GORSKI, Mical Erek

[michalerek]

...Michal Erek Gorski.*
*Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out. - Anton Chekhov.*

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...basics*

name Michal Erek Gorski.
nickname Why would anyone give him a nickname? Call him by his first name and no less than that.
age 17 years of living.
gender Male. or course.
grade Senior.
hometown His father immigrated from his Polish land to America, where he met his mother in Queens, where he resides.
sexuality Heterosexual.
personification Boogeyman.
status Dormant.
face claim Gaspard Ulliel.

...appearance*

hair color He prefers his hair to be quite lazy around his head, sticking up in the oddest places. He can't be bothered to fix it; not to mention, he looks better off like this rather than with tame locks.
eye color His eyes are black, sizing to an almond shape. However, traces of pink eye are visible around the rim and his skin constantly poofs surrounding his outer organs.

build He bothers none with toning his muscles; instead, he is quite leaner than the average male. However, his weight is certainly not one to be abided weighing about 180 pounds.
height Reaches six feet, with four centimeters to boost.
clothing style His body adorns t-shirts, never long sleeved clothes. He will not dare himself to wear anything that is considered out of the ordinary, purely for the dislike of it all. The jeans he wears are slightly torn at the ends, and cling only somewhat onto his long legs. His shoes are all repaid with dirt and mud , and some pairs are beginning to rip from the sides.
distinctive traits His body shows signs of noticeable tans in different shades. Unfortunately for him, his skin is highly sensitive.

...personal*

personality
Easily amused- A lopsided smile is always upon his face. He enjoys entertainment, giving him a reason to loosen up. Enjoy the moment, no? If he there is no entertainment, he turns bored. If he's bored, well, someone has to pay. More often than not he loves to irritate those younger than him by mocking their every move in a ridiculously silly pose.

Stubborn- To the very end. His beliefs will not wither, and he accepts no words from his peers or other beings out of purposeful ignorance. If they will not listen to him, why bother with them? His voice speaks out if he does not want to perform a certain action, never beating around the bush. He absolutely knows what he wants and there's never a maybe. He absolutely goes ahead with his gut feeling, rarely stopping by to take a minute and listen to his reasons. This makes him highly susceptible to be rash.

Egoistic- Holds himself highly, and looks down upon those he feels are inferior. Mental note; watch out for those eyes of his, that dare to look up and down a person regardless of gender. He watches for a flaw, and is more than eager to say it out loud. To make him feel better about himself, it is supposed. His words become dauntingly worse when he is upset.

Violent- Regardless of gender once more, he is unafraid to use physical contact. Granted, his eyes may bob at the back of a female with perverse thoughts that stray far between them. Rather impatient, will use force to get what he wants in any way possible. Apathetic of other people's emotions, call it so, but he never cares for other people's well beings. It's not his job, and absolutely despises when someone makes a first move. There's not much fun of it. He's not an over-abuser, really, he's not.

past
Micah Erek Gorski was born in a hospital, located in Queens, New York, USA. His first breath was on June 16th. Due to the unfortunate circumstances of Nowak's complications, he is the only child. As a minor, living in a luxurious environment (it wasn't so luxurious, living in a normal household, but imagine it!) The attention is put on you, and only you. People look your way, and take notice of you and its only you. The gifts you receive were for one person and for one person only, and it was plentiful.

He never cared about the worries of the other people that sought after him. Being an only child did not bother him at all. In reality, it gave him more things to do in the house. No one was there to bother you senselessly while you watched your favorite cartoon and ate your favorite food. There was nothing more he enjoyed than a life of three people. Four was too much for him already.

It was most likely these kinds of thoughts that compelled him to act spoiled. He had the mindset of being superior to all the other children, acting as the frankest speaker in class. Often or not his parents would have a call home to speak of his behavior. But they did nothing to stop him. The freedom is inevitable, and it had only arrived to him then.


present
He's gotten even worse than before. At home, when he is there, he brings solitude into his room and rarely comes out unless wanted for a task or such. At school, he rarely attends classes nowadays and his grades are dropping dramatically to the point it is an almost guaranteed certainty he will not graduate. Any time he spends at school is in the principal's office with a suspension nearly rolling off the tip of the headmaster's tongue. His teachers hate him, and have completely given up teaching anything in that thick skull of his.

Most of the time he spends his breaks with allies of his. Their mouths suck greedily upon the cigarette, letting out puffs of smoke every minute or so and staining their bodies horribly. They do not matter for the future, and screw the past for that's done for. The present is where its at, and hell, they'll make a big of a scene if they want. Their provocative behavior is nothing more than a hopeless case.



family
Noah Jak Gorski- male, 44, Polish immigrant.

Niemira Nowak- female, 42, Polish-American.

Niemira Nowak is a tourist guide, who works for assisting those coming to New York and visa-versa. Noah Jak, an avid reader, helps the local bookstore.

likes

+ Ditching class.
+ Joints.
+ Circuses.
+ Large crowds.
+ Absolute stupidity.

dislikes

- Creaky doors, or other audible noises heard during night.
- Abiding by the rules.
- Tests.
- High pitched noises.
- Trees.
other notesHis Polish skills are limited; he is fluent only in English.

...literature*

book title boogeyman!
backstory
The boogeyman is a creature with no limits to appearance. He is an apathetic creatures that loves torture. It often comes about during the darkest hours of the earth, and is a sly being. There are no boundaries to his victims. His, or her? It is all so confusing as to who this creature really is. There is not much to go on, sadly, enough, for those who know of his dastardly deeds. He is sly, able to hide itself from the eyes of anyone who might dare watch him. Those who do not understand the tale should be thrown off guard by the reality of it all.

...roleplayer*

name mari.
age sixteen.
gender female.
rp experience five years.
how you found ouac dani.
rp sample
No one cares. The people are all ignorant to whats going on as always, and the sky is shining obnoxiously throughout the kingdom.

It is often said that love last a lifetime. When the one enters your life, everything's different and the pieces fit right where they're supposed to be. And you may not know it. But how long is this lifetime? Does every year that passes reach as far as the stars? A tale is often spoken about two lovers that could love as passionately as they could. Could this be you?

1.Her back is arched against the cool and rough stone. As she lays on the bed, her breathing is rough and labored as she forces her will to continue on like this. She knows she can't, but she doesn't stop as her back tries to arch. Her beautiful brown eyes are clenched and contorted in pain as it easily seeps into her. The pain begins to feel numb, she screams one last time, and one life is gone, soon to be forgotten into the seed of history as her son is born.

Will you remember me?

There are a few facts she does not know. Her knight is fighting for her, raising his sword just for the very life of her. His hits are cold and proud as they swipe at the enemy. His face is covered in dry blood and his body is full of strain. But he will go on for the sake of her, and him, and this land. He does not know the enemy has won and his efforts are in vain and soon he will be on the ground, bloody, beaten, and completely useless to the world, just like her.

Both of them think, wish, hope, for the other to be safe.

They do not meet each other in death.

2.The year is 1942 when she gets a letter saying he's dead. She's incredulous, and the kids continue playing in the back yard, oblivious to the dreadful words in dry ink printed on a piece of paper addressed to them. As if they cared. She keeps it in a box so she can remember. Its mahogany wood is dry and makes too much noise for her ears to handle, but she'd do anything to keep it safe. She does not cry when her eyes absorb the crinkly letter in her hands; she breaks too much on the inside to understand what's going on.

It's only when she arrives at the hospital to look at him one more time, does she speak out. Her hands touch his cold hands that have turned blue and disgusting. She think he's hopeless, and she wants to change that in any way possible. She nudges him and when she does not receive a response does she push him in total, complete, desperation. Humans are very breakable; one touch, and they can break in half. After hearing her voice echo one too many times in the bleak hallway, does she lock the door and erupts in a pathetic sob. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Their future was going to be different. That future is gone, and so is her will to live.

Her eyes see him for what he really is. She can't see the man who stayed by her side even at the darkest of times. All she sees is a dead corpse.

Her back slams in the wall and she slides down, her hands clutching the air and her face red and hot from crying. She expects him to take a deep breath and come back to her, laughing about how silly she looks. When he doesn't- she doesn't expect him too, she realizes he's gone. Her mouth can not form any sound, and she waits until a nurse worries over her limp body, bent in rest. The pain is not existant in her dream, and she wishes never to return to reality and to stay in her uttermost desires.

A house creaks, its owner moving at a slow pace by digging her heels into the hard stained tile floors. Her face is crinkled with the very remnants of her life. Her eyes a dull brown, and hair that blends in with clouds. She holds a box in her right hand- the exterior is old, the color now bland and dusty from tactless care. The interior is dirty, and the woman's sense many similarities between her and the object in her right hand. The left one is grabbing onto her cane carelessly- she's a professional from many years of experience and knows now that her nieces finally trust her to be lonely in this house.

She reaches the comfy chair that is worn and used and lays in rest, the cane slipping out of her fingers apathetically and with her heart in her hands. It takes her a while to open it- her hands aren't as strong as they once was, she reckons, doubting she can do anything anymore. They slip, and its only when she's getting agitated that it howls when the lock has been released. Her eyes are weary, like her, but she forgets about it when she sees photos. Her photos, her memories, her life. She can not remember when these were taken. Maybe she had long forgotten her past she can no longer relate. But she can. Her heart was beating in the past, was it not?

Suddenly she can not take anymore and with her heart trembling it falls on the floor, shattered and broken. She cries; fresh tears pouring out from her soul as she shakes. She had always hated noise- it didn't matter to her whether it was a blissful or bitter, it was always hatred that tended to fill her up once she heard it and she abored the audible crash she caused. It makes her a quite a horrid person, she inquires to herself, and thinks it never really matters. It never really mattered. But she can longer have the courage to pull herself down, even willingly.

She's afraid of it stopping. This life has gone by too quick. A body slams onto the floor, determined to pick up her mistake.

Her hands, sweaty, pink and chubby, are holding onto nothing.

Her mind is always paranoid- she bites back the people in the hospital as they push her away from her love. She is unsuccessful, clambering down, with absolutely nothing to give anymore.
Her eyes strand up at the intricate backgrounds that had been given and placed around every wall of the place (they're everywhere), and decides to herself that she's the little designs no one really cares about- however, she does not heed that they are the pieces there for no reason but to make it look beautiful.

When she touches a solid piece of her belonging, it is numb to her fingers despite the smooth surface and she lays still, wondering. She can not do anything but cry in agony as it is her only form of solace in this cruel, cruel, world. She's afraid of it stopping, but her heart begins to fade and her very own life has succumb to the thing we fear the very most. It was not preventable.

You can't have anything you want.

How she wished her memory lasted for so long.

[BECKET]