"Everything was going quite well until they got to know me"
|Birthplace||Rakantha Province, Bajor|
|Residence||Deep Space Nine|
|Sex & Gender||Male|
|Significant Other (s)||N/A|
|Player||L K R|
|Face Claim||Colin Firth|
What seems to be considered your everyday middle-aged man would nearly describe Cashard perfectly. He's about a medium height, 5'10 or so, matching up with his medium build. It's come to his attention that he's gotten a little soft around the stomach, but it hasn't become a health concern in the least, so he doesn't think of it as a pressing matter (despite how shallowly self-conscious he may be). Often times he wears his hair brushed back, but that rarely keeps it from being wavy and on occasion a tad insane, which would be the select few times he actually will use pomade or something of the sort. Despite the fact that he isn't particularly fond of his uniform, he'll still wear it off duty when it's been a long day at work, otherwise he'll just settle with Bajoran knitwear and common wool trousers. As far as body language goes, it often changes, he can appear just as confident as he can pathetic. A great deal of it depends on his situation and how comfortable he is, but usually he won't go too far towards the 'pathetic' end of the scale.
Quite the opposite from a good deal of his peers, Cashard is surprisingly passive. Although he wouldn't be caught dead working half-heartedly or directly lying to someone for his own benefit, he's still submissive to all those around him. Despite the fact that he may form his own opinions he doesn't entirely recognize them, seeing as how he spends a great deal of his social interaction time thinking of ways he could form an opinion that everyone would be pleased with. Because surely, that has to be the right opinion, at least in his eyes. Although he works as a surgeon, one wouldn't believe how frightened of blood he could be when it belongs to someone he's well-acquainted with, or especially when it's his own. Aside from the dominant yielding part of his personality, he has it in him to be rather sweet and perhaps even light-hearted, although light-heartedness often comes from one being comfortable with themselves, so it's quite a rare occasion. And as said before, Cashard prefers to be honest. His lies are often unintentional, or otherwise for the benefit of the other people around him, which Cashard finds to be justifiable.
2322 was not a popular year for having children. Three years into the occupation, labor camps were just beginning to be built (something which was obviously rather startling and terrifying for the world), the resistance was practically non-existent at that time, sure, there were a couple of terrorists and freedom fighters here and there. Nothing organized had come up yet. Surely it was a time when having and raising children was one of the last things on the minds of the Bajoran people. It's more often you meet someone born just before or much later in the occupation, but nevertheless. Cashard's parents had an odd turn of events. It'd been their fifteenth anniversary, and there was word that they'd been on a list. This list was a very bad list to be on, especially for the Rakantha Province. Chances were you'd die of poor air particle poisoning within a matter of weeks. Or before you body could adjust to the sudden intake of such strong other-worldly chemicals. There was a very heated discussion about their actions before the two would be taken away, turns out when two people have been partners for fifteen years they develop a Cardassian way of courtship, despite what race you may really be. Of course, despite all the new toxins and worsening conditions, Atomi... started sneezing a great deal, to say it delicately. The occupation hadn't become so incredibly brutal as of yet, seeing as how it hadn't really been declared an occupation by the Cardassians as of yet (think of it as an unintentional party with extremely rude guests who force you to do things that will eminently lead you to your death), but the two were wrote off of that list for at least a good year or so.
Cashard spent the vast majority of his childhood, and even young adulthood with his parents. Although in his young adulthood his father was back on that ever so feared list, and lasted about half the time he would've normally, seeing as how by then the occupation got into full swing. But there was your everyday labor camp, it was certainly no Gallitep despite how horrid everything was. Cashard's parents weren't particularly young when they had him together, so they'd grown up with the older peaceful Bajor. This turn of events didn't nearly affect their outlook on Bajoran values as much as it did with any of the younger people. Kil and Atomi were both fairly stubborn, and refused to believe that just because some pesky Cardassians came over and started butchering citizens at random meant that they should abandon all sight of the importance of the arts and caste system. Cashard remained fully appreciative of the arts over the years, but he nearly completely forgot the importance that the caste system held when he became older and less reminiscent of what his parents would tell him. His younger years were startlingly easy on his mind, and not nearly as traumatizing as when he started to understand things, and when he started being able to see over people's shoulders during public executions. Most of the time his parents would return from the more difficult labor than Cashard was subject to (dish washing and such) covered in dirt and sweat with awfully rough calluses on their hands and the two of them would pretend as if they hadn't just been laboring under gruesome conditions. Atomi would often keep at a distance while Kil would often engage Cashard before he'd be sent to bed. Not to say that Kil was particularly warm, Atomi always wore a much more welcoming expression, but Kil was the one who often spoke with Cashard after a long day (or more so, listened, if he recalls correctly).
After Kil's death the relationship Cashard had with his mother became much more forced. A great deal of this came from the fact that their roles in the relationship had been switched far before he had been ready for anything of the sort. Atomi wasn't normally a helpless woman, not in the least. She'd been getting along fine for the past amount of Cashard's life, but after you loose someone you harbored strong feelings for since 2307 you kind of get stuck in a rut of depression and cynicism. This only lasted until his mid-twenties, when he was transferred to how delicately the Cardassians put it a 'displaced peoples camp'. This basically meant a camp where guards were only slack because they weren't the ones that had to do the torturing, the weather and environment served well enough. The mining was dreadful for his lungs, as it was for every other 'worker' around him. Cashard'll have you know that when doing mandatory volunteer work it's dreadfully difficult to tell whether the dirt and pesticides or what have you are worse than the minerals and dust. It seemed to him that both gave him a nasty burning sensation in the back of his throat and left him with a shortness of breath whenever he'd be able to lie down. Perhaps it would've been better if he'd been allowed to be psychologically switched around to having dealing with his mother's lack of motivation. Questionable sources said (and believed) that Atomi had been placed on the same list as her dearest deceased partner, though Cashard had learned of this much much later. Admittedly, it wouldn't have affected him all too much, he was nearly prepared for it, being in his early thirties and his parents being certainly more than twice his age. Contrary to how Cashard would react in the present time, he was unusually uplifted by the progress of the resistance and he'd made a personal decision to keep himself alive. What Cashard considered cowardice (which was all in all common sense if one really thinks about it, but to the Bajoran people as a whole it would remain cowardice, so nonetheless) had ended up stopping him dead in his tracks from joining the resistance. It had to do with his earlier personal decision, he tried to convince himself. That would've been during the time when he still wanted to keep the now-infamous Bajoran... spunk. The feeling dissipated shortly, in a matter of a few years or so.
Facing such awful times, Cashard found himself wanting to help, though all possible ways seemed that they would hurt him. Horrendously so. In keeping with all his wishes, he did the exact opposite of just that. Throughout the years in the displaced peoples camp there were an astounding number of injuries, and as said before, the guards were fairly slack due to the often cruel and harsh weather conditions. At first, he was obviously quite hesitant, already developing a distinct distaste for any blood of the sort. The only thing of the sort he'd gotten a good look at were those who he held close and his own, both unsettling things to see in any situation. It was only during a time when Cashard had to work with a young lady he didn't know at all, there was an... incident with cliff side rocks and the two workers. Cashard found himself tearing off pieces of undone string from his clothes (extremely unsanitary, yet effective) to be able to stitch the woman's upper arm, a wound which would've eventually led to her desperately needing an amputation was only a very gnarly looking series of stitches. Or, at least until her next accident with her knee. Cashard had been up a friendship with her, so instead of being able to help he became horribly ill and may or may not have dry-heaved spit onto her. Things got a bit awkward after that incident and they altogether avoided one another as much as possible. Anyhow, Cashard and another much older man, who had actually been from a family of doctor's ended up assisting a good amount of Bajorans to the point where they received praise from a good amount of the resistance.
By 2369 Cashard had become completely different from his surviving and rugged self. He'd been performing minor and slightly major surgeries for a good number of years, with increasingly better tools on behalf of the growing resistance. Though perhaps it wasn't so cheery of an occupation as a poet's are something of that sort, but he had to admit that it he had a certain knack for it. That particularly would mean a good deal, coming from some pointlessly approval-seeking middle aged man still unsure of himself. Now, the last thing Cashard wanted was to relive his time in the camps, but Deep Space Nine seemed like a rather intriguing offer on behalf of the Bajoran Militia. The previous caste system that he'd completely forgotten about seemed forgotten by a good deal of society as well, so he wouldn't be restricted by family expectations. He thought it was a better solution than sitting around and rotting for the rest of his time, despite how appealing it seemed, seeing as how he'd been working for his lifespan. Perhaps a nice long break allowing him to sit alone and die would be nice. But Cashard didn't feel like people understand, which could also be read as Cashard feeling like people wouldn't approve of his actions.
- After the Infirmary, Promenade (Past Prologue)