Post by dead, josiah on Dec 11, 2012 2:37:57 GMT -5
27 | 13th September
within Arc's ranks
( Matthias Maselis )
person;
- Height about 5'9” but slouches. Skinny and pale.
- His eyes are a haunting, yet piercing dull green.
- Often seen wearing thick clothes, jackets and scarves, says he’s constantly cold.
- Very independent and capable.
- Shy. Very, very shy. But sweet.
- Distant. Very disconnected from the world.
- Almost emotionless. Seems uninterested with the living.
- Unintentionally crude and morbid.
- Warms up to people he knows and likes.
- Quiet. Prefers not to talk, if the situation allows it.
- If possible, he prefers not to interact with anyone at all.
- Fears people touching him. Hates looking directly at people.
- He calls his ‘gift’, the Sight of Death.
- Because of his ‘gift’, he has been nicknamed “Death”. But he dislikes that moniker.
- For every person he meets, he will see how the person will die in the future.
eg; instead of a girl: he sees a girl drowned. Drenched, pale and water bloated.
- Often these ‘dead bodies’ appear weeks or months old.
- On the occasion he sees bodies that look recently killed, it means they will face their death soon.
- Some people stay the same. Some change occasionally, often because they “avoided” that path.
- It's rare for him to see a normal person, someone unaffected by his gift. Means their future is unknown.
- It's also rare for him not to see someone. It means that they shouldn’t exist in the world.
- For people he can't see, they can't even touch him. He's like a ghost to these people, he can walk right through them.
- He's also able to see true forms of people, but flickers or glimpses of it.
- On occasion, he goes out at night to commit murder for unknown reasons.
- He doesn't remember the incidents of only has extremely hazy memories of it.
- When he wakes up, he usually has the feeling of a terrible hangover and the taste of ash in his mouth.
- Owns a Marlin 410 lever-action shotgun and a Beretta M9.
- His wood carving tools being a few of his weapons.
- An excellent wood carver by trade. Prefers carving wooden toys and small sculptures.
- Prefers staying indoors with his work and trinkets, away from the living.
- Likes collecting toys and bottles, sometimes sits outside on gloomy days to watch the ‘dead’ walk.
- Likes hot chocolate, mints and smoking.
- Dislikes porcelain dolls, just because of the way they stare.
- Dislikes mirrors. Because apparently, he’s unable to see himself. The reason his house lacks mirrors.
- Barely eats. His ‘gift’ often turns his appetite.
- Keeps a small tabby cat named Berry. She appears normal to him.
history;
Josiah was abandoned at a very young age. He never knew the reason why, and never bothered to find out. He had always grown up looking at ‘dead’ people, it made it hard for him to be sociable and friendly. People often took their children away from this twisted, morbid child, unwilling to let him contaminate their young world. He grew up in a good foster home until he was thirteen. But a few weeks later, he just left on his own accord and was reported missing. No one knew where he had gone. No one knew if he was still alive. He had pretty much disappeared like he had never existed.
A few years later, he resurfaced again with a small wood carving shop somewhere on the North side. People patron his shop for both his work and his rumored gift. Whoever had remembered him before he went missing have asked him where he went for the past few years. But even Josiah admits that he doesn’t remember. And he doesn’t have any interest on finding out what happened to him. Generally content with his current life and line of work... Some say he made a deal with some forces or that he's Death himself, but nothing could be proven.
rp sample;
“Hello? Mr Craft?” Came a question from the front desk. Josiah was in the middle of carving a fearsome bear, an online commission from someone. He stopped his work, putting his tools out and emerged from behind a little curtain. His shop was small, and jam packed with wood carved products. Anything that amused him for that time being. Anything from little sculptures, cabinets, tables, chairs, and any other piece of furniture you could think of. Josiah took a damp cloth and wiped his hands with it, getting rid of the sawdust. The person who asked was looking at some of his work. Hopefully someone who is willing to buy.
“Hello. How may I help you?” Josiah’s voice came soft and quiet. The man looked up. “Yes, I’m looking for Mr Josiah Craft. Are you him?” The manner the man was asking. He wasn’t looking to buy a physical object. Not another one... “I’m Josiah. So, how may I help you?”
“This sculpture is wonderful. Excellent work...” The sculpture in question was a deer. A small regal looking stag, no taller than ten inches. Previously a commission, but he had a feeling the person would never return to collect it. It had been almost a year. They would have died by then. “For sale at $30.” His reply was short and curt. He didn’t mean to be rude, but Josiah wasn’t a master at conversation. If the man had a reaction to his behaviour, he didn’t see it. He never looked at the person in question, always trying to avoid looking. “I’ll take it please.”
Then the wood carver busied himself, making sure the little sculpture was ready to go and live in its new home. Not until... “Excuse me... But I heard you’re the infamous ‘Death’. The man who can predict one’s death just by looking at them.” Josiah gritted his teeth. He hated that goddamn nickname. And if I am?”
“Tell me how I die. For my curiosity, here’s a $100.” Josiah kept silent, looking at the man’s mangled hand put the money on the counter. So far, he had avoided looking at the man. Sometimes, it frightened him, the things he saw. The man was curious. Curiosity killed the cat. But he had no reason to refuse, besides tell them that he was reluctant. Some were insistent. Why not?
Josiah breathed, steadying himself. Then looked up, directly at the man. The man had been crushed by something, the metallic debris told him it was remnants of a car crash. The man’s head was covered in blood, from a devastating gash on the head. But the clothes were scorched, skin burned severely. Face was unrecognizable, even if it was free of blood. The fire was burning every inch of the man’s skin. The wounds were fresh. This man was going to die soon. After a short moment, came his reply. “Car crash. There would be a fire.” He struggled to keep his voice steady, and he passed the purchase over to the man. “Have a nice day.” Josiah swept up the money and quickly ducked behind the curtain. He didn’t want to interact with him anymore. An apology came and the man was gone.
Josiah had always seen dead people. All his life. Sometimes the sight sickened him. He always wondered why some people want to know how they died. And since no one asked how he knew this, a simple answer would be easier. Out on the street, he always kept his gaze down. He hated having to see how these ‘bodies’ looked like. The terms were so easy, made the death seem so simple and quick. But what he saw was real-life horrors and he hated every moment of it.