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Thyme Eclor

Born and raised on Peakes, but he didn't know the island as well as he thought...

0 · 361 views · located in Peakes Island

a character in “An Echo Of Home”, as played by Cienpher

Description

Thyme Eclor
Image

Physical Appearance: Thyme has dark red hair by nature, not dyed to be a rebellious youth as so many others seem to believe, and grey eyes that may seem violet to some in the proper lighting. His hair has an untamable aspect to it, sticking up whichever way unless he wets it in the morning, which he finds rather pointlessā€¦ so he wears a simple black baseball cap to cover it up instead. He generally has a passive expression, although it is far from unfriendly. If one manages to catch him when he smiles, it is a rather refreshing sight.

Personality: Thyme has a tendency to make things sound better than it was. Itā€™s not that he is an optimist, but rather that he has difficulty varying extremes of emotions. This often leads to the under-expression of dire circumstances or reasons of celebration, which seems to irk people although that is not his intention. There is only a limited range of emotions that he shows, rarely going beyond irritation, sulking, and the faintest hint of a smile. Rarely does he ever express anger, grief, or laughterā€¦ when asked why, heā€™ll simply answer that itā€™s awkward, indicating that he does feel such sensations, but he merely has difficulty expressing them. At the same time, he tends to answer joking rhetorical questions rather seriously, indicating him to be unable to read most cases of sarcasm or humor ā€“ however, he often asks belatedly, ā€œAh, was that sarcasm?ā€. He has an unhealthy liking for sparkling apple juice, which may or may not be partially responsible for his insomnia. Surprisingly, despite his passive personality, he is somewhat impatient. When this occurs, he can be found staring at something with a constant motion, such as clock hands, a pendulum, a metronome, waves. Many of those who donā€™t know him very well do not think of this as impatience, but rather label him a daydreamer. He is an observant fellow who is good in matters of strength and speed. From his daily walks, he has also built up quite a bit of stamina, allowing him to travel long distances while conserving energy. However, when it comes to matters of stealth, he is very, very lacking. He also seems rather tired in the mornings, most likely due to his lack of proper sleep.

Equipment: Thyme at the moment is wearing a black windbreaker with a pack of gum in the pocket, with one stick gone, and wearing a dark blue messenger bag slung over his shoulder. In it is his laptop with a rapidly dying battery, two bottles of sparkling apple juice, a swiss army knife, a blank journal, and a fountain pen. He also has a wallet which holds about $150 and some spare change. In it is also his driverā€™s license.

History: Thyme was born on the mainland but once turned twelve, he was raised on the secluded island of Peakes in the Rosewoods settlement by his aunt and uncle. His parents died due to an unfortunate car accident in an incident from so long ago that he cannot remember. He grew up close to the forest, used to nature and the island, but also found a fascination with technology. As time went by, he often spent time simply fiddling about with simple programs of his own design on his laptop, but he always without fail, went for a walk every day. He enjoyed observing the natural world of the forest and often watched the botanists at work as they studied the trees native to the island. One day, while exploring, he wandered farther than usual and stumbled upon a strange temple in a cavern. Curious, he decided to investigate.

Whether he regrets the decision or not, he has yet to know.

So begins...

Thyme Eclor's Story

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There was something about the ocean air that was strangely refreshing. It was cooler, a true sea breeze, and the taste of natural salt lingered in the air. Thyme, having spent most of his days in the forests by the Rosewood Settlement, chose to relish the moment. Maybe he would start visiting Gowdieā€™s Cove more often. Its ocean-by location only added to the rejuvenating, exciting atmosphere of Market Day.

For quite some time now, Thyme had merely lingered by the entrance, watching the bustling people come and go. It was such a lively event. Quietly, he opened his simple black wallet, peering at its contents with unexpressed disapproval. Despite his insistence that he had enough money ā€“ after all, he only ever bought apple soda, so he had much of it saved up ā€“ his aunt and uncle had forced more on him. They had forced $250 on him to be exact. What exactly did they expect him to do with that amount? He had got along just fine with less than half that the last time he came.

Glancing back up, he promptly put the wallet in his bag before, somewhat hesitantly, deciding to follow the crowd. Immediately he was met with the loud calls of shopkeepers and customers alike. Men, women, children ā€“ they all seemed so eager to browse, to buyā€¦ and it was starting to affect him as well.

Strangely enthused, Thyme began to walk about, taking the time to peer at each of the many stalls to see what they had in stock. There were so many fascinating items out on display, some familiar, others more exotic... Perhaps heā€™d find something for his aunt and uncle and then all that money wouldnā€™t be a complete waste. Maybe heā€™d find something useful for his daily forest walk as well ā€“ he wanted to venture a little deeper nowadays but, well, he didnā€™t exactly trust himself to keep from getting lost. New sights, new experiences...

'Maybe I'll should come here more often...'

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Thyme found himself strangely interested in first of the two bottles. Could such a strange beverage truly exist? It would be the perfect gift for his uncle, whose failing health kept him from consuming the bibulous drinks he had so loved. If they stored it for long enough, perhaps it would become sweet enough for his auntā€™s preferences as well. He had never heard of this drink before. ā€œMalted Sweetwine,ā€ he murmured. For some reason, the words felt strange on his tongue. Tentatively, Thyme picked up the bottle ā€“ a rather large one, a good liter and a half. Thirty-five dollars. His uncle would like it for sureā€¦ Was it worth it?

His eyes flitted to the line about venom. Snakes had always been a large concern of his on his daily walk through the forest and mountain. Although he couldnā€™t really tell if he was worth it, at this point, Thyme couldnā€™t see any reason not to get it. ā€œIā€™d like this,ā€ he told the shopkeeper before reaching for the smaller bottle as well. ā€œā€¦ and this as well.ā€

Why did he take the other bottle? He wasnā€™t quite sure, but it was interesting. He felt a twinge of concern that he was apparently purchasing a family heirloom for a mere ten dollars, but there was something about those two simple words, ā€˜Drink Meā€™, scribed in that elegant way that intrigued him. His curiosity was getting the better of him and he found himself wondering what the contents of the small bottle could possibly be. Maybe he would try it later. Actually, with such a small amount, surely it wasnā€™t meant to be a drink. Flavoring perhaps? Extract? Maybe oil or perfume? If it turned out to be poison, which Thyme found surprisingly likely, he could always hope the Malted Sweetwine would help him.

Pulling his wallet from his bag, Thyme thumbed through the bills, glancing at the shopkeeper. ā€œAnd that totals to forty-five dollarsā€¦?ā€ Already his thoughts wandered to the possibility of his next stall. Perhaps an antique store? A pocket watch might be interesting, although that might have just been influence from the movie his aunt watched the other day. Then again, those would probably be excessively pricey. Well, maybe heā€™d just find something else interesting along the way, or maybe he could get new software for his computerā€¦ maybe he could get a new computer. The one he carried around in his bag had a bad habit of dying whenever he went to click the save button on anything he was working on.

Well, one thing was for sure ā€“ if there were more of such unique items on sale, perhaps the excess money he brought along was actually worth it.

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For once, it seemed Thymeā€™s lack of expression was better for him ā€“ it hid the fact that he didnā€™t understand a word of what this shopkeeper had just saidā€¦ but he knew one thing for sure. This man seemed to be genuinely enthusiastic about this. Thyme had held a mediocre interest in the ancient world, favoring innovations of technology instead, but as he heard the shopkeeperā€™s story, he felt somewhat bad for the elderly man. It would be cruel to just ignore this old professorā€™s wares, and who knew? Perhaps he could find an interest in old languages.

Examining both grimoires, he tried to at least gain a hint of what sort of books the two were. The words were foreign to him, and couldnā€™t tell at allā€¦ Latin wasnā€™t something he was familiar with, so there really wasnā€™t a point to buying either of them. Even still, looking at the expectant expression on the professorā€™s face, he hesitantly reached for the embellished purple one of a longer title. Taking it and flipping through its brittle pages, Thyme stared at the strange words with mild frustration ā€“ his passive expression failed to show the extent of his confusion. ā€œCould youā€¦ summarize what this one is about?ā€ he finally asked after a leafing through its contents.