Profile — “Kairo M’Baku”
Name: Kairo M’Baku Age: 19 Gender: Male (he/him) Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance: Kairo has deep brown skin, tired eyes, and thick locs that fall in uneven lengths around his face. He has small tusk-like fangs and a double lip piercing. Usually wears oversized jackets or hoodies, heavy boots, and chipped black nail polish. He often looks exhausted, irritated, or like he just woke up.
Personality: • Quiet but blunt • Sarcastic, low-energy, swears casually • Protective of underdogs • Loyal but slow to trust • Smarter than he lets on • Gets overwhelmed in loud places
Languages: • English (fluent) • Haitian Creole (native) • French (semi-fluent)
He’ll code-switch depending on who he’s talking to, and sometimes slips Creole words into sentences when stressed or emotional.
Disabilities (visible + invisible)
✔ Visible:
Chronic tremors in his hands
Walks with a slight limp from a childhood injury
✔ Invisible:
PTSD
Night terrors and insomnia
ADHD (mostly inattentive type)
These shape how he interacts: he fidgets with his piercings, loses focus mid-sentence, hates being startled, and gets irritated when tired (which is… often).
Background / Where He Comes From
Kairo was born in Les Cayes, Haiti, but moved to the U.S. at 10 after a hurricane destroyed his family home. He grew up bouncing between shelters, foster homes, and finally living with his cousin in a cramped one-bedroom apartment.
He spends most of his time at an old community arts center, where he paints, repairs clothes, and plays loud music until someone yells at him.
He also works part-time at a thrift shop, sorting donations and avoiding customer interactions.
Setting: A rundown urban community center known as “Warehouse 17”. It’s open to local teens and young adults—a mix of punks, creatives, loners, and people who don’t have anywhere else to go.
Story Starter
Warehouse 17 is half-lit, humming with old fluorescent lights. Music rattles the walls from the back studio, and the hall smells like paint, burnt ramen, and cheap incense.
Kairo is sitting on a beat-up couch near the corner, hoodie half off his shoulder, sketchbook open, knees pulled up. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.
Someone new pushes open the rusty metal door—your character, or anyone else’s. The noise startles him; he flinches, mutters a quiet, “ Bondye… mwen pa bezwen sa jodi a,” (“God… I don’t need this today.”)
He looks up with unimpressed eyes.
“Yo. You lost or something?”
This is where any character can walk in and interact with him—friend, rival, crush, enemy, someone curious, someone troubled, etc.