xxx
filertextAGAIN THE GODS PUT THEIR LARGE HANDS IN ME, MOVE ME,
BREAK MY HEART LIKE A CLAY JAR OF WINE
LOLโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ โ โ โ
- โห โโโโ NAMEโฎ XX ALEC SPENCER
โห โโโโ ALIASโฎ XX NONE
โห โโโโ AGEโฎ XX SEVENTEEN
โห โโโโ ETHNICITYโฎ XX CAUCASIAN
โห โโโโ GENDERโฎ XX MALE
โห โโโโ SEXUALITYโฎ XX HETEROSEXUAL ; HETEROROMANTIC
๏น โ ๏น
โห โโโโ EYE COLORโฎ XX GREEN
โห โโโโ HAIR COLORโฎ XX DARK BLONDE
โห โโโโ HEIGHTโฎ XX SIX FOOT ONE
โห โโโโ WEIGHTโฎ XX ONE EIGHTY SIX
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WORDSWORDSWORDSโ ใAND FOR EVERY KING THAT DIED
WORWODSWORDSโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
He is not what he could be, this he is sure of. But he also knows that trying to be more than he is would be a very dangerous game indeed. And so he has settled, momentarily, for what he has become, which is not what he could be, but is what he is. It's very convoluted, very complicated-- all things he has endeavored to remove from his life, sadly.
His eyes are honest, which is good. He strives to be a simple man, and that makes things easier. He once dreamed of being more than that, but he discovered, later, that it is much easier to breathe when you do not try to reach beyond the boundaries set for you. He doesn't want to slay dragons anymore; he just wants to sit on a sun-soaked porch on a late midsummer afternoon. Breathing.
Like any simple man, he is mild-mannered and polite. Easy to talk to, a relaxing presence, like a soft breeze from the North. He doesn't seem like a California sun boy. His mannerisms and posture have changed to reflect a different version of himself. When he leans his head back to catch the wind, and his hair catches the glint of the sun, there isn't any image of blindingly bright beaches or saturated colors in the palm trees and streets. There's so much dramatics in the sweet light of California, and it's home, but the saturated colors just about break his heart. The sun on his hair feels like deciduous forests now, when the leaves are turning and just starting to fall, when there's a soft melancholy in the air. No saturated colors there. No high hurdles to overcome there.
It is shameful, but sometimes the California shines through. It seems he cannot break his competitive nature, and he's far too easily roped into a good-natured game and far too easily riled up in them for his own liking. He's far too easily attached to people (simple men can't form attachments; it's one of many ways to complicate life), and he's far too protective of those people. He's far too willing to pick up that sword and shield to go slay dragons if someone asked him to, and, somewhere in him, he's far too eager to jump those hurdles. He is not what he could be, and he is not what he wants to be. What he could be: a simple man, sitting on a sun-soaked porch on a late midsummer afternoon. What he wants to be: a great man, slaying dragons and overcoming high hurdles.
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WORDSWORDS
WORWODSWORDSWORDSWORDSWORDSโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
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Despite his desire to stop making things hard for himself, he simply can't seem to erase his love of competition, and he's always eager to play a friendly game, with stakes of course. He provides a wide range of options, from a running race, to a soccer match, or even a good, old fashioned card game. He does prefer matches where he can exercise though, as he loves the exhilaration that comes with running. The feeling when your lungs fill and your muscles ache, the elusive runner's high. Some days he likes to take it easier though, and there's a certain enjoyment in biking on a warm day. He loves being relied on, as it makes him feel useful, capable. And however much he wishes he could minimize attachments, he loves being surrounded by people, friends he can call brothers-in-arms. And the love the sense of unity that comes with that. Like he's a part of something bigger than himself. For that reason, he loves bonfires, and the ephemeral feeling that accompanies them. Like everything in that moment is completely different from the rest of everything else.
xx โ ๏น๏ผค๏ผฉ๏ผณ๏ผฌ๏ผฉ๏ผซ๏ผฅ๏ผณ
What drove him to simplicity in the first place: he detests the feeling of being incompetent, of helplessness, of being powerless. He doesn't like losing, which seems to replicate that feeling. And while he doesn't consider himself a sore loser, is more than gracious, there's always a small part of him that's bitter. While he likes playing them, he's not the biggest fan of watching sports, and he'd much prefer to be kicking the ball than watching other people do the same. He doesn't have the patience required for crossword puzzles or for painting. And while he's not likely to back down from a fight, he doesn't like conflict much.
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โ Pulls his left earlobe when he's thinking hard about his response. โ Listens to classical music when he's having trouble sleeping (but his favorite genre is classical rock). โ Boxes or runs if he's upset and needs to clear his mind.
`โ PROTECTIVE ; LOYAL ; He won't fight for himself, but he is always willing to go to bat for the people he cares about. If you pick a fight with him, he might try to mediate for a bit, come up with a nonviolent solution. But if you pick a fight with friends, or, god forbid, even hurt them, there are no words to stop him from going in guns blazing.
`โ COURTEOUS ; It's hard to find a reason to dislike him upon first contact. He's well-mannered-- courteous, polite, and kind. He's always been one to help a stranger in need, even without being asked. Grandparents love him.
`โ ATHLETICS ; Athletics are his strong suit, and while he's nowhere near as good as his brother, he's still better than the average bear. He also participates in more than one sport, including soccer, boxing, football, tennis, and track.
`โ HONESTY ; His words are as honest as his eyes. He can't find it in him to lie, and even if he could, he's terrible at it. Lots of tells and lots of not making eye contact and tripping over words.
`โ OBSTINATE ; He's a little stubborn. Not when it comes to accomplishing something, or winning anything, no. But he can be mulish when it comes to a decision he's made regarding his own well-being. Something like; "Do you need a ride? I can drive you." "No, don't worry about it. It's out of your way; I can walk." "But you're still three miles away." Or ; "You're sick, go home." "I'm fine." "You have a fever." "Don't worry about it."
`โ INFERIORITY ; So his brothers have given him something of an inferiority complex. Okay. So what? He's still a functioning young adult. So what if it's made him afraid to voice his wants, made him give up on dreams, made him self-harmingly "selfless"? So what?
`โ EASY QUITTER ; He doesn't like losing. He doesn't like feeling like he'll never be good enough to win. So if he loses, he'll take the loss without getting up and taking another run at the target.
`โ WHAT'S UNSPOKEN ; Omission does not count as lying, not really. And it's not even like that. It's more like swallowing down the hot acid of the words that come bubbling up into his throat. Sometimes they say he is selfless, almost to a fault. He can't help but brand himself selfish. All the things he wants to say, he wants to ask for, to fight for, they are all quashed down by his self-imposed title of 'not good enough.' Not good enough to fight for what he selfishly desires. Or to even voice his desire or give it a name. Which is selfish, in its own right.
`โ ARE YOU GOOD ENOUGH? ; He feels like less than he is. Always, incessantly, the feeling is there, gnawing in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't want to feel like that forever, but there's a part of him that worries he will.
`โ THIS IS WHAT WE'VE GOT ; There is a world beyond high school. And then there is a world beyond that world. He doesn't know what he's going to do in those worlds, but he does know that they are fast-approaching. Who isn't scared of the future? But at least some people have an idea of what they want to be, not just what they don't want to be.
`โ LONGING AND BELONGING ; He likes to feel like he's a part of something, because to often he does not. There's a disconnect, almost, between him and the rest of the people around him. Like they don't know what he is. Who he is. Which isn't their fault, not really, because how are they supposed to know if he's too afraid to tell them? But he's scared he'll always be too afraid, that he'll never feel like he's truly a part of something.
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WORDWORS
WORDSWORDSWORDORWORDSโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
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xxx๏ผจ๏ผฉ๏ผณ๏ผด๏ผฏ๏ผฒ๏ผนโ
He is certainly far more fortunate than others have been. He knows this. But sometimes it doesn't feel like that. He was born the youngest child (of three) to a wealthy family living in California. His parents were loving, but distant. Treated him less like a son and more like a responsibility, like a future investment. He didn't mind. He didn't know, then, that things were meant to be any different. That they could be any different.
They had good genes, and he was destined for great things. Supposedly. Given his brothers' track records, he wasn't surprised his parents expected so much from him too. His eldest brother an honor student, schedule chock full of AP courses and recently accepted to Princeton, Harvard, and Oxford. His second brother was still a sophomore, but had managed to snag the captain's spot on both his lacrosse and soccer teams, and there were already colleges scouting to get a good look at him. His parents turned their expectant gazes towards him and received...nothing. Just. Nothing.
He was a fairly average student. Honors courses, but not passing with ease. Intelligent, but certainly not getting into Yale anytime soon. He was good at sports. Good, not great. He liked playing, and he was one of the stronger players on the field, but not the strongest. Average. Perfectly entirely normal. His parents couldn't hide the disappointment, try as they might.
It was that year, the year his oldest brother packed for college, and his other brother worked with his trainer to prepare for his junior year of high school that his parents decided he was a jarring obstruction. That may not have been their line of thinking at all, but it's what it felt like to him. They sent him off to the closest good summer camp they could find, ditching him like some kind of trophy they thought was gold but turned out to be just gold-plated. That was three years ago, and while he's never quite gotten over the resentment attached to the camp, he's found that he actually kind of likes it a bit.
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WORDWORS& MOVING AT A PACE UNKNOWN TO MAN
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๏ผO1 ๏ผฏ๏ผด๏ผจ๏ผฅ๏ผฒ
FACE CLAIM ; STEVEN CHEVRIN
HEX CODE ; #CBBEB5
PLAYED BY ; EPIMETHEUS
CREATED BY ; VERIX
FACE CLAIM ; STEVEN CHEVRIN
HEX CODE ; #CBBEB5
PLAYED BY ; EPIMETHEUS
CREATED BY ; VERIX
