Name: Morty Wilder

Age: Twenty

Gender: Male

Species: Extraterrestrial/Alien, from a different planet

Biography: Morty is an alien from a planet called Meridian, many light-years away from Earth. He volunteered, after years of study on the human race, to try and make contact with a member of the human race. His red-eyed, bright-haired species, who refer to themselves as the Akweetee, are very human-like in appearance and it's often difficult to tell that they're actually aliens until their extreme lack of knowledge on human life is displayed.

Appearance:

Remy Chamgane
Age: 20
Birthplace: French Quarter, New Orleans
Species: Human → All though he would debate that most days
Family: Single Mother, Only Child
Bio: He was an art student at the University of New Orleans, until his fiancé Marcus was killed in a horrible hit and run. Rem has spent the last year slipping in and out of a suicidal depression. His therapist and mother recommended he get out of the big city and into a small cabin his grandfather used to own. So Remy packed up his art supplies and headed out to the mountains to get his head together…Little does he know the surprise that waits for him.

Apperance:
http://www.malemodel.us/wp-content/u...-Winters-3.jpg

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I have to say that I love the picture of Morty. He looks alot like David Bowie, during his years as Iggy.

((I adoooore Morty. He's such a sweetheart. X3 And I agree, he does bear a resemblance to Bowie.))

Remy exited the taxi that proceeded to speed off down the dirty road behind him. He sighed and looked at the small farmhouse on the edge of the corn field. It was the traditional white with red shutters and a screen door. It looked boring and trivial. Remy sighed and got out the key his mother had gave him to open the front door. Why did I ever agree to come out here? He looked at his key chain and saw the small rubber snoopy dressed as an artist. Remy started to feel tears well up in his eyes. Mon ami, you have got to quit letting Marcus’ memory do this to you.

He quickly wiped his eyes and picked up his duffel and luggage. Grunting he pulled his luggage up the porch that surrounded the house only to be hit in the face when the door opened suddenly.

“Merde! Qui diable*…” he looked up and met eyes with the little old man that had opened the door.

“You better watch your mouth boy. I may be your uncle, but I will tan that Arcadian ass quicker than you blink. Now get up here and give your ‘ol Papa Luc a hug.” Remy smiled at the old man who had helped raise him after his father died. Papa Luc was a thin wrinkled man, his skin was as dark as leather and the same texture. His eyes had a constant mischievous smile. His uncle has then moved to the west with his family after he retired and had kept in touch. After Marcus was killed and Remy had found himself lost in darkness, Luc had called Remy’s mother and told her to send Remy out to his vacant farm house on the edge of his property.

“Is good to see mon garcon**. Your Aunt and I were glad to help you out.” Papa Luc helped him carry his bags into the house. “Now your Aunt and I will be out of town for the next six months. All the bills have been paid and the house is all yours, just make sure that the house is still standing!” He laughed, slapping Remy on the back.

“Luc is that our sweet boy I hear to talking too?,” A sweet high pitched voice filtered through the house, followed by thundering footsteps as a large black woman entered the room. Aunt Shani “Oooo it is! Oh BABY!! Look at you Remy all grown up!” She smothered the boy against her chest picking him up off of the floor.

“Tracy put the boy down...he’s had a long trip and we need to get on the road.” Papa Luc smiled and set down the bags. He pulled out a set of keys from a side drawer. “Boy these are the keys to my old pickup she sticks every so often, but she should get you where you need to go.” There was a loud honk.

“Okay mon garcon, your aunt and I got to get out of here.” Aunt Shani gave Remy another large hug and headed out with the bags.

“Don’t Papa Luc, I’ll keep the house safe, thanks again and have a great trip!” The couple left the home and Remy sighed. Mon Deu! He loved Mama Shani and Papa Luc, but if he wanted to have his face shoved into a pair of breasts, he would have been straight.

He looked at all of his bags and decided to choose a room and get unpacked.

FRENCH PHRASES
*Who the hell…
** my boy

The countryside was quiet around this time of year. Very quiet...almost eerily quiet, in fact. The sounds of cars rushing past on the highway, which was not close by, could just be heard as a dull rumble. The sounds of the local wildlife made for the most noise in the area--the occasional sounds of chirping crickets and feral dogs.

Yes, that was the usual symphony of the countryside. A silent one, but a symphony nonetheless...

Tonight, however...something was amiss. Through the near-silence something could be heard that wasn't an ordinary sound for the area. The sound of crunching, painfully slow footsteps and even the occasional stumble.

It sounded like someone was stumbling through the corn field. The corn was dry and rather leathery to the touch right about now--rain hadn't come for a week and a half...it was easy to hear if someone or something was rustling through the stalks.

It sounded like someone was trying to be sneaky and slink their way through the field. But...it wasn't working out so well. The sounds of stumbling and gasps of someone being caught off guard were enough to affirm that much. But...who, or what even, was in the corn field at this time of night...or rather, morning?

It was about three in the morning...three and a half hours away from sunrise. Very late at night...too late for any sane person to want to be out and about in someone else's cornfield doing...who-knows-what. Perhaps it was a troublemaker, or a nosy deer trying to eat up what was left of the corn?

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't used to navigating its way through tall, dry stalks of corn--finally, after about ten minutes of what sounded like struggling, there was a rather loud and discernible thump from the direction of the cornfield, indicating that something or someone had fallen down.

Remy tossed and turned in the bed. It’s too quite out here! I am never gonna get to sleep. He got up and decided to et up and get something to drink. He stood in the darkened kitchen looking out over the corn field. It was eerie and lonely. He wrapped his arms around his waist and was going to head back upstairs when he heard something out in the cornfield.

Remy shook off his fear, I am just hearing things…new place jitters. Then the sound came again, followed by an indiscernible curse. He looked out to field again and could make up someone moving around in between the corn rows. “Oh shit!” Merde, my first night here and this has already become a b rated slasher movie. Remy looked around the kitchen for a weapon, he spotted one of Mama Shani’s iron cast pans.

Remy opened the back door and yellout, “I don’t know who you are, but…I h…h…have a gun!” The Acadian heard a particularly loud thump and decided to investigate. He went back in the house, grabbed his jacket and a large flashlight. Keeping the pan in one hand he headed out the door and into the field. Mon Deu, what the hell am I doing!? I am going to get myself killed. He turned to go back into the house when he ran into something hard and his flashlight illuminated a face. Remy screamed and through the pan up in the air, it came down hitting him in the head. The last thing Remy saw before he passed out were a pair of feet coming closer.

The stranger who had unknowingly trespassed on the other male's property was frightened by the sudden shout and had frozen...and had had the other male smack into him. He watched half-helplessly and half-curiously as the strange-looking, apparently heavy object in the other man's hand flew into the air and came down with reckless abandon on his head.

Remy's fall had spread out some of the corn stalks, making a tiny clearing. The stranger, a feline, slender young man with very pale skin, wasn't quite sure what to do. He was rather odd-looking, with his brightly-colored hair and bright blood red eyes. But his clothing...his clothing was old, ripped, and torn-up. Ratty, like the clothing of a homeless person.

...Was he homeless?

The stranger fidgeted and looked up at the barely-noticeable path Remy had made while making his way through the corn field. He sighed, softly, and then gathered up what Remy had dropped--that odd, heavy, circular thing with a handle and what appeared to be a strange stick of some sort that shone out of its frontal end.

Once he had those items gathered up, he grabbed onto Remy's arms, making sure to keep a grip on those odd items he'd dropped, and dragged him, slowly and painstakingly, out of the cornfield. Once they were no longer surrounded by tall stalks of corn, the man dropped Remy's arms and set his items down beside him.

He crouched down a few feet away, looking concerned. There was a reddish-looking bump rising on Remy's head...but he didn't know the first thing about first aid...

Remy laid on the cool grass, the sun was bright in the sky and everything was perfect. There was a pleasant weight on his stomach. He looked down to see the tousled brown hair, lean body and chiseled chin of Marcus, see the Remy ran his hands though Marcus’ soft hair and hummed. His eyes widened as he looked down at his former lover. “Mon Amor is that you?” The man resting in his lap sat up and leaned over the artist. Remy traced his fingers over the mouth of his long dead fiancé.

“Who else would it be Mon Felis?” He leaned down to kiss Remy. Remy pulled away. He stood up and started to run. Suddenly his vision was filled with images of Marcus.

“No you are dead, I held your dead body in the morgue, your gone baby. Don’t do this to me.” Remy dropped to the ground and pulled into a ball, rocking back and forth. The world rippled around Remy’s view, melting like ice on a hot day. “NO!”

Remy’s eyes shot open as the dream halted dramatically. He woke to find himself still outside, there was a pinkish hue on the eastern horizon. Mon Deu! What happened? He put his hands in his head and yelped in pain after he found the large goose egg on his temple. He look around his feet and saw that the iron pan and his flashlight were laid out next to him. The he noticed that he wasn’t in the middle of corn field but, back in the yard a stone’s throw away from the house.

He heard a small movement to his left. Red eyes stared back at him from a pale, catlike face. Orange hair laid gently on his shoulders, he was dressed like a common hobo, but lacked that certain smell. Remy turned towards the stranger, the flame red eyes followed him as he moved. They pulled him into their depths and Remy felt himself falling into them. He shook himself out of his illusion and addressed the beautiful man before him.

“Hello, I’m Remy. Were you out in the field last night?” The stranger titled his head studying him. “Do you understand what I am saying? Parl e vous Frances? Sprechen sie Duetch? Español?”

The wild-haired stranger recoiled a bit when Remy finally stirred and sat up, as if he was frightened of him for some reason. But...there were no signs of fright in those crimson eyes. No, there was something akin to...excitement? Fascination, maybe?

"...E...eh?" he babbled, unintelligibly. "E-er..." He wiggled uncomfortably where he was crouched down. "...Yes, I do. Oui, tres bien. Ja, ich spreche Deutsch. Sí, ¿por qué?"

...He knew all three languages. Quite well, actually--he had a bit of an odd accent that wasn't a common one to hear, most likely. He was acting rather odd...he was twitchy and nervous, yet totally excited and cheerful.

...A foreigner, perhaps? He was certainly acting like someone who was new to the area. But why was he wandering around a corn field late at night...?

Remy had to pick up his mouth from the grass. Well at least the sexy stranger spoke English and a few others. His accent sounded weird though....hmmm.

Remy tried to stand up, but fell to back to the ground. “MERDE!” The stranger nearly jumped out of his skin as Remy struggled to get back semi upright. Remy looked at the concern and curiosity in those red pools. “Would you mind helping me inside? It seems that I am having trouble standing up.” The stranger just looked at him in confusion and Remy sat back exhausted. Remy shook his head, “Never mind, lets just sit here. So what’s your name anyways? You don’t look like you come from this back water town.”

The stranger stayed perfectly still, though he was looking a little concerned about the way Remy was acting. Was he hurt? Was he...was he trying to attack? He couldn't understand what Remy was trying to do...

Then, he heard him speak. "...O-oh? My name?" Something seemed to click in the stranger's mind and he quickly, almost spastically extended his hand out to Remy. "My name...it's Morty! It's nice...to be meeting you?" Morty's sentence structure was painfully awkward, even though he appeared to be fluent in English. His hand was also shaking and he seemed to be feeling awkward about holding his hand out like that, as if he'd never shaken someone's hand before in all his life.

He processed Remy's other words and suddenly jumped to his feet, still holding his hand out. "...You...need help getting up? Where is your place of residence?" He glanced around, as if he didn't see the house so close to them.

Remy took Morty’s hand and tried to complete the awkward hand shake. He must be eastern European. Remy had met enough tourists during Mardi Gras to think that the stranger’s behavior wasn’t too strange, except the clothing. The man had the looks of an Adonis, yet he was dressed like a back alley bum, that and even though his clothes were muddy, his face and hands were quite clean. He even smelled good. “I’m Remy.”

The hand he shook was warm and smooth. Remy got enveloped studying the beautiful man sitting in front of him He had to shake himself out of his day dream. “Um…yea if you could help me into the house I’d really appreciate it.”

As the stranger looked around and asked where the house was. “The house is right behind me, can’t you see the door? It’s that red thing with the screen.”

He tried to stand again and this time felt strong hands helping him up. He smiled at the stranger as they staggered toward the house.

"Oh. That thing...I mean, of course! The...house. Yes..." Morty had no problem helping Remy off of the ground and towards the house, but he had to stop near the stairs and negotiate them carefully before scaling them. The door, thankfully, he had no problem opening.

He seemed both exhilarated and bewildered upon seeing the interior of the house--there was a childlike fascination on his face. "...O-oh! What a...a nice place you have here!" He sounded awkward again. "Where...do you want me to set you down? Or do you want me to keep holding you?"

Morty of course hadn't meant anything by that. He just clearly wasn't used to the culture around this area...

“Thanks it’s my Aunt and Uncle’s they headed off for a few months.” Remy leaned into the warm arms around his waist, you can keep holding me for all I care. Remy laugh silently and pointed to the couch, “You can just lay me down right there. Thank you.” He eased back onto the cushions and tried to get his head to stop spinning.

He watch the stranger peek in and around all the furniture and nooks in the living room. If Remy didn’t know any better he could have sworn that Morty had never seen the inside of a home before.

“So Morty, where are you from? Have you been living on the street?”

Morty was just fascinated by everything around the house--he even lifted the cushions up off of the part of the couch where Remy wasn't laying so he could see what was under them. He had just gotten to the bookshelf on the far side of the room when Remy posed a question to him.

He turned around, startled. "...From? Oh, ah, yes. I have been living...on the street. I'm what you call a...how-bow?" His pronunciation was a bit off. Strange. "I was just looking around for a warm place to sleep. It gets cold at night."

He paused and then turned around to poke at the books. He didn't appear to know what they were.

Remy smiled at the awkward actions of the male. He sat up feeling a little better and watched as Morty picked a book off the shelf and started to flip through the pages upside down. Remy was fascinated by how Morty moved around the room. The so called Hobo stretched to around the room like a lithe cat his easing around the room, his head tilted back and forth as he examined the various nick knacks around the shelves.

Remy felt the sudden urge to draw this weird little man. He reached for his back pack he had left near the couch. Pulling out his sketch pad and a started to draw Morty.

Morty eventually stopped moving around the room. He didn't appear to notice that Remy was sketching out his form. In fact, it was almost like he'd forgotten that Remy was there.

He did get tired of flitting around the room, though, and he stood awkwardly by the window nearest to the door. He peered out of the aforementioned window at the rising sun, his bright, flame-red eyes wide and fawn-like...ever-so curious. Everything seemed to fascinate him. He resembled a small child in more ways than one.

It was then that Remy’s stomach growled and startled Morty. Remy saw him jump and laughed, “Sorry, I’m a petite hungry. Would you like something to eat?”

Remy didn’t wait for a reply he set his sketchbook down and leaped over the back of the couch heading for the kitchen. Picking up the skillet that had hit him in the head last night Remy got all the ingredients for his favorite breakfast. Strawberries, whip cream, eggs, cinnamon, and…oh tres bon! Aunt Shani’s homemade bread. The blond mixed the eggs and cinnamon in a large flat dish then soaked each piece of bread. The skillet popped and fizzed as he laid down each slice of the soaked bread. Flipping each side as it browned he placed a large piece on a plate, added a large dollop of cream and a few strawberries.

“Morty why don’t you come sit down and have some breakfast. It is the least I could do after you helped me back into the house.” He grabbed some maple butter syrup and set it by the place of food.

Morty was utterly fascinated as he watched Remy cook...as if he had never, ever watched someone else cook before or even cooked anything by himself. His fascinated expression was littered with a bit of confusion. Did he understand exactly what Remy was doing? Surely he had to be hungry by now...living on the streets meant there were always nights when someone would go without food.

He regarded Remy with uncertain eyes as he placed the plate of food down on the table, along with a container of the brownish syrup. He didn't say anything for a moment and then something appeared to have occurred to him--he stood up a little straighter and he cleared his throat.

"Oh...break...fast? Oh, the morning meal...eek--I mean...of course. Thank you very much." He slowly sat down at one end of the table, but he didn't take any of the food. Not yet, anyway. He was watching Remy closely, like he was trying to figure out what he was supposed to do in a situation like this.

Remy didn’t really notice Morty’s slip up he was too busy flipping a few more pieces on a large platter. He set it in the middle of the table along with extra strawberries and whip cream. Taking a few pieces for himself Remy poured the syrup and licked the extra off his fingers. It was then that he noticed his orange haired guest wasn’t eating.

“Aren’t you hungry Morty? If you want something else I would be happy to fix it for you, I forget that not everybody likes French Toast.” For the first time since he met Morty, Remy took a moment to study him. His hair was an neon orange and he had the deepest red eyes that the artist had ever seen.

Morty’s pupils were almost like the slits of a cat. It complimented his very feline features and grace. The clothes he wore did not fit his personality or the rest of his body. They looked as if they were a poorly chosen costume….
“Morty…um how long have you been on the street? You don’t look like you have been homeless for very long.”

"I...can just take some?" Morty asked, looking bewildered. "Ah, my apologies. I...didn't want to be rude." Now that he had an idea of what to do, Morty copied exactly what Remy had done--he took a few pieces of toast for himself and then snatched up the syrup, pouring it evenly over his three pieces of toast. He set the syrup back down sideways at first, but caught himself before anything spilled and set it in its correct position.

Morty seemed to falter at Remy's last question. To avoid it momentarily, he awkwardly picked up his fork--it took him at least six seconds to figure out how to properly hold it, speared the end of one of his pieces of toast, lifted it slightly, and nibbled on the end of it. A blissful sort of look fell over his face...had he never had French Toast before?

He swallowed his bite, slowly, and then returned his gaze to Remy. "...How long? Two weeks. I just lost my career and my place of residence was...foreclosed?" He seemed to struggle with remembering the term.

Remy saw the look of ecstasy cross Morty’s face as he awkwardly nibbled on the French toast. He had pick up the whole piece and was trying to eat it like that. Syrup was dripping down his chin and onto his dirty clothes. The guy is like a little kid. Remy smiled and got up to help. He leaned over Morty and picked up a knife. “I’m glad you like the toast, but I don’t want to pick up a bunch of syrup off the floor. Here,” Remy picked up the butter knife and cut up the toast into bit size pieces, “that should help.”

He gave the red head his biggest smile and continued to eat. Morty seemed very flustered when he asked about his situation. Remy found himself wanting to help the stranger, it seemed like the logical thing as his Uncle’s house had three extra rooms and there was no sense in making Morty sleep outside. Remy had to offer to help, “ Morty…is there anything I can do to help you out? I mean like you really shouldn’t be sleeping out in the corn field, you could freeze to death…and there are a few extra rooms. You seem like a good person, at least I don’t think you’ll kill me in my sleep.” Remy smiled at his counter part and tried to judge how he would respond to his offer.

The artist hoped that he would say yes. He really didn’t want to spend all of his time alone. Remy had had enough of that since Marcus had died. Without noticing his face had fallen at the thought of his former lover.

Morty suddenly noticed that the syrup was dripping all over his chin and clothing, and he gave a small squeak of shock. "I...I'm sorry, I didn't realize!" He looked totally embarrassed and seemed quite grateful when the other male cut up his toast for him. "Thank you. I...have never had this before." He stuck his fork into one of the smaller pieces and shoved it into his mouth, chewing happily. "Is there, erm...anything I can wipe myself off with?"

Morty ate a few more pieces, that same look of bliss on his face, before Remy started speaking. He watched the man with curious eyes and then nearly choked on the piece of toast he was eating. He'd offered him, without him even asking, a place to stay and food for him to eat. Had it...really been that easy?

"I don't want to trouble you...I can try to help out with...chores? And perhaps get...get a job--a-another one, I mean. If...if it's not a big problem..." He tilted his head slightly...he looked hopeful and unintentionally childlike. "...Could I stay with you?"

Remy’s eyes widened at the thought that the man before him had never sampled the heaven that was French toast. Upon hearing Morty’s question the blonde quickly handed Morty a clean damp towel so he could wipe his chin. “Here you go Morty, this should get that syrup off. Do you like you first taste of French Toast?” He watched the redhead dominate a few more pieces of toast, man he must not have eaten for days. Remy found himself watching Morty again and was shaken from his thoughts by the red head’s question.

“Sure you can stay with me…do you have any belongings I can help you bring in?” Remy assumed the man would have a few objects from his past that were precious to Morty. Was he hiding them out in the field? Remy found himself looking out at the corn. He felt as if there was something out there watching… Mon Dieu Remy, no more movies for you…

"It's tasty!" Morty was almost inhaling the French toast. It was delicious, obviously, and he honestly hadn't had it before today. He was finished with his first three pieces in no time. When he finished eating, he finally used the offered towel to wipe away the syrup on his chin. "I'm probably...going to need some new clothes," he noted with a grin as he glanced down at his now-syrupy shirt.

His head snapped up slightly at Remy's question. "...Er...no, actually. I wasn't able to get...anything from my place of residence before I was...evicted. All I have is, well...myself."