Post by EZRA PASTERNAK on Mar 10, 2013 17:52:56 GMT -5
...ezra feivelovich pasternak*
* *
[/size]* *
...basics*
name...[/b][/size] Ezra Feivelovich Pasternak
nickname...[/b][/size] “Ezrushka” by his relatives in the past. “Freak” or “murderer” by most of the people at school.
age...[/b][/size] Eighteen gender...[/b][/size] Male
grade...[/b][/size] High school senior
occupation...[/b][/size] Bus boy at the Great Stone Dragon, house cleaner, anything that he can do without speaking and without getting in the way.
hometown...[/b][/size] Verbovets, Zakarpatska, Ukraine
sexuality...[/b][/size] Not many opportunities like that for a freak.
personification...[/b][/size] The Spider from “Little Miss Muffet”
status...[/b][/size] DORMANT
face claim...[/b][/size] Aneurin Barnard [/blockquote]
...appearance*
physical...[/b][/size]
clothing style...[/b][/size]
defining traits...[/b][/size] Very tired eyes. [/blockquote]
...personal info*
personality...[/b][/size]
i see things that people don’t see, i see the color of the air twisting through the trees and the smiles on the silver undersides of the maple leaves in mid-winter, sly smiles, remember-me smiles, and i try to remember them, i try to remember the things that touch me inside and outside and the things that make me want to cry, like the absence of an elderly couple on a bench under the maple tree with smiling ghost leaves and it is december
He doesn’t mean to be the way he is, it’s all really quite a mistake, a very big mistake, a very big trick that’s being played on him, and one day the curtain will come up and he’ll wake up and everyone will have a good laugh telling Ezra Pasternak how he’s not nearly as much of a freak as he was always led to believe.
He needs to hold onto this because otherwise he thinks he might kill himself.
Everyone hates him at school. Everyone is afraid of him for something he did not do. He walks down the halls and listens to the murmurs, hears them edge away from him, hears the looks they give him. “Murderer,” they whisper. “Freak. Lunatic. Murderer.”
i didn’t murder him, he tried to hurt me, i didn’t mean to hurt him back, i tried to get him to go away but he didn’t listen and now all i hear at night is the sound of him dying, it makes me physically ill, i try to paint his blood out of me but i can’t, it’s there every time i look at my hands, i just try not to think about it but it’s always there and i don’t have the money for a shrink to help me make it go away, i’m on my own now, i’m on my own
He isn’t sure how he’s still functioning. Between the night terrors and the day terrors he is hardly surviving anymore, and every day the hallucinations get stronger, every day he hears “freak, lunatic, murderer, kill yourself” more and more when there is no-one there. He sits in his room and covers his ears and they just yell at him and there’s nothing he can do, he doesn’t have the money for medication and he doesn’t have the time for the side effects. His aunt is impatient with him. She wants him to get over himself but he doesn’t know what to get over or how or why or when.
He just wants to be normal.
i used to be like other children, i promise, but now i am something else, now the people who are not there control my life, i know they are not real cannot be real but they are there, seven is the one with the blue eyes, i know he is not real because his name is seven, this is how i determine, i pick out the one unreal thing and place it against the real world background and if i laugh i can feel it in my head because i cannot laugh for real, i do not dream, i read somewhere that people like me can’t dream because of too much dopamine in our system while we are awake but i thought dopamine was supposed to make you happy and if it’s supposed to make me happy then why do i hate myself so much
i hear colors in my mind’s eye, royal purple sounds like the richness of french horns in an empty amphitheatre, the music ricochets off the bare walls and back into my soul and i become royal purple and french horns, this is how i paint, i paint in the flirting piccolos of sky blue and the brass trumpets of crimson and the low mellow guitar of yellow ochre, to me spring sounds like violins and woodwinds, if you asked me how i thought of spring i might say clarinet which i know would confuse most people, i do that
life until now...[/b][/size]
all the leaves are brown
(all the leaves are brown)
and the sky is gray
(and the sky is gray)
the present...[/b][/size] what are they doing now? where are they living/working? what is their life like in new york city? how are they doing in school/at work? how are they feeling about their lives? how much or how little do they get out? any pets? friends? lovers? do they live with their parents? if no (or yes), what is their relationship with them right now?
other notes...[/b][/size]
His favorite song is “California Dreamin’” by the Mamas and the Papas. [/blockquote]
...literature*
title... The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
backstory... what role does your character play in the story in which they are involved? be thorough, please! about a paragraph should do.
...the roleplayer*
tell us about you...[/b][/size] zelda was bullied into making another spider and this is what she came up with
all the spiders for zelda [/blockquote]
...writing*
writing sample/freestyle...[/b][/size] PLEASE CHOOSE WHICH APPLIES. if you are a new applicant, you’ll need to show us what you can do; give us a writing sample! three paragraphs or so should be good, but make it as long as you like! we just need to know you can write before we accept you.
if you are a veteran and have at least one accepted character, and if you would like, you may use this section for any freestyle writing/application you would like to do about your character. have at it![/blockquote]
