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Arthur Pym

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0 · 910 views · located in Brewster, Maryland

a character in “When Stars Align”, as played by Gentlemiss

Description

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Name
Arthur Gordon Pym

Nicknames
Family and close friends know him as Pearce, customers know him as Flynn.

Gender
Male

Age
Twenty Four
January 3rd, 1990


Nationality
American

Sexuality
Sapio/Pansexual

Occupation
Wannabe Writer/Crazy Eccentric Guy

Role
Edgar Allan Poe

"Quote."

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Personality
{ Eccentric | Humorous | Bi-Polar | Sociopathic | Opinionated }
To call Arthur eccentric would be being kind. He has about as many idiosyncrasies as Earth has ants. There's nothing Arthur does that he doesn't have rules for, that he doesn't have to do in a certain way at a certain time or place. It isn't that he believes the whole world could explode if he doesn't do these things at these certain times or places, he just assumes the world could explode if he doesn't do these things at these certain times or places. One of the most prominent things noticed about Arthur is his fantastic ability to be having a completely rational conversation with you and then suddenly go off in a fit of complaints or rages about irrational things, like why is the sky blue when it could be pink, and why do we worry only about planting trees when bushes and plants create oxygen too. His emotions change swiftly and suddenly, like a car accident. Another trait to note is his complete and total disregard for the feelings and privacy of others, even though he keeps himself very private and does not like others diving into his personal affairs. Arthur does not seem to realize the effects his actions and words can have to others.

If Arthur is good for anything, it's for a good laugh. Whether you're laughing at him or at something he's said, and he tends to say funny things without actually meaning for it to be funny, he's easy to laugh around. Some would think that being in the presence as someone as peculiar as him would make one tense or awkward, but he is so odd that it's hard to not make yourself comfortable with him. Though at times he can come off as very childish, such as barely being able to take care of himself, or needing things to be his way. He may come off as being very random, jumping from subject to subject as quickly as one blinks, but in some way they all connect in his brain and it's perfectly rational to be talking about feminism and monkeys at the same time, which some might find more offensive that others.

Arthur is always right. It doesn't matter if you have facts and and references and he's one against hundred, he is always right. That is not to say he does not like to discuss controversial topics or hear others opinions on certain matters, on the contrary, Arthur loves to tell his own opinion so he has gotten used to hearing others. Though if someone tries to deny his opinion, he can become very upset and irritable, which leads him to usually not do well with others. Overall, Arthur is very much like a incredibly well-informed child, which knowledge beyond his years but he highly lacks the social skills to do much but shut himself up in his home and write.

Appearance
5'9" 1/2 and slimly built, Arthur is not very strong physically but relies on his brains instead. Typically he wears suits when out in public, and sweatpants when at home. Unless he's had a very bad week writing, then his appearance may consist of things thrown together haphazardly, and definitely do not match. The majority of his suits very clearly used to be very expensive, but years of wearing them and his inability to iron them makes them loose and crinkled, but it fits the writer-look.

"Quote."

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So begins...

Arthur Pym's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Callum Hall Character Portrait: Scarlet Romanov Character Portrait: Bella Whitmore Character Portrait: Mary Lynn Roland Character Portrait: Lucas W. Richmond Character Portrait: Felicity Torque
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Monday - 7:30 A.M
The projected temperature for Brewster on this early fall day is 68 degrees, and it is overcast.





"Great." Cateline murmured under her breath, looking out the front window of the bakery. Cateline hated when it rained. She never had nearly as many customers as she had on a sunny day opposed to when it rained. People in this small town were like bumps on a log when it was raining, and that thought puzzled Cateline.

Cateline put fresh croissants in the oven. The bakery didn't officially open until 8, but Cateline always had her breakfast items ready at in the morning. Then, every 30 minutes after that, Cateline would put a new batch of baked goods in the oven.

When Cateline heard the thud of a newspaper hit against the window of the bakery, she immediately went out to get it. The only thing that kept her sane in the mornings was calming down with the morning newspaper. Cateline read about how the new diner, 365, opened in the heart of town, the community project Liberty High School was planning, and, her favorite section- Book reviews by the librarian, Felicity. Cateline mentally took note of a couple of the books Felicity recommended in the newspaper, and then Cateline put the paper down, glad to hear the alarm go off on the oven. Cateline went over to the oven and took out the croissants, being careful to place them in the display case with careful precision. In Cateline's mind, the only thing more important than the taste of the food was it's presentation. Cateline put every last one of the croissants in a precise arrangement, and closed the door on the showcase. Cateline had moved around to glance at her display when the bell on the bakery's front door began to sound, signifying the entrance of a customer.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Arthur Pym
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It's almost time for the rest of Brewster to wake up and Arthur hasn't gone to sleep yet. Up all night scribbling incoherent phrases and ideas in his old journal that he's never seen without, he decides it might be time to take a break and go find something to eat. It used to be difficult for Arthur to even come out of his room, back when he was living in an apartment by himself, but now he was almost completely comfortable wandering around Heath's (very large) house. Comfortable enough that he hasn't gotten lost or accidentally locked himself in a room other than his own in quite some time now. Unfortunately, he finds that their kitchen is sorely lacking in Arthur-edible foods, because it's monday and that means it's orange day.

After retreating up to his room to put on pants and grab his ridiculous black trenchcoat, Arthur is on his way to that pastry place that's not too far from where Heath's house is. Usually he would visit the coffee place first, but he doubts they have anything orange for him to eat. Fortunately, for well, everyone that has ever had to deal with Arthur, his drinks don't have to be color-specific. Sure, he would enjoy some orange Crush right now, but he can settle for black coffee. Unless it's Sunday, in which case he must drink something red, or there's the chance that the world might very well break in half and explode. As he's walking he pulls his journal out, completely intent on writing down that bit of information. Perhaps he can use that in his next novel. Now he just needs characters and a setting, and maybe some cute blonde distant-relative that the main character falls in love with...

Arthur looks up just in time to notice he's completely passed the pastry place and is now in front of the coffee shop, Friendly Rivals. The name has been stuck in his brain since he first saw it, because it's completely confusing and he doesn't fancy things that confuse him. He feels like yelling at it to make up it's mind, friends or rivals? Pick one already! But his stomach reminds him that he's still starving, and he ventures into the cafe with his thoughts on food. "One coffee please, just black. Do you have anything orange to eat by any chance?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Arthur Pym Character Portrait: Liam Stratford
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Liam turned to Arthur and wrinkled his forehead. "We have oranges..." he said, nodding to the wire basket filled with hard lumps of what could be oranges had they been given a chance. "If it's the color that's important to you, I'd suggest next door. They're famous for croissants... I think that would be considered orange... no, maybe tan," he shrugged. "The coffee will be done in a bit. Have a seat,".

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lucas W. Richmond Character Portrait: Arthur Pym Character Portrait: Liam Stratford
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Sliding Arthur's black coffee on the counter, Liam watched Lucas waltz in with his blond locks. He was only slightly jealous of his hair. For all of Lucas' pomp and circumstance, what Liam really envied was his sense of purpose. He knew what he wanted and just how to get it. Liam knew what he wanted to but never quite how. "Nah, an espresso? That's child's play, Lucas. You want fancy, you get a café miel. Trust me on this," he said with a wink. He placed a large white cup beneath the espresso machine and tugged at the handle. "The prettiest girls don't come in until later. Or they work over at the bakery. Try the croissant and you'll be a changed man," he grinned. In a tin cup, the crema frothed and writhed into submission before he added it to the espresso. With a light swirl of honey and a dusting of cinnamon, he set the coffee in front of Lucas. It was a work of art and a painful reminder of his writer's block.

"Just wait until the morning crowd leaves. It's like a washing away of rubble and dust to find the gleaming nuggets of gold," he said. Liam paused, tapping a finger on the counter. Should he write that down? No... no it was definitely crap. Maybe it wasn't? He shook his head. "I'm losing it... By this time tomorrow, I'm going to be ordinary and only good for writing greeting cards," he sighed.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Callum Hall Character Portrait: Mary Lynn Roland Character Portrait: Lucas W. Richmond Character Portrait: Felicity Torque Character Portrait: Yvette Van Der Woodsen Character Portrait: Cateline Moreau
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As soon as the little blonde spat on Callum, he was seconds away from beating on him until he felt someone's arm pushing at his chest. "Jesus, Callum!" It was Liam. Coming to the rescue as usual. Callum never mind him interrupting whenever he was close to trouble. He was used to it because without Liam always on his case about "doing the right thing", he wouldn't be alive. Although, Callum was more than surprised that someone actually had the tendency to put up with a good-for-nothing wretch like himself as his old man often called him on days when he came home in the grasp of a police officer late at midnight. 'Out partying with some friends, officers were just being superficial,' Callum often told him, yet nothing he could say was believable. After having two parents that were both fuck-ups, one of which was deadbeat, the other a typical drug-addict, you most likely have a kid that's ten times worse. Callum Jiovanni Hall was no smiles and sunshine, no, instead he was this rugged guy who's just waiting to fuck up someone's day, and present pure pleasure as he did so. However, in reality he was a guy just wanted happiness in his life. Whether or not Yvette was just that, no one quite knew.

"He didn't know, okay? That's my fault. He didn't mean anything by it so back off", Liam told him. At that, Callum rolled his eyes, but said nothing. This time Liam leaned in close, so that whatever he had to say was only to be heard by Callum. "If you can't handle Yvette being noticed, then don't bring her here. In fact, you pull a stunt like that again, don't bring yourself here either."

Callum just stared at him. It was clear Liam hadn't meant what he said about never coming to the cafe. He was his brother. Metaphorically, that is. And he knew that like everyone else. Despite the bizarre shit Callum puts Liam through, these two were inseparable. Partially because he lived with Felicity which makes it easier for Callum to see how she was doing, see if she ever said anything about his most recent visit to the library. So, it was hard to believe that Liam would actually insist Callum stopped showing up to the cafe if all he was going to bring with him was chaos. However, Callum knew better than to get on his friend's bad side, so he gave an nonchalant, but irritable"Whatever," Then, walked away towards the counter. Not long as he took two steps when Mary came rushing in a simple, "Thanks for not waking me up!" before she gave Yvette a brownie. He ignored her.

Behind the counter he spotted Arthur, face bent down into his journal as usual. "Who does that blonde head think he is?" He babbled on to Arthur, whether or not he was listening. "Queen Latifah?" He began preparing another pot of coffee when he heard very carefully when the door to Friendly Rivals swung open, but he hadn't looked up."Besides, it ain't over yet. When I get my hands on him I'm going to kick his-?"

"Callum!" His head snapped up to see Cateline storming over in his direction. "Well, If it isn't the she-wolf," he smiled halfheartedly. "How's therapy keeping ya? Y'know, you shouldn't yell so much. You'll give yourself a nosebleed."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Callum Hall Character Portrait: Cateline Moreau Character Portrait: Arthur Pym
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Arthur's coffee arrives not long after he's ordered it, and he was ready to try and order a croissant (which was kind of orange, if golden counted) when about a hundred other people suddenly came flooding in to the cafe. Not really the one for crowded places, or social interactions that involved more than one person, he quietly slipped off to one of the quiet corners of the shop, sipping his still scalding hot drink and opening up his journal again. "Where was I?" He asks himself in a low voice, and talking aloud to himself has become a bad habit of his due to being only with himself the majority of the time. There's some sort of commotion over by the counter but Art has no trouble in tuning it out, focusing solely on the words that are appearing on the page in front of him. His idea has changed slightly, about the end of the world, and now he's thinking that when the world breaks in half, lava will start pouring from the crevice and that will be the demise of the human race.

At first he doesn't even hear Callum, let alone know someone is actually speaking to him. Most of the time people just let him go about his business, barely knowing him further than "the guy who lives in that teachers house, right?". Though Callum was one of the people who could actually handle his million-and-one idiosyncrasies (most of the time) and Arthur supposes he could probably call him... an acquaintance. Though Art was awkward enough with people in general, and with the man looking the way he did, it made him even odder around him. Which is why when he realises that he's being spoken to, he actually makes an effort to try and decipher what he's saying. That, of course, doesn't go well either, because he has absolutely no clue what has been going on around him.

"Probably more like Justin Bieber." It's surprising enough that he looks up from his journal for Callum, but actually joining in on a conversation? Arthur was known for only speaking when he had to give his opinion on something, or when he found something very interesting. Pointless conversation was not his strong suit, and he rarely attempted to engage in it. It's also surprising that Arthur even knows who Justin Bieber is, because it's not like he's up to date on anything at all. He still writes his stories completely by hand. "What happen-?" But he's speaking at the same time Callum is, and neither of them even get to finish before they're being interrupted. And so naturally Arthur ducks his head, acting like he's returning to his journal when in reality he's waiting for Callum to be finished, because he finds him interesting.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Arthur Pym Character Portrait: Heath Percival Lovell
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It took Heath fifteen minutes to realize he was missing something. And that something was what was going to fill the last twenty minutes of class. So naturally, because his day had already had such a wonderful start, it was something important.

Despite having a degree in literature, Heath had no degree in teaching and, contrary to any popular beliefs, was still entirely lost on that front. Lesson plans that spanned a whole three months? Those didn't exist. Most of the time he planned the material the class would go over the night before, which tended to leave most of the class in confusion. They hopped from author to author, short stories to poetry to full length novels. A lot of the kids liked it. Said his teaching style kept the class from staying boring for too long if they didn't like a specific author. What most of them failed to realize was that Heath didn't really have a style. He chose all his material during insomnia fueled nights, when he spent most of his time hunched over a notebook, scribbling illegible tales of mysteries and horrors onto worn notebook paper. Occasionally though, he'd suddenly remember something that might serve as inspiration, and he would jump from his seat to scan the towering bookshelves behind him, darting out a hand to pull a worn leather book from the shelves and, with nimble fingers, flip to the page he wanted. And if he decided that specific work would be good for more than just personal inspiration, into his lesson plan it would go.

Lately, Arthur had been spending a lot of those nights with him, each scribbling away in silence, lost in their own little worlds of fantasy. It tended to get him a little mixed up though. For example, his missing piece of the day's lesson plan. There was a poem...
But he wasn't sure which one.

Arthur had gone off to the kitchen or somewhere for tea or something or other (Heath was never really sure what he was doing), and in the time he was gone, Heath had paced the room, reciting some poem from some book he thought would help with the story he was writing. It did. It also went into the lesson plan. But when he stopped to jot it down, he put it in the back of Arthur's journal instead of his own. It happened. Especially on those semi-delirious nights. And if Arthur was nearby...
He glanced at his wristwatch once more. He had twenty five minutes before classes began. Plenty of time if there was no hold up. Moving quickly, he pulled the TA from the classroom next door just in case and ran out of the building. If he was right, Arthur was probably at the coffee shop, since he wasn't at the bakery and it was too early for the library.

When he arrived and stepped through the doors, he saw he was right. Heath let out a small breath of relief and headed over to the familiar face. "Arthur," he began and--oh. Quite a bit of tension in the room. A victim of tunnel-vision he often tended to be. A quick glance at his watch told him he didn't have any time to delay though. "Arthur," he resumed again, this time in a more hushed voice, "I need your help."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Callum Hall Character Portrait: Cateline Moreau Character Portrait: Arthur Pym Character Portrait: Heath Percival Lovell
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Arthur's eyes widen considerably as he watches Cateline throw the croissant at Callum. To be honest, she sort of terrified him, a lot. She also helped his muse considerably, and he vaguely wondered how she would feel if she got put into a novel of his. Not that he actually planned on asking her beforehand or anything. It wasn't that he was rude or anything, he just had no sense of privacy, and had little to no consideration for the feelings of others, and that was not his fault. He was raised in a way that made him insensitive to anyone other than himself, and it wasn't surprising that that stuck with him. And no one bothered to chastise him on it, other than Heath occasionally, when he found out he was writing a piece about someone in the town. Heath was the only person that he let see his journal or his works in progress, and only because he was a writer too. Otherwise his things would have been off limits.

The writer ducked his head when the woman turned and stalked off, not wanting to be caught staring, and buried himself in his journal. Part of him was still listening in hopes that Callum would continue their conversation, but he doubted it. The other man was very popular, it seemed, and had better things and people to spend his time on than someone like Arthur. On the other hand though, Heath seemed sort of popular too, even if he tended to stay shut in at home most of the time, and he still made time for Arthur.

Faintly Art hears his name being said, but doesn't really catch it until the second time around. His head pops up and his eyes go to find the counter but- Heath? That was odd. Arthur looks down at his watch before realising he doesn't have one, then tries to find the clock in the cafe. "You're supposed to be at the school." He says dubiously, eyes narrowing in confusion, as if the other man had no idea that he had a job to get to. Then he remembers something about being asked for help, and frowns. He isn't really in the mood to be helpful right now, actually he's never in the mood to help. The only reason he assisted Heath in grading papers was because that was the requirement for moving in with him. And he liked to see how high schoolers were writing these days (answer being not great).

"What do you need?" He asks finally, sort of sighing the words out, shoulders slumped in a way that made it obviously reluctantly said. "You should hurry, you don't want to be late for work."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cateline Moreau Character Portrait: Arthur Pym Character Portrait: Heath Percival Lovell
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There were several long moments where Arthur did not answer him, and Heath could only watch the scene before him unfold. It happened quickly, with a violent explosion from Cateline and no immediate reaction from Callum. He observed with wide eyes, looking vaguely concerned as Cateline stormed out the front door. He wondered if he might have enough time to go check up on her before classes began...

Arthur's voice reached his ears, snapping him back to the problem at hand. "You're supposed to be at the school."

"I know," Heath sighed heavily, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't important, believe me."

He noticed with keen eyes Arthur's immediate frown at the prospect of having to help, which honestly came as no surprise. He was well aware that Arthur only helped with the papers because he wanted a place to live. That, and the amusement of course, but Arthur had never liked helping people unless there was something in it for him. Heath had always thought of him as the epitome of the notion of quid pro quo. He responded to Arthur's frown with his own scowl. "Oh, relax. It's nothing that requires any effort from you," Heath added, slightly lower and with a hint of amusement. "I think I wrote the name of a poem I need for class today in the back of your journal, so if you don't mind..."

Heath leaned over and pulled the small book away from Arthur before he could protest, quickly flipping to the back cover to locate his handwriting spelling out a word he could only vaguely make out. "The Waste Land! T. S. Eliot. Of course," he said aloud, wondering how it was that he could have forgotten. He slid the journal back towards Arthur and gave him a quick pat on the arm, his way of saying thanks, before heading out the door. Stealing a quick glance at his watch, he realized there was still a good fifteen minutes before classes. If he didn't delay long, he could...

He avoided turning down James Avenue, continuing straight instead. Standing outside the door to the bakery, he inhaled a breath, taking just a moment to gather himself. The bell above the door chimed as he entered slowly, cautiously. "Cateline?" he called out softly, not seeing her behind the cash register. "Are you here?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Callum Hall Character Portrait: Mary Lynn Roland Character Portrait: Yvette Van Der Woodsen Character Portrait: Cateline Moreau Character Portrait: Arthur Pym Character Portrait: Liam Stratford
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'Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah.' That's how it all was as soon as Cateline began talking. A common bore she was. However, he'd hate to admit that he did enjoy her company. Her stress only made him burst out into hysterics. It was nothing new. The two have been going at it for years and years if it weren't for they're constant bickering, it would never be the same. They had this dynamic, see Callum was the rebel who'd always brought trouble and Cateline was the little she-devil who always tried to patch things up. If it wasn't like that, then things wouldn't be the same. Even though they couldn't stand each other, the certain hatred only brought them closer. "The next time you steal croissants from my bakery, I will have your head on a pike parading it downtown!" Her face was red, and almost immediately Callum imagined steam bursting out from her ear canals.

"It's not stealing if I was burrowing." He said in his normal cocky tone. "I'd be glad to give it back, but you gotta wait a couple hours for it to digest down."

She ignored him (as usual); however, he could tell by the way her nose were flaring that she was infuriated. He watched as she snatched up a napkin sitting up on a counter. It was obvious that it had been from Liam. He was the only one Callum could remember who every wrote on napkins, though whatever it said made Cateline even angrier. Her eyes flashed upon him, and for a split second he held an eerie feeling that maybe he had gone too far.

"Are you kidding me?!" She shouted in rage that with each word she'd say, spit freckled across his face. Callum blinked-twice. This had been the second time he'd been spat on. He was beginning to think that it was national 'Spit On Callum' day. Didn't anyone have any manners in this town?

"Jesus, Say it don't spray it!" He retorted back, as he scrub ferociously at her germs with his towel, in which he made a promise to burn later.

The minute he was finished sterilizing his face, Cateline then flung a stone, rock croissant at him. However, he had ducked just in time before the edible weapon nearly knocked him out. "Next time you'll think twice about stealing from my bakery!" She warned him before spinning on one heel and stalking out from the Cafe; shaking the ground as she went.

"Come again!" He called after her before turning his attention onto Arthur who had been sitting there taking in all the chaos with wide eyes. "Can't believe the devil himself gave birth to that." He shook his head, and that's when he noticed. Yvette, Mary, Liam; they were all gone. However, it was Yvette and Mary he was worried about. They were just at Yvette's table a minute ago. Now where were they?

"Hold on, Art." He said before throwing his legs over the counter, and moving toward the front door. He looked out; searching for a sign of his friends, but all he saw was cars speeding by in unison honking at others as they went. "Shit." Now he was beginning to panic.

Wherever they were, they couldn't have gone that far, right? Besides shouldn't Liam be here helping with orders? Where the hell was he?

Callum's fingers were feeble as they dialed Liam's cell. It rung. Once. Twice. No answer. Callum didn't even bother to leave a voicemail. Instead, he dialed for Mary hoping, praying she'd pick up. "Jesus, Mary where are you? Are you alright? Where the hell is Yvette?" He was worried for the two of them. His girlfriend, and his little step-sister.