"He's standing alone with his gun in his hand"
Oh... I didn't see you there... You want me to tell you about myself? Uh, okay then... Fifteen years ago, I was born to my father, Alexander Kaparis Marione. At birth, the man named me, Wyatt Julias Marione. If your that blind, I'm a male, thank you very much. Enough yet? No?! Ugh, fine I'll tell you more... If your around me, I tend to act Can be cocky and over-confident. Most of the time he'd sweet and helpful, though.. You can see me, but I'll explain my apperance to you in words too. My hair is a light brown color, with lighter blonde natural highlights. My eyes are an icy blue and my skin is a bit tan. I have dimples when I smile, and my lips are kind of a light red color. I am six foot one inch tall, and weight about one hundred and twenty pounds. I am not scrawny, but I am not fat nor buff. I am fit and get out a lot.
Woah! You want to know about my past?! Fine, if I tell it to you, will you stop bothering me? No?! Fine, I'll tell it to you anyways... Step-Mother was a cheerleader, Father was a football player. Perfect little image, perfect little family you’d think. Simple white wedding at the small town church, and soon a little baby boy (that wasn't even my step-father's). Everything was perfect, since day one I was brought home to a house with a porch swing and a white picket fence. Ideal. That’s what you’d call it I imagine. I never could’ve figured that I would be the one to mess things up. My parents were always very surreal. My father worked on coaching the same highschool team he’d played for, and cared for nothing but his wife and his work. My step-mother on the other hand cared for nothing except for her husband and what the neighbors thought. Were we perfect enough? Did we fit the cookie cutter family? And from the beginning, I was taught that I had to be this cookie cutter son. Sports, music lessons, private school. I would be molded. I would be my father.
Whilst I was growing up, my father was growing stricter. His house was never clean enough, his wife never young or happy enough, his dinner never cooked well enough. He grew grouchier, and harsher on both my step-mother and I, until one day he simply snapped. The D word. The worst thing a cookie cutter family could see. Divorce. My father met a new girl, and I do mean girl. She was a sister to one of his football boys, a college girl, and British too. He was leaving my step-mother for her, and her newly pregnant belly. He couldn’t stand to marry someone he no longer loved, who no longer loved him or cared for him the way she did her son. And he could no longer stand a son that focused more on his music and mythology than football and girls. We were no longer his ideal family. So he left us. From then on out, things got worse.
My step-mother remarried the next month to a cruel older man. Someone who left his eye on her son more than her. Always watching, always smirking. That sick stench of cigars and brandy. I’ll never forget it. Things grew worse and worse, my step-mother no longer cooked dinner, no longer smiled. And I tried harder and harder to fit that mold she and my father had left me. I brought home a girlfriend, I tried out for football….and well failed…but I tried.
Camp was my only escape, the only chance to get away from both my mother and my second step-father. At least…until boarding school came into the picture. Out of sight out of mind I guess they thought. No matter, I'll just stay at camp year-round.
Some extras that might be handy to you... My weapon of chioce is A celestial bronze scythe. I like loud music, looking at the sky, running around, and very few sports. Mostly, I like my Greek mythology!. I dislike bugs, cats, water, homework, and feathers. There you go, now can you please leave me alone? Thanks. OH MY GODS! WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW?! Ohhhhh... Turns out that my godly parent is (Unknown at this time)... Bye Now...
x-Morticians Daughter
"Wondering why he's the man with the gun in his hand"
