Exellda Posted May 13, 2017 Share Posted May 13, 2017 My character: Name: Samuel Grant Nickname: Sam or Sammy or Samson Age:25 Eye color: Hazel Hair color: Brown with blond strands, usually always messy and dirty Height: 5'10" Build: Currently very skinny, to the point his bones stick out. Job: N/A Background: Samuel had a decent childhood, the only child, had the average family. But it wasn't until he started middle school was when he started to get into trouble a lot. By the time high school came around he was into drugs and even alcohol. He managed to get away with it until sophomore year, when his parents found his stash. They promptly kicked him out. Since he was kicked out, he had nowhere to go and no one would take him in. The result left him homeless, but he wasn't an addict anymore- he couldn't afford the drugs anymore, let alone the alcohol. He never had time to explore his sexuality, and at first, he thought about selling his body on the streets to get money for the drugs... But he quickly found that he didn't have the heart to do so... The results of the drugs he used left him a paranoid and crazy at times... That was when he was 16... Now he's 25. It's been almost ten years since he started being homeless. Despite his age, he still looks fairly young. He has grown to live with his situation, often going without food most days or even taking a bath. The winters are the worse... Yet here he was still kicking. Samuel is usually shy until he gets to know someone, however he keeps to himself and doesn't talk to the other homeless very often. He is severely shy around most strangers. Likes: Alcohol, petting the stray dogs and cats, baths/showers, classical music Dislikes: Drugs, being unclean, feeling trapped- he is claustrophobic and will pass out Ah, the life of the slums couldn't get any better. Little Sammy's ass hurt from the hard pavement below him but it simply could not be helped as he couldn't afford even a pillow to sit on. Being homeless taught Samuel that many things in life you didn't need to survive, but merely wanted as a luxury item. Nearly ten years opened Sam's eyes to all kinds of things. Such as the inequalities in life... Money, power... the poor strays on the streets with no home to belong to. Much like him, there were a few strays running about. He liked them and had been naming them. They were his only friends, the only ones who listened to him and who he could totally trust to keep his secrets. They couldn't talk back to him, they could cuddle him and keep him comfort. Hell, he didn't even have to say anything for one of the cats to make their way to him. His favorite cat, about a day ago, disappeared. It was a Siamese named Hayze. A shy cat that reminded him of himself. At first the cat was skiddish, like he was when he first met people. It seemed constantly paranoid, like he was... And it didn't take long for him to grow attached to the cat. He had known it for three years now... Hopefully it didn't get hit or something... Samuel's current 'home' had been taken over some other homeless people. He was gone for a couple hours, and now other homeless were living in his makeshift home... But it didn't matter. They probably needed it more anyway... It wouldn't surprise him if he died within a couple weeks anyway- maybe days, he thought as his stomach grumbled quite loudly. He was surprised his stomach could still do that because he thought for sure his stomach ate itself long ago... Sometimes, when he would walk around the town, which was actually a block radius because by now he got exhausted easily. The lack of food made it very difficult to stay in shape. Sure, he went dumpster diving at least once a day. If he was lucky he would find something, but not all the time he was so lucky. Other times, if he found food, he would give it away to some other homeless person or even one of the stray cats, believing that they needed it more than he did. He hardly ever spoke anymore, it was to the point that when he did, it sounded kind of hoarse and sore. Yep, being homeless sure was fun... Not really... But at least he wasn't addicted anymore. It was hard at first... It was hard being homeless too. His clothes were grungy, his hair was grungy, hell, he was grungy. Practically covered in filth, holes in his shoes, dirt on his skin and in his hair -which really needed a cut-, clothes tattered; old and very worn as well as dirty- Well, he was the definition of homeless, now wasn't he? Samuel let out a soft sigh as he rested against the cold building behind him. He was sitting on a public sidewalk with a tabby in his lap. It's name was Clover, he decided. By now he really didn't care about what he looked like nor his current condition nor the people who stared at him funny... For him, it was only him and the cat on his lap... He didn't need anyone else... On top of it all he was running a high fever, so he was feeling a little out of it more than usual. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Necrophile666 Posted May 13, 2017 Share Posted May 13, 2017 Name: Max Hale Age: 27 Hair: Black, curly, a little long. Eye color: Grey - blue Height: 6'1" Build: Broad, muscular. Max grew up competing in martial arts, and while he's lost some muscle mass over the years due to stress and poor diet, he's certainly still very solid and well defined. Occupation: ER Nurse Background: His family was mostly over seas, across the pond in good old Limerick. He'd never known anything less that middle class, though he was well versed in loss. Having money, didn't mean you could keep people from growing distant, from dying. That was common knowledge, that didn't take a degree in Nursing to know. Max had learned that all by the time he was 18. And somehow he found himself in that place where people often teetered on life and death, the ER. He'd knew all about sitting in the waiting room, tapping your feet, trying to numb out everything while focused on the somehow sterile and dirty feeling one got watching hospital floors. He knew all about trying to sleep in the most uncomfortable chair possible, if one could sleep at all, or being half crap over the foot of the bed, listening for alarms. He felt for each person who came in that door, not for the patients so much as he did their family, knowing what it felt like to dig out insurance cards that weren't your own. Shift was a loose term in the first floor Emergency department. Shift could mean a lot, from "I'm here to cover four hours" to "I'm here the next eighteen, please keep the coffee pot full." The job wasn't fun, it wasn't all heart attacks and car accidents, there were the drug addicts, with the pain so bad ibuprofen wasn't enough, the people wiggling out over their prospective cancer, and then household accidents, dad's cutting this fingers. Sundays were the busiest day of the week, people would get an injury on Friday or Saturday, and then wait out the weekend until Sunday night. Then everyone and their mother flocked to the Emergency Room, almost literally. And then people were getting angry with triage because of wait times, and then the nurses in turn became aggravated with the nagging or childish tone their patients insisted on using with them. It had been a particularly long night for Max, who'd started at three on Sunday afternoon, and didn't get out until seven, Monday morning. He needed to get Sundays off, he noted in his head as he road the bus most of the way home. He also ought to invest in a car, it wasn't like he couldn't, he had the money. He'd just like the simplicity of not using it. There was something nice about being entirely self reliant, something he really valued in not touching the money he'd been left in his grandfather's will. Besides, if he actually found the motivation to move, he'd use the money to get himself across the ocean and into Ireland, closer to his grandmother. She was seeming ever more lonely in her old age. The bus dropped him about two blocks from his apartment, but Max knew a short cut was that would get him there in half the time. It was a mere six or seven minute walk, though in the cold it was more like ten. It could feel like twenty when it was especially biting out, but this morning wasn't like that. It was cold, but it wasn't bitter out, not yet anyway. He'd probably jinx it, say it was pretty good for this time of the year, and the next thing he'd know it would be shitting snow all over the city. Max chuckled to himself, strolling along his normal route home, watching out for the discarded furniture and people left out to the elements. For their sake, he hoped he hadn't just cursed the weather. The homeless were basically the cities dirty laundry, unwanted furniture left out for free on the curb. Though recently they'd been trying to clean it up, maybe not by implementing more or better shelters, helping the youth get back on track. Recently they thought issuing tickets to drug users in the city parks would help. It made Max's stomach turn. It wouldn't keep from doing drugs, it would just keep them from doing them in the parks. Which was exactly what they needed, right? So instead they could drugs downtown or in alleyways. Because that was exactly how to fight homelessness and drugs around here. Ireland was sounding better and better. Max always had cash on hand. Well, maybe not always, but at least eight times out of ten, he had something to spare the people on his way to or from work. He could certainly afford it, there was no thought in his own mind that he couldn't spare something, it was just that sometimes he forgot. It was more routine now though. He argued with himself over whether he was actually helping or not though, on one hand he could be handing out money for them to get drugs, but who was he to determine what got someone through the day... Besides, maybe it made a difference to them. Maybe that 3-5$ meant they could get dinner. Though maybe that too was wishful thinking considering a cup boy coffe often ran 3-5$, Max considered as he quietly tossed a couple bucks into an old, familiar cup. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Exellda Posted May 13, 2017 Author Share Posted May 13, 2017 It was really cold out today, a reminder that winter was almost here and that he would have to fight tooth and nail to make it without his makeshift home. Food would be more scarce. A small gust of winter wind blew practically through him, freezing him to the bone. Samuel simply did not understand how the cat in his lap was not cold. Perhaps it was because the cat had a warm fur coat and he did not. The frail male actually felt envious. The cat had no worries. He was the one who was starving, cold and incredibly dirty. He couldn't lick himself clean like the cat, otherwise he would. This year it seemed like the winter would be more relentless. He wouldn't be surprised if he died of frost bite as he could barely feel his fingers or toes. Sitting with an empty stomach, he had to focus to keep himself from falling asleep. He should have just stayed near his makeshift him, regardless of the intruders... Because now that he was sitting here on an empty stomach, he had no ambition to get up... So he was freezing right now, the only thing that kept him from being super cold was the warm cat in his lap. The rags and torn cloth he had clipped together with a couple safety pins he found was the only thing protecting him from the wind besides the clothes he had on. Samuel found himself shivering, yet trying to hold still so the cat wouldn't feel inclined to move. Clover was his only source of warmth. After a while Samuel found himself nodding off. While he was bitterly cold and miserable, his face felt hot and his head ached. Visibly, his hands looked nearly white compared to his face which was a dark pink. He simply didn't have much strength to stay awake- until he heard someone approach. From what he could tell, it was that same guy- who's name he never knew, that usually gave him a couple of dollars. He frequently passed by here and for whatever reason one day decided to give Sam money. If there was another reason he probably was still alive, it would be this guys, along with some other random strangers. In all honesty, Samuel wanted to hide, sink into the background and vanish from the other man's sight. However he didn't move as the other gave him a couple of bills again, his eyes were the only thing that followed him, watching him carefully. Whenever he received anything from a stranger, be it money, food clothes- anything, he usually made the effort to thank them. After all they didn't have to do anything. After a couple of years, Sammy stopped begging. Sometimes he'd leave a sign next to him but other than that whenever someone gave him something, it wasn't because he asked, it was because they wanted to give it to him, no questions asked. Any time this guy would give him money, Sam swore they always made eye contact. The man's eyes were so intense. Samuel only wanted to shrink the more the other male stared at him. If his cheeks were not already pink from the cold and the fever he was running, he was sure the other male would have noticed him blush out of shyness and embarrassment. Sammy liked to think that he didn't need any help as he was perfectly fine taking care of himself... Samuel knew that was a lie, but still, he didn't know this man and strangers seemed to really intimidate him. Sammy didn't like to talk much, especially if he didn't know the person. For him, everyone was a stranger, including his own parents... Even so, he at least tried to muster a simple, "Thank you." He says quietly, to the point that it is almost not even heard over the wind. A cough escaped him and Sam did the best he could to cover his mouth with his arm. His cough shook his body, unfortunately waking the cat in his lap, startling it, and making it run away. The expression Sammy made when the cat left him could only be described as glum. To make matter worse his hands shook beyond his control, slightly numb from the cold. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Necrophile666 Posted May 14, 2017 Share Posted May 14, 2017 Max thought himself a coward, when he went through this same part of his routine. This kid reminded him of the boy he couldn't save, the one that go so far out of his reach he fell off the map entirely. As he gave a polite nod to the the young man there, he found himself studying the unwell look he seemed to have. There wasn't much he could do, this guy probably didn't have health insurance, probably didn't even have any form of ID. He certainly didn't have the money to go to the hospital. But he didn't look well. Max wasn't a doctor, he wasn't certified to make a diagnosis, or a treatment plan. But what if it was Daniel? It made his heart drop a little to think about. Max slowly turned, beginning to walk away, and then he paused. He turned back, and took a few steps closer, crouching down after a moment. He was still in his navy blue scrubs, still smelled of hospital - a cologne of cleaners, rubber, and chemicals - his hair was messy and he looked tired. But he knelt there slowly still. What was he even going to say? By the time he'd decided to take some kind of action, he'd entirely forgotten what he was going to say. For a moment, all he could think about was how he let Daniel face the same life this guy did. Max had let them grow distant until his only friend was an entirely different person, thin and sunken in. The sweet kid his little brother had introduced him to had turned to someone depressed and constantly aggravated. Daniel hadn't been Daniel the last time Max had seen him. In fact, the last time he'd seen him, Daniel had acted like he didn't know him. Perhaps he didn't now. Drugs could do that to a person, life on the streets could do that to a person. "Um... You aren't well, what doesn't feel right?" He asked after a moment, eyes assessing the young man like they would a patient. "I have a med kit, I might be able to at least give you some medicine if you can tell me what's wrong?" He felt nervous there for some reason, getting that feeling that by offering some help he would was going to get way more involved than he intended. Was that a bad thing though? He'd want someone doing the same for Daniel, wouldn't he? But if he was outright rejected there'd be nothing for him to do. He felt he still might have the urge to drop a bottle of ibuprofen in the cup for him though. He wasn't there yet, he reminded himself, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Exellda Posted May 24, 2017 Author Share Posted May 24, 2017 From what he could tell, especially now that he got a closer look, Sam could see that this guy was a doctor of sorts. He couldn't tell what kind of job the other male had, but he did know that the guy would have some medical knowledge. Samuel was surprised when the man turned around and came back to him. It was too bad he was 'frozen' stiff, otherwise he might have ran for it. The man not only came back but he crouched down. Then the man started talking to him and Sam had to really focus on what he was saying. His body screamed for him to go to sleep, begged for rest. He should have sought out shelter earlier. He stayed here all night, so what was another day? The sound of snot clogging up his nose was evident when Sammy tried to breathe through his nose. Had he heard that correctly? This guy wanted to give him a 'hook-up'? Well, not really a hook-up... But medicine to help him feel better? Shit. Samuel felt like he could cry at the thought of being relieved of the headache he had. While normally he wouldn't be so willing to accept, the possibility of relief and the potential to get better sooner was a great temptation for him. Not to mention this guy was a doctor- or so Sam thought. If he was offering medicine it would be stupid of him not to accept... Right? Hardly anyone nowadays was kind enough to spare a bill, let alone medicine. With heavy lidded eyes and furrowed brows Samuel inhaled softly before starting up a list of everything that was making him feel 'sick'. "Runny nose, sneezing, coughing..." And as he said that, a sudden wave of coughs racked his body. About twenty seconds later, and with a hoarse voice he continued, "Sore throat... Headache... I think I have a f-fever..." His voice was small, ragged, hoarse and even nasally due to his stuffy nose. Besides the fact that he was hungry and starving- he was bitterly cold and exhausted. A part of him just wanted it to end already... Samuel didn't just look sick, he sounded sick. If this man was going to be gracious to give him anything, please at least let it cure his headache! However, Sammy didn't want to ask for anything in particular. Whatever the other guy would give him he'd make due with. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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