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Intervalic_Conductor Captain
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 Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 8:05 pm
 
Random Facts About Marcello
Date of Arrival: March 1st, 2007
Gender: Male
Guardian: Aiden Weinsel [Ieeko Takeru + Paul Revere]
Note: "Some things you see with your eyes, others you see with your heart."
Least Favorite Passenger: Unknown.
Most Favorite Passenger: Unknown.
Likes: unknown
Dislikes unknown
Personality: unknown
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Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 8:48 pm
 Quote: He had been tripping over himself since the start of that evening! The lights would seem to swirl. His stomach would begin to ache, and a dizzy nervousness would over-take him. Whether or not that had been over the idea of a formal dinner was for anyone to guess. The fact remained that he did not feel entirely like himself.
Then again, the entire evening had been filled with a few, though minor, taunting jabs over his own alias. He was Paul Revere. He was the messenger! That was how it would be forever and always - within his own mind. Unfortunately, with word of mouth and recognition, he was destine to forever grapple with truth and fiction. Or was he? Such a pessimistic claim seemed ludicrous. After all, it had been a dinner of which he had, unexpectedly, run into an old acquaintance. There was no proof he was forever doomed to live within his own shadow, was there?
Fixing the white rose contained within his dinner coat pocket, Paul had shifted a ticket out from within. It had been held up high enough for his eyes to scan it, then close enough to read it with great curiosity. For a time he had seemed absorbed in its very being - a meticulous behavior taking hold of him until he reached the door - the building - of which he assumed to be correct.
The streets were empty. Barren. Only street lights provided him company, and such a thing made him shiver in fear. Yet, not even the fear had been enough to make him depart with business unattended to. The ticket had plagued him many a nights - and many a show. He needed to put his mind at ease. That required action!
With a minor bit of hesitation, the young comedian had lifted one hand. With an almost brutal temper, he had slammed his fist against the door - sending a series of loud-volume knocks.
Paul Revere? No. Perhaps he needed to change his name for the evening. he would be ... Sherlock Holmes. The loud raps reverberated throughout the tiny shop and junction below and, needless to say, it's inhabitants were not at all too happy with this intrusion. The moments slid by unwitnessed by any other soul, leaving Paul and denizens of the junction itself, in a calm.
The door before Paul opened swiftly by no visible cause but most would consider the pitter patter, scratching noise somewhat of a give away that the portal had been helped to be opened. The unfinished shop was packed with boxes but obviously well kept. The floors were swept and mopped and the shelving and light fixtures were well dusted, yet the mounds of packages had yet to be sorted through.
Paul was greeted with nothingness, and most importantly, darkness. Only the muffled sounds from down the halls broke the silence.
"Stop being nosey and just get down here so we can finish this then." Came a shout nearing feral growl. The source had obviously been from down below, somewhere in the darkness.The sheer swiftness of the opening door had caused Paul to topple himself. In a frenzy, he had jumped - his arms taking on an almost ridiculous position before he settled down; the tenseness fled like rodents in a field infested with cats. A heavy sigh had been sent forward as he had leaned a little to peer inside. The first rule of mystery solving was to be cautious - and, as he would consider the venture, it was his mystery to solve.
A bout of delight had struck him as the entire ordeal became a game of clue. The ticket was the first puzzle piece. Of course, his logic suggested that there were more - even if there truly were not. The same wariness had continued as he had stared into the darkness - so few items making debut in his vision. He saw boxes, packages, things that would suggest the place to be antique and abandoned. The only exception to counter his view was the cleanliness of which he witnessed.
Like a skittish child, Paul had smiled at the darkness - until, once more, he had been startled. Muffled voice, barely loud enough to hear, had filled the air - followed by a growl that had been enough to nearly make the man fall over again. Snorting a little, he had retorted in an almost pouting manner: "Go down there? In the dark? They warn you about that in the movies!" He had declared, seemingly not pleased with such an idea of going 'down there'. It was ominous. Yet, gravity tugged at him - or rather his game of Detective. For a grown man, his mind was flooded with the imaginative tendency of a toddler. Even with protest, he had complied and ventured towards the source of the voice - the growl. "For sake of something, I'm coming, though!" Paul had taunted deviously. He had gone into the darkness with more enthusiasm than ever intended, enough to make him trip and stagger the entire way down. Given the motion, he rose had flipped from his pocket and landed on the floor below. He had only missed stepping on it by a few inches. "Well proceed with all haste, you're nearly late already." The gruff voice called up once more. There was a shuffling sound from obvious movement and after a creek and a click, light spilled throughout the landing of the junction. Johnathan sat upon a bench by a locket ticket hut. He fiddled with his eye patch in a disgruntled manner. A borrowed log book rest open on his knee. He held a golden pocket watch in his hand and began to tap it annoyingly on his knee.
"I do say that my grandmother would be able to beat you in any foot race." He muttered more to himself than the visitor. "Oh come now, no one here has an ax and/or chainsaw. I assure that you will make it out of here in perfect condition. Stop your self wallowing fear." Paul had only picked up his flower and fiddled with it a little. His brown eyes had been filled with a bit of dissatisfaction. He was never late. Everyone else was simply early. A wry grin had crossed his face - his game even ensuing until proposition and ego had managed to shatter the world and make him a tad more grumpy than he may have been before. "I'm not scared of anything." He had said with as much sincerity as he could muster.
Lying - and clearly so. His face told a story. He was terrified of the dark - and probably even more terrified of a fight or death than the dark. Shaking his head to himself, a growing desire to be prompt had managed to flee his mind. His lips had puckered. A popping noise had been made. "Couldn't drop everything. Dinner Party. Hosting. Big deal." He spoken quickly, sharply, and with brutal pauses as if to mimic the tick-tock of a clock, a timer. Stretching his fingers, Paul had placed the rose back within his pocket. His eyes had flented to Johnathan. How tempted he was to ask for a name. It was customary, and polite, but he supposed there were no feeling of friendliness circulating. Who greeted someone with snarls and rigidness?
Ignorant of the hypocrisy of his thoughts, Paul had only nodded his head. "Where to, Mister...?" He had asked - holding the ticket up and looking at it stupidly. What a fool he was to look at, he supposed, but his mind failed him greatly. "Two seconds please..." Johnathan muttered as her glanced at the clock within his hand. The second hand ticked twice...
nothing.
Johnathan glared at the time in the book and then scowled at the pocket watch in his hand. It had been a full minute and he looked so dishevled at the fact that he was unable to summon what he should have. The time in the book had matched the time on his watch, yet still no event.
"I do-" And with a loud rush, squeal and scream of breaks on metal tracks, a large red train pulled into the station. The steam billowed as if mocking the rather peeved Johnathan. "You did that on purpose!" He shouted at the train.t Most would think him a mad man.
Johnathan heaved a sigh and glared back at the book on his lap.
"Compartment four, row seven... or is that a nine. I can't read this..." Another snort of dissaproval. Johnathan tapped the book with his thumb, allowing for seconds, maybe even minutes, pass before he raised his head once more.
"Why are you? ... Compartment four, row something or other, window!" He barked seeing that the imbecile infront of him hadn't moved. "And make it snappy, please."If Paul were to acquire anything out of the evening, he knew it would be a story to tell the crew when he returned to the motel room. They were going to love the idea of a dark room, doors opening on their own. With any luck, they would not think of him as drunk - as they had insisted over his little ticket and his infatuation with it.
There was also the striking character of a stranger - so rushed and disgruntled that Paul was not certain whether to be offended or sympathetic. Not that he cared either way. Stuffing the ticket away into his pocket, he had taken a few steps before the squealing train had stopped entirely. It's very emergence had put him on edge, but he had not jittered much out of fear of further barking from the strange man of no name. His talking to the train had been enough to put him further on edge. Who in their right mind spoke with a train?
Biting his lower lip, he had nodded twice, jumping and hurrying off at the insisting that he make haste in his visitation to the strange train - where ever it had come from. Life was certainly full of unexpected things. A ticket. A dinner party. A strange nameless man he was not sure he liked, and a train ... What else would be tacked onto his evening? No time had been given to think. Paul had nearly ran onto the train after shouting a husky "Yes Sir!" in a militaristic manner. He had even given a sarcastic salute before departing to the location of which the stranger had insisted on.
Compartment Four. Some row he was not certain of - and thus Paul was left to peer row for row himself to discover whatever it was he had been called for ... As Paul drew closer to seat number 'something or other' an evident mist appeared to rise up in the compartment. The lights seemed more dimmed at this part of the train and the silence...well it was far too silent for anything good to come out of it.
As Paul would halt at the 10th row, a tiny figure would peer up at him. Brown hair was swept elegantly over the child's forehead but the entirety of his face was obscured by an oversized scarf. A small pale but oddly luminescent yellow hanky was clutched in the boy's hand. The passenger lifted his tawny eyes to the guest, allowing for his brow to furrow and a frown to form upon his face, a look just daring for Paul to try anything. This kid looked like he was ready to take on the world.The young man had been more than oblivious over what he was looking for. He had checked row after row with curiosity - even going far enough to check underneath the seats. It was not until he had nearly reached the tenth that he had realized the sinister silence of the room. It had rattled his nerves more - reminding him of a time he did not particularly want to remember. The one topic he would never discuss - and of which people certainly knew not to talk about with his being in ear shot.
With determination, he had taken hold of his will. With strength he had preserved and pressed forward until he had finally encountered something within the dimming room of solitude. What he found awaiting him was the last thing he would have ever expected. A child. A child?
A pair of brown eyes met a pair of brown eyes, though reception of the seemingly unique meeting had been entirely different on both levels. Paul had not been amused with the idea of a lonesome train of unknown origin carry a child. He had not even been amused at the idea of - of ... What was being implicated? His mind had veered at the daring nature of the boy he had encountered. Vital and flooded, the boy was perfectly ready to fight be it so needed. All at once, the gloom had faded into something of suspense. The air had become saturated within Paul's mind, and he could feel himself suffocating under a brave stare. No words had been spoken - not until the boy had moved an inch. At that point, Paul had let out the loudest yell of a curse anyone would have paid to never hear - though utterly jumbled and seemingly foreign. "WHATTHEHELLISTHIS?!" He had said quickly before rubbing his eyes to make sure he was not hallucinating.
He was dreaming.
No. He was drunk.
Had he had anything to drink at all that evening?
The boy had clutched his hanky tighter. The look upon his face had become more sincere, more ready for the action. A particular glint had emerged within the pair of tawny eyes - enough to catch Paul off guard. Yet, it held the tone of 'don't touch me'. With tacit respect, Paul had ceased his spazzing, though he confusion had not subsided. He had backed away - and once more they had stared - only for the boy to prove his ability far enough to hop from the seat - his ridiculous scarf dragging on the ground and nearly tripping him. Still, the boy had not lost his composure. He stood. Paul stood - in an almost never ending stand off. That was, until Paul made a suggestion: "I don't like the idea of trains - and I don't think you do either. If we're going to stare it down, let's do it in a better setting?"
The boy had opened his mouth, then closed it. Nothing. No words. However, a gesture had been made. The boy had picked up his scarf and tossed it about until walking were easier. Then he had started off of the train - leaving Paul trailing behind in wonder of both a boy who looked so young walking and the idea of having found life on the stark locomotive. 
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Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 9:13 pm
 Name: Marcello Revere [Weinsel]
Origin of Name: La Boheme. [Opera]
Alias: Marc [Mark]
Species: Human / Passenger.
Font: Size 10 Army Green.
Age: Estimated: 5.
D.o.B: March 1st.
Zodiac: Pisces; Pig.
Note: Some things you see with your eyes,
others you see with your heart.
Guardian: Aiden Weinsel [Paul Revere]
Height: 3'5"
Weight: 60 lb.
Hair Color: Brown.
Eye Color: Tawny.
Distinguishing Marks: Undetermined.
Medical Factors: Undetermined.
Likes: Undetermined.
Dislikes: Undetermined.
General Attire: 1941 Winter.
Travel Inventory: Hanky.
'Image' Song: If We Hold On Together - Diana Ross
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Posted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 9:14 pm
Alias: Paul Revere.
Species: Human.
Sex: Male.
D.o.B.: April 13th.
Font: Size 11 Saddle Brown
Hair Color: Blond.
Eye Color: Brown.
Height: 6'3".
Weight: Unknown.
Occupation: Stand-Up Comedian.
General Place of Living: A Bus; Hotel Rooms.
'Image' Song: ---
Personality:
Aiden is a quirky, historical nutcase. As a youth, he could not focus on school, as it seemed to bore him to tears. Instead of pursuing a college degree, he quit and began hunting down a way to become a radio personality for talk shows in the morning, his only true dream. However, it proved increasingly difficult to gather support to become a radio show host. Like high school, Aiden became frustrated and decided to travel as a stand-up comedian, which has become his second greatest passion.
In more formal terms: Aiden is easily frustrated. He can't stand things being hard, thus, when they get too hard, he quits. He has an ever burning love for comedy, particularly regarding historical events, politics, or world issues. He's somewhat of a loud mouth, never knows when he should stop talking, and he absolutely can not stand solitude. He needs the noise to keep him positively sane.
Though, for the most part, open and vocal about himself, there are ... Qualities ... He prefers to keep private, generally regarding his hobbies, relationships, or general doings late nights on Saturdays after work. He's rather low down and shrewd, the sort of man a woman might be hesitant to approach in the fact that he is vulgar in his hilarity, yet, stunning in some awkward way. Like Marcello, Aiden has a particular charm to his voice that sometimes gets him out of the 'dog house' when he's placed himself inside.
He seems to have a great discomfort regarding his heritage in the fact that he was adopted. Wanting to distance himself from his adoptive parents after moving out, for he had not had a loving relationship with either of them, he changed his name to Paul Revere, creating an old world historical reference intended to be comedic.
Though he gave up on becoming a radio host, the dream remains, ringing strong. As a stand-up comedian, he has proven himself amusing to many a crowd, but, as he puts it, it "leaves him unsatisfied [like poor sex]". While he enjoys stand-up comedy, his goal in life was, and silently remains, radio hosting.
So, in summery, Aiden is very comedic and easily frustrated, a little angry at times, but always searching for jokes. He's a little shady in personality, vague during casual speech, and flowery in terms of his descriptions.
Background: ---
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2007 5:57 pm
Reiha and Adian Marcello's encounter with the two left a grave impression both for himself and his guardian. Out of curiosity over a fountain, Marcello had departed from the bus, only to find himself lost a without direction. Through a fluke he had encountered the two - only to discover they were anything but the sort of individuals he preferred to handle. Reiha, he believes, is a rather quirky girl with an obsession with her bird. Adian, on the other hand, he believes is a brute and a buffoon. On behalf of Paul's impression, one can suggest he was merely bewildered and developed little reference of the two. Regardless, Marcello's interaction and incident has left them both as part of a small in-joke and teasing game between the two Reveres.
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2007 5:58 pm
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2007 5:59 pm
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2007 6:00 pm
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2007 6:01 pm
I.U.J. (c) Hikari and Chao.
Character Concepts (c) Respective Players.
Official Artwork (c) Hikari.
Other Artwork (c) Respective Artists.
Banners and Dividers (c) Ieeko.
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Posted: Wed Aug 15, 2007 3:50 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 15, 2007 3:51 pm
There Is A Fountain : Journal
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