I want to heal, I want to feel

Like I'm close to something real

Max Carter
13 November
External Services:
  • m_carter@livejournal.com
You wired me awake
And hit me with a hand of broken nails
You tied my lead and pulled my chain
To watch my blood begin to boil

But I'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

Too cold to start a fire
I'm burning diesel, burning dinosaur bones
I'll take the river down to still water
And ride a pack of dogs

I'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

Hits like a Phillips head into my brain
It's gonna be too dark to sleep again
Cutting my teeth on bars
And rusty chains,
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

When the forest burns along the road
Like God's eyes in my headlights
When the dogs are looking for their bones
And it's raining icepicks on your steel shore

I'm gonna break my rusty cage

And run


Name: Max Carter

Nicknames: Carter. It’s just Carter. Only close friends call him Max, and since he has all of one close friend, well, there you go. Call him Maxie and get your nose broke.

Character Race: Werewolf

Character Abilities: Heightened sense of smell, canine hearing and eyesight, some mild regeneration, unusually strong. Transforms into a large, lupine creature 3 days out of the month during the full moon, but through staunch discipline and years upon years of fighting it, he has managed to gain control over ‘the wolf’, at least to some extent. He still locks himself up in either a basement or an abandoned warehouse during the change, but he no longer has the urge to go out and kill every living thing in his path.

Character Weaknesses: Highly allergic to silver.

Age: Carter’s exact age is unknown even to him, though he believes he was born between 1820 and 1840. His memory is fuzzy as to exactly where and who he was before he was bitten.

Occupation: Whatever odd jobs he cane find–preferably those that involve physical labor.

Nature and Demeanor: Aloof, ornery, distant and sometimes callus and hurtful with his blunt honesty and seemingly uncaring attitude. He doesn’t like people; it’s as simple as that. And yet deep beneath the abrasive exterior there is a very lonely man who wants companionship and understanding even as he knows the chances of him getting it are slim to none. Carter carries an immense burden of guilt, because he knows he’s killed countless people during his change, and prefers to keep his distance from the human race; he’s spent much of his life trying to make up for the crimes, even though he perceive it to be impossible to find that kind of redemption.

Appearance: 6'1", broad shouldered and well built. He has a few faded scars on his torso that look something like bullet wounds. Dark blonde hair, blue eyes.

Friends/Allies/Acquaintances: His Cass. And that's it.

Family: Are you kidding?

History: He was born, he got bit, he went crazy, he got un-crazy, and now here he is.

As much as Max Carter might wish his past was more solidified than that, it just isn’t.

His earliest memory is Tennessee, 1866, when the country was in complete disarray and he himself on the verge of losing his mind completely. The bite was a traumatic enough experience for him to induce some memory loss; what few images he could conjure up of his life before were a haze of bloodied corpses, gunshots, canon fire and screams. Which was, he believes (and correctly so), the American Civil war.

Carter spent his life drifting from place to place, fighting against the monster that lived inside him. He would wake up after the night of his change vomiting up blood, bits of animal flesh...and human body parts. Part of him wanted nothing more than to die, but another part of him was too desperate to live to allow it. He longed for friendship, yet avoided it like the plague. He continued to drift, and he watched the country change over the centuries.

Over time, Carter began to keep his mind during his shifting. Humans still smelled of food, but some spark of compassion and intelligence kept him from killing. Fighting to keep that control was almost as traumatic as the initial bite had been; he tore trees apart, tossed automobiles, killed (and ate) more than a few cats, squirrels, and rodents, bit and scratched at his own skin...but he never again harmed a human.

It was at this point in his life that Carter decided to fight the good fight, attempting to make up for all the lives lost to his condition. For as much as he told himself that he couldn’t help what he was, a nagging voice in his head insisted that he could’ve killed himself and spared many lives. So he fought vampires...demons...everything evil thing he could get his hands on.

Disclaimer: Obviously this is a muse journal for elite_muses. I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or (alas) Josh Holloway. Buffy belongs to Joss & Co., and Josh belongs to his wife. :P Don't sue me. I'm just amusing myself.