Keats Tennyson

Name: Keats Eliot Thomas Donne Tennyson (yes, those are all poets' names, and yes, he strung them together himself), though when asked, he generally only replies with 'Keats'
Age: appears to be in his mid-to-late 30s
Sex: male
PB: Adrian Brody
Appearance: mortal seeming - Keats is tall at 6'4" and lanky as all hell. He's fairly pale, as he doesn't get out in the sun much at all, but has enough natural color to his skin so he doesn't look deathly ill. His face borders on gaunt, with very defined bone structure, dominated by a rather huge nose. It's bony and noticeably crooked, but he's learned to live with it. He's got a shock of black hair that's always too long and falling in his eyes. Which are large, dark, and very expressive; a good thing since he can't make a sound. He's got long-fingered hands and tends to wear layers of whatever he's found. Lots of faded plaid and blue jeans.
fae seeming - Much the same as his mortal one, plus five inches to his height. His limbs get even longer and his skin pales up a great deal. His eyes are a solid jet-black color.
Special abilities: Keats knows sign language fluently. He can read French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, Portuguese, and quite a few other languages. He has beautiful handwriting (if that counts as a special ability), and is a speed-reader, though he doesn't do it all the time. He also has a near-photographic memory with excellent recall. He can see absolutely perfectly in the dark.
Supernatural Affinity
Species/Group: Fae, Sluagh (Seelie Court, as much as he’s affiliated with anything)

Power(s): Stealthiness (as long as he’s not moving), the ability to contort his body to nearly any limit, use of glamor, etc.
Personality: Keats is the embodiment of shy and timid. Years of being alone has made him wary of other people, fae or otherwise, but he can't bring himself to be aggressively suspicious of anyone. He's just very used to the idea that everyone overlooks him (until he makes a fool of himself anyway), and so they should. After all, who is he? When confronted with direct conversation, he's generally a nervous wreck, and simple errands like groceries are met with stomach-knotted anxiety. He's an entirely different person in private, though it's very rare anyone gets to see it. He's very intelligent, and has a passionate love of old books and poetry. He's very imaginative and rather quirky once someone really gets to know him. It is possible, it just takes a lot of patience. Keats has a kind heart and is compassionate, especially towards children and animals. There's not a mean bone in his body, and he'll do the bare minimum of harm possible to defend himself.
History:
Keats actually isn't terribly old by fae standards. He was born, voiceless and long-limbed, in The Dreaming in 1925. His parents had a love of Spain, and that was where he spent his silent childhood, in the dank corners of crumbling castles. They didn't have any other offspring, and left the one they did have mostly to his own devices. Sluagh aren't social creatures by any stretch of the imagination, and the few encounters with other fae he had weren't terribly pleasant. He was strange and even more awkward than his species called for, to them. He spent many many nights alone in libraries that smelled faintly of mold, fostering his love of reading while the current household slept. It was an escape, a way to touch a world that he felt like he could only watch. Once he'd come of age somewhat, he struck out on his own, leaving old Europe by gate to seek out a quiet place to live out his days.

After some brief stints in New Orleans (fantastic atmosphere, but it was far too hot for him) and St. Louis, and a few other cities, he continued north. Detroit proved to have some interesting places to lurk in, but on the whole, it was far too busy for Keats' liking. So he packed up his things (most of which fit into a largish duffel bag anyway) and sought quieter lodgings. He ended up in Marquette, Michigan, squatting for years in various old buildings, any basement he could really find. He's taken up a pretty permanent residence now, in the basement of a house that's been empty for years, but never really torn down. He finds it very comfortable and solitary enough.

He's held a few odd jobs down, and in very recent years started working at the public library. With his extended lifespan, he knows he can't work there indefinitely, but he's going to get as much time out of it as he can. Keats adores even being in the building, he's knowledgeable and good at the work, and even though his co-workers don't know him very well, they have nothing but good things to say about him.
Weaknesses:
-Mute -- Though Sluagh by nature always only whisper, for some reason he was born even without that ability. Keats can hear perfectly well, but he's never been able to make any vocal sound at all, whisper or otherwise. For beings who trade in secrets, this definitely doesn’t do him any favors, and seeing how he’s already shy and socially inept? Makes for some very embarrassing situations.
-Social Pariah -- He’s something of an outcast, even amongst the Sluagh themselves, because of his communication difficulties. Very few of them outside of his immediately family have the patience to read one half of a conversation and wouldn’t ever even think to bother to learn sign language. And in a culture where hand gestures can unexpectedly mean so much, Keats is something of a black sheep. He doesn’t fit in any better in the human world, because of his quiet strangeness and lack of grace. Not having a place in either of these two conflicting worlds has plagued him all his life, to the point where he’s much more comfortable with books than anything else that breathes.
-Clumsy -- Sneaky doesn’t always mean graceful. Though Keats can move absolutely silently when he sets his mind to it, if there’s a pricelss Ming vase to knock over and shatter on a marble floor? He will do it. He never means to, of course, he’s just never ever gotten the hang of being perfectly aware of what every part of his body is doing at the same time. He drops important things down sewer drains, he knocks his head into low-hanging doorways, he trips over his own two feet, he’ll fumble anything he needs to hold on to carefully. He’s just that guy.
Strengths: Keats is very, very smart. In the bookish sort of way. He knows a lot about a lot of general things, but he's definitely the man to ask when it comes to literature. Other than that? He's nearly impossible to anger (which isn't always a strength), and is genuinely a very kind person.