Post by reed on Jul 18, 2011 0:55:41 GMT -5
{ REED RIORDAN WESTLER }
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NAME ;; Reed Riordan Westler
AGE ;; 19 | 69
SPECIES ;; the ‘I’ll-eat-it-if-it-bleeds’ type (carnivore/vegetarian)
GENDER ;; male
SEXUALITY ;; bisexual
SPECIAL ABILITY ;; Reed has the power to create haunting illusions. When focused, Reed can seek your fear, and place it before you with an uncanny, realistic demeanor. When unfocused, they appear like channels on a TV, flashing before you or hiding in your peripherals. The only downside to being able to haunt others to fear, is that he himself must face the illusions with them. EDIT: I plan on RP'ing out his discovery of said power.
HAIR DESCRIPTION ;; Irish born, Reed carries the hair of a typical Irishman. Disheveled, and hanging somewhere below his brow, he keeps it free and naturally red. He’d never dye it – even if he had a million dollar bounty on his neck.
EYE DESCRIPTION ;; Fifty years ago, it looked to be somewhere between baby and crystal blue. Now stained with the blood of his victims, it still holds onto its lighter color, but remains a killing red.
BODY DESCRIPTION ;; Nothing at all like lean and straggly, Reed contains a usual nineteen year-old body: strong neck, thick shoulders, and firm hips that keep him looking youthful – and now, youthful forever in this vampiric state. He stands at 6’1”, with a round chin but sharp eyes.
PLAY BY ;; Rupert Grint
FULL PERSONALITY ;;
Reed was your typical teenager. On the brink of adulthood, yet maintaining a youthful composure, he was a balance between responsibility and fun activity. He wasn’t so much lively as he was attentive. Born as a peacemaker, he liked making longterm friends and tending to those friends daily. He liked building long-lasting relationships. He can be sarcastic, however, to spark laughter, but is mostly a polite, active, willing young man.
There is more to Reed character than what meets the eye, however. He used to be a religious young man, as all his other family members were, and ‘lived in the moment’ – but after changing into a vampire, his views have since changed. He’s trying to find a reason to stay living, and so far hasn’t found it. He’s come to terms about the way he must eat humans, but is trying to find something to live for, as is human nature to do so. He still believes that he’s human – he just has otherworldly powers. He regrets many things in his life, and struggles to forgive others when he has seen sin time and time again. His lively, happy attitude has changed from when he was human, and he is more calm, curious, and self-centered.
He likes to listen to music, however. He dislikes what music has become, but rather stays with the music of the 1950’s and 60’s. He enjoys the simple pleasures in life, like misty rain and literature. He likes what books have become – more adventure and scandal. For being so polite, he feels more relaxed in this newly blossomed vain, explicit, scandalous age. He finds himself choosing more than restricting, and learning more than teaching. Although he doesn’t understand technology, and hasn’t quite made the effort to know so, he is on the rim with liking it or not. What he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t particularly pay attention to.
What he doesn’t like, however, is a much longer list. He doesn’t like the severity of war, and what it has become. News has become more negative, and while he can handle listening to it, it does nothing to brighten his mood. He doesn’t like rock music – although he appreciates some. He doesn’t like the way that girls dress, and stay away from most of them. They’ve become too whorish, in his opinion. Dancing has also changed, and he feels embarrassed with how people move now. He doesn’t understand credit cards, and while he uses one, he gets charged for things he didn’t even buy and doesn’t like it. He’s starting now, to dislike phones, because people keep calling him at his house – people with whom he doesn’t know. He does not like the Internet, although he appreciates e-mail. It makes it much easier to talk to his friends who live back in Ireland. This isn’t all that he doesn’t like, but it’s a start.
In his free time, he writes avidly. He writes journals, books, keepsakes. He’s been writing at least one sentence every day since he came to from his new-born state, describing his transformation and what had happened. He keeps them in books underneath his bed. He dreamt of becoming the head of the biggest newspaper business back in his day, but it has long since closed down. He now reads out of the New York Times, even though it takes a bit to ship.
He provides money for himself by writing short stories for newspapers, booklets, and things abroad. He is a semi-famous writer under the pseudonym R. Riordan. As no one knows his middle name, it’s the perfect penname. His dream thus far is to keep on writing, although he realizes he’ll have to change his penname sometime when R. Riordan grows more than fifty years old.
His greatest weakness? Anything that resembles or reminds him of his mother. He becomes like rubber at the sight of it. He often sees visions of her dead, which was part of his doing. . .and which is also why it’s hard for him to create haunting illusions of dead people.
Secrets? So far, Reed has nothing of importance that is a secret. But with the new discovery of his power, that could all change. He has a couple of vendetta’s to be tortured.
FAMILY ;; Chelsea Riordan (mother), Aegle Westler (father) , Ingrid Westler (sister)
BIRTH DATE ;; June 22, 1942
DEATH DATE ;; October 16th, 1961
CURRENT DWELLING ;; Port Angeles
HISTORY ;; Reed Riordan Westler was born to Aegle and Chelsea back in Ireland in 1942, on a busy sidestreet at a local hospital. Born towards the end of World War II, his family has said that he’d been a blessing of sorts. Though Ireland was a long way from being free of England, everyone was glad that World War II had ended. With the introduction of the whole ‘nuclear warfare’ business, however, Aegle was eager to get his family to America, where it was said to be safer. Though England and Ireland weren’t hit badly and had little to no damage geographically, Aegle was always one to be careful. When Reed was eight, he grabbed the family onto a boat (which Reed adored) and shipped them all to America, where a few relatives were waiting for them in New England.
But becoming a citizen was hard. Year after year, it became harder and harder for Reed’s family to find work, and it became increasingly hard for them to live, period. Reed took up a job at ten years old to help out the family, working as a newspaper boy for a rundown newspaper shop. It wasn’t until 1952 that the Immigration and Nationality Act was passed and let his family much more easily become citizens that Reed’s life became easier. As he grew, so did his aspirations, and he strived to be a better man. He wanted to run his own business, settle down, have a family – all the things that were glamorized on the black and white screens of the movie theatres. Moving from Ireland, he knew what his old life used to look like, and wasn’t afraid of thinking wider than his small town in New England. He wanted to travel, to better himself. To leave a part of him in the world. He was good with God, and God so far was good to him.
Now, all he had to do was marry Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was a girl he had met in highschool. He worked his ass off to get in, but she was wealthy enough to simply ease herself into the highschool scene. As time grew on, they fell in love, and Reed – anxious to start his life before it had even begun – proposed to her in Senior year. They hit it off nicely – she was the light to his shadow. The show to his lace. He was protective of her, always watching, and thoroughly in love. He never ceased to treat her like a queen.
Until she insisted that she stay in the same town for the rest of her life. Reed didn’t understand it. He knew he wasn’t going to stay in the town for more than a couple years more, and couldn’t understand how she could want to as well. They fought endlessly, bantering about what they were going to do with their life. Until suddenly, Reed had to make the decision. One night, he just up and left. He couldn’t take it. He left her a note, explaining his heart break, and left for California. He had seen it once before for his cousin’s wedding, and ever since he saw Yosemite, he knew he had to be there. But Elizabeth wouldn’t budge. She hated the idea of leaving. In fact, she insulted him for it. And that’s what pushed him over the edge. He packed his bags, kissed her, and drove away to California.
Living in California was amazing for him. The trip over was a little hard, but he grew to like it. He was nineteen. Freshly out of highschool, not sure of where to begin college, he decided he’d take a few years off and explore a little bit. His heart stung madly for Elizabeth, however. It stung deeply. He knew he had one life to live, but it hurt more than anything that he couldn’t live it with her. But he made his bed, and he was going to lie in it. He settled down, got a parttime job, used his savings to keep him going, met a lot of people. . .
Until one night he couldn’t take it. He called Liz. He was hanging out with his new friends when a sudden urge to call her overwhelmed him. It had been a couple months, but he had to check in. He phoned her (which was costly), but it was when someone answered that his heart broke in half. He was ready to come back to her. He was willing to discuss a way to meet her in the middle, to come up with a compromise. He was willing to come back. But when he called, it wasn’t her voice that answered. It was of a man. He asked cautiously who it was, and the man on the other end barked back, ‘Her boyfriend. And she’s dead.’
Ever since that phonecall, Reed considered himself not only betrayed, but soaked in grief. He immediately gathered his friends, went out to a local pub, and drank his anger and sadness away. He had never really been one to drink, but being of age, he decided, why not? He was Irish. It was of his nature to be one with the booze. And his accent gained the attraction of many fine ladies, so being drunk didn’t seem to be too bad of an idea. He was ridden with guilt, depression, confusion, compulsion. Without being with any other girl for months, he just needed something to keep him company. Memories of Elizabeth haunted him, all throughout the day, haunting him until he couldn’t blink. He stayed in that pub even until all his friends had left, drinking and drinking and drinking.
It was what happened afterward that sent his life spinning down a whirlpool. To put a long story short, he met a gorgeous woman that he couldn’t deny. She had lengthly black hair that swooped down to her mid-back. It looked nothing like Elizabeth. Which was why she was perfect. He decided it was about time to break that old religious rule of staying abstinent until marriage and, being around the comfort of his newfound friends and that of the local pub, he decided that he’d walk her home to his dinky little apartment and make himself known to her. In all sorts of ways.
But she wasn’t like the rest. Oh, no, this is a story that every vampire has fallen for time and time again. The undeniable eyes. The curve of its lips. The way their arms moved up your chest. Their breath in your ear. The fire in their movements. Everything about her drew him in, like a fly to a flame, and he drew closer to her – ever closer. When he was aroused enough to get her anywhere near personally close to him, she simply said one thing. One thing that he’ll remember for the rest of his life.
‘Red hair. Like fire. Soon, like ice.’
And she bit him.
Thus began his life. She had wanted to raise him like a mate, but due to unforeseen complications, she had to leave him in California. That first week was hell. There was no comparing it to anything else. It was hell. He screamed, raged, ravaged. The neighbors complained, the police came. They took him to a hospital, but he couldn’t be contained. In his bloodlust, he ended up killing three of the nurses, and escaped through a window for more victims. His raged lasted for fifty years. Anything with blinking eyes and a beating heart, he sought to kill them. Human feelings of losing a loved one so close to his change triggered horrible feelings, enraged actions, prolonged sickness of the vampiric poison. Glimpses of his past haunted him daily as he could have chosen to calm himself down from his bloody conquest, but he chose not to. He chose to submit to his instincts and let the monster inside take over. It was much easier than facing his fears and failures. It was much easier to submit than to face it all. Vampires from different factions warned him of his diet, telling him that animals were much safer than the humans he was taking. Reed never took more than two per region, but going from town to down, the lines only blurred slightly. Sooner or later, other vampires grew angry with him taking their meals, and being horrifically outnumbered, he fled to the forests to live off of the livestock and stray hikers who strayed too far. Animals never sufficed for him - never did. He stayed feral in the forests, hungrily waiting for men to draw near to him so he could take them for his own. And so it lasted, for fifty long years. Killing, murdering, scavenging, and living alone, dealing out his problems day by day until one day, he decided it was time to break through.
Consciously, he awoke in Port Angeles. Not much of his previous life, he could remember, other than the fact that he had once lived in New England, and had troubles with one person. . . the girl. Her short brown hair, her wide, green eyes. His family came in and out of his mind like a picture in a hazy maze, but the girl - she was nearly clear in his mind. Muddy like the rest of his past, but more clear than the others. He couldn’t remember her name, but like muscle memory, she kept on showing up behind trees, across buildings, in windows, underneath shadows. In his periods of rest, she creeps upon him, slithering up his skin like a heavy mist. He thinks her to be his mother. He’s quite mistaken, but he can never get a close enough look before she vanishes away.
YOUR NAME & AGE ;; Pfft, Stella.
HOW DID YOU FIND US? ;; Really?
SAMPLE POST ;; Reed stole a glance into the night. It seems like he had awoken from a deep slumber, slumped along the side of a trashcan where he found himself gorging on a raccoon. He dropped it immediately. What am I doing? he thought to himself, suddenly disgusted with the idea that he could be eating such a meal at this hour. He wiped his hands along his coat, dragging the blood down until it reached his pockets.
He shook his head, the haze around his eyes clearing. He remembered that he needed to find shelter, a place to live, but only recently coming to his senses, he had found that he grew yet again more hungry and probably took more lives tonight. He didn’t let the guilt overshadow him, however. For some reason, he held it back. There was more pressing matters on his mind, and he let himself think they were bad, bad people who were out to get the world. Sadly, it was always better to think this way.
Reed slipped off his coat, letting it fall into the dumpster where the dead raccoon lay. His bright red eyes emerged from the darkness. Where to go? He thought to himself. Where is there to go? He looked around, trying to find something that resembled a landmark, but he found none. Last time he remembered, he was in California. Bits and pieces of his bloodlust rage clung to him like newspaper headlines – places he had been, things he had seen, the eyes of his victims. All of them – they all stayed with him. And yet, there wasn’t a land mark in sight. He drew a little dubious.
Bloody hell, am I still even in California?
He came out of the side street, emerging on a busy one. People walked by him, too busy with their own life to recognize a stray nine-teen year old along the sidewalk. Quickly, he realized he needed to wipe his mouth. Didn’t want anyone to get any ideas. He didn’t want to kill anyone else tonight. His stomach was just about full. He looked to and fro, looking for something – anything. But there was nothing, nothing at all. His stomach clenched. God, how awful was he? To take his rampage elsewhere? At least in California, he started to think. . .
But then something caught his eye. A local store. It was nothing special. The only thing about it was that it sold merchandise of the town. It didn’t take long for his eyes to focus in on the words, and it was then that he learned of his present state of being.
Port Angeles it read.
He took in a useless breath of air, and held it.
Bloody hell. . .
