Osten Spere {d4}
Oct 2, 2011 21:55:33 GMT -5
Post by skylarversion2 on Oct 2, 2011 21:55:33 GMT -5
Name: Osten Spere
Age: 16
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 4
Appearance:
o s t e n s p e r e
He's the epitome of not being an epitome of something, normal beyond belief. There's nothing special he's ever done, unless you count fishing and throwing his catch into a tub special.
There's never been much to show for what he's done, for what he's put himself through, other than a muscular body and tan skin. The fears he's faced and the people he's confronted have no obvious reward. His anxiety is horrible, putting a halt to talking to people if it's not necessary, afraid of going outside but afraid of people thinking he's weird, forcing him into a suffering where he's no chance but to force himself to go outside and look like he's doing something productive, do anything but talk to those walking past. He'll pull out his shirt and suddenly the fabric is much more interesting. He's so afraid that people think he's a freak, but he's dug himself into eternal normality.
His tan skin stops at his waist and begins three-quarters of the way down his thighs, a result of a constant no-shirt and shorts combination. It's a result of what everyone else is wearing, he needswantshas-to-be normal. And it is of no surprise that he finds his eyes too light, that draw attention to himself and that everyone stares at them, but not because they're pretty, because they're ugly. Because they're too bright and too light and too gripping and too abnormal.
In actuality, though, he's fine. Attractive, muscular, normal.
Personality:As noted above, he has anxiety. It's so bad that the simple task of writing something on a piece of paper for school has him shaking, fearful that the teacher judges him by the scribbles he forms with each letter, afraid that every answer is wrong, no confidence whatsoever.
And then there's the fact that he's different from everyone else. Different in the sense that he doesn't know what he feels, what he likes and what he doesn't. He's too afraid that whatever he happens to like is what he shouldn't like. The majority of his life is a revolution around that four letter word: f e a r. And the rest is a revolution around three syllables: con-fus-ion. He's always confused about things, an equation of fear and confusion that has a sum of anxiety.
The only time he's himself is in his room, blue bed-sheets bellowing out a boisterous vibe, a reflection of who he wants to be. He wants to be himself, able to experiment with people, whether it be boys or girls. He wants to not have his issue, even if it is self-diagnosed. [When there's a stranger around and they ask a question about the fishing industry, he wants to be able to answer with confidence rather than have more "uhs" and "ums" than actual words.
He has an attachment with a boy named Typhon, and it's without reason. He's not sure if he's gay or if he's straight, he's too worried about appearing normal to label himself, but he's never judged anyone. He's very protective over Typh, and he has no idea what he'd do if anybody were to ever latch themselves to Typh, Osten would have to step up and save himself from falling further into a pit that he knows is already impossible to escape.
History:Every story has a beginning, and it has an end. Whether the end is a new beginning or if it actually is an end, there's always going to be one. It's withstood the test of time and it's always going to, from now until the story of the Earth ends, the statement that every story, everything has a beginning and an end.
And for Osten Spere, his beginning starts with unconsciousness.
As he was birthed, there was no breathing, no crying, it was silent. Plopping down on to the kitchen floor of a small District 4 home led his parents to think they'd never be able to birth a child (they'd already lost one, disappearing into Neverland after a mere two months in the womb). His dad scrambled to make him breathe, the woman too exhausted to move, her brown curls were moist with sweat. It'd taken 4 hours to birth a baby that seemed to already be dead.
Munry desperately breathed into his tiny baby's mouth, using a mere 3 fingers to try to bring him to life. He knew he was in there somewhere. It was on the 6th try that he was tempted to give up, wiping tears from his eyes as he looked at his wife, the connection between them so broken but still so strong. And then the tiniest little cough to a full on squall ignited a flame so strong between the trio that not even all the water in the sea could drown it out. With the umbilical still attached, bodily fluids still clinging to parts of his body, Munry scooped up his baby and kissed him on his forehead, unleashing a relationship that could never be broken. After handing it to his wife, he remained sitting, feeling the butterflies in the pit of his stomach began to escape, lifting them into the air, an ecstasy that never could be described.
It was the beginning of a story, but at that time, the end was nowhere near.
As time went on and Osten's feet had begun to get a bit bigger, his legs a tad tanner, a bump formed in his mother's stomach once more. He remembered sitting on the couch, sweaty from a day out on the beach, the routine fishing trip with his dad was nothing out of the ordinary, except for the "big news" he'd be receiving when he got back home. He hoped for a bicycle or a cat, he never expected another brother or sister.
Munry stood clutching on to the chair that his wife sat in, little Osten comfortably leaning against the front of the couch, a coloring book in front of him. His cheeks were rosy and his hair was disheveled, but it was fine, he didn't care about what others thought at that point. "You're going to have another brother or sister, Osten!" His eyes lit up with joy and the tiniest little caterpillars tickled his stomach's walls. "Really? That's so awesome, we can play together. You know that, mom and dad?"
They knew they could, once the baby grew up. They silently prayed that it'd make it, that it wouldn't die.
And it didn't, being birthed on the kitchen floor just as he had been 4 years before. He wasn't allowed to watch, but he didn't really want to. He wanted it be a surprise, he'd told his parents. They were fine with that, it kept them from having to awkwardly tell him that babies didn't actually come from a woman's stomach.
Her name was Trixy, beautiful and healthy, crying as soon as her mouth had emerged. They were blessed, no tears were brought with the birth other than those of the baby; they simply smiled back at each other, being lifted higher and higher into the air on the wings of Munry's gastrobutterflies.
They grew up together, Trixy and Osten, and before they knew it there was no separation. They were an ideal family in District 4, the neighborhood both admired and envied their ways of parenthood and the way that there was nothing they could ever say about them that was negative. It all stopped when she'd reached her teenage years, slipping into a world of Career and opposite bullying. Constant insults were thrown towards Osten every few minutes, and the whole family was confused. She'd begun to slip ever since she'd reached 12, hanging out with a new group of friends and wearing more eyeliner than she'd been told she could use. Suddenly she was obsessed with the Games and Osten's life became a lot worse.
She's the reason he's so anxious about everything, but he still wants that relationship to be what it once was. Too bad he's to afraid to say anything about it.
Codeword: odair
Comments/Other: Fastest bio in a long time! I hope you guys like him! He's played by Greg Remmey.