Post by VICTOR MAYER on Jul 15, 2012 19:38:05 GMT -5
...Victor Thackery Mayer*
*You might just as well say, that "I like what I get" is the same thing as "I get what I like"!*
[/size]*You might just as well say, that "I like what I get" is the same thing as "I get what I like"!*
*
...basics*
name
Victor Thackery Mayer
nickname
His sister has called him Vic on occasion, but he's not really fond of it.
age
Twenty Nine
gender
Male
grade
N/A
hometown
Hornell, New York
sexuality
He strongly doesn't think about sexuality. Victor is under the impression that he is unable to be loved given his condition, and that's all he really wants. And, yes, he's a virgin.
personification
The March Hare
status
Dormant
face claim
Heath Ledger
...appearance*
hair color
At the root his hair is light brown, but it turns into a tufty blond when he lets it grow out. It gets fairly shaggy before his sister shaves it, as his hygiene skills aren't always the greatest.
eye color
He has half dollar, dark, brown eyes. The iris and pupil tends to blend, and his eye lashes are short due to his nervous habit of picking at them.
build
He is awkwardly build, as he is broad shouldered but thin for his height. His hands and feet look almost humourously large in comparison to his long and lean arms.
height
6' 1" (1.85 m)
clothing style
Many protective layers. He is never seen without his orange, scruffy, hat. His clothing tends to be dirty, but this has more to do with him not washing the clothes than a personal style.
distinctive traits
Victor is often covered in scabs, as her nervously picks at his skin. These scabs often form divet like scars across his body, barely noticeable unless he is closely inspected. Victor has a few other scars- more penetrating ones- where he's taken more drastic approaches to his mutilation. His finger tips are often scabbed as he's a chronic nail biter, and small bald patches can be seen in his hair when grown long.
...personal*
personality[/li][li] Father: Harris Mayer. Deceased.
Victor is, at whole, a sweet boy. True, he is close to thirty, but a boy is really the best description for him. There has never been a time in his life where he hasn't been at least mostly dependent on someone else. He can't drive, he's never alone for more than twenty minutes, he's never had a girlfriend. In the event he does get a, delicately put, 'boy problem' he's sent into an instant panic attack fueled run to the bathroom to douse himself in cold water. Being aware that he is sick makes life easier and worse. On one hand, his constant fears are comforted by the fact that he is probably imagining it, no matter how real it seems. On the another, he knows he'll never just be normal, no matter how much he wants to be.
And he does want to be. He gets grouchy at being hovered over constantly by his sister, not aided by being called Sassy Spice. Victor's mood swings seem sporadic and tend to be difficult to predict. He can seem very functional one moment, assisting with washing the dishes and making normal small talk. Than, very suddenly, something as mundane as knicking his hand on a knife can send him into a fit, involving throwing dishes and yelling. He's particular about where people sit, and will not sit in the same place twice. Victor's loops are loops are more noticeable, as he'll fade off and focus on nothing else.
Referring to the voice in his ear, he tends not to disclose much about it. However, it is not a rare sight to see him fiddling with his left ear.
For the most part, he's a polite boy. He enjoys word puzzles and jokes- though never dirty or political. There is almost an innocent logic to him, a child like wisdom that's sort of beyond him. He's smart, in his way, though he'll deny it.
past
First and foremost, the saying that crazy people don't know they're crazy is not entirely true. Victor Thackery Mayer is more often than not fully aware he is a sick young man. From a very young age he stood apart from other children, and not in a very good way. He was one of the very few who showed signs of Childhood Schizophrenia, something his parents were quite ashamed of, and ill equipped to deal with. In the very beginning he seemed healthy enough, though his mother was unaware she was pregnant until her water broke. He was slightly small for a new born at 5 lbs 2 oz, but had a good and healthy scream on him. His parents took him home as parents are want to do, and life was fairly simple for a year.
After that, when he showed no signs of walking and barely crawled, his Mother grew concerned. His Father gave up interest in him, deeming him to be a retard. Victor would not make eye contact, often mewled in discontent, and did not carry on with usual happy baby noises. In fact, he seemed to be a rather discontent child. He'd sit with his toys and rock to and fro- originally the doctors thought he may be autistic. And thus he was treated until his Mother got pregnant again.
His Father, Harris, more often drunk than not, would yell at his disappointing son that if it were a boy they'd name it Good Victor, because he wouldn't be a little retard. Though Victor wasn't talking yet- despite being three- he did have a sense of understanding. True to his word, when the baby was born- a girl- her name was Victoria, and she was perfect. Her Father's pride and joy, while Bonnie slummed it with the sulky boy child. It was after Victoria's birth that he started hearing things... Under his bed or in the walls. At night, he was to afraid to leave his bed, and so he'd wet himself on a regular basis. Always to the fury of his Father.
As he grew, and eventually spoke, he became particular. A nancy boy, as his Father described him. Certain textures set him off, certain people. He was prone to fits of anger of anxiety, and would pace frantically. Victor's schooling was going poorly, and he often brought home D's, earning his Father's belt. It didn't help that Victoria was a good student, incessantly charming, and pretty as a doll. Rather than envy her, she was the subject of Victor's admiration. Games would often include Victoria ordering Victor to do some task, and him performing it to her pleasure. Children his own age didn't take to him, so often Victoria was all he had.
Age eight was a paramount year for him, probably because it instilled a great deal of trauma in the young boy. Three things in particular: One, his Father took him hunting. Two, his Mother's abuse on him began. Three, the incident.
The hunting trip was something he begged not to go on. His Father wanted to make a man of the awkward boy. It was not just a hunting trip with his buddies, but an old Mayer Tradition all the way back from England, called Blooding. At the wee age of eight, he hadn't a clue what this could entail, but thought it sounded awful. He was already easily sick, and blood did not help. But, as always, he found himself doing exactly as he was told, and riding along while the smell of beer floated around in the car. The first night he was in the tent, he eavesdropped on his Father's friends discussing what they would do if they ever found their wives cheating. Some said blow her brains out, some said kill the son of a bitch who she was screwing. His Father described what he called a Cherokee Nose Job. Too scared to go out for a pee, he wet his sleeping bag, and then slept in it.
The next day they went hunting. Little Victor, so small for his age, stood shaking with a rifle clutched in his hands. A deer was spotted, but he couldn't stand the idea of killing the poor thing. His Father could. Dragging him over, he watched as Harris split the creatures guts open. Already queasy, Victor didn't realize his Father had scooped up a handful of the hot blood and smeared it across his sons greening face. His friends cheered. Victor threw up. Harris gave up.
When Victor got home, he cried to his Mother. He told her about the Cherokee Nose Job and the blood. With his Father at the pub, his Mother coddled her son, cooed at him... Touched him. It was very strange to him, but she shushed him and told him it was a secret. Just between them. What drove his Mother to do that, Victor would never find out, but it happened more than once. The boy became more withdrawn from the world that was already so foreign to him. And, assured by his Mother, even if he did tell no one would believe him. Same as they don't believe him about the voice under the bed, or the one in the walls. As the abuse charged on, the voice got stronger, and his behavior became more sporadic. Occasionally violent.
Finally, near the end of summer, he was playing outside with Victoria. He was making her a crown of baby's breath, when he saw it. He knows he saw it, and no one would believe him, but it was so real. A metal spider that burrowed into her skin. Terrified that the creature would kill his only source of solace, he pounced on her, and tried to dig it out of her arm. The next thing he remembered was pulled off from her and pinned to the ground while he screamed and screamed, hands covered in blood. Victoria required stitches, and Harris decided he could no longer deal with Victor.
And so he was sent to a Home.
It was called St. James Reformatory, and it was hell on earth. The children there were known for being violent and unruly. Often they'd have to be restrained or sedated. Unfortunately the jumpy staff were not aware that Victor was- admittedly, for the most part- docile. They kept him heavily medicated, and so much of his childhood is lost to him in a fog, with brief glimpses of therapy session, and a few of being beaten up by his bunk mates.
His Mother would come with Victoria to visit. While his sister would bring him gentle tokens and hugs, his Mother brought with her her brand of abuse, which continued until Victor was fourteen. Then, enraged by her sons puberty, she began visiting less and less, until finally they were once every three months. His Father never came.
When he was seventeen he received news by telephone that his Father had died of psoriasis of the liver. Victor, who had been unaware his Father was sick at all, was not permitted to attend the funeral. He took the opportunity to plea with his Mother to allow him to come home, but she refused. Victor was once again stranded. And so he stayed until he was nineteen, when his Mother died in a car accident.
This time he pleaded with his sympathetic sister, who agreed to allow him to live with her in New York City, so long as he was getting help. Overjoyed, he agreed.
present
New York proved to be an overwhelming place, and he much preferred to stay in Central Park or home than explore. He sought help, though had little choice, as he was the adult ward of his sister. For ten years he has been living in relative quiet, as one would expect from a teetotaling, non smoking, virgin.
After his Mother's death, the hissing voice he heard so often became hers. She poked at all of his inadequacies, reminded him that he was a freak and sick. She tells him what people are thinking, and what's under his skin. Of course, after ten years of therapy, he knows he's sick. Often he'll announce to someone a logical reason for why they do something, so as to coax himself out of his own paranoia. Victor has strange habits that he doesn't mean to do. Slapping his left ear to quiet his mother, digging at his flesh, chewing his nails until he bleeds. It unnerves people to him.
family
[/li][li] Mother: Bonnie Mayer nee Swift. Deceased.
[/li][li] Victoria Mayer. Three years his junior.
likes
- The colour orange. It's his safety colour. He won't eat food that isn't orange, he won't use soap that isn't orange, and he always has to be wearing his orange hat. This is under the belief that no poisons can be maintained in orange things, because no word rhymes with orange.
- Poetry. But only the rhyming kind.
- Schedules. He lives by a very tight schedule and he becomes very agitated when he strays too far from his schedule.
- Being outside. Though not in grass. He likes benches.
- Words that rhyme. As a coping mechanism, he might get stuck in a loop saying words that rhyme.
- Victoria, his sister, and the only person who has treated him like a real person.
- Baby's breath. When he was a child, he's watch the rabbits eat baby's breath in his back yard. He was very fond of it.
- Infomercials. He's obviously not allowed to buy anything from them, but the noise is comforting to him. Like someone is talking TO him.
- Time. He likes to keep close track of time.
- Contact. Not touching, but associating with people. He's a bag boy at a grocer, and he enjoys when the customers make small talk.
dislikes
- Sitting on his bottom. He prefers to sit on his feet, so he can spring up if he needs to.
- Orange Juice. That shit is yellow.
- Large crowds. They freak him out.
- His parents. Especially his Mother, who he hears constantly in his left ear.
- Cell Phones, anything that's been sitting in the sun for long periods of time food and water wise, any food that is not orange, haikus, other random things.
- Medicine. He's had very bad experiences with Meds.
- When he word salads.
- Insomnia, which he unfortunately has.
- Being aware that he is sick 70% of the time. 30% of the time he cn fall into his own delusions, but usually he is aware that he's messed up and the voice and feelings aren't real.
- Being a burden.
other notes
He's fond of rhymes. Best way to get on his good side is to discuss rhyming poetry, or to aid him with panic to give him a word he can start a loop with.[/blockquote]
...literature*
book title
Alice's Adventure's Underground
backstory
The March Hare is brodawgs with The Hatter, and they have a perpetual tea party because the Hatter offended time. He and the Hatter enjoy puns and riddles. The offer silly advice to Alice that sort of makes sense. Mad as a March Hare is a Victorian quote as Hare's tend to get a bit spastic during their breeding season, which starts in March. So... apparently the Hare at the Tea Party was a randy fellow.
...roleplayer*
name
Molly
