CIVILIAN . OSKENÓN:TON

Male

Demisexual

Thirty Two

February 3rd


Though Oskenón:ton identifies almost exclusively with being Haida because of how he was immersed in it as he grew up, he is really a mix of Haida and Mohawk; Haida on his mother’s side and Mohawk on his father’s.

Oskenón:ton speaks both X̲aat Kíl and English fluently, while speaking a very simple Kanien’kéha.

His name means 'Deer' in Kanien’kéha, and since people tend to butcher his name, he greatly prefers it as a nickname.

0.5

Civilian

N/A

N/A

N/A

Renegade!

Kun Shui Wei
Jun Shi Wei
Pasha Mikhaylichenko-Molotov

Medium

Connor Kenway from Assassin's Creed

Oskenón:ton is currently living in a hostel, which is a sort of living area that provides cheap food and shelter to specific groups of people. In his case, he's living at the hostel because he's a traveler, and he doesn't plan on staying in Los Angeles very long. He would be considered around lower middle class if he actually settled down somewhere, but his income as a traveling artist is more than enough for him to live comfortably the way he does. He can afford food and the essentials, so he's satisfied with his way of living.

Oskenón:ton stands at 5'10", which is a happy medium between neither tall or short. It surprises people how heavily he is built, however. A lifetime of the outdoors and walking endlessly has helped him build muscle and kept it there. Lugging around wood and carving rocks constantly doesn't hurt, either. His skin is deeply tanned from all that time outdoors and his lineage. Oskenón:ton's hair is black, kept long and often tied back into a ponytail, or wound into a braid. His clothes are often simple, lacking design or anything that identifies him above an average joe. It's cheap, comfortable and he could move around in it, so by his standards, it's completely suited to his lifestyle.

The only thing that would make someone look twice isn't even often carried above his clothes, but always kept with him. He carries a tomahawk wherever he goes; it's is primary work tool and a decent weapon of self defense if he needs it, so he's not eager to separate with it.

As soon as Oskenón:ton walks into a room, people tend to notice how still the air gets. It’s not so much an actual, physical stillness of the air as it is the aura of serenity he gives off. His walk is relaxed but confident, and though he’s not seen smiling too often, he’s not at all intimidating. Back at home, he was considered the peacemaker and was more often than not there to break up a fight. He doesn’t remember the last time he started a scuffle on his own, and people often joke that he’s never raised his voice in his life. Those with the deer’s medicine often have gentleness in every word, touch and thought, and Oskenón:ton doesn’t seem to even try and deviate from that set role. He’s quiet, to say the least. He prefers uncomfortable silence over brainless chatter in an attempt to lift the tension, and he will occasionally tell another person to just be quiet if he thinks they have nothing productive to talk about. Still, telling the intermittent person to shut up because they talk too much is about as aggressive as he usually gets.

Oskenón:ton’s kindness is rather obviously taken advantage of on a semi-regular basis, though when it’s pointed out to him, he doesn’t seem to mind too much. He’s what many people, even those who don’t want something from him, would call a bleeding heart. There’s too much sympathy and compassion in his spirit for modern life and for big cities teeming with less than savory folk. This is definitely not to say that he’s naïve; Oskenón:ton is often aware when a person is using him to one end or another, but he’d rather tell them politely to leave than to kick them out of his life.

Partially because of how he grew up, Oskenón:ton had always been one to wholly accept the sometimes harsh reality of life. People you loved got hurt, and things died; it was all a part of the natural cycle. Being called a realist is one way to put it, and he seems to have no time for pipe dreams and larger than life plans that the person never hopes to get done. This makes him come off as patronizing, and even his parents always told him that the occasional daydream never hurt anybody. He doesn’t at all mind the goals people set, as long as they intend to achieve it and work towards it, rather than say they’ll do something and then make up excuses as to why it hasn’t been done yet.

Back on Haida Gwaii, Oskenón:ton was known to be quiet and pensive, but definitely not as much as he had become recently. Growing up in a small community and with the same people surrounding him throughout his life lent him a sense of comfort; totem poles and potlatches and seasonal rhythms of living off the land gave him a sense of belonging. Now that he’s away from all that was familiar, he has none of that. He isn’t sure what he should think: to appreciate the freedom and opportunity that leaving Haida Gwaii gives, or to mourn that ever-present feeling of being completely and utterly alone, displaced among the droves of people that don’t know and misunderstand him and his religion.

Most know Oskenón:ton’s birthplace as the Queen Charlotte Island off the coast of British Columbia, but to him, it will always be Haida Gwaii. Life wasn’t easy on a Native Canadian reservation, and his family was caught on that fine line, like most other families on the reserve, where they weren’t considered impoverished, but being stable was nowhere near the case. Still, resourceful and close to their traditions and religions, they knew how to live off the land and used it to the fullest. The ocean was his babysitter and the nearby woods would pass the time for him in his early years.

Close knit family units were the norm, and there was a strong sense of community in his small village. They kept traditional Haida culture alive in their everyday actions, and it was when he was fairly young that his mother taught him how to weave, and one of the older men in the village began to teach him how to carve totem poles. It was a hobby that ended up ingraining itself into his life, and instead of dropping it when he hit his teens, he kept diligently working away to refine his art.

He proved to be a fairly resourceful boy on top of all that, and unlike so many other young adults on the reservation, took a genuine interest in keeping the Haida culture alive. Oskenón:ton seemed quiet and distant once he hit puberty, and a few thought it odd that he never quite made it to that loud, proud, rambunctious stage. That helped him become more of the peacekeeper than anything, and among his peers, he was known for keeping a level head and a gentle voice.

Oskenón:ton’s curiousity for the world around him seemed insatiable and only grew as he became older. Aside from the reservation and a little bit of the surrounding area, he’d never so much as traveled to the nearest big city. He’d never been to the mainland, and the place he lived was fairly out of the way enough that not too many tourists came around. He wanted to know what was outside, and for that, he asked his father.

His father wasn’t a native Haida, but a Mohawk from the more easterly regions of Canada. He had travel led across Canada to finally land in Haida Gwaii, and Oskenón:ton asked all about his travels. His father told him about the big cities and small towns, the expanses of prairies and the sadder states of parts that were worse off. He’d come back and ask more questions, and for months and months, he always got a new story, or more answers. But there was one question that he’d itched to ask since the beginning. Why?

Why had his father left his home and traveled, and why had he decided to stay on the island among people that weren’t ‘his’?

His father told him then that it was because he wanted to find his happiness, no matter where it happened to be. He had traveled the width of Canada, and had found his happiness on Haida Gwaii, with Oskenón:ton’s mother. It was the best answer he could give, and his father encouraged him to find his happiness as well, even if it meant he had to go to great lengths.

By the time he was in his early twenties, the small community felt like he had done his part. He took a great interest in Haida culture, and tried to educate as often as he could. He went through great pains to learn the language, of which only about 2000 knew how to speak in the modern day. It was then decided that he was worthy to go through the naming ceremony.

The naming ceremony took place after a couple of months, where his true name was finally revealed to him. Beforehand, he had been called a generic name as a placeholder for the government to identify him, and within his village, he’d just been called his parents’ son, as their culture dictated. He received his name, Oskenón:ton, at the age of twenty one. In Haida, he would've been called K'áat, meaning 'deer', but his father wanted just a little bit of a reminder of half of his roots, so it was translated.

Oskenón:ton could have stayed on the reserve for the rest of his life, as some of the older folk had. He didn’t feel the restlessness and the want to get out as strongly as most of his generation did; he was firmly rooted in the place he was born. And still, he couldn’t find his happiness there. He wanted to see things and to discover what the rest of the world was all about, even if his heart was resolutely anchored on Haida Gwaii.

It was his father, once again, that coaxed him to go pursue his happiness. His mother didn’t want him to leave at all, but ultimately, the choice would always be his. It took him a couple of years of thought, and finally, he decided to set off and see what the rest of the world had to offer. Instead of leaving his culture and religion behind, he took it with him, and it remained steadfastly intact throughout his travels. His carving and weaving were what supported him financially throughout.

Oskenón:ton traveled throughout Canada, making semi-frequent visits home, and soon made his way south, where he finally landed in LA. He doesn’t plan on staying long, however, as he doesn't believe he'll find his happiness in such a big, crowded city.

- Native Canadian naming traditions don't usually give surnames, so for legal documents and identification purposes, he uses his the number on his Certificate of Indian Status card, issued by the AANDC.

- Oskenón:ton will respond to anything that vaguely sounds like his name, because so many people tend to butcher it while trying to pronounce it.

- He's been staying in cheaper motels and hostels during his travels, though his mailing address is still on Haida Gwaii. He still goes back about three times a year to visit family and friends, and to let them know he's doing fine.

- Most people would define his 'religion' as Animism, but like most others he grew up with, his beliefs are so fundamental, every day and taken for granted that it's often considered a way of life rather than a religion.