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Evan Tuck

Love is a demon that stalks your soul; it will eat you.

0 · 291 views · located in RMS Titanic

a character in “"Ice-burg ahead!"”, as played by Sirius Baren

Description

Evan Elias Tuck
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FULL NAME
"...name's Tuck..."
Evan Elias Tuck


ALIAS
"Don't ever call me Elias."
Elias {it was what Cecelia always called him. He despises the name now}


BIRTH DATE
"Some days it feels like I've lived too long already."
January 5th, 1886 - 26 years old


ORIGIN
"My family has always been from England, and I thought I'd always stay in England."
100 % British


SEXUALITY
"Have you ever seen the body of a woman?"
Heterosexual


ECONOMIC CLASS
"I've fought hard for my spot on the food chain, I'm not about to give it up."
Second Class

OCCUPATION
"My job is to argue for a living, don't even think you're about to win a debate with me."
Lawyer


MARITAL STATUS
"She was my dream...I thought she was forever."
Divorced

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Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall
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APPEARANCE
Evan isn't a particularly tall man and is considered about average in height. He has dark and rich caramel colored hair. He has a strong jawline, and coupled with his cool grey eyes, has quite the smolder. He generally has a very serious and sober look upon his face which gives off an air of concentration. He rarely smiles, but when he does he had pearly and straight teeth. He is well considered handsome, which is why he doesn't have too difficult of a time getting women into his bed. As a lawyer he spends most of his time indoors, but despite that he still has a very healthy look to him.

BODY SHAPE
Lean and muscular with broad shoulders.

WEIGHT
180 lbs

HEIGHT
6'0"

SHOE / FEET
12 (US)


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Aptitudes and Oddities
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LIKES
He loves to read unusual and fascinating court cases, especially the ones that have made history. He also is fond of cigars and very strong alcohol. Evan loves to converse with anyone that can keep up with him, whether in normal conversation or debating a subject. He loves those with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. He has always had a love for music, whether it's from a record or at a performance hall; jazz is his favorite.

DISLIKES
Women in general. They are the devil spawn to him and he can never trust anything they say.

Being alone; though he'd never admit it. When he's alone his mind wanders to dangerous places and this is usually when he starts his heavy drinking.

TALENTS
He has a way with words and can talk himself out of almost any situation--or into any situation.

He's very good at debating and anyone close to him refuses to get in an argument because they know that they'll lose even if they are right.

WEAKNESSES
He has a very difficult time with trusting women.

Beautiful women; even though he doesn't trust them, he is weak to their beauty.

He's a very poor sport when it comes to losing. There's only been two cases in his professional career that he's lost, and it was because he was distracted by his divorce. He gets very bitter and in a bit of a slump when he loses.

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Temperaments
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PERSONALITY
Evan is an extremely bright and intelligent man. He knows this, but doesn't flaunt it and only uses it to his advantage when working on a case. Despite his high intelligence he is also very charismatic which has helped him in his career.

Before Cecelia destroyed him, Evan was a gentle and attentive man. He always looked out for others and was willing to help anyone in need. He took on a lot of cases pro-bono. He was a very charitable man, though a bit of a trouble maker. He loved to pull pranks on his teachers growing up and was very adept at talking his way out of trouble. He's very charming and respectable. His mother raised him to be a gentleman and always think of a lady's comfort and well being before himself.

When Evan found out Cecelia was cheating on him, he broke inside and something very dark entered into his soul. He has become bitter, and cynical towards life. All of the charm he had oozed before he now uses to get laid with women of any social standing or class. He has developed an incredible skill in hiding the pain he constantly feels. He has had a great deal of practice in the courtroom and can lie through his teeth. He views women in a very harsh light now and only gives attempt at chivalrous behavior if it will benefit him. He's become quite the selfish and self-motivated divorcee.

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Memoir
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HISTORY
Evan is the middle child to an upper middle class family from London. His older brother Geoffrey, became a doctor, and his younger sister has always shone in the spotlight for her beauty and talents. As a boy, Evan was always fascinated with the art of debate and civilized arguments. He was quite good at talking his way out of trouble during his school years and it came as no surprise when he graduated high school and declared he wanted to become a lawyer. He was accepted into Oxford and spent nearly all of his time with his head buried in books or attending guest lectures. Evan was passionate for his work and had few friends because of his busy schedule.

It was during the summer of his second year that he met Cecelia. Cecelia was everything Evan had wanted. She was beautiful, poised, and clever with her tongue. He spent the whole summer chasing after her and was over the moon when she finally gave him the time of day. He courted her for six months before he proposed and confessed his undying love and devotion to her. She accepted his proposal and they were wed the following spring.

Evan felt like he was on top of the world. He had an incredible wife, had graduated Oxford with high honors, and had been given a position at a prestigious law firm in the heart of London. Even though he seemed to work all of the time and lived more at the firm than at home, he always made sure that he devoted some time to Cecelia and made sure she didn't feel forgotten.

It came as quite a huge blow when Evan found her in a rather compromising position. He had decided to surprise her for their two year anniversary by taking time off and to surprise her. When he came home he found her in the throws of passion upstairs with a man he had never seen before.

Evan had never known such pain could exist. It felt as though she had ripped his heart out and trampled over it. He couldn't stand to look at her. He didn't understand where he had gone wrong. When he found out that she had never loved him, had only married him for status and money, he lost it. He went on a dangerous drinking binge that last two weeks. When he finally sobered up--thanks to his brother--he filed for divorce and kicked Cecelia out.

After that he became extremely cynical and quite the bitter man. He was still hurt from Cecelia's betrayal and was having a difficult time overcoming the pain. He began to disregard all woman for any good virtues and did a complete 180. He went from a loving and sensitive husband to a bit of a player who used women long enough for physical gratification before tossing them aside. They were all vixens and vipers after all.

It had been a year since the divorce was finalized when news of the Titanic reached him. Evan was tired of his life in London and decided that a fresh start was in order and purchased a ticket hoping that America could soothe his scarred and battered heart.

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OOC

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PORTRAYED BY :
Sirius Baren

TIME ZONE :
Mountain Standard[MT] .

HOW OFTEN DO I POST? :
As often as is needed.

So begins...

Evan Tuck's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Evan Tuck
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Ever since Evan had discovered Cecelia cheating on him he had struggled to reign in his temper. It was always at its worst when he was faced with a woman, especially if she was exhibiting any sort of behavior ill suited to their sex. This young woman was clearly showing a great deal of qualities that had brought the worst out in Evan. She lied, cheated, and stole. She struggled in his grip but it was futile.

"The left? Truly?" the sarcasm was laced in his tone. "You cheated and we both know it. I have a keen eye and I would not have missed the queen unless you tampered with the cards." He was struggling to keep his wild temper in check and not cause her unnecessary bodily harm. He was sorely tempted to rattle her until her brains fell out. He had bottled up a great deal that it was threatening to burst out of him in a very unpleasant fashion.

She had picked the right combination of words to severe the last bit of rational behavior that had kept him from going out of control. She dared to challenge his honor? The fury that entered his eyes was deadly. His grip tightened until his knuckles had gone white. He pulled her in close ready to let loose every thought and ill feeling he had kept inside that he wished he could've parted to Cecelia. He was frozen in place as a sharp pain was concentrated on his foot. He looked down and found she stomped his foot. It hurt but it wasn't unbearable. He was more in shock than anything else and it dazed him. She slipped from his slack grasp and had darted quickly into the crowd before he had finished processing what had happened.

He blinked for a moment before he took off after her. She was long gone at this point but he would not admit defeat. He weaved through small clusters of people and was moving as quickly as he could. It was a good solid ten minutes of dashing around before he finally stopped. That woman!

He decided that if he caught her again he would make her pay. He would find some way to bring justice to her. At least in that way some of the anguish that riddled his soul would be put to rest, at least he hoped that would be the outcome.

He was seething the rest of the day. He stalked around the great ship the majority of the day in hopes of stumbling across her. He had even gone down into the belly of the ship where the third class passengers were housed. He had no luck as they were packed tightly down there like sardines. Evan could only stand the stifling sensation so long before he retreated back to the upper decks. The cool sea air soothed him a little and he pulled a flask from his pocket. He moved to the rail and leaned against it as he took several swigs of the strong whiskey. It burned down his throat and in his belly. He liked the pain. It helped dull the pain left in his heart.

There were excited cheers and clapping a short distance down the deck. There was a small crowd of children gathered in a tight semi-circle. It was obvious where they belonged. Evan frowned and wondered where their parents were. What was so fascinating?

He took a deep swig of whiskey before popping the cap back on and returning it to his pocket. He walked the short distance to the children and froze.

They were all entranced by a young woman bending over with a deck of cards in her hands. She moved the cards through her hands in an expert fashion showing them several tricks and illusions. She glanced up and Evan felt all the rage and indignant anger from the morning boil back to the surface riding the hot whiskey he had put in his stomach.

"You!" the danger in his tone cause the children to scatter like birds and they darted in every direction. He pointed an accusatory finger at the woman and stalked over to her. He pinned her arms to her sides and drove her backwards until they were in a small alcove out of the way of most prying eyes. Even if she stomped on his foot she would have to force her way past him. She was trapped. He had caught her, though he was a bit surprised to have done so.

"You dare question my honor," his voice was low and threatening. There was a darkness in his eyes and he bore down upon her. He clenched her arms tightly in his hands, likely bruising her. "And yet you know you cheated me." There was very little space between them. She was a small thing and it didn't take much to tower over her. "You are going to pay for your insult and your crimes." His jaw was clenched tightly and he had a death glare trained upon her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra
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                        Yes. That was a yes, wasn’t it? He wasn’t quite sure what he had been expected. That was the answer he’d wanted after all. Maybe a bit more hesitation? The Charlotte he knew from the past was all hesitation. He was surprised, after her, to learn how quickly other women and girls of her status fell to his charms. He had been expecting something more arduous, taxing— a longer chase. But he was warming their beds within the month. His record was just shy of three days. Quickest con he’d ever pulled with a sizeable gain. He’d treated Syl to a nice dinner that night.

                        And yet, the approval came remarkably quickly. Perhaps she was right; being at sea far from the confines of shores seemed to loosen one’s inhibitions. He certainly wasn’t going to complain. He’d seen her face fall then brighten with his invitation. He was already halfway to the end of his game. The coldness in him smiled, ignored the pang in his heart.

                        “Lovely,” he said, forcing an expression of pleased relief onto his face. His internal dialogue prompted him, reminding him like an actor reading from a script— Mr. Kensington does not have the same calculating nature as Stas Kelevra, Mr. Kensington is new money, worried he will never be enough for a woman he loves should she come from a higher status. Mr. Kensington does not read expressions like Stas Kelevra; he does not know what reply to expect before it comes, he does not plan a response tailored to what the person opposite him would like to hear. Mr. Kensington is intelligent, but not wicked and clever. Mr. Kensington is a fool.

                        He had processed the information about her room number quickly, hadn’t let it phase him. It was interesting information, but he’d always known she was very wealthy. Now he knew exactly how wealthy. Some sick part of him was curious about the proximity she might afford him to the tenants of Room 1. Who exactly was put up in there? An older man, surely, but maybe one with a deadbeat son, seeking a competent successor? Perhaps one with a much younger wife, idle and bored, seeking some enjoyment? He shook the thoughts from his mind. Pursuing two jobs at once in such close quarters was too much, even for him. And he had already decided to dedicate himself to this one.

                        “I’ll be seeing you then.” He offered one last smile, then headed off to the exit. He waved at a man and offered a quick greeting (one he was sure would wave back despite not knowing him, one who would assume they’d met and have been too embarrassed to express that he’d maybe forgotten about the young man), another subtle action meant to cement his identity and validity in Charlotte’s eyes. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

                        Following that train of thought, he pondered how exactly he was going to procure a proper outfit for the night. He’d brought his best suits, of course, and nice suits they were, but ultimately, at the night of the night, they were just suits. He’d need a tux. A proper one, sleek with no wrinkles.

                        He was pleased to have the time to gather his wits. There was no acquaintance to meet, obviously, but the meeting with Charlotte had caught him off-guard, and even slightly off the ball was never a good place to be with a mark. Especially one he’d once had an emotional vulnerability to before.

                        He retired to his room (Syllia showed up some time later, and obviously in a foul mood. He avoided speaking too much to her, and only filled her in on the basics of his evening plans) where he drew up a plan of attack, both for finding himself the nice tuxedo he required and for the evening in general. Sometime around 5:30 (the perfect time for the wealthy to start milling about the bar area to chat before dinner), he changed into a simple, almost dirty, outfit. One that reflected his true status in society. He mussed his hair, found dirt to put under his fingernails and on his hands. And then he walked into a staff-only room on the ship and no one paid him a second glance. From there, he took a staff uniform off a rack, changed in the changing rooms. On the deck of the first class, he walked by a maid staff. He bumped into her, apologized profusely, offered a charming smile. While she was blushing, he slid a hand to her waist and lifted the master set of keys off of her. He wondered how long he had before she noticed. She was sweet though, and he made a mental note to return the keys if he bumped into her again so she wouldn’t find herself in too much trouble.

                        With the keys, he ducked into a suite some ways down, found a tuxedo hanging in the closet, and changed right in the room. He threw the staff uniform out the porter window. It was 6:30 by then, and he had plenty of time to wash off his hands and face and fix his hair in the borrowed bathroom before simply continuing down the hall some to the front door of the second suite. He waited the thirty seconds it took for his newly acquired watch to reach the seven mark before knocking.

                        She opened the door and Stas let his jaw slacken slightly, eyes traveling down slowly as if to take in her appearance, a smile, seemingly almost involuntary, lifting the corners of his lips as he did. He laughed when she mentioned the incident she’d had with powder, lightly but with good humor.

                        “Nonsense,” he said, tilting his head to look down at the offending marks on her dress. He paused, then looked up again to meet her eye. “I think it gives it character. You’ll be the loveliest woman there.”

                        Again, he smiled, widely this time, combined with a short huff of a breathy chuckle. “Just give it a bit of a shake if you’re worried. It’ll be hardly noticeable. People will be much too caught up in your eyes and charming conversation to give it a second glance, I can promise you.”

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                        The day had been... exciting, to say the least. Still, she was more than glad to be put all of the events that had occurred far behind her. If she was going to be on the ship for much more time, she’d have to keep an eye out for the man, be sure to avoid him. With any luck, she thought, he’d forget about her in a day or two and she’d never have to worry about seeing his mug ever again.

                        Truth be told, the whole harrowing experience was terribly frightening. She’d been terribly worried he’d hand her off the ship’s guards, that they’d keep her in holding until the end of the journey, that she’d rot in prison, or, Christ, that she’d never see her brother again.

                        She had nervous tendencies, it was true. Her mind raced in dangerous situations, and even though she always managed to squash the thoughts down, push them to the back of her mind until she found a solution, they always came back to haunt her when she was clear. Case in point, her hands was shaking like mad after she ran out onto the deck. It certainly didn’t help that she saw him chase her down. She spent a good couple of minutes darting from crowd to crowd, trying to avoid his gaze. Very nerve wracking. Just terrible.

                        When she was sure she was clear, she took the fastest route down to her cabin. She was surprised to see Stas, would have figured that he’d be casing out the top deck for good marks, but the events of the morning had dampened her mood, and she didn’t question him too much, not even when he told her of his evening dining plans.

                        Sometime after Stas slipped off to do god knows what, Syllia decided some nice air was in order. Help alleviate her mind and bring her back into good spirits again. She changed into a clean pressed shirt (not as stiff and starchy as the one Stas had forced on her that morning) but kept on the pants and, of course, her newsboy cap. It was ideal for her profession— concealed her face if needed, but never looked out of place. This time, she let her hair down. No need to conceal her gender. She wasn’t trying to pass off a member of the first class; she just needed to be easily forgettable.

                        Up on the deck of the ship, she spent some time simply watching the boat stir the water, keeping an eye on the horizon and letting the wind press against her face. After some time, she sat and pulled out her deck of cards to practice her counting. But a child, impressed with the fluid motion of her shuffling, approached and looked on with wide-eyed innocence. A grin sprung to her face as she demonstrated a simple trick for him. And then another. And another. Before long, there was a small crowd gathered around her, some second-class children but mostly poorer looking kids. Her heart ached for them. She was the same once, entranced and enchanting by the small illusions of cards and coins. The false magic provided a small escape. She did her best to entertain them.

                        “Is this your card?” she asked, for the second time. The child shook his head vigorously. Syllia feigned a frown. “Hmm,” she said, lifting a hand to stroke her chin. “Well, I don’t know what’s gone wrong then. Surely, it must be around here somewhere. Can’t have just gone off and disappeared could it have?” Again, she stroked her chin as the child squinted and looked down at the deck she held in her left hand. As he looked away, she took the card she had palmed much earlier and bit the edge of it as she brushed her hand over her mouth, leaving it hanging there. The bright grin on the child’s face as he looked up and saw his missing card hanging from Syllia’s mouth was priceless. She laughed as she pulled it away, but the general joy of the atmosphere was interrupted by a voice she (sadly) recognized. She jumped up from the crate she’d sat down on, ready to bolt along with the escaping children. But the boy she’d just shown the trick to had, in his fright, clung to her leg. She quickly shooed him away as gently as possible, but by the time he’d run off, it was already too late.

                        She found herself face to face with the man from earlier, caught in his bruising grip with a very small chance of escape. She winced for the second time that day, but this time it was in pain. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her upper arms, which, lamentably, had always bruised incredibly easily. She’d be nursing the pain there for days.

                        “Come on,” she half groaned, half whined. “You can’t just let it go, mate, can ya?” She huffed and turned her chin up to return his glare, looking him square in the eye. “I didn’t cheat you nothing. It’s called sleight of hand, yeah? You heard of that before, have you? It’s not cheating. It’s a part of the game. Which, if you’ll recall, you agreed to play.” She lifted her forearm, using the minimal space between them to take the opportunity, despite her lack of much movement capability, to poke him hard as she could in the chest. “Cheating would have been if I’d switched out the queen entirely. But I didn’t. You never said I had to make it easy for you.”