Jacob
From Lynnesheets
(→maybe someday you'll look up;) |
(→you forgot me long ago;) |
||
| Line 68: | Line 68: | ||
==you forgot me long ago;== | ==you forgot me long ago;== | ||
| - | + | Jacob was the ninth and youngest child of his very Roman Catholic family, the seventh son of a seventh son, marking him for an unusual life. He was quiet, and shy, and easily lost underfoot: he dutifully went to Mass, dutifully took lessons in his father's dojo, and dreamed, hidden away. He never caused much trouble, never rebelled, was quiet and good and never spoke a word that he didn't have to, fading into the shadows. | |
| + | |||
| + | And he never spoke a word to anyone about the things he saw in shadows, in the church, the ghost child that watched him with big empty eyes when he sat in the same place in the same pew on Sunday mornings. Never spoke a word about the dreams that were so much more vivid then reality: a spirit medium and lucid dreamer. Never spoke a word about the depression that grew to consume him, or anything that troubled him, until it was far too late. | ||
| + | |||
| + | His freshman year of high school, soon after his fourteenth birthday, was when everything changed. Unknown to him, he had caught the attention of a True Fae who styled itself after Hades, and whose most recent consort had managed to escape him-and who also took it as an ''interesting'' challenge to try to take him out from under the nose of his older brother, Daniel. And so, one day, when Jacob wandered off for a brief walk with a book, when Daniel was busy with his homework, the True Fae pounced, and in a similar fashion to the myth of Persephone, dragged him through the Thorns. The only trace left behind were Jacob's book and his coat: the Fae hadn't bothered to create a fetch, and no one ever knew what happened to him. | ||
| + | |||
| + | And in Arcadia, in his Keeper's realm fashioned after the Greek Underworld, Jacob spent what felt like a season down in the darkness, where it was always winter and never spring, as his Keeper's bride. | ||
==am i that unimportant;== | ==am i that unimportant;== | ||
Revision as of 02:07, 19 November 2007
Contents |
but i won't be home again;
Name: Jacob
Player: Lynne
Concept: death's bride
Virtue: Charity
Vice: Sloth
Seeming: Darkling
Kith: Shadeveil(Blessing: Creeping Charm. Shadeveil Darklings can spend a point of Glamour to add their Wyrd to socialize and Persuasion rolls for the scene. Additionally, they negate a number of penalties on social interactions other people would normally be averse to equal to their Wyrd.)
Court: Autumn
Image Song:
Attributes:
Intelligence: 4
Wits: 2
Resolve: 2
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 3
Stamina: 3
Presence: 2
Manipulation: 2
Composure: 2
Skills:
Mental Skills:
- Academics 4 (Literature)
- Occult 3
- Investigation 2
- Computer 2
Physical Skills:
- Athletics 1 (Swimming)
- Brawl 1
- Stealth 2 (Lurking In Shadows)
Social Skills:
- Empathy 1
- Expression 4 (Creative Writing)
- Socialize 2
Merits:
Striking Looks 4
Mantle: Autumn 2
Token: Hedgespun Raiment
Defense: 2
Health: 7
Size: 5
Speed: 9
Willpower: 4
Wyrd 1
Glamour 5
Clarity: 7
Contracts:
Darkness
- Creeping Dread
- Night's Subtle Distraction
Dream
- Pathfinder
Elemental (Darkness)
- Cloak of the Elements
- Armor of the Element's Fury
you forgot me long ago;
Jacob was the ninth and youngest child of his very Roman Catholic family, the seventh son of a seventh son, marking him for an unusual life. He was quiet, and shy, and easily lost underfoot: he dutifully went to Mass, dutifully took lessons in his father's dojo, and dreamed, hidden away. He never caused much trouble, never rebelled, was quiet and good and never spoke a word that he didn't have to, fading into the shadows.
And he never spoke a word to anyone about the things he saw in shadows, in the church, the ghost child that watched him with big empty eyes when he sat in the same place in the same pew on Sunday mornings. Never spoke a word about the dreams that were so much more vivid then reality: a spirit medium and lucid dreamer. Never spoke a word about the depression that grew to consume him, or anything that troubled him, until it was far too late.
His freshman year of high school, soon after his fourteenth birthday, was when everything changed. Unknown to him, he had caught the attention of a True Fae who styled itself after Hades, and whose most recent consort had managed to escape him-and who also took it as an interesting challenge to try to take him out from under the nose of his older brother, Daniel. And so, one day, when Jacob wandered off for a brief walk with a book, when Daniel was busy with his homework, the True Fae pounced, and in a similar fashion to the myth of Persephone, dragged him through the Thorns. The only trace left behind were Jacob's book and his coat: the Fae hadn't bothered to create a fetch, and no one ever knew what happened to him.
And in Arcadia, in his Keeper's realm fashioned after the Greek Underworld, Jacob spent what felt like a season down in the darkness, where it was always winter and never spring, as his Keeper's bride.
am i that unimportant;
Endlessly quiet, sweet, and nervous, and probably the most obedient teenage boy ever, Jacob is rather shy and stammering: he is almost completely petrified in social situations: he rarely speaks, and tries to hide in group situations. Depressed and gloomy, he tends to the pessimistic if he even offers his views, which occurs very rarely with someone he is not very comfortable with. He is willing to try to please, and would probably kill himself trying to make everyone happy if someone didn't stop him.
maybe someday you'll look up;
The Mask shows Jacob as a small-about 5'3"-, slender, startlingly lovely boy, about fourteen, with pale skin, yet not over-pale, longish black hair, and big dark eyes, fragile, waiflike, and wispy, serious and not really showing very much emotion. He wears, usually, a nice, long-skirted, long-sleeved black dress, black boots, and a plain black ribbon choker around his throat. Black ribbons flutter around his wrists.
i breathe deep and cry out;
In his Fae Mien, Jacob is just as lovely, if in the still, still manner of a deathmask-his face is always unnaturally composed, and never shows any emotion- with ice-cold ivory-pale skin and the same big dark eyes as his Mask, with dark rings around them. While just as slender and fragile, still a delicate wispy thing, and still fourteen, he is far taller, slight and bird-boned, with long black hair. The dress he wears is very obviously a wedding gown, spun out of constantly shifting shadows. The choker around his neck is a slender collar, delicately made, but very obviously made of chain links, and the ribbons are slim chains, wound around his wrists.
isn't something missing;
you won't cry for my absence, I know -/you forgot me long ago./am I that unimportant...?/am I so insignificant...?/isn't something missing?/isn't someone missing me?
