Post by Evan Warner on Jun 30, 2008 17:48:39 GMT -5
` behind blue eyes
` drop that 808
name;; Kimberly Ann. But I prefer William. :)
age;; 15. (In a few days. But who is counting, right?)
experience;; Five plus years.
time zone;; Arizona time. We’re independent.
password;; password edited out by admin.
` drop that 808
name;; Evan Daniel Warner.
nicknames;; Nothing in particular. Whatever people come up with.
age;; 15.
date of birth;; February 20th, 1993.
species;; Human.
year;; Second. Sophomore.
sexual orientation;; Bi-sexual. (But leaning more towards gay.)
occupation;; Student.
face claim;; William Beckett.
general appearance;; Evan is not the typical-looking boy. Straight or not. At six feet and five inches, he stands taller than most kids his age. His frame is small, slim and delicate, making him appear even taller, if it were possible. His eyes are a deep brown, speckled with bright green, making them seem brighter. His mousy brown hair hangs in his face, although he tries with all his might to keep it parted on the side. Evan’s chocolate brown locks sit gently on his small, anti-masculine shoulders that are normally clad in a striped sweater or v-neck t-shirt. Almost always, you’ll see Evan running around in his chewed up skinny jeans and a pair of Converse, which are his favorite things to wear.
general personality;; The simple things in life always seem to please Evan the most. He’s a kind-hearted boy with a good balance of seriousness and silliness. If there’s anybody in need of help, friend or enemy, he’s bound to help them one way or another. Although at first he’s a little shy and more on the quite side, once Evan begins to open up a little bit more, he’s quite a bit louder and hyper-active than he should.
Unlike his sister, he doesn’t really care for the grades. Sure, he’s smart and has the potential to get outstanding grades, but he chooses not to. He doesn’t believe in putting himself into something he doesn’t believe in. School just didn’t make the cut.
likes;;
[+] Music.
[+] Love.
[+] Boys.
[+] Girls.
[+] Rain.
[+] Art.
[+] Scarves.
[+] Singing.
[+] Writing.
[+] Occasional quiet time.
[+] Simplicity
[+] Colors.
dislikes;;
[-] Attitudes.
[-] Two-faced people.
[-] Being forced into things.
[-] Fights.
[-] Lies.
[-] Depression.
[-] Not being to put in his ‘two cents’.
fears;;
[|] Intimacy.
[|] Needles.
[|] Losing loved ones.
[|] Getting hurt. (Emotionally. Physically.)
[|] Thunderstorms.
quirks;;
[^] Slight speech impediment. (Different pronunciations, etc.)
[^] Plays and twists with his fingers when nervous.
[^] Is a little OCD about most things.
secrets;; He always wanted better abilities. He always preferred boys over girls. His sister is the only person that knows about his sexual orientation. He’ll never tell his parent’s race.
magyck;; Evan has the ‘gift’ of telepathy. Alongside that, he has the ability to preform psychometry, the ability to learn about a person through their used clothing. Sometimes, it is a voluntary action, but more often than not, it’s completely uncontrollable. Evan also has slight weather and illusion powers, neither of which last very long nor can be used on a large scale. He’s never really tried to use or build on those powers, so they’re still unknown to him, for the most part.
family members;;
Father: Addicus, 40 – Human, Non-Gifted.
Mother: Evelyn, 38 – Angel.
Brother: Emmett, 20 – Human, Non-Gifted.
Sister: Adalyn, 18 - Human.
history;; Born February 20th to Addicus and Evelyn, a human and an angel, Evan Daniel was already sought out to be less than normal. In his early years, his parents began to notice things being moved out of place around their home. For example, when his father was eating breakfast with Evan across the table, when he would set his spoon down after a bite of his cereal, the newspaper returning to the bridge of his nose, the spoon would always end up on the other end of the table, near the sugar bowl. Addicus, dumbfounded by this occurrence, looked to his wife for help. Being an angel, Evelyn was used to this kind of phenomena. While growing up, Evelyn would watch Evan and test his power, so to say. She’d ask him to get her something, to see if he’d use his power. A good 70% of the time, he did.
Somewhere along the line, he learned he could produce illusions for only a short amount of time. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t make his illusions better so he gave up trying to perfect that ability. He also tried perfecting and controlling his psychometry, but to no prevail. His skill of psychometry is still a little unknown to him. All he knows is that when he comes in contact with a person’s used article of clothing, he can learn their past, present and sometimes, their future. Sometimes, this happens at will, sometimes involuntarily and sometimes not at all.
post sample;;The days roll by and there seems not to be an end to the madness. Outside, there’s serene smiles and quiet laughter. But inside, there’s no telling what is going on exactly. But from what is gatherable, there’s sickness, anger, depression, confusion, irritability and most of all, lack of understanding. Isn’t that what we all fear most? Being unable to understand and comprehend what is supposed to be known and understood?
The day they forced him out of the house was the most heartbreaking. They said, “If you’re going to continue living the way you do, then find some place else to live. We don’t want to live with the likes of you.” He frowned, creasing his brow. They yelled, “We will never call you a son again,” as he picked up his suitcase and small box of belongings. They muttered as he walked away from the place he used to call home, “Where did we go wrong?”
The question in need of answering is just that. Where did they go wrong, if they did, indeed, do something wrong. The question was permanently burning into the walls of his mind, like a bad hair cut placed upon your head; something you can’t tear off nor cover up, no matter how hard you try. There’s always the choice of dancing around excuses and cover-up options, but that doesn’t replace the fact that it’s still there.
He’s still there.
One night, the night before his forced departure, he sat upon the staircase, eavesdropping on the confidential conversation his parents were having. They said, “I just don’t get it. I don’t know why he’s acting the way he is.” Pause. They said, “I don’t know why he’s decided to turn into this… this monster. It’s sick. It’s not natural.” They’re talking about his sexuality. There’s an audible sigh released into the room. “It’s his choice,” his mother said. “I just don’t know why he’d choose it.” There’s a frustrated groan then a smash closely followed. A glass thrown against the wall. Shattering and raining down onto the carpet, embedding itself.
He blinks away the salty memory, wiping it from his wounds, his mind, until the next time he had a moment alone to think of all his wrongs. Oh, so many wrongs.
