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Andrew Harrison Thursday

A senseless man living a contented life on the streets.

0 · 193 views · located in Real Life

a character in “Lakeside”, as played by Sovenric

Description

Age: Thirty seven

Height: One point six three metres

Weight: 7 st 8 lbs

Physical description:
Andrew posesses senseless, dull black hair composed mainly of half curls that totally reveals his forehead but completely conceals the back of his neck. Its texture usually quite acceptably greasy: the sebum neatly combed and distributed. His eyes: far apart, bulbous and with no ill effect for the most time. They didn't glisten in the sun; his eyebrows blocking any arcs from most directions, leaving them dull and plastic looking. Relative to the rest of the face they looked rather small, maybe because of his eyelids drawn across them in a crescent shape. Blackness on each edge slowly fading out as you saw the white turn to grey and black made his eyes look effervescent and whimsical Cheeks on his face looked sore and hardened; but ripe with a glossy pink and wrinkles covering them at all of the parts around it. Like a worn, baseless marionette. Lips were normal. Thin, and had a neutral tone. Turning slightly more red when licked. Within his mouth, he had all of his adult teeth; excluding his wisdom teeth that hadn't grown yet. Spotless were his teeth for the most part and he appeared to have no mouth problems. A slight scar impressed his chin. Never did it stop looking red and sore.The belly on this man made him stout. He was slightly overweight, but didn't grow outwards more than he grew upwards. He was not very tall at all; standing at about one point five metres; just able to contact with the store-owner over that ridiculously disproportionate table at the counter at the superstore; to make gestures with his hands and such. The skin on his hands was notably scaly. It also contained and evenly-distributed transparent, white and flossy glaze of skin that indicated lack of moisture. His nose was also incredibly confined and rather bony; but still some meat on there. Just that it looked triangular; many people swore it could cut through butter or something like that. He had a thin, trimmed and wiry beard that couldn't be stroked like his hair. Just a regular medium-cut. And to top it off: he bore an interesting dali moustache.

Personality

One of the biggest fans of storytelling in the East Bronx you'd assume. Every second sentence; if you were in a conversation about the houses or the history of the town he lived in; he would spill endless tales about looking up to the skies in the few days he had as a child that weren't overcast, the absolute fanatics and corrupted men who he'd sometimes meet in a momentaty encounter in the street, he even liked to talk about and go through the story of books that had a Socialist mindset. Believing strongly that the nation should have a political philosophy of postmodernist Socialism rather than its currently rancid "Money! Money!" Approach, and believing a barter system that allowed for the exchange of goods and services. He was not kind-worded to those who liked money and held it at high value. As he usually said: "If we go back in time, you know? Back to a time near the beggining, right? What if we could go back to a time like that and replace the materials used to make money with pieces of dried up acrylic paint or something stupid like that. Our economy would be wetting itself laughing . How moronic that sounds. So, why are lumps of copper and nickel held at any higher value? Because they're rarer? That's so infantile. How can our polotical power be determined by how much of a material moulded into the shape of the Queen's face? You could just toast some more coins and lob 'em into the economy at any point with no effort, right? It's so easy to get money and power from weak people these days. No questions asked upon selling gold, right? Think of all the priceless family heirlooms that could be snapped up by those greedy little nonchalant fingers for a quick cut of the jib. What a disaster of an economy." He makes anti-capital speeches to singular people often. As shown above, he tends to ask rhetorical questions. It's been seen to by a psychologist ths he may have terretse to say "right?". Very little fighting experience has been gathered by this man. He knows what a kick and a punch is; but hasn't really tried out it in fisticuff or any martial art format yet. His self-defence is also lacking, he only hopes that he can get out of the way of the attempts to subdue or kill him. Death by fighting is something that frightens him and that he doesn't consider very valiant. He makes for a reliable friend, though his intentions aren't always kind-hearted. Andrew longs to have good belly laughs with friends and embrace the warmth of a conversation; but never gets too intimate to people. Not out of a trust issue, but merely that he doesn't really want to. His voice is that of your typical New-York salesman, like something out of a film noir but fully realised. He isn't afraid to raise his pitch slightly to highlight a word in his sentence. He talks usually innlong drawn-out sentences.

Equipment and Abilities

Very attached to his flat-coloured, purple satchel with three seperate compartments that open by zip. Usually wears it around town. Owns alot of navy blue trenchcoats made out of cotton with purple buttons to open and close through holes. Plain pitch black t-shirts made out of slik are also a favourite thing to wear. Brown joggers with a felt surface and two streaks of black facing the outside of each leg; and usually slightly plaid at the end. He has one pair of black trainers with blue quarters and sole.He did not posess any firepower. In his pocket he carried a blue notebook with no graphic design and a biro to take notes; preferring it over a diary format.In his other pocket; he carried a wallet that was usually fitted with no money at all.His backpack was full of food from bins that he considered edible. A cheap way to not pay was to take from bins; it was usually alright. He might find a sandwich still unopened from its packaging, to a slightly distorted can of Kool-aid. In the front compartment of his bag; he had some bicarbonate of soda.

So begins...

Andrew Harrison Thursday's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Andrew Harrison Thursday

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Irked by the silent nature of this part of the concrete dormatory, housing only him in a disparity of twenty or so shoddy ruins of blocks of offices; bound together by mortar and a way to go up and down using the stairs at any time.

Unfamiliar items passed through here all of the time. An opened Mr. Potato packet was whistled along by the wind. It was accelerating and then deccelerating slightly less than it was accelerating before accelerating slightly more than it deccelerated. The wave of wind was really east coast style.

Looking sharply at the crisp packet; Andrew's hand arose with life to the area of his waist. Random fingers dug in to other random fingers on both arms as he braced himself for the inevitability of a crisp packet paining him.

The crisp packet deformed around the man's face. Posing piously and persuasively polished, pitting; parting there on his face. Electrostatic pain just blipped on his face; it had hit the proximity of his left cheek!

He leaned his entire torso back into a momentary slump before stating:

"Not a good start to the day. Not at all. Hugh. I feel like it can only go uphill if it begins on a downer. Let's see it through I guess." Andrew took a momentary pause, reprising his situation once the crisp packet drew aside.

Using his hands to brush out of the knits in his blue trenchcoat: loose salt and starch that haf leaked from off the packet.h

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Andrew Harrison Thursday

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A rugged sound of a sharp and calignous collision darted to Harrison's ears somewhere from the shadows of society. He let himself lightly tremble like a well-cooked crouton in a pan. Harrison chose to use this analogy being a hearty gourmand his fine self.

For once in the day Harrison was able to sense his legs mingling with the ground. This only persuaded him further that he should move. Even now: the concrete floor was of misuse and had an abrasive texture that slid you off it easier than it drew you to it. He took extra care to connect the rubber of his two loose kidney-consistency handmade boots. He could barely see the door he wanted to get to: the rubble-filled poverty hostel was so spacious and bare; all the heat rooted to the ceiling, rooted there since primordial times; but it had never stayed the same heat, the same phenomenon. In any case: the coolness only added to the lack of intimacy and warmth.

Luckily his beanbag was plenty warm. Been sleeping in it all night; he had a healthy temperature and aura about him.First order of the day was to get some breakfast. Harrison still was noneffactive about the shooting sound. Yes

BANG!! A sound a like that.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Andrew Harrison Thursday
  1. possible duplicate content

    by Sovenric

0.00 INK

A rugged sound of a sharp and calignous collision darted to Harrison's ears somewhere from the shadows of society. He let himself lightly tremble like a well-cooked crouton in a pan. Harrison chose to use this analogy being a hearty gourmand his fine self.

For once in the day Harrison was able to sense his legs mingling with the ground. This only persuaded him further that he should move. Even now: the concrete floor was of misuse and had an abrasive texture that slid you off it easier than it drew you to it. He took extra care to connect the rubber of his two loose kidney-consistency handmade boots. He could barely see the door he wanted to get to: the rubble-filled poverty hostel was so spacious and bare; all the heat rooted to the ceiling, rooted there since primordial times; but it had never stayed the same heat, the same phenomenon. In any case: the coolness only added to the lack of intimacy and warmth.

Luckily his beanbag was plenty warm. Been sleeping in it all night; he had a healthy temperature and aura about him.First order of the day was to get some breakfast. Harrison still was noneffactive about the shooting sound. Yes

BANG!! A sound a like that.