darius ventura. d4. fin. bio resub.

When you look in the mirror, you see a ghost.

You look like your father when he was young; greased blonde hair, light eyes, and sun spots on your cheeks. A fisherman's work is never done. You set out on a boat every morning and sail until the sun is beating on your back. You return home smelling of salt and fish, so you have to bathe every day or else that stench will sink into your skin. At this point, it's almost part of your identity. You've been on the water since you were a kid - dad trained you to follow in his footsteps and provide for the family when you grew up.

Unfortunately, you had to grow up far too quickly.

The ocean never scared you until it claimed your father. You had always loved it; the spray of salt, the waves curling against the side of the boat, the sunlight sparkling across the surface. Nowadays the ocean is just a source of income. A necessary part of life. Sometimes after a day's work you wait for sunset by the docks, so the water won't lose that sense of beauty and wonder. You know it's as calm as it is dangerous. Boating accidents are rare, but that doesn't mean you can't be next. It claimed your father, so you always have to keep your eyes and ears open. Luckily the men you work with understand. They knew your father, and they're fiercely protective of you.

When you aren't in the water, you balance a life of bar hopping and babysitting. You don't really see it as babysitting - your sister is the light of your life, and you would kill for her. Mom doesn't do a very good job of keeping her company anymore. She changed after dad's accident, as if her soul died with him. She still works at the food market and helps provide food on your table, but her freetime is consumed by alcohol. You don't know how someone can lock themselves up in their house drunk as a skunk. You like to be out when you're drinking. Dancing, talking to girls, laughing with friends, scrapping with strangers. What fun is it drinking alone?

You figure she isn't doing it for fun. She's doing it to make herself numb and forgetful, but it's a horrible influence for your sister. You tell her not to touch liquor. Or cigarettes! Even though you've used both numerous times.

You're not the most honorable man around.

Lucky for you, sis is pretty independent and in-control. She's a lover of flowers and dancing. You remember walking through sunflower fields as a kid and having picnics in the garden. She would always make a homemade bouquet for mom, and you would pick whatever flower looked the most colorful. You think she can open up her own flower shop one day. She could also be a dancer - stage performers make good money, and you know she loves the applause. You just hope she doesn't end up dancing somewhere unsafe. You support her no matter what she chooses, but you will crash a club if it means protecting your sister from disgusting men.

The important part is, she has options. She does well in school, and she's fully capable of pursuing her dreams. You don't have that luxury anymore, but you're okay with that. Fishing is one of Four's best businesses, and sometimes you're allowed to bring a catch or two home with you. Who can complain about free food?

Sometimes it feels like you're the sole provider for the family. There's a lot of pressure on your shoulders, but you consider yourself an excellent worker under pressure. You can focus when a task demands it, but outside of work you have less tact than you care to admit. You don't consider yourself a positive influence at all; you're reckless, easy to rile up. You've fought many a stranger in back alleys because you don't like what people say. You think of it as delivering deserved consequences. You're not the type to sit and take bullshit from other people. You send a message instead; this is not the family you want to fuck with.

Really, it's all about staying on your good side. You're not aloof or rude - on the contrary, you're a pretty laid back guy when the mood is chill. You like a good laugh with folks you've never met before. You like listening to conversations and joining them when the chance is given. People come and go, and sometimes you can remember their faces if they've told a good story. All of it is a jolly distraction. Your sister has dancing and flowers, you have bars and people and cigarettes. Mom just rots away in her room. You've tried talking to her numerous times, inviting her to picnics just like old times. She always says she's busy when you know she isn't. You've almost become angry with her. Yes, dad is dead, but she isn't. She has a family who needs her, a little girl who needs her mother. Yet she does nothing.

At this point, you've lost both of them.