Sail Dawson | D4 | DONE
Aug 12, 2014 13:19:27 GMT -5
Post by Death on Aug 12, 2014 13:19:27 GMT -5
S A I L L E E W A R D D A W S O N
M A L E , A G E D 1 6
D I S T R I C T F O U R
O n c e u p o n a t i m e ,
I u s e d t o r o m a n t i c i z e .
U s e d t o b e s o m e b o d y , n e v e r m i n d .
D o n ' t m i s s i t t h a t m u c h n o w .
I u s e d t o r o m a n t i c i z e .
U s e d t o b e s o m e b o d y , n e v e r m i n d .
D o n ' t m i s s i t t h a t m u c h n o w .
Sail takes enough care of himself to get the ladies to notice, but not enough to make him feel like his daily routine is too much effort. First he rolls out of bed-- which he prefers to be occupied by another person of the opposite gender, but you know, you can't always let the girl stay the whole night-- and stumbles to find a shirt and a pair of pants to throw on. Those are generally made of a stiff, solid-colored cotton that he doesn't really care too much about.
Next, he does a little bit of stretching to try and get his back to stop hurting like it so often is in the mornings. He bends his 5' 10" frame in half and reaches for his toes. He reaches them easily every time because he has long arms. Harbor, his brother, says he's cheating, but he just pushes him out his bedroom door and slams it behind the kid. Then, he looks in the mirror and flexes his muscles at himself. He doesn't quite have the rippling pectoral and abdominal musculature of his father-- or his kid brother, for that matter-- but his back and shoulder muscles aren't half bad and are good-looking from the back.
He heads to the bathroom to run a comb through his hair that likes to pretend it's blond, when really it's just a languid brown that practically bleaches itself in the sunlight and is so coarse it feels like he's been out on a boat all day, with the sea-salt sticking into his hair. His eyes can't seem to stop playing pretend either, because when he wears brown (which is all too often), they practically blow raspberries at the marine blue he loves to think they are and instead become a murky, unsettling, stormy color that doesn't quite capture a smile.
Glancing in the mirror, he checks for skin blemishes. Not that he can do anything about them, anyways, except maybe try to keep his face cleaner over the next couple days. But his skin isn't normally too oily, so he maybe has the occasional in his hairline or eyebrows. He'll stare at his nose for a bit, wishing he had the money to get it re-done, since he doesn't really like his nose too much; he thinks it makes him look younger (it does...), with its smaller bridge, but large and wide tip. It's not too long though. He's grateful for at least that bit.
Finally, he bounces down the stairs of his family home and down into the kitchen to grab a piece of bread and a slice of meat before he runs off to join his father and brother on the boat, exactly twenty minutes late.
Every. Stinking. Day.
Next, he does a little bit of stretching to try and get his back to stop hurting like it so often is in the mornings. He bends his 5' 10" frame in half and reaches for his toes. He reaches them easily every time because he has long arms. Harbor, his brother, says he's cheating, but he just pushes him out his bedroom door and slams it behind the kid. Then, he looks in the mirror and flexes his muscles at himself. He doesn't quite have the rippling pectoral and abdominal musculature of his father-- or his kid brother, for that matter-- but his back and shoulder muscles aren't half bad and are good-looking from the back.
He heads to the bathroom to run a comb through his hair that likes to pretend it's blond, when really it's just a languid brown that practically bleaches itself in the sunlight and is so coarse it feels like he's been out on a boat all day, with the sea-salt sticking into his hair. His eyes can't seem to stop playing pretend either, because when he wears brown (which is all too often), they practically blow raspberries at the marine blue he loves to think they are and instead become a murky, unsettling, stormy color that doesn't quite capture a smile.
Glancing in the mirror, he checks for skin blemishes. Not that he can do anything about them, anyways, except maybe try to keep his face cleaner over the next couple days. But his skin isn't normally too oily, so he maybe has the occasional in his hairline or eyebrows. He'll stare at his nose for a bit, wishing he had the money to get it re-done, since he doesn't really like his nose too much; he thinks it makes him look younger (it does...), with its smaller bridge, but large and wide tip. It's not too long though. He's grateful for at least that bit.
Finally, he bounces down the stairs of his family home and down into the kitchen to grab a piece of bread and a slice of meat before he runs off to join his father and brother on the boat, exactly twenty minutes late.
Every. Stinking. Day.
I t h i n k i t ' s s i n k i n g i n .
D a y s t h a t I w o n d e r w h e r e I ' v e b e e n ,
I n p i c t u r e p e r f e c t p o r c e l a i n
B u t I w o n ' t l o s e a p o u n d .
D a y s t h a t I w o n d e r w h e r e I ' v e b e e n ,
I n p i c t u r e p e r f e c t p o r c e l a i n
B u t I w o n ' t l o s e a p o u n d .
If you asked Sail what he was like, you'd probably hear something along the lines of, "charming, charismatic and devastatingly handsome," and that would be as far as you'd get. Sail isn't one of those kinds of people who knows himself very well. He's slightly deluded and lives in a world where his reality and view on life is the only thing. If he doesn't want something to exist, it doesn't exist. This becomes dangerous when coupled with outstanding bills and a lack of funds to pay them.
Now, if you go and ask Sail's father, Jib, to describe his son, he would sigh and shake his head, a small smile making its way across his face. He would look back up at you, after staring at the floor for some time as he tried to find the right words (just like how his son does when he's trying to answer a difficult question). Then, he would say something like,
"Sail is a good kid for the most part. He likes people, which is good for business and he'll start a conversation with anyone and everyone. He treats people fairly-- has a good sense of justice like that. He won't change the prices of our fish for the rich people who could afford to pay a bit more, but he also doesn't lower the prices for the poor. He'd rather buy the fish himself, then give it away for free than to make a poor person feel badly about paying less money. Of course, he'll tell them it's on the house. Funnily enough, he doesn't even realize he does it. If he did, he'd brag up a blue streak about it.
"He's arrogant. He only listens to some inner voice that often gives him bad advice. I can't tell you how many times he's come to me asking for money after he spent all of his own on gambling or whoring. I'd stop him if I could-- but my brother, his Uncle Sheldon, went down this same path and he came out okay. It took hitting rock bottom, though. I just worry about him getting into more addictive things like drink and drugs.
"The boy is always late for everything work-related, but once he gets there, it's only work the whole time. His face is straight and stony and he won't talk about nothing else. He works hard, too. Earns the wages I give to him. I always appreciate his help.
"Like I said, he's a good kid most of the time. But he's a kid. And kids don't know up from down or the difference between can and should."
Now, if you go and ask Sail's father, Jib, to describe his son, he would sigh and shake his head, a small smile making its way across his face. He would look back up at you, after staring at the floor for some time as he tried to find the right words (just like how his son does when he's trying to answer a difficult question). Then, he would say something like,
"Sail is a good kid for the most part. He likes people, which is good for business and he'll start a conversation with anyone and everyone. He treats people fairly-- has a good sense of justice like that. He won't change the prices of our fish for the rich people who could afford to pay a bit more, but he also doesn't lower the prices for the poor. He'd rather buy the fish himself, then give it away for free than to make a poor person feel badly about paying less money. Of course, he'll tell them it's on the house. Funnily enough, he doesn't even realize he does it. If he did, he'd brag up a blue streak about it.
"He's arrogant. He only listens to some inner voice that often gives him bad advice. I can't tell you how many times he's come to me asking for money after he spent all of his own on gambling or whoring. I'd stop him if I could-- but my brother, his Uncle Sheldon, went down this same path and he came out okay. It took hitting rock bottom, though. I just worry about him getting into more addictive things like drink and drugs.
"The boy is always late for everything work-related, but once he gets there, it's only work the whole time. His face is straight and stony and he won't talk about nothing else. He works hard, too. Earns the wages I give to him. I always appreciate his help.
"Like I said, he's a good kid most of the time. But he's a kid. And kids don't know up from down or the difference between can and should."
Y o u s a y I w o u l d m a k e a b e t t e r l i a r
A n d n e v e r f a c e t h e m u s i c w h e n i t ' s d i r e .
A n d I b r e a t h e d i s a s t e r , e v e r a f t e r .
D o n ' t p u l l a w a y f r o m m e n o w .
Sail Leeward Dawson was born December 18th to Jib and Kalypso Dawson. Just a few months before, their firstborn (Amy, age 2) had accidentally drowned in the ocean after she fell overboard and was knocked unconscious by striking her head on the side of the boat. The body was never recovered. Their youngest, Harbor Jib Dawson, was born two years later.
Because he never knew his older sibling, Sail has always grown up with the older sibling mentality. Watch after the younger ones. Take care of your mother. Bring honor and glory to the family name. He was a good big brother to Sail for about the first five years of their relationship. When Sail became more involved in school, he started to make friends with the wrong people. He made friends based on the fun he could have with them, rather than on common ground. At first, Sail was a minor bully on the playground. As school progressed, he became known as a rake-- a handsome, but trouble-making young man that girls who were set on keeping their purity and their good name should have nothing to do with.
Sail began working for his father when he turned twelve. At first he just untangled nets and did odd jobs on the boat. But soon, he became invaluable help. Harbor also began working on the boat when he turned twelve, and Sail did his best to help Harbor become as skilled as he was.
The whoring and gambling began when Sail was fourteen. One of his older friends-- a twenty-something year old who sold drugs-- said that he had a girl who owed him a favor, but he didn't want her, so he set down a dice match for her. He encouraged Sail to get involved, especially after Sail said he'd never bedded a woman before. Sail won and spent the night with the girl (a seventeen year old who had hit hard times thanks to her and her parents' drug addictions) and she taught him everything he knows.
Two years have passed since then, and he's stayed strong when it comes to those addictive things-- especially after he heard about the girl he lost his virginity to getting killed for not being able to keep up with her family's drug debts. He would be interested in doing them if he wasn't so worried about getting hooked and making his family drown in his debt.
| Household |
Jib | M | 42
Kalypso | F | 40
Sail | M | 16
Harbor | M | 14
Jib | M | 42
Kalypso | F | 40
Sail | M | 16
Harbor | M | 14
D o n ' t y o u m o v e .
C a n ' t y o u s t a y w h e r e y o u a r e , j u s t f o r n o w ?
I c o u l d b e y o u r p e r f e c t d i s a s t e r .
Y o u c o u l d b e m y e v e r a f t e r .
C a n ' t y o u s t a y w h e r e y o u a r e , j u s t f o r n o w ?
I c o u l d b e y o u r p e r f e c t d i s a s t e r .
Y o u c o u l d b e m y e v e r a f t e r .
Appearance: 458
Personality: 463
History: 404
Total: 1325 words
Codeword: o D a i r
Ever After, by Marianas Trench
Character (c) to Adri // Death; Hungers Games (c) to Susanne Collins
Character (c) to Adri // Death; Hungers Games (c) to Susanne Collins
[div align="center"][googlefont="Rock Salt:400"][font face="Rock Salt"][font color="c5f4fd"][font size="6"]Sail Dawson[/font][/font][/font][font face="Trebuchet"][font size="2"]
The waves beat the boat and the shore and the horizon and tried to beat the clouds, but the clouds screamed in their dark, rumbling way and lashed out at the waves with white-crackling fingers. They billowed like a think smoke that wouldn't curl and wasn't from burning anything natural.
The clouds burst into tears that burned against Sail's bare skin and stuck into his hair as he pulled the necks back towards himself. They were heavy. Maybe a little fuller than before. His back muscles rippled and tore at each other like the waves as he heaved at the woven ropes and his shirt-- tucked into his shorts to keep it out of the way-- flapped encouragingly in the gusts of heavy wind.
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