Born
Anne Genovese, though she wouldn't say if it you asked her. She'd reply with a quizzical look and tell you oh-so-sincerely that her name is in fact
Nuri Faa. And how couldn't you believe her, with those honest eyes and that gentle smile of hers? Ask a little more, and she'll tell you she's a gypsy rover fleeing persecution in Europe. Usually you might not believe such crazy stories. And you'd be right to.
She's a liar, and a damn good one. So good, in fact, that she's occasionally convinced herself of the worst lies. She's lived feeling the blood of children on her hands, convinced herself there's a god, thought herself a man and of course has lied to herself about her feelings. Unusual for a
fifteen year old girl, you might say? Oh, how right you are. Anne's life really isn't as hard as she makes it sound. she likes to play the part of the
victim, something she's all too good at. She was
just a suburban girl with friends and frustrating parents. Like most teenagers, she wanted sympathy. She wanted drama. She wanted everything.
It started with a little white lie. Something even a "good Christian girl" wouldn't mind. She'd always been so honest, but what a thrill it felt to tell her friend she was going one place instead of the truth. But so quickly it
spiraled out of control. Within weeks she was on the street, leaving a family she'd slaughtered after convincing herself they were her kidnappers. She set out, convinced she could find her real parents. It's been
three months since then, and she's cycled through countless identities.
Bearing the name of
Aileen Sullivan, this poor little girl has lived the majority of her life in the dark. She never had the chance to be afraid at night, to jump at the sight of her shadow, or to see her mother’s loving face looking down at her. Aileen
never could see anything and this made raising her difficult for everyone.
People treated her too nice and as a little girl she was spoiled. She never knew what it was like to not get things her way. The only thing that kept her from taking advantage of the disability was the pity. Even as a small girl, Aileen could feel the waves of pity that fell upon her, around her. It made her feel sick. She hid her distaste to keep from upsetting anyone. She didn’t want to make anyone else feel more ashamed of her. She grew older, matured some, and became tolerant of the pity. On occasion, Aileen would indulge herself and use her blindness to her advantage. She’d fall near a boy with a nice voice and he’d either catch her or help her up. She never was shy, but she was the
sweet, innocent one in the crowd but not in the middle. After spending nearly sixteen years of her life surrounded by the dark, a sudden splash of color frightened her. Color was new to her. Orange and green had no meaning to her and suddenly she saw them. They started out faint at first and Aileen didn’t make anything of the faint flash at the corner of her blind eyes. Then the colors became abundant and larger. They moved around her; they chatted like her friends. The colors swapped and mixed on the blobs, and Aileen began to feel things as they shifted. Certain colors came with certain emotions emanating from the people around her.
She could see people through their feelings. This left her confused and trapped. She was no longer just the blind girl. Aileen could see other people and it frightened them when she responded as any normal person would. When the shock of others became too frustrating, Aileen tried to pretend to see. Not an afternoon later, she ran into two walls, tripped up a staircase, and was pulled out of the way of a reversing car. Life became harder than it was before and Aileen, now on her own at the age of
nineteen, is living in a hole-in-the-wall apartment and trying her hardest to keep to herself and prevent anyone else from finding out about the weird things she “sees.”
Once upon a time, a little
boy named
Jack Dominick was born to a perfectly average couple in a perfectly average part of New York. It was quite some time ago - nearly
seventeen years ago, in fact - and little Jackie isn't quite so little anymore. Well, that's what he'd like to think. Although he finished puberty not too long ago, Jack still seems to posses a childish naivety that leaves people wondering what on earth made him so gullible. He hasn't really given up on make-believe, either. Why, the poor boy managed to convince himself that he can
see into the future! Of course, it is rather eerie when one of his predictions come right... Not that he's ever really mentioned anything specific. It's always, "You're going to go to that room soon," or, "I'm going to bump into you on the street one day." Average coincidences, right? Right. Wrong. Jack gave up on spreading his "secret" a while ago, but it doesn't change the fact that, at any random time, he might suddenly get a vision. But it's only a few
seconds long, and it won't ever come back to him once it's gone. So he has to make due with just a quick view of a random place or person or event. That doesn't necessarily relate to him. But what to do about these visions? Does Jack just ignore them and try and go on with his daily life?
Of course not. If he gets a vision during any of his free time, he'll
drop everything and try to figure out what it means. Is he successful? Rarely. But that doesn't stop the
satisfaction he gets by figuring it out. In a way, he's almost like a faithful puppy - he'll do anything to gain praise, even if it's only from himself. Of course, some people find this
demand for attention rather annoying, but, really, they just need to throw him a bone and he'll go away. Until he gets another vision about them, that is.
Why are you looking at me? You got something to say? Well say it! Yeah, so what
if my name is
Zachariah Markus Evans? You got a problem with that? I didn't think so. As you can plainly see I'm a
guy and maybe not so plain to see,
I'm eighteen. You got a problem with that too? That's right. You better not. Anyway, so you want to hear about me? Fine. But I'm only going to say this stuff once, so listen up. For as long as I can remember,
me and technology have never gotten along. Literally. Televisions were always sniping at me, phones were always mocking me, and computers were always so bossy. Of course, the moment I could talk I would talk back to them, the tech that is. It made sense. I could understand them and they could understand me so why
not talk back? Here's why. People think you're crazy. Picture it. You're walking along and all of sudden there's this guy who starts yelling at a tv in a store window, cussing at it and telling it to shut up. Yeah. That crazy guy? That's me. Here's the thing, the freaking tv wasn't even on. You'd think it'd be dead without the power turned on, but turns out that even if it's off but still plugged in it can still spout it's mouth off.
I swear all the tech's out to get me man. I was just minding my own business when that tv starts calling me an idiot. What was I supposed to do? Walk away? Stand there and take it? Hell no! So I start telling that freaking tv what's up and all of a sudden I'm surrounded by the cops. They're looking at me
like I'm crazy and I see one guy start to pull out his cuffs. Then the next thing I know I'm on the pavement with, like, three guys on top of me. Since when was sticking up for yourself a crime? Anyway, so the low down is this:
I talk to tech. And if I get real lucky, and I mean
real lucky, I can get those freaking things to cooperate and do whatever I say. Of course it doesn't always work out that way.
I have to persuade, threaten, bribe, whatever man. It's a "pull out all the stops" kind of thing. It's annoying but it's always well worth it. It should be obvious what the flaw of this power (I guess you could call it that) would be, but in case it's not obvious to you, I'll point them out. One, it makes me look insane. And two,
I'm always getting shocked, or tricked, or made fun of, or in some way attacked by tech. How's a guy supposed to lead a normal life? Or more importantly, how's a guy supposed to develop into a good law abiding citizen of this great country? Answer: he can't. As you can see, I'm
not the nicest guy on the block. I've been called plenty of things which you probably don't want to hear, but I'll try and numb it down for ya. Let's see, I've been called callous, dangerous, shameless, rotten,
disagreeable, soulless, uncaring, stony, ill-tempered, and of course a jerk. Oh but get this, this is the best one. I've been called, prepare yourself now. . .paranoid. What the heck is that supposed to mean? Just because I worry that
everyone is talking behind my back and crap doesn't mean I'm paranoid. . .Why are you giving me that look? Cut it out! Ahem. Anyway, I remember when I was little I took all the tech's bad mouthing pretty hard for a while. I got all quiet and withdrawn. But after a couple years of that I got sick of it. So I puffed myself up and took all their crap like a man and started talking crap back to them. I guess that's when people started giving me those
sideways looks. You know, the ones that say "What's wrong with
that guy? Oh no. I better not let him see me looking at him. I'll just pretend I'm looking at the dude
behind him all undercover and inconspicuous-like." Yeah. Those looks. Get them all the time. So, you must be wondering why
I'm in New York. I mean, why in God's name would I be in the one place where tech is around every street corner. Well, if you must know,
it's because of my dad. He got a job transfer and so here I am. I'm not home most of the time (why would I want to hang around there?), instead I'm usually around the
Sydney Movie House. It's a good smoking spot despite all the other crap that goes on there. . .So that's it. What? You want to know more? Forget it! Buzz off!
You're wondering about this guy over here? Well he's
Simon Finnegan. Funny name eh, well of course! He's quite the odd ball. So he glued cat ears to his head and a tail to his rear when he was five because he loved cats. He had a bit of an obsession with them and weirdly enough, the objects attached to him. Now, at
fifteen, he can't get them off, not that he would want to. It started a year later (at the age of six) when he started
sticking to things. No kidding. He woke up one day and couldn't sit up in bed. No one knows why this happened but it took a lot of worried, confused people to detach him from his sheet. So where he had lived before, in Great Britain, is not where he lives now. His parents, worried and confused after his next to sticking attempts (his cat was attached to his leg and lost a good chunk of hair from removal, and another... questionable object) caused them to move in search of a doctor that would solve Simon of his 'sticky' situation. So, at the age of fifteen, Simon finds himself wandering around New York as his parents fuss about getting him fixed as he randomly
sticks to things, and
makes things stick together. He
can't exactly
control his weird ability as if it has
a mind of it's own. He'll be walking down the street, put his hand on a bench and then 'bam!' he can't get unstuck, not for awhile at least. With sticking things together, it doesn't always work because, it could stick to him. As for personality, the guy goes a little deeper then the deep end. For the love of cats does he randomly begin licking his arms, not to mention that he personality mimics a cat. He's lazy and likes long naps, warm weather and milk. He's also very easy-going, warm and friendly but when angry, he'll try and tear you to shreds. Best keep away if that happens. It's also amused by small items, such as cat toys or climbing trees (if and when scared).
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