enough to harm someone he cares for should be warned that he will hunt you down and make sure you're aware of how royally you fucked up.
• Short-Tempered || Even before becoming a werewolf, Zaven's fuse was short. Prone to explosive displays when angry, it isn't uncommon for him to throw or break things in order to express his pissivity. If the target of this anger happens to be a person and male, physical aggression is often the result, as Zaven finds it far easier to let his fists do the talking, rather than hash things out verbally.
• Distrustful || Loyalty and trust is extended to few, as most are viewed with a heavy dose of suspicion. Self-reliant and fiercely independent, Zaven looks out for himself and he expects others to do the same. Those who manage to earn this wolf's trust and loyalty, should consider themselves special.
• Closed-Off || This mostly pertains to romantic relationships. Zaven's mother took off with another man when he was still a small child and this event left a lasting impression. He adopted the belief that women are selfish and will take off the moment something better comes along. For this reason, he doesn't allow himself to become entangled romantically. One night stands are his norm and that's the way he prefers it.
Most people just call me an asshole. I really don't think you need a couple of paragraphs explaining why. Hell, I don't give a shit what you think of me. This is fucked up. *gets up and storms out *
Well, then. It looks like it's up to me to describe Zaven's personality... Upon first glance, it does indeed seem he is quite the jerk. To put it simply, he's rude and crude and has no issue telling it like it is. Anger is his frequently displayed mask. If he knows flicking a cigarette butt onto the floor will irritate someone, it's a given that particular action will immediately be done. To make matters worse, he'll then flash a feigned smile in silent dare for said person to retaliate against him. Always itching for a fight, Zaven doesn't necessarily mind if he wins or loses. It's the physical exertion of aggression that he seems to derive enjoyment from. Whether he's the one to smash his opponent's nose, or walks away suffering from one, he can often be seen drinking beer with his opponent fifteen minutes later. Such behavior demonstrates a general lack of holding grudges, however, those serious enough to warrant lingering animosities are well advised to steer clear of this man. When Zaven sincerely hates, he does so with as much passion as he can possibly muster.
Frustratingly (least to others), he can argue to the point of uncontrolled rage one minute, only to change his tune the next when his genuinely short attention span reaches its limit. Thus, he drinks and smokes with those he's previously battled, yet none of them are remotely considered friends. Just because Zaven decides on a whim to join your side in trouble, doesn't mean he's extended any genuine loyalty. Life is much more entertaining without those tentative grasps some people call relationships. When it comes to women, Zaven prefers his to be temporary, easy, and cheap. If she breathes the word commitment, or hints at a second date, he's most likely already out the door without a single, backward glance. Few would guess that he is actually quite intelligent, but he believes keeping this hidden is to his advantage. The dumber people think you are, the less they expect of you.
He is independent and stubborn, valuing his personal freedom above all else. Prior to joining the pack, he spent several years traveling the world alone without answering to a soul. He grew accustomed to being able to just grab his stuff and go, thus he finds the pack environment somewhat stifling and confining. He is a genuine loner in every sense of the word, but he recognized the need to seek out a pack for the sake of his own survival. However, that doesn't mean he's happy about the necessity of this. He doesn't respond well to being ordered around, especially if he lacks respect for the person giving the command. When it comes to an alpha figure, he will obey, but not without harboring unvoiced resentment and some muttering under his breath. He struggles with what he has become and eyes everyone with a degree of suspicion, always searching for a hint as to who turned him into a werewolf. If he ever learns the identity of that person, he intends to take them out, or die trying.
Growing up mostly unsupervised, Zaven learned to avoid authority whenever possible. Anyone with a badge is automatically deemed an enemy. Those who attempt to intimidate him will find themselves faced by an unmoving male who refuses to cower regardless of the consequences. However, buried far beneath his own toughened exterior is an insecure soul who relies on establishing firmly anchored walls against potential risks. Fear is largely a motivator behind his unscrupulous ways and dismissive attitude. To care means chancing pain and emotional baggage is far more frightening than any kind of physical wound. Lacerations and cuts heal, scars eventually fade. Broken hearts never truly mend. Those loose women he pursues so eagerly? They are nothing more than passing pleasures yet both participants leave mutually satisfied.
Causing havoc, purposefully pushing people’s buttons, sleeping with a different partner each night; each are done with vast amusement and yet each are also done as a repellent. Allowing himself to be vulnerable is perhaps the worst thing Zaven can imagine. It's always better to be the heartbreaker rather than the brokenhearted. He trusts no one, always anticipating the next slight or betrayal, no matter how hard others work to gain his confidence. In fact, he often sabotages such relationships, building up tensions until he is attacked and then promptly uses this to further validate his belief that he’s better off alone.
Born into a low income family in St. Louis, Misery — no, that isn't spelled wrong — Zaven had it rough from the start. His parents married right out of High School, neither considering the implications of being eighteen with all of the responsibility of adulthood resting squarely on their young shoulders. The high school sweethearts quickly learned it was impossible to subsist on love alone, the affection that had thrived and carried their relationship through adolescence, not paying the bills. With his father working three minimum wage jobs just to keep the lights on, arguments became commonplace. Shouting matches brought the police to the door of their rented duplex on frequent occasions, while neighbors whispered about their troubles, spreading gossip throughout the neighborhood.
To compound the struggles they faced, his mother became pregnant less than a year after they married. What his father didn’t know until later, was that loneliness had driven his new bride into the arms of another man. Left alone while her husband worked more often than not, Zaven’s mother began going out, spending money they didn’t have, and meeting men who were all too willing to temporarily appease the emptiness she felt. His mother carried him to full term, secretly harboring shame and guilt she feared would be revealed upon the day of his birth. She was right to be afraid. On April 7th, Zaven Noah Spencer was born, boasting a head of black hair and tan skin neither of his parents possessed.
Still, despite his father’s suspicions regarding his newborn son’s appearance, he couldn’t bring himself to confront his wife about it, fearful of losing the woman he still very much loved. Unfortunately, the birth of her child just made matters worse. Loneliness compiled with a sense of imprisonment, of feeling tethered to a baby she hadn’t planned for and one day, without warning, she left her son and husband behind to be with a man she met depositing the money his father slaved for. This taught Zaven two things: 1) women are selfish and 2) that he never wanted to be the kind of sucker his father had been. This would set the tone for his relationships with women for the rest of his life, growing affection toward any female serving as an alarm bell for him to end things quick before love could take root.
While his father busted his ass to put food on the table, Zaven was left with neighbors until he began elementary school. When he was in the second grade, he began staying home by himself, alone without parental supervision until his father returned in the late evening. He became very independent and self-sufficient out of sheer necessity, embarrassed that they never seemed to get ahead, no matter how much his dad worked. Top Ramen was a kitchen staple at the Spencer residence, along with whatever processed foods their EBT benefits would pay for. His clothes were purchased at local thrift stores or at yard sales, often faded and discolored, leaving no doubt as to their origins. Unfortunately as a kid, one seldom sees the great lengths their parents go through to provide. Zaven likewise, focused on what he didn’t have, coming to view his father as a bonafide loser.
With his respect for his father permanently tarnished, their relationship would be a tumultuous one. From the time he was in his early teens, Zaven was in trouble. Be it for skipping school, smoking pot, or sneaking out of the house. While he wasn’t lacking in intelligence, the rules and monotony of school bored him. His teachers became frustrated, insisting he could excel easily if he just applied himself to a minute degree. Zaven however, wasn’t interested, and no amount of motivational encouragement seemed to change that.
At home, he and his father fought constantly, the older male struggling to keep a rein on his wayward son to no avail. In fact, Zaven found his father’s efforts laughable, even when he attempted “tough love” by changing the locks on the doors, or kicking him out overnight. During these nights he would sleep on a park bench, or crash at a friend’s house, completely unapologetic when allowed to return home. It wasn’t just his father who couldn’t contain him. Lines drawn in the sand by authority figures were frequently crossed, viewed as dares to the rebellious youth. Not even overnight stints in jail scared him straight, the teenager left undaunted by the experience. The crowd he ran with consisted of your stereotypical hoods and troublemakers, the bad kids accused of going nowhere, doomed to never amount to anything. In fact, this was a prediction his father routinely spouted and while Zaven would merely shrug his shoulders in cool indifference, inside he was terrified that perhaps he was right.
Would he live and die in the economically destitute city comprised of chain-link fences and cracked sidewalks? Not if he had anything to say about it. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to get out of Missouri. He graduated, but just barely, his grades below average while his attendance record reflected a student that had spent almost as many days ditching school as he had attended. Despite this, he had still managed to earn his diploma by the skin of his teeth, this accomplishment hinting at his secret intelligence, for he should have failed and failed miserably.
He would work over the Summer at a local grocer, stocking shelves and collecting carts, but he saved every penny he made, ignoring his friends’ beckoning to party. He had plans and by the time Fall came, he’d managed to earn enough to purchase himself a one way ticket to Thailand. He would spend the next handful of years backpacking through Asia and Europe, earning money wherever he could. He slept in tents in the wilderness, or in the cheapest motel he could find, soaking up the experience of different cultures. By the time he was twenty-one, he’d been to Australia, Japan, Italy, France, New Zealand, India, and too many other countries to name. His only correspondence with his father would consist of postcards from all the places he’d ventured.
He would amass quite the Instagram following, posting photographs of every exotic location he visited. This would become a source of income for him over time. When he returned to the United States, he embarked on a similar excursion toward the east coast, driving from state to state in the beat up Jeep he purchased for next to nothing in California, hiking and taking photos as he went. While in Maryland, he met a woman who was to become an unlikely friend. Gabrielle Lorne was gentle and kind, the polar opposite of Zaven. Their friendship was improbable, the unexpected kindness she extended toward him with seemingly no strings attached arousing suspicion in him. He wasn’t used to people making an effort to know him, to see beneath the layers of toughness and self-protection. But they kept in contact, and eventually, Zaven would come to visit her in New Orleans, where she moved a few months later. It was a decision that would change his life forever.
On November 14, 2016 Zaven ventured out with Gabrielle, a practicing witch who intended to harness the power of the super moon that evening for a moonlight ritual. While the idea made him roll his eyes, he went to keep her company, never anticipating what would unfold. The attack happened so fast, he never saw it coming. The sheer agony of the mauling caused him to pass out within minutes, certain he was as good as dead. When he woke up sometime the next morning, Gabrielle by his side, he wasn’t even sure what had attacked him, but he knew he wasn’t right. Something was terribly wrong with him. When he shifted for the first time, he wanted to die — wished he had died. As he was forced to sit and listen to every bone in his body pop and realign into the structure of the lupine beast that dwelled inside of him, he vowed to make whoever had done this to him pay. One way or another, he would find the one responsible, and he would end them.
He stayed with Gabrielle for a time, but feared he was too unpredictable. It was a constant struggle to keep the wolf contained within him, to keep his emotions in check, and inside he was raging. When Gabrielle discovered she was pregnant, he made the decision to leave despite her protests. With the stigma surrounding werewolves, he knew he was unlikely to find help among the human populace. No doctor would be able to cure him and the prejudice that swirled among the mortals of the world, assured him that there were more who would seek to harm him than provide aid. It was through a local news report that he learned of Wasohá. Recognizing his lack of control and begrudgingly admitting to his need for guidance, he sought them out in hopes of learning how to navigate his new reality.