Basics! Name: Doukeshi Chikawa
Age: 250
Apparent Age: 25
Birthdate: 10/14
Race: Arrancar
Gender: Male
Sexuality: ???
Appearance!
Height: 6'2
Hair Color: Literal Rainbow of ever changing colors
Eye Color: Red
General Description: Doukeshi is a madhouse mentally and physically. His hair is never the same color or 'style' from minute to minute, let alone day to day or month to month. His clothing is frequently tattered and torn from the stupid stunts he engages in; often dirty with blood (his own and that of others) or the reminants of innards and acid left behind by the hollows he 'tames' for fun times in his circus of crazy. He wears a secondary mask over his face much of the time; plain white with only a black teardrop under the right eye. This mask is decorative; his hollow mask remenat is the jester hat upon his head, three pronged and tipped with bells, base orange with thick bars of black covering half the surface of the 'tails' and a ban of black rimming the base. Extremely colorful for a hollow mask, really. His sword is nothing special, worn as an afterthought at his waist, slide haphazrdly into the red sash that holds his outfit together; said outfit being a badly clashing mix of reds, oranges, the odd purple, with black and midnight blue trimming, which covers his entire body except for where it has been torn away or destroyed recently.
About You!
Personality: Chaos. He's been called chaos incarnate a few times, and the description is not untrue. Doukeshi's mind is about as stable as an exploding mountain face, with little on the way of order to be found anywhere. That's not to say he's not smart, or incapable of plotting; he just highly prefers to fuck around and break his targets into gibbering balls of goo over being some sadists for the sake of sadism. Not that he's not a sadist either, but you get the picture. Unpredicatablity is pretty much a given here; you never know what aspect of Doukeshi is going to be in control at any given time, nor is there any real way to tell what he's about to do or say.
Likes: Doukeshi loves everything and nothing and is that a dog? Why is there a dog on Hueco Mundo? Does it have a mask? OH MY WORD IT'S A HOLLOW PUPPY!? I WANT IT FFFFFFF!!! I WILL NAME IT SQUISHY AND IT WILL BE MINE AND IT WILL BE MY SQUISHY! Weeeeeee!
Dislikes: Yo man, why hate, eh? Everything so cool and groovy here, maaaan. Just check out that crazy ass moon, maaaaan; it's all pointy and big and small and woah dude, check out my haaaands...~ I think I'm tripping brah, hahahahah!~ Whaaaaa? Wh left a puppy here, maaaan? Whazzit want, yo? Can I eat it? I CAN!? WOOHOO! PUPPY BURGERS BRAH! PUPPY BURGERS ARE THE BEEEEESSSSSTTTTT!
History: Remembering things is boring; or would be if he could remember anything for more than a few minutes at a time or more often than once a year or so. Pretty much every time his brain resets and he moves onto another fixation, he's utterly forgotten anything and everything about what he was doing and whom he was doing it to. Really, outside of his own name (and not always even that), he rarely focuses on anything for more than a few moments and therefore never long enough to form memories of it. So to say there's basically no record of his past would be mostly accurate; there's plenty of wanton destruction and the remains of that to tell you where he's been; more than a few poor souls that he got bored of playing with before he killed them and therefore survived to become puddles of gibbering spiritual goo locked away from polite society that could sputter out some half coherent story about the shit he's done. Mostly though, if you're not there to see it, you'll never know what he's done and where he's done it, because Doukeshi is never in one place very long and what places he is in rarely survive long enough to be visited again without some sort of hazmat suit.
As for who he is or was, that's really not something he knows either; how many hollows actually remember anything of their human lives after all? That being said, he has had the occasional flash of memories; hazy and bloody and actually quiet delicious to him; flashes of a man with a face similar to the one hidden behind his own mask and pain; lots and lots of pain, his own and others, screams and unintelligible raging and things of that nature. A right party, if he was to comment on it; which he wasn't likely to do because he'd be too busy rearranging your liver and pancreas to do so.
Faceclaim: OC