Coty Westin- Cleokatrah

Coty Westin- Cleokatrah

Cleo's thread for her character! Name to be determined later!

Cody Westin

Age/Race: 17/Caucasian/small dose of German blood but otherwise an American mutt
Physical Description: 5'9", athletic build. Brown hair, basic cut. Tanned. Blue, melt worthy eyes. He's got a skin condition called vitiligo that's most dominant on his left arm and part of his right, giving them a piebald appearance. There is another patch near his temple that streaks to his brow, making half his left brow completely white. The hair on the depigmented patches of his arms is also white.

Aside from the vitiligo, he appears every bit a cookie cutter teenage jock. Bright, cocky eyes (well, until this morning at least), sardonic lips, young, athletic body he disabuses by attiring it baggy jerseys and the latest (and most expensive) deconstructed denims. For shoes, he wears sneakers that moonlight as spaceships, and on his wrist is the ever popular charity band, only his is bright red and marked with the loud acronym D.A.R.E, perhaps the only material clue which sets him apart from his generation's mold.

Cody is your typical, run of the mill jock teenager. Fully ruled by testosterone (girls, sports, girls, girls, sports...) and young aspirations (gadgets, clothes, did he mention girls?), he lives the good life and knows it. He's graduating this year, he's got the girl, he's got the car. The only unfulfilled wish on his list is perhaps a later curfew and a mom who pretended to give a damn. It is perhaps because of her that he has already learned to be jaded, easily believing that people are crumb, even if he'd rather see angels in all of them first. He enjoys the typical jock popularity, eagerly attends both social occasions and practice. He's not the team leader but he's a vocal supporter, and he does enjoy the spotlight when it hits him.

However, his close friends know him better than that. They know of his eternal soft spot for the unfortunate, for instance. They know he keeps his closest feelings to himself, that he doesn't touch drugs, and that he still doesn't understand the suicide of a sister that, by all brotherly calculations, should still be alive. In close circles, he is a generous goofball, as eager to make sarcastic quips about himself as he is others. He'll display affection toward his baby sister without blinking an eye, lend friends lunch money, and his been known to attempt taking the blame for a few of he and his friends' misled adventures (though that didn't work too well). He's generally a big hearted pushover wrapped up in a lot of muscular, carefree youth.

Rough Facts:
  • Lives with father. Divorced parents, mother is a floozy that wants to date like a 22 year old more than she wants to be a mom.
  • Idolizes said father.
  • Sports nut. Favorites are hockey, football, and soccer. Basically anything rough. Enjoyed basketball until his classmates outgrew him. Currently he is on his school's football and soccer teams, and he plays street hockey on weekends with his buds.
  • Has two sisters, one living, one dead. Living is/was a nine month old baby from father's new wife (2 years). Dead is an older sister that went off the edge and OD'd at a party after their parents split. He was 10. Because of it, he's never been inclined to experiment and participates in frequent charity work.
  • He's currently big brother to a little boy named Denny, whom he takes out for pizza and chick diggin' once a week.

In Character Response:

Cody woke suddenly. One moment he was drenched in blood, wading through a sea of bodies at a frustratingly slow pace while things chased him. Human things. With sockets for eyes and maggots for teeth, skin falling off of their bones, or being away by other things that would eat it. They were gonna eat him, too. He knew it. And the little, flimsy bullets he fired just bounced around like ping pong balls. In that last heart stopping moment, where he knew he wasn't going to make it, knew the last sound he would hear was their teeth rending his skin, he woke.

Startled, eyes wide and unsteady hand half dropping, half strangling his small remington, he gasped into the silence and almost pulled the trigger. But he recognized them first. The faces. Painted in numb, sallow horror, like his. He'd run with them. He'd shot - rather ineffectively - over their shoulders. A short burst of organized panic had sprawled them all here, wherever here was.

Someone was smart enough to turn on a light. His mind wasn't there yet. It was still running from the dream. Severed corpses. Heads... All of a sudden, he remembered that one of them had been her. Stacie, his girl. She had one eye gouged, her gloss covered lips frozen wide in a scream.

Get your head out of it, he told himself.


He looked up. His hand was on the wall he was facing and on his pinky was her ring. The birthstone was pink. All the guys had called him a dandy but he didn't care cause she wore his ring around her neck. Maybe if he stared at her ring deep enough, prayed hard enough, he would know that she was okay. Then he could find her, find his father, his sister, and they could go to a place without things. His father had been in the military once. He would know what to do.

All at once the pink gemstone bounced off the light and wriggled like an entrail. Cody's stomach emptied itself by his knees. He watched the small splatter, amazed there'd been anything left. It wasn't the first time he had demonstrated his cowardice since last night; the unpleasant palate of vomit had announced itself on his tongue upon waking. He heaved once more, just spittle, before spitting once more and bracing hisforehead on the wall, convincing himself that last night didn't happen.

Ohhh, but it did.

His palm sweat against the remington in testament.

Pre zombie write still coming. I just had to get that out of my system. Still playing between Cody and Wes(t), too.

Minute Background

His parents were fighting again. Or at least he thought they were fighting until Cody realized his father wasn't angry. He was - upset, almost frantic. He was yelling for Cody's mother, Barbara, and hung up just as Cody edged around the corner, eying his father with caution. But his father wasn't paying attention to him. He was punching a number into his cell as he hurried into his room. Cody stepped aside just in time to avoid getting plowed.

"What happened?" Cody followed him. Something was wrong. Something big. All at once he forgot about his late homework and focused on the health of his baby sister, of no relation to his father but still precious to them both. "Is it Becca?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? Dad, what did she say. What-" Cody's jaw snapped shut as he recognized the case his father had just pulled down from the closet. His gun collection. He wasn't messin' around either; he went straight for the .44 Eagle. The moisture in Cody's mouth vacated.

"If I'm not back, call the police." His father shouldered by. They were broad, strong shoulders, a product of life in the service, and then the proud dedication after that service, when he had given up that military career and returned to Tampa to raise his son after his ex-wife had failed to do the same.

Cody scrambled after him, wondering if his mother had finally forced his father over the edge. "Wait! Dad. Call the police now. You have the gun in your glove box. You don't need-"

"They were busy." Outside now. The F-150 in the driveway gave a short, anxious chirp.

"Busy?" What? "Wait. You called nine-one-one and it was busy?" Cody beat him to the door and barred the way. "Dad! Talk to me!"

The look Cody got was level and bone cold. It made him swallow, and think of black eyes and broken ribs, but he didn't budge. His father said, in perfect quiet storm, "There's an intruder."

Cody turned around and opened the door. As he climbed over to the passenger seat, he heard his father tell him to go back inside. The argument afterward was snappy and swift. Father peeled out of the driveway, son in tow, and the black truck raced down the streets like a monster, right up until it hit that cute little red GT in its rear and squinched it up like an accordion. Luckily, the driver wasn't killed - because it was already dead, having been munched and all. Another car hit the truck from behind and his father swore and Cody stared out the window in horror.

The street was mayhem. The signal was out. Cars were scattered in the intersection. Traffic was either backed up, sandwiched, or fragmented into broken bits and shattered glass. At first, Cody thought they had run into a carnival of carnivores and would be safe if they locked themselves in the truck and pretended not to be there. But then he noticed the way the carnivores lurched when they moved, and the frenzied, blank look on their dead faces. They weren't simple carnivores. They were things.

"Dad..." Cody's voice found a dark corner and hid.

"Don't move, Cody." His father did, though. Real slow. He reached across to the glove box and pulled out the 9mm that was always within it. He clicked off the safety and put it in his son's hand. "You've been shown how to shoot," he said.


"When I get out, you get out as quickly and as quietly as you can. We'll head backwards. We're gonna find a car, or someone with a car, and we're gonna get out of here. Okay?"

Cody liked that idea. He nodded. The gun felt like shapeless coal in his hand. His father checked his own safety, referred to his mirrors, and put a steady hand on the handle. The door was cockeyed from impact. They both inhaled at the creak, but nothing came at them. With care, his father slid out of the vehicle. He watched the road, and then held a hand out for his son. Cody unlatched his belt and took it. Moments took eons, but eventually they were both on the ground, crouched between automobiles - safe, for the time.

His father stopped using words and began to communicate by motions. Stay down. Be quiet. Don't forget they both had a weapon. They slunk together through the row of stopped cars, pausing at the tail of each one, listening for horrors above traffic that was still screeching to a halt. On Cody's right, the row of cars shuddered under impact and tossed him off balance. He righted himself, located his father's gun that had slid from his hands, and prepared to march on. His father held up a staying hand.

All around them, people were pouring into the street, cursing, calling other people names - screaming. Many of them had ducked down like they were, reaching for cells, flocking into scared little groups. The screaming in the distance got closer. Then closer. Cody was pushed the other direction.

"We can't go that way," said his father. "We won't make it. Get up." Cody watched him rise, heard the hair raising noise that was half a growl, half screech, before it was cut off abruptly by his father's quick shots. He yanked Cody to his feet. "Run." he did not let go of his arm.

Cody saw them falling. People, as they were grabbed. In flight one moment, the next someone's meal. And the things weren't finishing none of them. They were taking them down, chewing enough flesh for the kill, and then going back to the hunt. Cody could feel their hunger and hatred baking off of the street. He ran. His father fired. Once, Cody's shoulder was pulled hard and then he fired. The thing that had appeared on a hood much too close to his side just kept coming. His father plugged it twice, enough to give them some room. He grabbed Cody's firing arm aggressively. "Down the sight," he barked. "Quit aiming down the barrel. You're wasting ammo."

He backed up, half shoving, half pushing his son toward the sidewalk. Gaither high was in the near distance. They ran for it. At the parking lot, his father stopped, once more raising his gun. "Get in the school," he said. "I'll follow you."

Cody wanted to argue. His father wouldn't have it. Ordered and shoved, Cody spurred into motion, childhood obedience and fear trumping all else. He ran, chancing one look over his shoulder. The street was littered with chaos. Cars, bodies, and panic. Men armed with crowbars, women removing their heels. In the distance, Cody thought he could hear the welcoming sound of sirens. The women and children were scattering. A few of the men were bonding together to help them escape. Most of them fled.


"In the school, Cody." He couldn't afford to glance back.

For a second more, Cody stood unmoving. Then he saw a woman trying to lob toward him, holding her bowels in her hand. Cody pivoted on the blue and white mosaic under his feet, and fled.

Is starting with some sketches.

Cody's claim to fame: "I'm gonna grow up to be the second King of Pop!"
Dad's reply: "Can't even carry a tune in the shower..."
Cody, flustered: "S-shut up!"

I like the D.A.R.E. bracelet.

Have I ever mentioned how much I luv you? *squeegles*

And lol btw. Now I'm gonna have to edit his profile. Goal: To be the the most popular hearthrob in the next uprising boy band. In light of current events, they'll have to name themselves catchy like BoneByterz.

Hmm, some colored sketches. I am not sure about how dark is the brown hair, so went kinda dark brunnete. The first one is a bit off in proportion, so I made a cheesecake out of the second. Err, no, I don't understand my own logic, either.

Cleo, give me feedback on the hair color, the apparent age (I went for Singaporean 19-ish teens for comparison), and his athlete tan. Give me comment on his face, too. I'm a bit wary about that one.

Also, what the heck is melt-worthy eyes? XD

PS: Next batch of sketches will have to wait. I ran out of good drawing paper...
Attached Images
File Type: jpg Westin 1.jpg (176.9 KB, 0 views)
File Type: jpg Westin 2.jpg (312.2 KB, 0 views)

Good grief you are spoiling me this morning. flippin' awesome posting, not one but two art gifties... *hugglesXtodeath*

I love love LOVE your interpretation of the char and especially the vittiligo! And I uber love the cheesecake, studmuffin pinup-esque pose as well. So adorable. Perfect, cocky, no care in the world expression for a teenager.

If you want me to be picky, I could ask for the hair to be slightly less full and more in the face, but it's not like I had specifically explained it in his description. I love the white streak at his temple! maybe eyes a little smaller and the sides of the nose slightly concave rather than slightly convex. But really, no complaints and all appreciation here. You captured his personality just perfect (love the bracelet!) and good heaven, thank you so very much. I am going to *attempt* to do some kind of color job in photoshop. I suck at shading and patience though, so we'll see. And I'm not gonna at all muss up the awesome coloring/shading you started, just try and enhance it a little, if you don't mind that is.

Thank you thank You thank you. *huggles*


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