Post by Erik Revenant on Aug 12, 2012 0:41:38 GMT -5
ERIK REVENANT
"Alone but never lonely..."
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Player Name:
Dani
Years Roleplaying:
It's gotta be about 7 years by now...
Gender:
SHE!
Contact me:
As of this time, it's alright to contact me on FB as Erik Revenant.
Anything else?:
Nothing I can think of off the top of my head.
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Basic Information
Erik Revenant
Age:
26
Canon or OC?:
Phantom OC[/size]
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Appearance
6'5"
Body type:
Of course, as most Eriks are, Revenant is on the skinny side. Mainly, this comes from malnourishment as a child and even into adulthood. Because of the work he's done around the opera house, however, he's managed to build up some rather thin, sinewy muscle. It's not much but it makes him look like he's made of a little more than just flesh and bones. When he walks alone in a place that he knows, he stands upright, head held high and practically struts. When it comes to being in unfamiliar territory or having company, he slouches a little in his walk, giving him an altogether apprehensive appearance.
Eye color:
His eyes are an amber color, almost wolf-like in appearance. His eyes, unlike most Eriks, do not glow in the least when he's in the dark. When he's in a new area, his eyes are constantly in motion, darting quickly from one object to the next in an attempt to take everything in as quickly as possible. Even relaxed, his eyes move around quite a lot with his need to know of everything around him, though, it's not the rapid darting movements, it's a little more slow, smooth and calm. It's pretty rare for him to make eye contact, so he's typically looking over a person's shoulder or above their head, anywhere to avoid looking them in the face.
Wardrobe:
Always one for simplicity in dress, he dresses exactly the same every day: in an impeccable black suit that is altogether plain and unremarkable. There's no garnishments about what he wears as those sorts of things attract attention and attention is not what he wants by any means. His jacket, vest and pants are black, while he wears a white undershirt. Occasionally, though it's very rare, he may decide to spice it up a little and add a bow tie to his ensemble. While traveling, he has a heavier long black coat that he wears as well as a fedora that is quite a lot of help in concealing him from the public eye even more. His mask is a tight-fitting white half mask, as he never liked the feeling a full mask gave on the unmarred portion of his face. This mask is kept as white as possible on the outside but is somewhat stained on the inside, especially around the cheek area. And, of course, because he keeps things so simple, he never deems it necessary to carry anything else on his person.
General Appearance:
Although thin, he's certainly not the thinnest of men, seeing as he's managed to work some sinewy muscle onto those bones of his. For the most part, his body is relatively unmarred, besides a few little scars from childhood incidents, like jumping from wagons or getting scratched by various pets that traveled with him. The real scars start with his wrists, which look altogether mangled and covered in rope burns and cuts from where a section of coarse rope dug into his skin and his wrists weren't properly taken care of when the rope was actually removed. This isn't the worst of the scarring, of course, but it's still noticeable, if his cuffs rise too much above his wrist. The worst of the damage to him is, of course, the right side of his face. There is a lack of consistent skin spanning across his face and what is there has a yellowed color and almost appears to be in a state of decay. On his forehead, just above where his eyebrow would be on that side (assuming he had an eyebrow there), there is a spot about three and a half inches long and an inch and a half wide where there is no skin and no flesh, only skull and that portion of his skull is slightly darkened due to exposure to a damp environment. On his cheekbone, on the same side of his face, there is also a lack of skin and flesh that spans across, leaving his cheekbone exposed as well. It is also darkened, like the rest of the bone that has been exposed. That hole spans all the way up onto the side of his nose, where there is a hole roughly the size of a nickel where one can see into his nasal passage. However, the other side of his nose is unharmed and utterly normal. His cheek is simply a mess of stringy muscles and bits of flesh that seem to just barely hold his jaw up. This makes it possible to see the majority of his teeth on that side of his mouth. Because he has no real cheek, he uses the inside of his tight-fitting mask as an artificial cheek. As that's the case, he rarely takes off his mask, as the result would be a mess over everything. The entirety of that side of his face is a mess of varying shades of red and brown, with black areas as well. Overall, it would almost appear that he is decaying as he lives. His hands are rather thin with fingers long and agile enough to dance very quickly over piano keys. He likes to keep his black hair slicked back and away from his face, as it tends to droop onto his face and, if he removes his mask, the hairs irritate where ever they touch on the right side of his forehead. When he allows his hair to remain unstyled, it's got just a tiny bit of a wave to it and makes him appear rather younger than he actually is.
Played By:
Peter Karrie
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Personality
Revenant has some serious issues connecting with people. There's a severe lack of empathy on his part and he simply cannot be at ease while talking to people. Which makes it very difficult to be social if he ever has that desire. Fortunately, that rarely happens. To be completely honest, he's rather awkward, frightened and ill at ease around people. He begins to get very antsy and twitchy and seems to almost develop tics as a sign of his nervousness and uneasiness. When such a thing happens, he cannot make eye contact to save his life, even if he's trying. There really doesn't seem to be a bad bone in his entire body. He doesn't seem capable of harming others... not at all. He's altogether meek and, really, quite childish in his behavior. But he grossly over-analyzes things and needs to think out every single action he's taking, step by step, all the things it might change, all the things it's going to effect, how it may or may not alter his day, what he's going to do afterward... There's always a lot going through his head, even if he doesn't appear to be doing much of anything.
When he's alone, he's fully capable of acting confident enough to be almost normal. Once he gets started on something he enjoys, which is usually related somehow to music, he becomes entirely fixated on it and often forgets about his physical needs and the world around him. This fixation remains until he's entirely certain he's perfected whatever he's been working on or, in the case of a musical score that he's learning to play, until he's got it completely and totally memorized.
Dreams and Goals:
His dreams are very simple. To be honest, he just desires to be left to his own devices and his own thoughts in his own little world. If he was much for dreaming big, he'd dream that he could find a couple surviving members of his caravan. However, being that he over-analyzes things, he's thought through just about every way possible that those people would've left and he's certain all of them are either dead or fled the country...
Strengths:
His mental prowess is quite a strength all in itself (though there's a slight drawback to it in that he's only interested in select topics). Then, of course, like most Eriks he's very musical. In addition to these, he's also a bit of a craftsman, making little decorative metallic birds.
Weaknesses:
He's very inflexible when it comes to his daily routine, getting him off his routine can make him into quite the mess until he can either get back to it or create a new one he can stick to. He's surprisingly innocent for someone who has seen so much hate and death and that innocence is a severe drawback for him, as it makes certain types of topics completely foreign and unknown to him. Anything to do with violence and he's gone, he can't stand to have someone raise a hand against him without him shrinking away.
Fears:
The fear that often gets him is the fear that those people that murdered his family, friends and fellow travelers will find him and destroy him... Revealing his face is quite the awful thing in his mind as well, as he believes that was what the true cause of all those deaths was.
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The Past
Revenant's father is entirely unknown. His mother, Ioana, never even granted him the name of the man. The majority of his friends were gypsies, like his mother was, and he knew them only in his youth. As far as he knows now, they're all dead. So he's alone...
History:
-Birth to Three
Born as a bastard child, an accident, his father was unknown to him and his mother a traveler. Upon his birth, the doctor tending to his mother demanded that the assistant take this little deformed baby out and kill him far away from the mother. However, Ioana went into hysterics went she wasn't allowed to have her baby and she demanded to see the little one. There was quite the crowd of brightly dressed and rather threatening older women outside, listening in and giving the doctor the evil eye. So the doctor complied and gave Revenant to his mother, who declared him "perfect in every way." Of course, with her approval came the approval of the older women who had been standing outside and waiting for his birth. They cooed over him just as much as they would their own undeformed children, simply because he had the approval of Ioana. So, in his infancy, it might have been said he had the entire caravan as his family. He was the "little brother" to the majority of the children in the traveling group. It was with their help that he learned to walk, to talk... Everything that two parents should've been teaching him, he was being taught by a whole caravan. It was an excellent replacement for his failure of a father.
-Four to Seven
Through his youth, he remained with this group of traveling peoples, gypsies, who thought nothing of his deformed face when he revealed it. These peoples were not only travelers but performers, doing magic tricks, palm reading, dancing, singing and making various kinds of music. Though Revenant wore no mask when he was simply among this great extended "family" he wore a heavily decorated mask when it came time for performing. When the caravan would go through towns, all the children would wear the same sort of decorated full face masks so he wouldn't stand out in a crowd. And, of course, they performed for money. Because of some issues in the past, namely jail time, they tended to avoid larger cities where the people didn't seem quite so easy-going around them. This was easy on Revenant, since the people in smaller villages were a little more forgiving of a scrappy boy in a full-face mask than the more suspicious people in the cities. However, traveling peoples need money just as much as the settled variety and small villages just didn't have much money to throw around. So with rumors through the grapevine of much money to be had in Paris, Revenant's caravan moved on. This would be the first time they had gone into a big city like this and they were hoping to really pull in a bit of cash...
From the time they arrived in Paris, it was decided that Revenant couldn't take off his mask unless he was in the confines of one of the wagons and, since he was a rather shy child, he certain didn't mind it at all. Ioana was the only one that didn't like that her little one couldn't be free around the Paris streets like the other children but, for his safety, she grudgingly agreed that it was safer to not take off the mask in public. Everyone was wearing their bright colored clothing and all the children had on their decorated masks... It was difficult from the start, however. People were far more judgmental. They didn't like that they never saw the faces of the children. Especially the little scrappy one with the affinity for music that put many of their favorite composers to shame. The other children would run around without masks after the performance but this little boy just disappeared. People got suspicious, as they tend to do. Ioana kept Revenant away from them though, for as long as she possibly could.
Two days. Then he was cornered after a performance while trying to get back to his mother. The people ripped off his mask and chaos ensued. There was panic, mostly, and plenty of disgust. He ran to his mother, townspeople in pursuit. He ran into her arms and she tried to comfort him even as there were screams from the people who had been chasing him. The people called him an "imp" and a "devil," then proceeded to accuse his mother of being a witch. Her wrists and his as well, were tied with a very coarse and biting rope when they were taken away from the caravan. The people gathered to kill both of them, keeping others away so the dirty deed could go on uninterrupted. In the mean time, his fellows were being murdered in a sheer panic from a number of the people that had seen his face or had heard inklings of what terror his face held.
"Run," his mother had said. He didn't understand right away, since he was tied and being led by someone. But he came to understand only moments afterward. His mother let loose a shriek and began thrashing around, rolling her eyes back in her head and literally foaming at the mouth. It was just enough of a distraction for those holding the ropes to have their grip go slack. Granted, at first, he was too afraid to run but he remembered and took off, pulling away from the person that held him. He ran through the streets of Paris, entirely lost and terrified... not to mention lacking a mask. It was a stroke of luck that he managed to come to the opera house, especially pursued like he was. He was able to get inside and squeeze into a small crevice, shaking with fear and just remaining entirely silent other than a couple involuntary whimpers of terror. He remained that way for hours before he finally ventured out and started walking around inside the vacated building. At that point, he still had the rope tied tightly around his wrists, binding them together and he would continue to have the rope on for just over a week. In that time, it did some topical damage to his wrists, leaving them raw and open, which eventually led to scarring.
The opera house became his sanctuary as some may call a church a sanctuary. To survive, he'd steal a little food, whatever it took just to keep going. For some time, he would hide amongst the costumes. This was where he found his first mask. Granted, it was too big but it covered his face better than nothing at all. He remained in the costume department for a relatively short time, given all the close calls he had with the performers. The realization came that he couldn't stay there. So he sought out new places. The cellars, ultimately, were where he ended up. He started out in the top couple... but those weren't secluded enough from people. It wasn't until he reached the very bottom that he was satisfied and knew it would, from then on, be a place he could call his own.
-Eight to Fifteen
In these years of his life, he spent the majority of his time making the fifth cellar livable. It wasn't the easiest task, as there was lots of building and chipping away at stone that he had to do. He carved passages, passages that would ultimately become almost cavernous rooms and, then, would become a home for him to live it. For a long time, he missed the open air and the traveling. Then he'd recall what had happened up there and he would instantly be fearful and happy to be underground and away from those people. When he would go up above for foodstuffs and supplies, he would hear rehearsals every now and again and it was all fascinating to him. He'd, occasionally, sit somewhere quiet and secluded and just listen in, especially to the instruments. More specifically, the piano. When he grew tired of working and it was the dead of night, he would sneak back up and teach himself to play that glorious instrument that he had complete access to at all hours of the night. Soon, it became a nightly ritual that he followed. After a day of working on his home, he would go upstairs and play the piano for a couple hours before, once again, retreating down into the darkness.
-Sixteen to Twenty-One
There was still building to be done and things to fix but he was finding himself with far more time on his hands. Which meant he needed more things to do. He'd become very good with the piano but he could only do so much with the piano upstairs. So, he managed to procure his own and get it down to his home that was, by that time, finally partially furnished and lit up down there. It was also during these years that he had decided he wished for some sort of quiet companionship. So he tried birds. That didn't work out, since they made quite a mess of the place they were situated and they were incredibly loud. Or, at least, to his ears. He needed something quieter... Fish. He got his hands on a few fish, which he brought down into the fifth cellar and introduced to the lake. When he would eat, at least a quarter of it would go to these fish that steadily grew and procreated until there was a whole slew of fish living in the lake.
-Twenty-Two
In his twenty-second year, Revenant fell in love. Her name was Adalene. She was a member of the orchestra... a violinist. She caught him one night, trying out her violin when she left it behind. She was nineteen at the time and quite an accomplished violinist. However, she'd let this little fact go to her head and thought she was even better than Revenant, even when he surpassed what she could play and continued on. He didn't see the bad side of her, usually. It was when he was working up the courage to allow her down into his home that she turned up her nose at him and left. This shattered the little trust he'd had in people. After this, people were regarded even more distantly than they had been before... Adalene moved to a new city after all this and resigned from her spot in the orchestra. But rumors spread far faster than truth when she disappeared and, soon, there were all sorts of rumors about the shadowy figure occasionally seen around the opera house. Contrary to beliefs, Revenant never really knew what happened to her, only that she stopped coming back.
-Twenty-Three to Twenty-Six
At the ripe old age of twenty-three, he came into possession of the opera house that he'd come to love so well. It had been a joke, at first. The manager had said "If there is, indeed, an opera ghost, perhaps we should turn this hell hole over to him." Revenant took the chance and stepped forward, via occasional notes, to seize control of the place. A sum of money was offered and, since business wasn't so good at the time, it was accepted. Almost overnight, business started to pick up and performances started to improve... However, the man behind all of it was still hiding in the cellar, feeding his fish and avoiding the rest of the human race...
RP Sample
He had procured a loaf of fine bread.
It had been a strain, going up above ground for even just enough time to find this particular type of bread and to pay the normal price for it. Upon returning home, he found himself in his kitchen as he always had after making his bread purchase. The knife was in the same drawer he always placed it in and it was just as sharp as the last time he used it. Now, for the tricky part. He eyed the bread momentarily, weighing and measuring it with an almost expert eye before making two cuts in it, making thirds. The middle part was perfectly set up in that he could get pieces of corresponding height from either side by making the slices the same width on either side of the highest point of the loaf. Then his two slices would never be uneven. However, it wasn't time to cut those slices, as he was not yet hungry enough to want them. So, instead, he placed his knife down carefully on the counter, blade turned away from where he had cut the bread, so he would recall that it had been used and its job was finished for the day. He was, now, more interested in the two thirds that still sat where he had cut the bread. He pushed the two thirds together and picked them up as if they were an entire loaf, one hand on each piece but holding them together nonetheless. Then he walked out of his home, still holding the thirds of bread, and went straight for the lake. This bread was for his fish.
It had been a strain, going up above ground for even just enough time to find this particular type of bread and to pay the normal price for it. Upon returning home, he found himself in his kitchen as he always had after making his bread purchase. The knife was in the same drawer he always placed it in and it was just as sharp as the last time he used it. Now, for the tricky part. He eyed the bread momentarily, weighing and measuring it with an almost expert eye before making two cuts in it, making thirds. The middle part was perfectly set up in that he could get pieces of corresponding height from either side by making the slices the same width on either side of the highest point of the loaf. Then his two slices would never be uneven. However, it wasn't time to cut those slices, as he was not yet hungry enough to want them. So, instead, he placed his knife down carefully on the counter, blade turned away from where he had cut the bread, so he would recall that it had been used and its job was finished for the day. He was, now, more interested in the two thirds that still sat where he had cut the bread. He pushed the two thirds together and picked them up as if they were an entire loaf, one hand on each piece but holding them together nonetheless. Then he walked out of his home, still holding the thirds of bread, and went straight for the lake. This bread was for his fish.
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