Post by Deleted on Jan 6, 2015 23:01:26 GMT -5
|SINCLAIR ELIE bastien||SINCLAIR|
"M'eart starts beatin' like a big brass band!"
“Ah, Hell! Ev’rybody loves me! And I
“If roses are red and violets are blue–, awh, f*ck it...” With Sinclair, sex and love are one in the same. In fact, he can’t find someone sexually compelling unless he’s developed some festering feelings for her or him. Although he may not be the type of man to spend hundreds of dollars just to sprinkle rose petals to the bath tub, he's certainly a romantic by philosophy. He believes in "whole souls" and "divided souls," divided souls which make soul mates... and which make fighters and sacrifices as well. To him, his true sacrifice is his soul mate.
“What’re you lookin’ at? I ain’t got nothin’ tuh say.” Although it’s hard to acquire, once someone earns Sinclair’s loyalty, they have it to his grave.
“There are so many new things in the world, even if they’re old.” To Sinclair, the world is changing milliseconds at a time and there’s always something new to see, new to learn, even if it’s archaic. As the world progresses, we forget the teachings of the past and so there’s always something to learn. It never stops. When on a curious kick (as he calls it), Sinclair can spend seamless hours investigating… The only time Sinclair doesn’t humour his curiosity is when his body buzzes with alarm. Instincts usually prevail.
“Shut up and sit down, or you can leave.” Sinclair – despite his goofy nature – is actually quite disciplined and austere. While he’s perfectly fine with being having fun while working, he’s not fine with having fun and not working. Nor is he okay with disrespect. His students get one warning and that’s it. If they’re not well-acquainted with him and his teaching methods, they’ll eventually recognise that Mister Sinclair means business. His austerity even seeps outside of the workplace. He’s strict with himself, he’s strict with his partner (to a degree), and that’s that.
"Explain? You're joking, right?" Perhaps it's part of an oral fixation.
"Seriously: why am I s'posed to explain this sh!t?" It makes him think and feeds right into his curiosity.
"...I didn't say anythin'." For most of Sin's teenage and young adult life, he had an aversion to sex. But once he got over the guilt, well... He enjoys it. No denying it. Loves a snack afterwards, too. And who doesn't love Monopoly? (If you do, you should leave.)
"Aside from those empaths, who doesn't like winning?"
Clove cigarettes are Sinclair's trademark. He always smells like 'em because he's always smoking them. He hasn't changed his brand or flavour in years.
And not just his own... The whole concept of sacrifices (and what they generally mean to fighters) is, in Sinclair's words: sexy... Fortunately, his own is enough to satisfy his needs.
“What? You can’t hear me? Let me turn up the volume–” Sinclair’s voice is sonorous. He projects well, perhaps a little too well, and it only gets louder and louder as he grows more excited. Not only can this be annoying, but plenty of students (and adults) have found Sinclair to be a bit unsettling, intimidating with just how aggressive he sounds. Of course, he can turn the volume down. He has and he will, especially when tired. Oddly enough, Sinclair even seems to quieten drastically when genuinely irritated and/or angry. Even when enraged, he never shouts. His anger is very cool and collected, and is - perhaps - a bit too calculative for comfort.
“Hey, now, don’t take it seriously…” After all, it’s just for fun. Actually, flirting’s beyond fun: it’s habitual, even when he’s already seeing someone
Unfortunately, only one person has earned that type of loyalty and it may be difficult - nigh impossible - for another to attain it. This can certainly be interpreted that Sinclair - in most cases - should not be trusted. He could very well double-cross someone as he sees fit and he won't have any remorse.
“I just wanna feel alive. Existing day-to-day isn’t enough anymore.” And one way to do this is to experience all sorts of things, domestic or dangerous. From clubbing to loving to battling. From learning to teaching to being wrong. Don’t wanna soar through the sky, wanna fall-fall-fall and splash into the ocean blue! Forget commitment, he wants it all. To conquer his fears and indulge in spontaneous tendencies.
“Etiquette? Pffft– what’s that?” He cusses, he curses, he scratches his ass and b*lls every morning… Sinclair says and does things without much thought, making him a bit recklessly impulsive with no mind for another. Sometimes he’ll regret these things but often times he won’t. One can imagine just how many times his mouth has gotten him into trouble.
"Kisses are great, but your spit ain't."
"You gotta friend in me... ♪" It's just so utterly inconvenient when people are wary of one's intentions. (Even if they should be.)
"Ugh..." Monopoly isn't fun when there's no challenge. Sex isn't fun when it's not spiced up with something new. Teaching a class full of obedient A students is boring... So on and so forth. * Yawn *
"The only time I don't like winning is if it's permanent fix." Like killing someone after a spell battle. He doesn't like losing (naturally), either, but isn't about to be a poor sport about it.
"Self-explanatory." Goes hand-in-hand with his austerity. He can only tolerate so much.
"Christ, will you shut the f*ck up already?" This is basically bullsh!t's cousin. Along with clinginess, along with pointless arguments over nothing, along with---crap, there's too many to list. While he's not about to bust his ego over someone else's petty behaviour, he would rather step away than having to listen or deal with any of it.
“I lost my ears when I was just’a kid. I don’t even remember ever havin’ ‘em. Didn’t get fakes, either. The church that took me in thought praying and braving would get me where I needed t’get. Honestly? I didn’t even understand it back then. Some people had ears and tails, some people didn’t and I was okay with that. Honestly. I only started to care once I started to understand… just what those furry things meant.
I was just a kid… An’ then a wave of memories came flooding to me. I spent a lot of nights in my cold cellar room tossin’ and turnin’ and crying and whimpering and growling and–… It was a mixture of things. Of raw panic, a sense of impending death, self-pity, grave humiliation, vindictive wrath, and even rancorous glee! I wanted to hurt them, all of them. Kids my age, kids younger or older, I wanted to normalise what I had gone through! I wanted a place in this damn-forsaken world where I could fit in without those sorrowful, mortified looks of disgust!
And I succeeded. Three times. I never got caught, either. At least, never thought I did. Father prayed for my soul. He once took me aside, sat me on his lap, an’ just hugged me. No words. No prayer. No look of disgust or dismay for his face was buried in my chest as he wept away. Now that I think ‘bout it… maybe I was caught, and maybe that was the response to my cynical behaviour.
I remember crying, too. I let it all out. My voice was hoarse, my chest was heavy, an’ my face burned as though I had sat too close to the lit fireplace again. There was a twinge of remorse. The sort no kid could handle on his own. So I vowed – to myself – to never do it again. And I didn’t.
At least, not while I was at the monastery.
I thought I would devout my entire life to the monastery! Not because i believe God - which I don't - but because I had no where else to go. 'Least, I didn't think so... Father encouraged me to get out and experience the world but I didn't actually listen to him until I was old enough to legally be on my own. I went to Massachusetts to school.
My first semester there was a wreck. Talk about culture shock! Christ-almighty! I got into Boston University. Shortly after that, I met my room mate... who was all into women and druggin' and f*ckin' an'...
I've been kicked out of my own goddamn dorm way too many times that semester.
Along the way, I start to assimilate. I was Helluva homesick but I managed to keep my grades up. Got into partying now and then and that seemed to help loosen my pastor strings, if you know what I mean.
But none of that really mattered. Yes and no... but... not really. I was nineteen when I met him. And he - from that moment - would change my life far more than it had already been changed...
His name is Julien Lanc. He's that white boy from Africa... and we've been together ever since. He was just sixteen, I don't even remember what the Hell he was doing in America let alone Massachusetts, but we started to hang out a lot... and engaged in our first word spell battle. We lost. Miserably. We lost a lot actually... and we argued a lot. It was starting to piss me off. I go from having a cool friend to having some wife constantly cling to me, so I stopped hanging out with him for awhile. I'd take a week, maybe two weeks - three, tops, at a time away from him.
I started to get into the clubbing, sexing, smoking scene. And he...
Well, long story short: we're together now as both sacrifice & fighter, and as lovers. We've had to a lot of growing up together and apart to become who we are and to flourish what we have now. We've won a lot, along the way, after we began to understand each other. We still lost but... yeah. Lotta winnin', too! Probably helped our relationship exponentially.
I-ah, did my internship at Blackwood Academy. After graduating, I ended up working here full time. Been here ever since (and yes: I do have my masters, thank you).
I guess that's it. 'Cause, uhm, no way am I getting into the nitty-gritty personal stuff, aye? * Winks *
OTHER CHARACTERS @cinthos
LAIKA OF GS!