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 Posted: Thu May 28, 2009 9:32 pm
 This is the journal of Javaid Mazin, played by Ieeko. Please do not post here without the owner's permission.
The character(s) featured within this journal are not for sale. If you would like one, please visit the main thread.
Writer: Javaid Mazin
Character: Luke
Story: The Flute of Rain
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Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2009 10:42 am
[ A Little Fall of Rain ]
"...I don't feel any pain
A little fall of rain
Can hardly hurt me now
You're here, that's all I need to know
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
And rain will make the flowers grow..."
» A Little Fall of Rain | Contents
» My Heart's From San Francisco | Javaid Mazin
» I Believe in Precious Stories | The Flute of Rain
» Children Won't Grow Up | Luke: Extended Information
» There are Faces I Remember | Acquaintances
» The Orange Luggage Sack | Inventory
» You Will See in Time | Pictures
» The Unexpected Journey | RP Log
» Making All of the Difference | Credits
» The Flute of Rain | Workshop Form
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:24 am
[ My Heart's From San Francisco ]  Name
Javaid "Javi" Mazin(Jah.Vay.Dd Jah.Vee Maw.Zeen)Age
25 Yrs.
Sex
Male
Hometown
San Francisco, California, U.S.A
Physical Description
Javaid is rather tall in regards to his height, posessing a pair of gangly legs accompanied by an equal set of gangly arms; both of which are attached to a larger, lean torso. It would seem at times that he is disproportionate given the size of his torso, hands, and feet in comparison to his limbs. Nevertheless, Javaid is scarcely self-conscious or anxious in regards to his blessed height; it's a mundane article, as mundane as his wide-nostriled nose. His skin tone is a darkened tan, reddish-brown in color. Resting sloppily upon his head is a mop of frazzled, puffy, dark chocolate brown hair, from which a small pony tail puffs and extends. His eyes are an extremely dark brown, which appears almost black.
Javaid's fashion sense is somewhat sporadic, if not modern in touch. He wears thin t-shirts, typically over longer button-ups. Such t-shirts are often patterned with stripes, with polka dots, or an array of varying patterns. However, they are never graphical. Jeans are his pant garment of choice, falling over his brown boots in their casual slack.
Personality
Sheepish and introverted, Javaid comes across as a quiet man embedded in an eternal debate of logic. While not socially timid, there is an awkwardness which shines through - notably that his conversational habits are sometimes rather poor. Even so, there's a general niceness behind his quizzical and irritable faces. That is, provided a toe has not been stepped on. He is a logical person, with an innate tendency to question his surroundings and situations. After all, all things must be based in that realm - even the fantastical must have some form of explanation, although reality can not be backed by fantastical evidence. Such is his philosophy.
Underneath such a strict philosophy is nothing more than a child, however. A child who believes in precious stories and their ability to capture - and one with an instinctive grab at classical fairy tales within all of their contexts. Javaid is a fan of all fairy tales of which origins he knows. However, his primary influence comes from the likes of Lewis Carol, J.M. Barrie, and, to a degree, a variety of mythologies. With a fantastical style based in such innocent, fairy tale worlds, it appears somewhat Grimm that Javaid's material drifts into darkened territory on a flimsy whim.
Background
Javaid was born to an immigrant couple in the fall of 1984. His parents had migrated from Iran just the previous year, seeking the construct that was the West - for they were among western enthusiasts in a less than liberal Iran. Javaid never learned of their stories, nor would he have ever known the nature of Iran at the time, or even within the present. He was raised in San Francisco, a city where people 'danced with flowers in their hair'. Or so the old song lyrics stated contrary to the world of reality.
His childhood was normal. He attended a public elementary school, where he performed upon average levels. He then attended a public middle school, where he, again, performed upon average levels. It was not until his high school years that his academics began to shine. He took a liking to English, the rest becoming history as he dropped out his senior year to pursue a fantasy of writing novels. It was not a particularly wise choice, as he would later note. He worked a dead-end job to support himself and live on his own as he wrote his stories. Not one passed the merit in a tough world; yet, he continued onward regardless.
Eventually, Javaid would learn of a contest held by one of his favorite authors. It was a contest for a writing workshop. Specifically, it was a contest held for a fantasy writing workshop. Without hesitation, Javaid had taken up the offer and entered the contest.
Why He Applied ...
Javaid had applied for the workshop for several reasons: he was tired of working a dead-end job to live on Easy Mac, he wanted professional opinion, and he wanted to make a point to his rather stern parents who had never forgiven him for dropping out of high school. He was hoping to make amends, publish a novel, and earn the right to speak with his parents again. He saw the workshop as the perfect opportunity to perfect the story he had been working on for what had seemed an eternity.
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:24 am
[ I Believe in Precious Stories ] Story
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Character Cast
Luke
A young, peculiar looking boy born of the sky. He resides under the caring foliage of the Great Forest, held to the task of calling the Rain Dancer to prevent a drought.
Widow Bear
An old bear inhabiting a cave nearby Luke's tree nook nest. Luke commonly performs chores and visits her during harsh thunderstorms to escape the clatter and lightening. A motherly figure.
The Faun
The creator of the mythical 'Flute of Rain'. The Faun offers guidance, appearing only when necessary. It often speaks in riddles or poetic phrases, proving itself to be abstract. It is neither male nor female.
Wallace
A monster who dwells outside of the forest, dubbed Wallace for the sole sake of such having been his name once upon a time. His precise physicality is unknown, as no one has ever really seen him.
The Rain Dancer
The spirit of the rain, water, and life. She appears whenever the flute is played, bringing with her an onslaught of storms which may cease once the song itself has ceased. She resembles a deer.
Javaid's Notations
- Luke is heavy on travel, often exploring the boundaries of the forest without regard during the day, though rarely at night. A high pitched and peaking voice.
- Widow Bear is motherly and affectionate, quite nit-picky, impatient, and stern. Nevertheless, she is kindly and goodhearted.
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:25 am
[ Children Won't Grow Up ] Name
Luke(Ll.oo.ck)Age
??? Yrs.
Sex
Male
Species
Jumble-Beast
Physical Description
---
Personality
---
Character Role
---
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:26 am
[ There Are Faces I Remember ] . . . No One
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:28 am
[ The Orange Luggage Sack ] CD Player
Old, tattered, and mended with duct-tape. Javaid loves his CD player. Packed along with it are a few of his favorite CDs, primarily mixed ones he burned himself.
AA Batteries
The ever prepared young man that he is, Javaid was careful to pack himself a few batteries just in case his CD Player died while traveling to the island.
Spare Clothing
Spare pairs of pants, shirts, underwear, and socks. Javaid has a funny sense of fashion and his shirts tend to be odd with splattered dots or stripes.
Cell Phone
Everyone in the modern age has one; Javaid is no exception.
Pocket Knife
You never know when you'll need one. Javaid's is large, well sharpened, though it appears as old as his CD player, if not older. It looks to be a hand-me down and he cherishes it as such.
Hershey's Chocolate Bars
Javaid's favorite 'think food' is chocolate. He would never go anywhere without a package of bars in sight!
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:29 am
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:31 am
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:34 am
[ Making All of the Difference ]
"...The rain can't hurt me now
This rain will wash away what's past
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
I'll sleep in your embrace at last
The rain that brings you here ..."
Shop | Ladyumbra & Ieeko
Javaid & Co. | Ieeko
Official Artwork | Ieeko
Other Artwork | Respective Artists
Banners | Ieeko
Photoshop Brushes | Respective Brush Artists
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 12:43 am
[ The Flute of Rain ] Workshop Writings
His eyes had opened wide as the sound of thunder clattered above him. The shrill pitter-patter of rain beat away at the ground, the occasional droplet finding a way to leak into the tree nook where he rested. Luke hated the rain. He hated the thunder; he hated the puddles. More so than that, he hated being trapped indoors, his slumber disturbed by the sudden appearance of a storm.
Stretching his small limbs, Luke had sat up within his nest. Fragile needles of dried grass and twigs clung to the fabrics of his striped sweater. He had quickly brushed them away, quirking as the occasional bit found reason to prod his skin from beneath its case. His fingers had picked away at them, dropping them to the ground as if they were nothing more than loose waste. As he tended to his own grooming, the sound of lightening startled him. His body had jerked, his tail firmly hitting the ground as his chest heaved; his head had snapped towards the opening of his nook so that he might watch the droplets of water assault his home in a gathering hoard of liquid. When the shock had eased, his brows had furrowed. With a quiet huff, he had given his clothing a final brush. One day he would get back at the thunder and lightening; one day, he would prove to them that they could not startle him.
"What time is it...?" He murmured. He couldn't remember having fallen asleep, but considering he had been abruptly awaken from sleep, he supposed such had been the case. In truth, he could barely remember anything he had done the day before, or even hours prior. That moment seemed to be the only thing residing within him; that moment, the fear of the thunder, the lightening, and the sweet comfort of his nook well-lit by a lantern nestled against the inner trunk of the tree. Luke had rubbed his eyes, glancing at the lantern for a moment. It was burning brightly, as if the candle within its stomach had just been lit moments before. "It's night, I guess." He had squinted at it, his fingers rubbing away at his thick blue hair and tugging at his long ears as he thought. It didn't matter, he supposed. It was raining, and he was beginning to feel a chill running throughout his body. Each strike of lightening brought another chill, causing Luke to jolt and ponder. He didn't want to be alone with the elements; yet that was what he was. He was alone. Lodged there within his home and quietly wishing to be elsewhere.
As another boom rolled throughout the sky, Luke had furrowed his brows. His teeth had ground together as he angrily grabbed his lantern from it station on his wall. His canine feet had doddled, his tail keeping him balanced, as he swung about to gather a large leaf and stick he had fashioned into a petty umbrella. Alone. Alone was easy enough to fix, and finding good company was an easy way to vanquish the dragons toying with his nerves. The old widow bear lived within close proximity, and, as Luke knew, she always welcomed him with open arms in the evening hours. She loved his company as much as he adored her comforting, warm, tone. He simply prayed it was not too late within the evening for him to arrive for an unannounced visit. He couldn't tell, and he supposed it was uncontrollable. He did not want to remain there as the winds began to grow, casting water into his home rather than simply outside of it. It was flooding, dampening his straw and twig nest.
"I hate this. Why does it always have to rain? It feels like it's always raining out there." Luke's ears had perked as he set his make-shift umbrella over his head, holding it with the hand not preoccupied with his lantern. Inhaling a deep breath, he had taken a step towards his exit way to head into the storm. "Please be awake, please be awake." He had shut his eyes tight, picking his stubby legs up as he ran along the dirt path he had created to lead him directly to widow bear's cave. As he ran, he could feel his umbrella tugging away from him, the wind deviously attempting to steal it. He held fast to it with his one hand until a large gust snatched it, carrying it away into the sky as he was drenched head to toe. A loud gasp had escaped him as he clung to his lantern, waddling and fighting as he reached a portion of thick, heavy mud laying claim to his road. The lightening struck the ground near him, causing him to fall backwards and drop his lantern, emitting a cry. Once more it struck, in another spot, and then another, seeming to dance to the tune of a song softly playing somewhere within the forest.
Luke's ears had perked up high at the sound of music. His chest was heaving as he stood up, flinging mud from his dirty body. He had heard the song before, and with it came greater rain, a larger storm. It seemed to summon it, as if the forest sang to the sky in exchange for its thirst being quenched. The song's presence was enough to make Luke forget his lantern, leaving it encased within the mud as he hurried along vainfully until he finally found refuge within Widow Bear's cave.
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