[APPLICATION]
Character: Sasori Akasuna
Age: 35
PB:
Shou
Classification: Middle class/brunette
Occupation: Mortician
clandestine doctor
Background History:
Death entered Sasori's life at a young age when his parents were murdered in a cross fight between rebellious dirty hairs and the police force. It had been a mistake, but whose? That information wasn't given out, at least to Sasori's knowledge. The police force wouldn't take the blame. He stood next to his grandmother listening to the explain. Not to him, oh no, they seemed to decide that the young boy, barely seven years old was too young to comprehend the situation. Before they left he asked them if he could have their bodies. They were his parents. He wanted them home where they belonged. They told him, 'no' and told his grandmother to take him home.
Sasori had always been a quiet child, but without his parents love and affection he became even more introverted. His grandmother tried and tried again to get him to open up, but it was impossible. Sasori was stubborn and didn't care for her affection, accepting it in exchange for nothing except for bored eyes and a bland expression. Not that he ignored his grandmother. When he wasn't in school he was with her, learning more from her then the school's educational programs taught children his age. With his home studies, he also learned more about her favorite hobby: making puppets. Marionettes controlled by strings, miniature and life size. They were far more comforting to be around then any person or pet. With a few broken and unused puppet pieces kept in the closet with her tools, Sasori worked alone to construct his first puppets of his own. Puppets who would love him and comfort him without expecting anything in return. Puppets who wouldn't die or leave. Puppets in the image of his parents.
Living in the second district was frustrating for him as he reached his teenage years. Knowledge became harder to obtain. He wanted to learn about the workings of the human body. What made them move? What made them live? He was sure there was something explainable by science in regards to life. If he found it, perhaps his puppet creations would live. Not just the puppets of his parents, but the others he'd made after them. They had become more then a hobby, they were his art. Eternal as all art should be, unlike life which was so easily lost and forgotten. With the lack of education available that he wanted - needed - he began seeking it out himself, learning as much as possible about the body, trying to find answers to those questions along with others.
What made the body stop working? How far would the will to live take the body before it gave up?
He began his own research. First on animals, strays from the third district so easily lured with the promise and hope of food. They were not as interesting as he expected. What he really wanted was a human body, something that would aid his studies far better then a mangy dog or cat did. He took his first job as a medical examiner's assistant, aiding in autopsies and preservation of the bodies shipped in until their families collected them or the unidentified were cremated. These he had full access to, learning the workings of the body through the image of death. No matter how much he studied though, he failed to find answers. He learned what could kill the body, how to cut precisely without causing tearing in the skin. How to revive the body from death, but not how to give life to a body postmortem.
When his grandmother finally passed away - another mystery to him, not her death, but her most stubborn will to live - he received her possessions, money and house. Her puppets were hung on display in what had been her room, a tribute to her artistic skills and her ashes he decided to keep in a glass container inside the heart of a puppet he made after her death in her image, dressed in her old clothes. Anyone entering his home and seeing the room, now decorated to look like a small tea room might be startled to see the figures sitting at the table having a meal together as though death hadn't separated them. His mother and father sat across from his grandmother at a bare table by the window. Seeing them brought a new thought to Sasori's mind. If he could not bring life to a puppet, was it possible to turn a living being into a puppet.
His first subject was a young black haired girl who he paid to run errands for him. She had no family alive and wouldn't be missed. He'd expected it to be difficult, but was intently frustrated by how quickly his first attempt failed. The girl went into shock before he could get anything dramatic done. Her death was a set back for him, especially since he had to go run his own errands for a few days before finding another to do it for him. He continued researching, keeping tabs on medical advancements in the upper blond class for anything useful as he worked in the morgue.
Personality/Likes & Dislikes:
A puppeteer is always in control. A master puppeteer is always obeyed to the fullest. Puppets never complained, were never late and didn't expect conversation from him. Human beings on the other hand... They were demanding, rude and disobedient. He hated them. When he wanted them, they were late. Their time, not his time. As if they were important. Egotistical morons.
Sasori likes control. Who leads conversation. Who receives the answers. Who pulls the strings. Personal boundaries mean nothing to him, only his own bubble. Do. Not. Enter it. While it takes a lot to push him to lash out, there are other ways to torture someone who crosses his path. While he enjoys being in control, he refuses any position of authority. Authority meant interacting with people who would demand things, expect things because they thought they were worth something. The only human interaction he was comfortable with was the bodies turning cold on the tables in the morgue. They spoke to him, but not with words. They told him stories of their life and death, no lies or altered truths. At work, his associates were nervous and agitated around him. They tried to speak to him, but Sasori spoke using sentences that seemed to end the conversation, even if he was starting one.
Would you like to get on his good side? Well unless you're willing to be a perfect puppet for him, of course without being a mindless drone, do not expect much. Just as he dislikes receiving affection, giving affection or friendliness is something he doesn't give. Not because he's cruel, but because it isn't a feature he had. His affection is reserved for his puppets alone. If you want something from him, be prepared to give something in return. On his terms. He will be the one who measures the worth of what you've brought for him in exchange for his more ...clandestine services. In exchange for information or services, Sasori may be willing to give medical attention to those who lack the money or such as the dirt-hairs, respect of doctors. Hair color and class mean nothing to Sasori. Humans are the same level to him. The same low, annoying level that is only there to either cause him headaches or service him.
