Name:

Michael Evans

Gender:

Male

Age:

26 going into 27

Appearance:

Standing at 5'7, Michael isn't the tallest person among a crowd, nor is he the shortest either. He has black hair, that is a really dark shade, like jet black; it is straight, and cut short, to middle ear length. Clean-shaven, which makes him appear a bit younger than he actually is. Usually wearing casual clothes, loose enough to be comfortable but (especially on the pants) tight enough to withstand activity, usually cheap things, not too fancy, but practical.

He has a slender build, with muscles from physical activity, but not bulging or large by any means; nothing you would be able to see unless wearing shorts and a short sleeve shirt. Imagine a cat, strong, but still slender. He is stronger physically than he appears. Has at least one hidden knife somewhere on him. Naturally pale skin, for specifcs, it is 'fair'. Very unusual eye color, gray, like concrete, not too light nor too dark; or perhaps like stone. He has more angular features, but unlike some, his face isn't all sharp; soft and angular at the same time, if that makes sense. Michael has a British accent, enough to be noticable, but not enough to alter the way he speaks; it does get thicker when he's experiencing strong emotions, like those who speak a different language will often revert to their mother tongue when startled or such. Said accent is what would be considered a more upper-class sounding one.

Michael is a highly independent person, very self reliant; he likes doing things his own way, even in stressful situations there is always a little bit of a sense of clarity. He will make a plan, even if it is just a chalked outline of a plan, and do his best to execute it. He isn't the type of person to sit and wait to be rescued, or to feel helpless and hope for help. No, he is the type to save himself, he knows he can handle himself without needing help. Perhaps it goes without saying that he does not appreciate someone else making a decision for him. He's not quite a free-spirit, but he does have a few traits of one. His independence can be considered one such trait.

Interestingly, Michael is a bit quick-tempered in most cases, he has always been like that. He has had years to learn how to control it, or at least know when to remove himself from an upsetting situation before he loses it. Mostly his anger is a cold, seething thing; but there have been times when he was younger that the anger turned from cold to hot and blew up. Even now, sometimes that temper can slip through his defenses, and make him say something he may regret later when not angry.

A thing about this male is his caution, while he does know that there are times when risks need to be taken; and he personally thinks that he is a good judge of when the time to be careful and when to be bold comes. Naturally tending on the cautious side, he will be wary of any strangers for a while, not a person who trusts easily as some you may meet do.

Some people cannot deal with being on their own, while some seem to get on well with only themselves as company, and a few seem to thrive being solitary. Out of these three main catagories, Michael seems to be stuck between thriving and getting on well; he can get along with other people, and depending on their personality, maybe enjoy it; but he will need his alone time. He is definitely not an extrovert. He isn't a fan of large crowds, and is the type of person to have a small group of close friends, rather than a large entourage of people that he doesn't really know. The sure thing about this aspect, is that he is not someone who does badly with little to no social interaction for a little bit; he does just fine on his own, can amuse himself and tends to enjoy the quiet and solitude most often than not. But not adverse to people, sometimes, he can get on well with them, but his default is being alone.

This man is observant, alert, whichever word you'd like to use for it. Normally, he at least has a good grasp of what's going on around him; sure, there are times where he is distracted by something else, and sometihing may slip by his attention, but he doesn't have eyes everywhere and it's a perfectly normal thing. Besides, he's already more aware of his surroundings than...a good amount of people in modern times, interestingly. Amusingly, when in certain social interactions, he can be a bit oblivious himself, it makes sense though. The very smart people can also be absolute idiots at times, those graceful ones can be quite clumsy sometimes, and so on. So it makes sense that an observant person can have things just fly right over his head every now and then.

Michael is quite creative. He is the type that usually gets ideas at random times, either while alone and his mind presents him with an interesting idea, or seeing something that makes something in him suddenly have a mental image and makes him want to draw it. And motivation seems to come and go, sometimes he has so many ideas floating around in his head; and sometimes it's like he can go for months without a true urge to do any artistic stuff. Not a head in the clouds type, daydreaming, but he does lend thought to interesting or random ideas in general.

Along with his independence, Michael can be quite persistent when he wants to be. Often bordering on stubborn, and sometimes crossing that line to just straight out stubborn. He usually will not stick to an opinion or choice if it is unreasonable; but he will sometimes be stubborn because he was insulted or if he feels it is necessary.

The man is open-minded, he is open to hearing new opinions and stances on all sorts of subjects. Everyone has unique beliefs and opinions, it is a fact of life. And not everyone thinks the same as others, so it is interesting to hear what they have to say about things.

Strengths:

-Artistic ability/creativity. Some may not consider this a strength, or one that is not worthy enough to mention; but artwork, paintings and drawings can connect people all over the world. Even those that do not speak the same languages or have the same culture. Sadness, joy, anger, experiences, and everything else can be mutually understood through art; just as it is with music. And Michael is very good at drawing, specifically; he has a promient natural talent for it, and he has taken classes and read and practiced for years. Even without references, his art is still recognizable as whatever the topic is. He does best with animals, mythical, real, extinct, or ones that exist in movies and shows. Not to say that scenery, buildings, and humans or humanoids are bad, he just naturally is better at creatures, needs less effort and time for a good drawing of an animal than a human which would take longer.

-Speed and agility. Quite quick on his feet, and has a tendency of wriggling into tight spaces where he, by all logic, shouldn't be able to get into; has always been like this, even as a child.

-In good shape, he likes to be active; running or walking, swimming, and climbing are the main ones he usually does. The swimming is in pools or shallower bodies of water, where he can actually see the bottom.

-

Weaknesses:

-Horrible sense of direction. Amazing, with his observant characteristics; but his instinctual sense of direction is so poor it might as well not be there.

-Thalassophobia; the often irrational fear of deep bodies of water, in his case the open ocean and such.

-Physically weaker than those who are built more for strength

-His stubborness

It was dark.

Night had fallen, cloaking the area in shadows. The only spots of light came from the full moon in the sky, a pale silver-white orb; the millions upon millions of stars, some barely pinpricks of visible spots, and some shining brighter and hotter than the rest. No clouds were in sight in the sky, not even a wisp of them. And so the sky, which appeared black in some places, and a dark blue near the moon, was spotless save for the scatterings of stars and the always attention-grabbing moon.

The small house was darkened as well. Fitting, for the time of night the inhabitant was awake. A man sat at a table in his bedroom, a desk lamp shining light with just a trace of a warm golden tint. He held a sketchpad in one hand, a newly sharpened pencil and an eraser in the other. The drawing, still clearly not finished completely, was curious. The angle was as if it were heading to the viewer, but not head-on, from the side and forward. The dark gray marks on the paper depicted a bipedal creature running. A long tail curving as if to follow the path of the turn, slender body, jaws open and teeth exposed. The creature's forearms out, with lethal claws tipping each finger. Like it was running to attack whoever was looking at the picture. The man erased a bit of the eye, redrawing it so that it looked more proper with the angle the rest of the animal was positioned. The image had yet to get more precise details, but the creature depicted still looked fearsome; even in the sketch. A few quick marks to mark out the skull nodules; an erased and promptly redrawn toe and claw; some time spent on redoing the foreshortening of the muzzle, and subsequently the open jaws and exposed lines of teeth.

Then he got up, stretching as he took a few paces around the room. Picking up the drawing surface and the pencil and eraser, his gray eyes flicked over the shape of the Jurassic Park velociraptor, thinking back to what they looked like. He wasn't using a reference this time around, he liked to make it hard and not use any pictures except memory sometimes, it was easy to be reliant on a reference after all. He thought it was coming out well so far, even though his mind pointed out mistakes, it was yet to be completed, and he was aware that the creator was their harshest critic. Seeing faults in their work where others do not.

Suddenly, the level floor of the house disappeared, and he found himself on uneven, natural ground. His foot slid before he regained his balance. He blinked, looking around him with quick, almost jerky movements of the neck and head.

Where am I? He found himself thinking, he surely did not recognize anything, and he had to force down the rising panic down. It would not do to lose his head. But he still felt alarm coursing through his body, feeling rather like a lightning strike with how quickly it erased the relaxation and creeping tiredness from his mind. His body was tense, heartrate picking up quickly, and breathing starting to become more shallow and quicker than normal. He felt somewhat lightheaded, and his legs kind of weak, as if he were about to pass out with the pure shock of the sudden change of enviroment.

Closing his eyes tightly, he forced his rigid body to relax, deepening his inhales and exhales, mentally counting to ten in order to divert his thoughts. Then he started from ten to zero, focusing his mind onto the counting instead of freaking out about whatever the hell just happened. Once feeling calmer, he opened his eyes again. He was like, not too far from a...village? Yeah, that was a village, reminded him of pictures and artwork one would see about ancient times and where people back then lived in. His mouth opened, then closed, at a loss for words. Then he managed to get something out, in a quiet, almost strangled voice, perfectly summing up his current tangle of emotions.


"What the fuck."