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October Sinnet

Every pretentious book starts with a quote from another pretentious book.

0 · 137 views · located in America

a character in “Touch”, as played by Phoeni

Description

Image

|| Full Name ||
October Ciara Sinnet

|| Nickname ||
Toby. This is most preferred.

|| Age ||
Fifteen

|| Gender ||
Female

|| From ||
Inside of the dome

|| Role ||
I’m not much of a survivor type, really. I like to explore, but outside of the dome freaks me out.





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Personality:
I've always been a little different, even by my family’s standards. I don't see or hear quite like anyone else does - at least, as far as I know. I dance to the beat of a different drum, if you will. To me, the colors are the sounds. For instance, A flat is dark, mahogany-red, the color so much like the blood that stains the grounds outside of the dome, synonymous with the dying screams of countless humans. At the same time, A natural is the soft color of marshmallows floating on the surface of a steaming cup of hot cocoa, a delight to my warped senses. Synesthesia, the doctors called it. A perceptual condition of mixed senses. In many ways, my condition defines me. I wouldn't quite be October Sinnet, self-proclaimed Ice Queen, without it.

You've heard (heard, seen - it's all one and the same to me) the introduction and the chorus of my song, and now it's time for the bridge. The bridge of a song is used for contrast, and mine pulls that off swimmingly. While I appear to be made of soft tones and slow, lilting verses - just chock-full of A naturals - it doesn't define me, it's not me. In reality, I am about as colorless as can be, all dull hues and completely unextraordinary.

I suppose that puts me out of the socialite business - though I doubt people would mind, as my blunt and snappish attitude makes me less than savory. It's not really all my fault; my condition isn't so much a blessing as it is a curse. Some of the dome is a very bright, very loud place, and I am constantly plagued by excruciating migraines as a result of the assault on my senses. If your voice doesn't look nice, I don't want you to talk to me. That's just the way it is, and I have a tendency to tell it like it is. And in the Capitol, such a trait isn't really all that attractive. honesty has never really been my strong suit. I'm the one who plays at the edges of fact and fiction, blurring them together until I've invented a prettier kind of truth. It's not so much that I want to wrap reality up with a tidy little bow as it is an impulse to avoid the messy entanglements of human nature. There's something too sharp about a screaming voice and an ache too raw in a sob for me to cope with.

Only one thing makes me thank whatever higher power is up there for my condition, and that's music. Classical music, the kind made up of violins and cellos and clarinets and wondrous, beautiful pianos. I frequent the various concert halls around the Capitol - I sit on the back row, where the lights are the dimmest and there are less people to disturb me, and revel in the glorious colors that such performances induce. They're never too bright or too loud or too distracting, always soft and melodic and a treat to the senses. It's better than anything a cigarette could ever do for me, more relaxing than any spa and more desirable than any chic new dress in the mall. It's in these places that I am truly happy.


|| Likes ||
β˜‘ Music
β˜‘ White
β˜‘ Cookies
β˜‘ Being Warm
β˜‘ Dreaming

|| Dislikes ||
β˜’ Any bright colors
β˜’ Plastic
β˜’ People
β˜’ Love
β˜’ Makeup

|| Strengths ||
+ Nimble
+ Good at climbing
+ I get attached after a while.

|| Weaknesses ||
- Untrusting usually
- Heavy weapons
- Screaming. It’s a horrible highlighter green.

Image|| History ||
Now for the outro.

The conclusion of my song, where all the pieces are tied together with a tidy little bow. My father has been a oil tycoon for as long as I can remember - a rather successful one at that - but he's never been one for keeping his mouth shut. Needless to say, I don't see much of him. But that's okay - I find the deep baritone of his voice and the thick, sickly-green that radiates from it murder to the eyes.

As for my mother, I see far too much of her. The epitome of homebody, she's the reason I tend to spend my free time as far away from the house as possible. While my father's chair at the dining room table remains cold and empty every night, the seats surrounding it are often filled by my mother's social circle, the endless chattering of women - and the painful bright yellow that comes with it - and the clinking of wine glasses a constant song that floods the high vaulted ceilings and wraps around the thick marble columns in the hallways of our little chateau. I was thirteen when I demanded that my bedroom walls be sound-proofed.

I was diagnosed with synesthesia when I was nine years old. My parents had always contributed my odd proclamations of "your voice looks funny" and "I don't like the noise pumpkin orange makes" simply as some of the cutesy sort of things children say in their early years. (As the case with most synesthetes, I thought I was normal, that everyone else saw and heard like I did because it was all I'd ever known. It wasn't until I was seven that I realized I was different. My English teacher liked to play music for us whenever we had a writing assignment during class, and one day the kid sitting next to me started complaining about how he couldn't write with the music being so loud. I told him that dark green was always loud, and he looked at me like I'd grown a second head. It sort of clicked then, and I didn't speak of the colors until I was nine and my math teacher told me that I needed to apply myself more, and I promptly told her that maybe I'd apply myself more if her voice didn't look like horse shit.

My parents took me to the doctor the next day, and that was when the term 'synesthesia' first met my ears. No one really knew what the think of it, as nobody else could possibly understand the things I saw and heard on a daily basis. For me, all it did was put a name to something I'd already known. However, that was when I decided to a little research on my "condition", a young nine year old girl flipping through the weathered pages of books in the libraries and clicking through files on my father's computer when he wasn't home.

I discovered a man named Ludwig van Beethoven, a famous and influential classical music composer from long before even the Dark Days. He was deaf, yet he claimed that he could see the music he composed, describing B minor as "black" and D major as "orange". He became my inspiration, and the reason I decided to try my hand at the old grand piano that had sat unplayed in the parlor since before I was even born. I remember the first time my tiny finger flitted over the weathered keys, the lovely dark magenta that flooded the room as I pressed down on the C minor key, the light, fluffy blue that B natural radiated. Beethoven opened for me a whole new world of rainbow symphonies, my fingers sounding out the most beautiful of colors. I quickly became a child prodigy, my condition giving me an aptitude for music that sparked the envy of many seasoned adult pianists. Music became my life, fingers spinning out endless piano recitals and entailing long days spent on the cushioned seat of a piano bench, painting the world the colors of October, a song that hasn't ended just quite yet.







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|| Family ||
  • Themus Sinnet
  • Linia Sinnet
  • [sister/brother needed]

|| Theme Song ||
F L A W S // bastille
You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve
And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground
Dig them up; let's finish what we've started
Dig them up, so nothing's left unturned.


|| Sample Post ||
(This is from a Hunger Games roleplay on another site long ago. I hope It’s not too horrible)

Being alone is the worst part. I hadn't really thought about it when Arlie or Wess or Bethanie died, maybe not even because of Quint, but it's this haunting idea of how I might become the final remainder that is the most painful part of these Death Years. I named them like a subject in history class, because it feels more distant this way. The Dark Days; The Death Years. The way everyone I care about keeps disappearing from my life, as if I was never supposed to have their smiles in my memory to begin with, and I can't β€”

Zach tried to kill himself after Quint died. That's when I knew I'd be the last one left carrying all this awfulness within me, while everyone else steps into the Aether. Maybe they're happier now, not so burdened as those of us they've left behind, but the idea of crossing into the aftermath of life isn't so easy for me. Despite the horrors of what my life has become, I'm still afraid of things. I thought my fears might slowly disappear with their souls, because what is a person supposed to worry about when they have nothing left? I'm not so sure anymore, but I know one thing. Until the end, I will still have myself and maybe that's enough. These days it seems like it'll have to be.

I'm still supposed to have Zach though. The two of us and the remaining Libertines all have our place in Death's line and he's not supposed to cut ahead like that. I don't like hospitals any more than I enjoy trips to the morgue to confirm the faces of my bygone brothers and I could hate all of them for it if I didn't love them so goddamned much. Ghosts and all. Still, there's the inevitable and then there are the choices we make and if Jude wants to die, then cross my soul, he'll have to go through me first. Dragging his limp body into the emergency room, where they wired him up until he was at least half-mechanical and breathing against his will, this was clearly not what either of us wanted for him, but maybe we can call it a compromise.

When he took off after coming to, they had to sedate me to stop my screaming. Those doctors, they hauled me right up into my brother's abandoned hospital bed and knocked me out while Zach was surely running off to god-knows-where to try and kill himself again... or so I thought. Struggling against the descending haze, I nearly turned myself inside-out trying to fight the drugs off so I could chase after him. From the looks of things when I regained consciousness a few hours later, I'd nearly puked myself to death, but Zach wasn't around to know that.


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So begins...

October Sinnet's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Torex Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: William Walker
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"Ratta tatata tatata!" came a hoarse voice over the speaker, causing everyone in the old department store to sit up from their sleeping positions. It was another one of those Loonies. Insane people broke into the store's "Employee's Only" department so often, their voices over the speaker systems were not much of a surprise anymore. "I killlll youuuuuu in your sssssleeeeeep!" the voice continued, sounding more drunk and idiotic than an insane man. Fear suddenly hit Charlie like a wave hit's a surfer on a wipe-out. Had the man over the speaker been infected and went around and touched them in their sleep? Charlie gnawed on his lip and searched his suit for any signs of having been moved in his sleep. He looked fine, so he just prayed that his looks were not deceiving.

Silence came from the speakers and everything appeared to go back to normal. Everyone who had been taking refuge in the store went back to sleep, but Charlie was fully awake now. He pulled back the sleeve of his suit to reveal a watch, with a large crack down the face of the clock. Besides a cracked screen, it still worked. The time was about 5:30 A.M. It was early, but after the lunatic on the speaker, he didn't really feel in the mood to drift back into sleep. Sleep was vulnerable and he tried to be awake as long as he could.

Standing up, he quietly found his way out the broken sliding doors into the cold of the morning. The sky was beginning to lighten a bit from the dark of night, and angry looking clouds were rolling in. It looked as if Mother Nature was about to reign down on them in full fury. Outside of the store, far off in the parking lot, was the gas station that looked as if it had been torn apart by a hurricane. It was surprising all the damage panic could do.

Charlie continued walking, his destination a shoe store across the street. His shoes were broken, the soles hanging on by threads, acting more like flip flops than sneakers. When in an apocalypse, you need good shoes. When he reached the road, which used to be extremely busy because it came right off a highway, he hopped onto the chipped pavement and began walking across, the shoe store in sight. But, suddenly, a honking noise came from his right and he turned to see some idiots driving a bus, charging right at him. He screamed and leaped out of the way, only a few seconds shy from getting smashed. He came down on the pavement hard, scratching up his arms, tearing a hole in his suit.

"Where the heck did you get a bus?!" he shouted angrily after them, unheard by the drivers. He stood up and hurried to the parking lot of the shoe store. He didn't see anyone in the store, so he approached with a little less caution. He opened the door, a horrible stench hitting him. Then he noticed dead bodies lying everywhere. Yep, this was not going to be fun.

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Torex walked through the streets, wearing a grey hoodie and jeans with a pair of sneakers. He looked like any other young human guy, although he wasn't. He was a humanoid robot, created as a soldier. But he was broken, now just a broken toy of the government's.

The Dome was the same temperature it had been the day before, and the day before, and so on. 70 degrees Fahrenheit, a comfortable temperature. It was sunny, the fake sky had beautiful white, puffy clouds adorning the bright blue. It was a perfectly constructed, artificial day. Humans seemed happy, riding their bikes down streets, flying cars whizzing around the city. Women walked out of hair and nail salons, immediately finding people to show. Men headed to sports games. It was amazing that they had already formed sports teams in such little time since the Dome had been created.

Torex was not like these people. He was hiding in the dome, for he was supposed to be destroyed. Luckily, for him, he had been created to look human. He was real looking, human looking, and if he covered up where his skin panels had been torn off, he would look like any twenty year old guy, despite the fact he was younger than that. He could blend in, so no one would report a rouge robot. It wasn't like the government would put out a notice that he was missing. People would panic- and this was something the government didn't want.

A man bumped into Torex, bringing him back to reality. "So sorry," he apologized to the man, who had a really strange looking haircut and a very long nose. It was the human's fault, but Torex was programmed to be polite. He wasn't about to say "Watch where you're going!", which happened to be the man's exact response. Silly Humans...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: William Walker
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#, as written by Phoeni
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They had to drag me from the house this morning, there should be permanent claw marks in my bed frame. It feels like the sun is burning through the fragility of my skin. I wear a black blazer in this blistering heat, over a cotton black shirt and harem pants. Sunglasses hide my eyes, and a hat shades me from the sun's stealthy rays. I stand shaking still, bones shuddering against my skin, utterly uncomfortable in this huge crowd on the street. I haven't been properly out of the house in weeks and this is far too much social interaction. Between my fingers rests a cigarette, lit simply for something to hold, not to poison my lungs with. I blow poetry into the sky, only steam coming out for my efforts, but I am saved by it. With a sigh, I adjust my wait, and put the cigarette to my lips, holding death between my teeth, I spit it back out, and it comes fast and strong. The cloud heads away in the wind, to deal second hand smoke to a small child or a mother to be. There is certain dustiness to this day, and I can feel the wind hitting my shins. I do not like it. In my house there are no winds and dirt. There are far less people, and it is mostly shady, the sun cannot touch me unless I will it to.

"Oh, It was so nice to see you again Bathilda!" A loud, resonant voice flashes a sickly orange at my face, and I bury my elbows in to my eyes to cover the horrible sight.

"Shut the heck up!" I scream at the frighteningly wrinkled lady, causing a silence within the square as most gawk at me in disgust at such an unladylike young girl.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Torex
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"Shut the heck up!"

It seemed to echo through the square, even alerting the ex-military machine. A silence fell over the town, but noise quickly restarted, voices drowning out the ruckus. People didn't seem alarmed, but Torex was confused. Who was that? he pondered. His data chip, implanted in his head, responded.

"Citizen 09285, October Sinnet," it said in a robotic voice in his head. "A bit of a shut in, if our information is correct. Age fifteen."

"Was she being attacked?" he thought.

"Not to my knowledge," his data chip said, as if it was actually a live being. But Torex pondered it. If she was indeed a shut in, he calculated her chances of reporting him to the authorities were smaller than any extrovert. Torex could ask her if there was a RPDC, Robot Preservation and Defense Center, an organization against the destruction of broken robots, anywhere around. He would use his own GPS to find it's location, but it was broken, along with his tracking device and skin panels. Torex was unaware that the RPDC had died out when the Touch hit, and there was no operatives in the Dome. All were dead.

He began to squeeze his way through the crowd of people, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. Towards the center of the square he saw a girl. A label appeared under her, thanks to his very helpful data chip, reading "October Sinnet". He approached, what he would say and how to say it with the least amount of desperation in it already perfectly calculated and planned out in his mind. Once he reached her, he cleared his throat, something he didn't need to do, but something to make him seem human.

"Pardon, but would you have any idea where the RPDC is?" he asked, sounding completely emotionless. It was a quite robotic skill of his, but he hoped it would work.

[OOC: The italics mean it's spoken in a robotic voice, something I'll do in Torex's posts.]

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Torex Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: William Walker Character Portrait: Tech
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Before the girl had a chance to answer, all the lights suddenly snapped off in The Dome, leaving everyone in the dark. The roar that had once been busy streets went silent. Everyone was confused. Luckily, back up generators kicked on, street lamps giving the dark a small bit of illumination.

"What's going on?" people cried. Sobs echoed through the streets. Everyone knew something horrible was happening. Torex looked around. He knew this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Do not panic," a woman's voice over a loudspeaker system that was wired into The Dome said. "Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic." She repeated it over and over on some kind of endless loop. What was this?

Suddenly a bang came from above everyone. The Dome had to be broken, because they could see a person on top of it, banging on the glass with their fist. They had many attacks before, but why was this one doing so much damage? A scream came as his answer, from far away in The Dome but his robotic hearing senses could make it out.

"They're getting in!"

The "Do not panic" loop stopped. People began to wonder if it was over. They began to exhale again, feeling safe.

"Panic. Panic. Panic." The loop restarted, but differently, sending people screaming and running. The people on the outside were getting IN.

Torex looked down at the girl once again. "So, do you know where the Robot Preservation and Defense Center is?" he asked once again, hardly sounding panicked. He was a robot. It felt like the apocalypse, but he wasn't in danger of dying. He wasn't afraid for himself in the least bit.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Torex Character Portrait: William Walker
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Torex watched as Viola began lathering herself in paint and makeup. He was unsure of what she was doing until he realized she was making herself look pretty banged up. Of course people with the touch didn't show signs of being infected until death, but he was sure no one would touch her for good measure. She vanished into a bathroom and Torex took the liberty of his alone time to lift up his sweatshirt enough to see the wires, which were sparking as they seemed to begin to shut down. The skin panels had protected them and without all of his parts, well, Torex figured it wouldn't be very good. He really didn't want to be a pile of nuts and bolts.

After pulling his hoodie back down, he made sure his hood was pulled up over his smooth, bald head. He sighed. If he only looked twenty, why hadn't they gone to the liberty of building him with some hair? He curiously walked to the broken window and looked out. He wondered about the girl he had run into earlier, October, and he hoped she hadn't been infected. For some reason, he pitied her. Viola and William were proof that not all humans wished for the destruction of robots, but he could never be too careful for there were plenty who did.

Torex heard the click of the bathroom door opening and he moved away from the glass. Viola turned the corner and he was pretty impressed. She had succeeded into making herself look like some sort of crazed, homeless person. If Torex had been human, he would be sure to stay away from her. He wondered if he should do the same thing to himself, but he didn't think paint and skin panels would mix well together, so he restrained. He wasn't worried about getting the touch, for he knew he couldn't, but he wasn't to keen on getting any more robotic parts broken. He was sure that next time they'd be more important than GPS chips and skin panels.

"Are you coming, or are you just going to stay there?" Viola asked, awakening him from his thought. She had jumped through the glass while he was out. He nodded, but using the door to exit instead, the little bell ringing as he left. He felt like he had been in the store for ages, because the Dome looked so different. People were trying to get up, but the Dome was quite big. He wondered how William and Viola had done it in the first place. The lights were still out, the only real illumination in the Dome being back of generators, like street lamps. People were going crazy, dead bodies lying on the streets. Torex winced, but turned his attention to Viola.

"Where exactly are we going, again?" he asked, trying to blend in as he walked alongside Viola.

Setting

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Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Torex Character Portrait: William Walker
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"Well, first we're going to find William, then were probably going to hightail it out of here. I know a place where we can go, after all, everyone's going to be in the dome and will forget about the outside for awhile," Viola started.
"Then, we will probably just try to find something for, this wretched disease. How we're going to do it doesn't matter. You'll see when we get to where were going,"