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Ren Bianchi; The Hanged Man
Topic Started: Mar 31 2013, 12:08 AM (29 Views)
Ren Bianchi
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Ren Bianchi

Age: 17

Hometown: Spent equal amount of childhood in Ishikawa, Japan and Tuscany, Italy. He was scouting colleges in the United States when the cards went into play.

Hair Color/length/style: Black with brown highlights. Shaggy over the eyes. Spiked in the back

Eye color: Very dark gray

Complexion: Very smooth, olive skin.

Height: 6’2”

Type of Character: Member of the Arcana, card #12, the Hanged Man

Personality Description: Meticulous. Observant. Cultured. Excellently educated. Well-spoken.


Personal History:



Autumn leaves swirled outside the window on the day I went to see my grandmother. I merely glanced at their beauty before returning my attention to my phone and the essay that wrote. My girlfriend kept texting me. I remember I was annoyed at the time. I wanted to focus on my essays. She was in Rome, she wanted to know when we could meet up for drinks. If I had known what was about to happen, I would have texted her back. Hell, I would have called. At the time, though, I lived in blissful ignorance. I preferred to write at my desk, with no distractions and a larger screen. I should have been at home. I could have been done with these essays, and then out for a pleasant evening with Ann.

But Grandmother had been adamant. No matter how I argued, she insisted that I return to the family estate in Northern Japan at once.

I had expected my mother to argue. She resented the family traditions almost as much as I did. She had never forgiven her family for not accepting her Italian husband with open arms. I heard her arguing in polite Japanese for fifteen minutes before turning to me with a grim, defeated expression and telling me to pack.

The fifteen hour flight was made bearable by the fact that I had my father’s jet all to myself. I used the time to sleep and work on the outline for the admissions essays I had to prepare. Every college in the United States seemed to have different expectations of their students. A ridiculous notion, by Japanese and Italian perspectives. Academic excellence should have been the only standard. However, my father had made his wishes known. So I applied to every Ivy League college on the east coast of the United States.

Halfway through my third essay, the car pulled to a stop and I looked up.

My maternal grandparents were waiting at the round gate, their faces blank. I turned my phone off and got out of the car.

I bowed respectfully to both of them, and they pretended not to notice my modern clothes. I flew half way around the world to see them and they still managed to convey their displeasure at my lack of appreciation for traditional kimono.

“Is everything all right?” I asked as soon as we were inside, with small cups of tea in hand.

“There is much to speak of, grandson.” My grandmother said, in such formal Japanese I hardly understood her. “My daughter has made it clear you could not be told before your birthday, and I complied with her wishes. But, thanks to her marrying that Italian, you have received a legacy that I would rather you have had no part of.”

At first, I thought she meant my father’s banking business. I settled myself to rehashing the old family argument again, how wrong my mother had been to marry my father, how much evil now tainted the bloodline…yadda yadda.

I loved both sides of my heritage.

On that day however, I wished I had been born fully Japanese.

Let it be known that until that moment, I believed that the odd happenings in my life had been purely coincidental. My grandmother believed in power, in the supernatural, but I never had. I didn’t want any part of it.

I was the son and heir of one of the wealthiest man in Europe. I was clever. I was considered to bee good-looking. And I was in no way prepared to hear that I was one of the Major Arcana. The Twelfth Card in the deck, the Hanged Man.

Of course, I went through all the usual denials. I told my grandmother she was crazy in three languages. I tried to leave the house, tried to call the pilot and get him back to the plane… none of happened of course.

What happened next?

A reversal of fortune.

A change.

I won’t talk about it, not here. Maybe not ever. I can barely believe what happened and I saw it with my own eyes.

Now there’s nothing but the game. There is nothing but winning. I have always been good at that.

I can make all the other cards stand on their heads, and I will. I will add their marks to my own and maybe, just maybe, I can figure a way out of this mess. I should have taken the time to look at the leaves. I should have called Ann. I should have believed my grandmother.

Now, all I have is a length of scarlet rope and a mission.

I look in the mirror, at a face I can hardly recognize. “You have a debt to pay.” I whisper.






Edited by Samantha Finn, Mar 31 2013, 12:42 AM.
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