Nathaniel x ● x Anthony x ● x Felsic
❝ Human hearts are not made of stone; they can break, and heal, and beat again. ❞
❝ Human hearts are not made of stone; they can break, and heal, and beat again. ❞
───── 〔 Basics 〕────➨ Written on my birth certificate┇ Nathaniel Anthony Felsic
➨ There's no need to be so formal┇ Actually, there is. Only Nathaniel, unless you want to see myself get violent for once. Any close family member may call me "Nathan" or "Red."
➨ Another year older, another year wiser┇ Sixteen
➨ Last I checked I'm a┇ Male. Blind much?
➨ The way I flirt┇ Heterosexual, though it's a rare event to ever see me actually flirt.
➨ The parent I never met┇ Poseidon ... Jerk.
➨ The one who raised me┇ Layla Marie Felsic
───── 〔 Me as a Person 〕────
⇨ Others describe me as┇ Anyone would tell you I'm the quiet, reserved type. I don't speak unless I feel the need to and refuse to retaliate against an insult or physical injury unless you really have pissed me off; in which case, I suggest you run as fast as your legs can carry you in the opposite direction because I will be without a doubt chasing right after you. I am usually very calm, calculative, and have a realistic perspective towards life, as well as philosophical. I tend to be moody as well as stubborn, and refuse to back down from a cause I truly believe in. I am loyal to my friends and family, so once a person has my trust, they have it for eternity, unless they manage to do something to ruin that. Very few people have gained access into the fiercely protective circle of my heart, which I keep closed to all but a select few. I have the morals of a well-mannered British gentleman, so I tend to have a soft spot for women in battle and otherwise. I can be charmingly persuasive if I so choose, and am a bit of a romantic to anyone I happen to fancy, but that has happened only once, and will probably never occur again. Along with being brave and chivalrous, I will step up and take control of situations I deem as too chaotic for my liking. Although, as collected as I seem, I do have my fair share of temper tantrums; they don't occur too often, but when they do, may they gods have mercy on anyone within a fifty mile radius ...
⇨ Let me tell a little story┇ My life isn't very exciting, so you might be more content with skipping my "little story." But if you disagree, I suppose it began before my birth, with a woman named Layla Marie Lilac. She was a beautiful woman - and still is, mind you - who lived in London, England for all her life. She was kind and compassionate and had an intense love of cooking, so much so that she had decided to become a professional cook when she was older. At the tender age of 19, she received a scholarship to study the fine art of cuisine in Sydney, Australia. Of course, she left the fall of that year, wishing her parents and younger sister goodbye for two years.
Expectantly she got high marks in her class and so had decided to reward herself by taking resident in a beach house near the Great Barrier Reef for the remainder of the summer. Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your perspective - things did not happen as planned. After only a week she met a man named Samuel Felsic, my father and a Greek god. She happened to be one of those rare mortals with the ability to see through the mist, so it did not take her long to realize who she was having a summer fling with, but sadly it was out of her hands by then. She discovered she was pregnant at the end of the summer, right around the time he left. My mother was heartbroken, but still in love enough to change her surname to Felsic as a promise that she could never love anyone else except for the man who left her all alone hundreds of thousands miles away from home.
My mother moved back to Sydney and decided to live there a bit longer than intended. I was born several months later with the surname of Felsic, and so my life began. My mother's parents had found out about their daughter's affair and had disowned her by this time with enough scolding to last her a lifetime. Layla sunk into depression as she struggled to care for me with nothing but a measly part-time job, helped along by no one. When I reached the milestone of two years of age, she received news from him concerning me. We were to move to New York City and I was to be sent to Camp Half-Blood at age ten. Grateful for the smallest amount of words, she quit her job and went right to packing our bags. The next morning, we boarded a cruise ship she had paid through the nose for and set sail for America. Admittedly, the most logical way would have been to go by plane but we never did; only ever by boat and various forms of land transportation.
Word that we had reached New York safely had reached the ears of her younger sister Cecilia, just as beautiful a woman but completely opposite in mind and body. Cecilia managed to wriggle her way into a college in New York as well so she could help care for me and help my mother battle through her depressive state. Granted, she was not there every single day, being a real estate agent-in-training, but the time she could give was enough. She helped her establish a bakery and get a decent apartment in the quieter parts of the city. My mother's mental health was restored by the time I turned seven or so and her younger sister moved to Boston to live her life. This is around the time my life grew a bit stranger than it already was.
My mother has always drilled the Greek myths into my head as a young child, and the story about Jason and the Argonauts was my very first bedtime story. I had grown to be extremely mature and responsible as well as talented with the piano, ballroom dancing, and wouldn't you know it: cooking. One day I had been wandering one of the vast parks with my mother when I realized a large dog was following us. Being as small as I was, I ran to go pet it, my mother chasing after me when it pounced on her. I had simply stared as it growled viciously in her face, she squirming and attempting not to look fearful before bursting into tears and screaming as loud as I could. Behind me, the fountain literally exploded, the water continuously dousing the creature as well as my mother. The noise had attracted quite a crowd and the dog fled before they came, and they met a strange sight indeed. My mother very persuasively convinced them that the fountain was dysfunctional before fleeing home with me, and I was not allowed to leave the house for several years.
My mother brought in private tutors who were trained to deal specifically with kids diagnosed with ADHD. I was exceptionally intelligent, so the only problem that had ever occurred was my lack of an attention span and philosophically smart comments. To ease my boredom, my mother also paid for teachers to give me lessons in different areas every six months, resulting in my many different interests and hidden talents. Age ten came and went, my mother convincing herself that if keeping me in the house had worked for three years already, why would it fail if she kept me just a little bit longer? As selfish as the thought was, I could never blame her for it; I was her pride and joy and kept her from sinking into depression once more. As I grew older, I was allowed a bit more freedom, being allowed to attend public school when I turned fourteen. No exactly the best choice, seeing as I tended to have more of my, erm, episodes there than normally, but I suppose Mother felt guilty about locking me up at home for so long, so she apologized and paid for what needed to be paid for quietly, occasionally able to pull out of it without a dime at her expense.
All was somewhat well until my sixteenth birthday. My mother insisted taking me and my friends out for dinner, but I made it as private as possible, inviting my crippled best friend Alexander and a few others who had bothered to be nice to me throughout the school year. There was also one girl, Elizabeth; I had fancied her a bit, as she was exceptionally kind and bright, so I invited her and her friend as well. My mother took us to an expensive restaurant the night I turned sixteen and left us to our own devices after handing me two hundred dollars and wishing me a wonderful night out as she drove away. I said goodbye before heading back to join my friends. Alexander and Elizabeth acted peculiarly throughout the whole meal; she eyeing me as if I were fresh meat and he eyeing her as if he all he wanted to do was stab her with his fork. I tried not to take much notice of it, but then dessert came.
I was fingering the present my mother had given me, a Swiss Army knife that once belonged to my father when I heard screaming. I looked around to see Elizabeth transforming into a hideous thing, a Fury as it happened. At that moment, Alexander had stripped off his jeans to reveal furry hindquarters and hooves, which made the scene all the more confusing and unable to believe. Alexander grabbed my arm without a moment's notice and we fled the restaurant, the Fury on our tail. Luckily, we were near a harbor, so the two of us climbed aboard a leaving ship and off we were. It turned out a Fury was faster than a boat. She had cornered us below deck in almost no time, and Alex was lying unconscious in the corner after a particularly nasty incident with the monster's claws and a wall. "Use the knife!" he'd shouted before passing out. I grabbed the knife out of pocket and started flipping through its contents until my eyes met a gleam of silver. I tugged on it only to have a full length sword appear in my hands. Adrenaline and instincts kicked in after that, and after a lengthy battle - it was my fault I suppose; couldn't help but dodge and run away from her at first - the fatally injured Fury flew away while shouting curses over my head.
Alexander came to a few minutes later and explained the truth to me; I was the son of a Greek god, who was apparently real, along with every other Greek myth I'd ever studied. Elizabeth had merely been a Fury in disguise who had been in wait for an opportunity with me out in the open to finally strike. Needless to say, all of the words he'd spoken had been enough to flip my world upside down, and I'd been in a bit of daze when I stepped through camp at first. Things began to start to set in just as I was claimed by Poseidon at the campfire that night.
⇨ Others describe me as┇ Anyone would tell you I'm the quiet, reserved type. I don't speak unless I feel the need to and refuse to retaliate against an insult or physical injury unless you really have pissed me off; in which case, I suggest you run as fast as your legs can carry you in the opposite direction because I will be without a doubt chasing right after you. I am usually very calm, calculative, and have a realistic perspective towards life, as well as philosophical. I tend to be moody as well as stubborn, and refuse to back down from a cause I truly believe in. I am loyal to my friends and family, so once a person has my trust, they have it for eternity, unless they manage to do something to ruin that. Very few people have gained access into the fiercely protective circle of my heart, which I keep closed to all but a select few. I have the morals of a well-mannered British gentleman, so I tend to have a soft spot for women in battle and otherwise. I can be charmingly persuasive if I so choose, and am a bit of a romantic to anyone I happen to fancy, but that has happened only once, and will probably never occur again. Along with being brave and chivalrous, I will step up and take control of situations I deem as too chaotic for my liking. Although, as collected as I seem, I do have my fair share of temper tantrums; they don't occur too often, but when they do, may they gods have mercy on anyone within a fifty mile radius ...
⇨ Let me tell a little story┇ My life isn't very exciting, so you might be more content with skipping my "little story." But if you disagree, I suppose it began before my birth, with a woman named Layla Marie Lilac. She was a beautiful woman - and still is, mind you - who lived in London, England for all her life. She was kind and compassionate and had an intense love of cooking, so much so that she had decided to become a professional cook when she was older. At the tender age of 19, she received a scholarship to study the fine art of cuisine in Sydney, Australia. Of course, she left the fall of that year, wishing her parents and younger sister goodbye for two years.
Expectantly she got high marks in her class and so had decided to reward herself by taking resident in a beach house near the Great Barrier Reef for the remainder of the summer. Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your perspective - things did not happen as planned. After only a week she met a man named Samuel Felsic, my father and a Greek god. She happened to be one of those rare mortals with the ability to see through the mist, so it did not take her long to realize who she was having a summer fling with, but sadly it was out of her hands by then. She discovered she was pregnant at the end of the summer, right around the time he left. My mother was heartbroken, but still in love enough to change her surname to Felsic as a promise that she could never love anyone else except for the man who left her all alone hundreds of thousands miles away from home.
My mother moved back to Sydney and decided to live there a bit longer than intended. I was born several months later with the surname of Felsic, and so my life began. My mother's parents had found out about their daughter's affair and had disowned her by this time with enough scolding to last her a lifetime. Layla sunk into depression as she struggled to care for me with nothing but a measly part-time job, helped along by no one. When I reached the milestone of two years of age, she received news from him concerning me. We were to move to New York City and I was to be sent to Camp Half-Blood at age ten. Grateful for the smallest amount of words, she quit her job and went right to packing our bags. The next morning, we boarded a cruise ship she had paid through the nose for and set sail for America. Admittedly, the most logical way would have been to go by plane but we never did; only ever by boat and various forms of land transportation.
Word that we had reached New York safely had reached the ears of her younger sister Cecilia, just as beautiful a woman but completely opposite in mind and body. Cecilia managed to wriggle her way into a college in New York as well so she could help care for me and help my mother battle through her depressive state. Granted, she was not there every single day, being a real estate agent-in-training, but the time she could give was enough. She helped her establish a bakery and get a decent apartment in the quieter parts of the city. My mother's mental health was restored by the time I turned seven or so and her younger sister moved to Boston to live her life. This is around the time my life grew a bit stranger than it already was.
My mother has always drilled the Greek myths into my head as a young child, and the story about Jason and the Argonauts was my very first bedtime story. I had grown to be extremely mature and responsible as well as talented with the piano, ballroom dancing, and wouldn't you know it: cooking. One day I had been wandering one of the vast parks with my mother when I realized a large dog was following us. Being as small as I was, I ran to go pet it, my mother chasing after me when it pounced on her. I had simply stared as it growled viciously in her face, she squirming and attempting not to look fearful before bursting into tears and screaming as loud as I could. Behind me, the fountain literally exploded, the water continuously dousing the creature as well as my mother. The noise had attracted quite a crowd and the dog fled before they came, and they met a strange sight indeed. My mother very persuasively convinced them that the fountain was dysfunctional before fleeing home with me, and I was not allowed to leave the house for several years.
My mother brought in private tutors who were trained to deal specifically with kids diagnosed with ADHD. I was exceptionally intelligent, so the only problem that had ever occurred was my lack of an attention span and philosophically smart comments. To ease my boredom, my mother also paid for teachers to give me lessons in different areas every six months, resulting in my many different interests and hidden talents. Age ten came and went, my mother convincing herself that if keeping me in the house had worked for three years already, why would it fail if she kept me just a little bit longer? As selfish as the thought was, I could never blame her for it; I was her pride and joy and kept her from sinking into depression once more. As I grew older, I was allowed a bit more freedom, being allowed to attend public school when I turned fourteen. No exactly the best choice, seeing as I tended to have more of my, erm, episodes there than normally, but I suppose Mother felt guilty about locking me up at home for so long, so she apologized and paid for what needed to be paid for quietly, occasionally able to pull out of it without a dime at her expense.
All was somewhat well until my sixteenth birthday. My mother insisted taking me and my friends out for dinner, but I made it as private as possible, inviting my crippled best friend Alexander and a few others who had bothered to be nice to me throughout the school year. There was also one girl, Elizabeth; I had fancied her a bit, as she was exceptionally kind and bright, so I invited her and her friend as well. My mother took us to an expensive restaurant the night I turned sixteen and left us to our own devices after handing me two hundred dollars and wishing me a wonderful night out as she drove away. I said goodbye before heading back to join my friends. Alexander and Elizabeth acted peculiarly throughout the whole meal; she eyeing me as if I were fresh meat and he eyeing her as if he all he wanted to do was stab her with his fork. I tried not to take much notice of it, but then dessert came.
I was fingering the present my mother had given me, a Swiss Army knife that once belonged to my father when I heard screaming. I looked around to see Elizabeth transforming into a hideous thing, a Fury as it happened. At that moment, Alexander had stripped off his jeans to reveal furry hindquarters and hooves, which made the scene all the more confusing and unable to believe. Alexander grabbed my arm without a moment's notice and we fled the restaurant, the Fury on our tail. Luckily, we were near a harbor, so the two of us climbed aboard a leaving ship and off we were. It turned out a Fury was faster than a boat. She had cornered us below deck in almost no time, and Alex was lying unconscious in the corner after a particularly nasty incident with the monster's claws and a wall. "Use the knife!" he'd shouted before passing out. I grabbed the knife out of pocket and started flipping through its contents until my eyes met a gleam of silver. I tugged on it only to have a full length sword appear in my hands. Adrenaline and instincts kicked in after that, and after a lengthy battle - it was my fault I suppose; couldn't help but dodge and run away from her at first - the fatally injured Fury flew away while shouting curses over my head.
Alexander came to a few minutes later and explained the truth to me; I was the son of a Greek god, who was apparently real, along with every other Greek myth I'd ever studied. Elizabeth had merely been a Fury in disguise who had been in wait for an opportunity with me out in the open to finally strike. Needless to say, all of the words he'd spoken had been enough to flip my world upside down, and I'd been in a bit of daze when I stepped through camp at first. Things began to start to set in just as I was claimed by Poseidon at the campfire that night.
───── 〔 Little Details 〕────
➲ This makes me Special┇ I have many hidden skills and talents due to my hopping from one activity to another every six months. What I have committed myself to since a very young age is the piano; some even dare to say I play as well as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart himself, and compose pieces just as beautiful. I am a dabbler in the arts, so I've tried painting, drawing, photography, and have experience in whatever else you can think of. I do know a bit of ballroom dancing, but not much more than that style of dance. I can fight moderately well and prefer a sword as my choice weapon. I can swim rather well and know my fair share of wilderness survival, though I will always prefer a warm room indoors. I work best under pressure and can make decisions that will have the highest chance for the survival of myself and those around. Since my mother owns a bakery, I've learned how to cook most anything you could ask for with a taste only money could buy.
➲ My Weapons of choice┇ My father gifted me with a Swiss Army knife as a sixteenth birthday gift, though of course I didn't know it was from him at the time. It contains a sword, dagger, shield, comb, and water bottle, which lengthen to size when taken out.
➲ Gimme┇ Music, baking/cooking, quiet, swimming, books, horses, tea, stars, night, classical music
➲ Take them away┇ Loud, country music, obnoxious people, airplanes, crowds, arrogance, neon colors, fish
➲ My kryptonite┇ My mother says I am sometimes a little too independent for my own good; as if being unable to rely on other is a bad thing! As I always reply, other people were the downfall of the world's greatest heroes ...
➲ Want to know more┇ Although I've been in America for fourteen years, I have a slight mixed accent associated with the British and Australian tongues, which tends to become more pronounced whenever I am in a state of distress. I have ADHD, which I have managed to somehow control over the years. It's a bit more frequent that you'd find me cooped up in my cabin during the day and out about at night rather than vice versa. One of my closest friends was my cousin Evaline, who had died a few years previously, though there have been rumors flitting about camp that she is still alive ...
➲ This makes me Special┇ I have many hidden skills and talents due to my hopping from one activity to another every six months. What I have committed myself to since a very young age is the piano; some even dare to say I play as well as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart himself, and compose pieces just as beautiful. I am a dabbler in the arts, so I've tried painting, drawing, photography, and have experience in whatever else you can think of. I do know a bit of ballroom dancing, but not much more than that style of dance. I can fight moderately well and prefer a sword as my choice weapon. I can swim rather well and know my fair share of wilderness survival, though I will always prefer a warm room indoors. I work best under pressure and can make decisions that will have the highest chance for the survival of myself and those around. Since my mother owns a bakery, I've learned how to cook most anything you could ask for with a taste only money could buy.
➲ My Weapons of choice┇ My father gifted me with a Swiss Army knife as a sixteenth birthday gift, though of course I didn't know it was from him at the time. It contains a sword, dagger, shield, comb, and water bottle, which lengthen to size when taken out.
➲ Gimme┇ Music, baking/cooking, quiet, swimming, books, horses, tea, stars, night, classical music
➲ Take them away┇ Loud, country music, obnoxious people, airplanes, crowds, arrogance, neon colors, fish
➲ My kryptonite┇ My mother says I am sometimes a little too independent for my own good; as if being unable to rely on other is a bad thing! As I always reply, other people were the downfall of the world's greatest heroes ...
➲ Want to know more┇ Although I've been in America for fourteen years, I have a slight mixed accent associated with the British and Australian tongues, which tends to become more pronounced whenever I am in a state of distress. I have ADHD, which I have managed to somehow control over the years. It's a bit more frequent that you'd find me cooped up in my cabin during the day and out about at night rather than vice versa. One of my closest friends was my cousin Evaline, who had died a few years previously, though there have been rumors flitting about camp that she is still alive ...
───── 〔 Behind the Mask 〕────
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