D9 // Cyprian Noah Soren [DONE]

cass
Retired Staff

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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

D9 // Cyprian Noah Soren [DONE] Jan 27, 2013 7:15:30 GMT -5

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Post by cass on Jan 27, 2013 7:15:30 GMT -5

Name: Cyprian
Age: Sixteen
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 9
Appearance:

Personality:

Cyprian is a boy who loves to dream, his relaity seems to mingle with the world he has created. He lives in the basement, in his own mind, in his creation and the place he has conjured, easily distracted, but smart. He thinks before he does soemthing, although that thinking can take an awful long time he goes through every option before he tries somehting new. But he loves to dream, building worlds in his own mind, and each bird that he ties to the ceiling is like a dream that he hopes to one day achieve, but the birds just keep rising, and his dreams never seem to occur. Yet he never seems to mind, because some part of him believes that they will -one day they will happen and he will be ready.

History:

fifteen, three older sisters, a little brother and a little sister

Codeword: OH HAI DAIR
Comments/Other:

drooling over his perfection

Misguided Ghosts

here.

Last Edit: Jan 29, 2013 7:54:45 GMT -5 by cass

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

D9 // Cyprian Noah Soren [DONE] Jan 28, 2013 1:21:34 GMT -5

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Post by cass on Jan 28, 2013 1:21:34 GMT -5

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

I am going away for a while
But I'll be back, don't try and follow me
'Cause I'll return as soon as possible
See I'm trying to find my place
But it might not be here where I feel safe

[/color][/center]

name Cyprian Noah Soren
age Sixteen
district Nine
gender Male
occupation Dreamer

We all learn to make mistakes
And run
From them, from them
With no direction
We'll run from them, from them
[/color][/center]

Sometimes the only way to see something is to close your eyes and let the world sink in around you. In those moments it can be like opening your eyes underwater, the world seems to blur into one moment, slipping beneath each other, into layers that pulsate and weave into one. At other times it can be like looking through glass, crystal clear and perfect, the colours vibrant and bursting fourth. A million shades of the rainbow lingering in your mind. Most people never look these ways. In their eyes the world seems to be hindered by blackness, it creeps on the edges of everything that they see. Disrupting the world and making a place so full of life seem like the chaos. They look at the storm and not the peace within the eye of the storm (Where I stand tall and strong, where my dreams slip into the very stream of life and glow with brilliance and in that space all you see is me).They see the bad and never the good. They're blinded by what they want to see and not the truth that is actually right in front of them.

The world seems to spin. No one notices it, but it does. It spins and spins around and around it goes. Swiftly my elegant hands move with the way my thoughts flow, they flip and spin as though some sort of canvas lay in front of me. A paintbrush finds its way into my grasp and I flick it expertly. My hands move with perfect ease, with skill and a steadiness that can only be gained from years of experience. But there is nothing truly in front of me. It is what I imagine that is in front of me that makes the painting. The Earth grows beneath my paintbrush and I conjure trees taller, brighter and stronger then what is real -but it is real, because I see it. Flowers sprout from the Earth and water flows through the rivers and it moves and shimmers with each stroke. It is all real, right on front of me. I opened my eyes, now I can see.

With no conviction
'Cause I'm just one of those ghosts
Traveling endlessly
Don't need no roads
In fact they follow me
[/color][/center]

Paint smears my body, it drips down my long legs and covers my feet. My clothes lay screwed up everywhere, none having escaped a splash of colour. The clothes I wore were thick with blobs and smears of vibrant hues, delicate shades and odd spots. There was always colour. There was never anything other then a burst of joy, a lingering kiss of yellow or the burning fury of reds.[/i][/color] They stained my skin, and gave my joy. There is nothing worse then black and white, the two shades that seem to linger in the past. They drown out the good, and only carry forth the bad.

I never mind. I never worry. For each smear of colour that weaves its way into my world is a life. Each splash of paint that flickers into existence is a new story, a new secret ready to be revealed. Every day a new bird finds its way into my hands. I craft it's delicate wings with precision, I mold its body to perfection. They never look the same. And as I fling it up towards the roof where it flies it carries a small part of me. Every bird is different as every part of my soul, my heart and my home is different. My dreams follow me as I work, they flutter around me as I sleep. They are never far away, nor are they too close that I'm overwhelmed by their presence. As each hand grazes each bird I already know what dream clings so tightly to the folds. I can easily whisper the secrets that are held beneath each cut and tuck of its body. A new hope blossoms from the depths of my bright mind, it explodes into colour and it leaps to life, bringing with it everything that people leave behind. They're all made from love.

And we just go in circles
So Now I'm told that this is life
And pain is just a simple compromise
So we can get what we want out of it
Would someone care to classify,
[/color][/center]

One day the world will draw itself to its final halt and each small wish that has been wrapped tightly to my heart will be released. As each escapes me it will pour itself into the sky, mingle with the stars and the sun will burst fourth and shatter the illusion of peace that I have built. As it cracks and breaks every dream that I have wished upon, ever hope that I have asked for will be released. No matter how long I must wait it will happen. One day I will soar among my own dreams, the world that I had conjured will become my reality -it will escape the folds of my mind, it will run from the very depths of my soul, the very essence of who I am and it will be amazing. And the pictures I have painted will spring to life, breath and sing, dance and prance and it will be all because of me.

I don't measure what I do in time, seeing as unfinished paintings seem to litter every inch of my room. Time is useless, by branding things with a certain time, a certain finish date you can never know their full potential. My work stays how it is, and I flit from one idea to the next -mother says I'm too easily distracted. She believes that if I were to perhaps finish a painting then people could truly see what I am capable of. Normally such words draw a scowl onto my lips. Time lasts for an eternity, there is no restriction, rushing only makes work rubbish and incomplete. Everything I create is a masterpiece ~~although I have actually never even finished a piece of art before,~~ every thought and dream that escapes the bounds of my minds is something to be cherished and loved. And time. Time is limitless.

Our broken hearts and twisted minds
So I can find someone to rely on
And run
To them, to them
Full speed ahead
[/color][/center]

It is rare that I step outside of my home. It is unusual that my pale skin will ever be kissed by the sun. A simple glance outside is enough for me, a scoop of the beauty and I am fine for another week. Most people ask me how I can be an artist when I never look, when I never truly go outside and stare at the world that is actually there. They stare at me dumbfounded while a small smile graces my lips. I never answer them. I never have the need to. If any of them could just glance down at the world that I lived in they would understand. If they could see what I saw and they would know: I see the world better then they do. [/i][/color]

I truly wonder if my sisters even know I exist, or am I to them just simply the boy in the basement. I know my two elder sisters want nothing to do with me, as for my younger ones I have strayed too far away from them to want nothing to do with them. I live alone and isolated in my home, where my life is conjured by dreams and wishes, where stories and pictures are only a few simply paintbrush strokes away. I feel alienated from the rest of my family, but I don't mind. I don't mind at all. Some people choose to never see what is in front of them, they choose to complain about what is there and what they don't have. But when I open my eyes I see all I have and everything that is yet to come, whether it be good or bad. At least I can still dream. Slowly I reach a hand forward and my fingers linger on the rough surface of the birds paper wing. I close my eyes and breath in the dream, the wish, the hope that clings to its precious body and I smile, knowing that one day it will come true. I don't mind waiting.

Oh you are not useless
We are just
Misguided ghosts
Traveling endlessly
The ones we trusted the most
[/color][/center]

Pushed us far away
And there's no one road
We should not be the same
But I'm just a ghost
And still they echo me
[/color][/center]

[/size][/blockquote][/justify][/center][/td][/tr][/table]

Last Edit: Jan 29, 2013 7:53:09 GMT -5 by cass

cass Retired Staff 4,822 POSTS last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5	D9 // Cyprian Noah Soren [DONE] Jan 29, 2013 7:54:33 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by cass on Jan 29, 2013 7:54:33 GMT -5 Done ^.^

pika Retired Staff 586 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen May 7, 2022 18:36:48 GMT -5	D9 // Cyprian Noah Soren [DONE] Jan 29, 2013 18:53:01 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by pika on Jan 29, 2013 18:53:01 GMT -5 I love the coding of this bio <3 [/colour][/size]
	arise and be all that you dreamed