Post by samuel darrington on Sept 8, 2008 13:23:27 GMT -8
samuel james darrington
name: brianna
age: 21
writing experience: loads
how'd you find us?: hmm
other characters: quint, luka
where do you most want to travel to?: copenhagen!
name: samuel james darrington
age: 17
job: n/a
year: eleventh - junior
canon or original: original
housing: norðurljós pass, with family
[/blockquote]
hair color: dark brown, almost black
eye color: blue
height: 5' 11"
clothing style: t-shirt, worn sweater, jeans
distinguishing marks: no scars at all
[/blockquote]
likesthe sound of dragonfly wings, the color of wheat, the smell of autumn, the taste of ginger snap, the feel of soft linen
dislikeshis mother, his house, residents of Eventide, 5.26.08, his ability
quirksVery ambiguous - he prefers to speak through body language rather than words alone,
dreamsgetting back at the Heritage families,
secretslist them here (at least two)
mainobservant, quiet, bitter, only sees people for any purpose they might serve him, cool and calculating, driven,
ability: accelerated healing
developmentHe first discovered his ability when he was 15 – on one of the darkest days in his life. The only darker moments were the days following. Through his countless "experiments" he has been able to strengthen his power to an insurmountable level – far beyond that of any other seventeen "whispered one."
beliefsAlthough Samuel now is able to see his ability as a helping hand to right his life, he still doesn't feel completely comfortable with it. At times he's even unnerved by just the thought of it. He doesn't know anyone else with an ability – anyone that he can openly talk to that is, so he's alone in the dark trying to understand it.
He's using his ability in any way he can to better his own life. For his entire life, he's had no one to help him – he doesn't see any redemption in helping others.
important people
james darrington, father, gone
margaret darrington, mother, thirty-eight
julia darrington, sister, fifteen
carolyn darrington, sister, thirteen
maggie darrington, sister, nine
history
Samuel James Darrington was born in Eventide to a British father and a native-born Eventide mother. Life turned out to be hard for the Darrington family. His mother gave birth to three younger sisters for Samuel, but not before two babies was lost as well. They never had enough money, often just able to keep themselves out of the poor house. Samuel can only remember one time when they were all happy – truly happy. But he thinks that might have just been a dream.
When he was ten, though, things had found a way to get even worse. His father revealed that he had another family in England, another son and a daughter with a mother that he was going to leave Samuel, his sisters and his mother for. He packed one suitcase and never came back.
After that, his mother found herself in a new relationship – that with alcohol. He has come home countless of times to find her passed out on their couch, usually with something burning on the stove. When she's not unconscious, she doesn't like to have Samuel within her sight. She's only reminded of the man who left her for something - and someone, better.
At school, Samuel remained as an outcast. The Heritage Families have always had their own group; and the rest of them – well they could only see Samuel's lying, cheating, British father when they look at him. He never was bullied, or teased. Rather, he was simply ignored. They all acted as if there was no one there – no one worth their while. And with a town as small as Eventide, he had no one else to turn to.
One uneventful day when he was fifteen, Samuel was walking home from school when he took the path that led to the outskirts of Eventide instead of back to his stuffy house with bare shelves and a half-conscious mother. He ambled solemnly down the nearly visible path, his mind and thoughts astray. In history class, he was grouped with three other students for a class project they had. Two of them were two Eiríksson girls, and another, just one of the locals. He tried to talk to them – he desperately tried to show them he was someone to share a smile with – just someone at all. But the two Eiríksson girls chatted animatedly to themselves as they worked, often including the other member of their group in their conversation. And when Samuel tried to say something, to ask something, all he got were shrugged shoulders and blank gazes. They didn't hate him – they just didn't see him. They didn't care. And that was the reason for sending Samuel along that trail, sending him along to his death.
He stood at the edge of the immense cliff, and looked out across the expanding hills before him. Their green fields were turning gold as the dying rays of the sun soaked into the earth. Where there was beauty, he saw a vacant immensity of gray. What did anything matter anymore? He was so tired of being ignored, being cast off, no one caring, and no one wanting him. And with that last affixing thought, Samuel removed his book bag and placed his feet against the verge of the crevice. Then he gazed to the dark, jagged rocks below and – smiled.
His body was impaled first; the jagged edge of the rock slicing easily between two of his thin ribs, crunching the bone with the impact, puncturing his right lung, and piercing the soft flesh of his heart. From the reverberation of that action, he was thrown to another, his spine cracking as his back slammed against the broad side of the boulder. When he landed onto the slope of another stone, the force shattered the fragile bones of his cheek and the bridge of his nose, and unhinged his lower jaw.
Lying bruised, bloody and broken on the rocks, Samuel understood that he was dead. But upon that thought he realized – he most certainly was alive.
He felt overwhelming pain course through his entire body. But as he continued to lie still, the burning, searing agony slowly faded away. He thought then that it was the end. But raising his head, he realized he wasn't dying, he was healing. The dark blood covering his pale skin was only that – blood without a wound to come from.
Hesitantly, he stood up and gazed intently at the area around him. It was dark out; he realized he had been lying on the cold, hard rock for hours. The moonlight shone a pale, dim gray glow on his smooth skin. He stared incredulously at his unscathed physique. Only a single bruise remained on the curve of his chest where he thought he remembered rock puncturing clean through.
Completely and undoubtedly bewildered, Samuel clambered over the rocks he had just fallen to hours ago. In a state of shock, he managed to find his path again and wandered his unharmed self back to his broken home.
For the next couple of days, he locked himself up in his room, trying to understand what was wrong with him. He saw himself as a freak, whatever that had happened had ruined what he had sought out to do that evening.
Missing school for the next few days, he "experimented" on himself. Every bruise, every cut, every break healed itself in a rapid amount of time. Had he always been like this? Samuel couldn't remember. All he did know was that whatever was happening to him had ruined his only way of escape. And with each drag of the blade across his skin, the crimson blood staining his shirt, he absolutely and wholly loathed himself. To an extent that he could hardly contain.
His unconditional hatred for himself and this abomination changing him - whatever it was, grew steadily into a fervor. With every gaze not directed towards him, and every word not spoken to him, his surmounting anguish grew. He wanted death – he desired it. But he was possibly the only person in the world who couldn't have it. Why?
His answer came to him one night while he was mulling over endless thoughts at the shack. He heard boisterous laughing and talking, so he quickly slid through one of the loose boards not wanting to feel any more miserable. He was about to walk back home when he heard the voices inside, which he realized undoubtedly belonged to the Heritage kids, talking about abilities. Joking about it, even. As if it was something normal. Something that everyone had, like different eye colors – they all had these abilities. And finally something was righted in Samuel's world.
After listening that night to their talks over gossip in town, and more importantly, certain events that had transpired through the day where they used their so-called "abilities", Samuel walked home as a new person. He wasn't an outcast anymore – the Heritage Families, they had these abilities, as he did.
But he still couldn't get his mind off the idea of something changing him – altering the person he has always known. He has remained very bothered by it. He has told no one of his ability, nor of the night when he discovered it. But now as Samuel is seeking to better his own life, he sees this "ability" as something to help him in this conquest.
He won't be ignored any longer.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
play-by: tom sturridge
leande exists within admin edited