Röderich Edelstein

Name: Roderich Edelstein

Age: 21

Birthplace: Vienna, Austria

Power: Wiper

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 138 lbs

Division: Part of the Division, though his involvement is yet to be decided

Appearance: Soft brown hair frames a serious, stern looking face. Slim wire frames accent firm, bright brown eyes, and lips are usually in a thin strict line, displaying his serious demeanor. Always clean in appearance, Roderich prefers wearing nicer clothes over tee-shirts and jeans. Stature displays narrow shoulders and small, delicate skeletal structure.

Personality: Being an introvert, Roderich is who one would be considered the “awkward” one in a group, being one with trouble expressing his emotions. Among both strangers and acquaintances, he is a man of few words; under his strict façade, he has a hidden playful side to him which he rarely reveals. Though he appears simplistic, he hates to waste time and is always analyzing whatever situation he may find himself in, always driven by curiosity. If something seems unimportant or a waste, Roderich will become cross and intolerant towards others. He never questions his superiors.

History: Having been brought up in a wealthy family, Röderich has been an isolated only-child since the time of his birth. The environment he was raised in affects his stern attitude; music being a priority in his household, the strict and arduous training he endured on a daily basis hardened him to the feelings of others. His power as a wiper went overlooked by the Division until he was a teenager, and joined it at the age of fifteen. Since then, he has trained hard to improve his power and aid the Division in their cause.

RP Sample: (Age fifteen, before joining the Division)

Slender digits stroked the cool ivory with an idle feeling as the distraught youth hunched on the wooden bench before the object of his passion. The familiar silken smoothness of the keys felt strangely distant this day, as if reflecting his torn feelings towards the obscure letter he had received. It had arrived just the day before, being quite vague about its topic, but the warning it gave stayed in his mind.

“Reply to this message within thirty days. If a reply is not received, it will surely be regretted.”

Regret, regret, regret, regret… The words held a rhythm to them. His mind wandered. What sort of regret? Ah, the letter was so confusing. Division? He had only recently been made aware of his ability, then just a few months later, this letter arrives. Coincidence?

Regret, regret…

Regret.

With an exaggerated sigh, the youth struck an E with his right hand and a C with the left with careful delicacy. Bringing out each note to ring with resonance, the troubled one gave a slight smile as Mendelssohn’s “Regrets” from “Song with no Words” echoed through the barren room. Slowing his tempo, he came to an abrupt stop with a distant look in his eyes…

Regret.

Closing his eyes, the youth rested his cheek against the icy ivory. Huh, regret. That musical composition was the only “regret” he could relate to. Was that so odd?

A draft blew the letter that had been resting on the edge of the sleek concert grand, drifting to the ground with the same sense of sorrow as a leaf in autumn might bring. The response could wait a day or so.. But Röderich never took chances with regret.