Name: James Rushlic
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Occupation: Potter/Craftsman
Sexual Orientation: He has very little interest in either gender unless they inspire him.
Appearance:
- Brown eyed
- Wavy brown hair with some grey locks, it's normally sticking in all directions or tangled.
- 5'3"
- Light, scrawny built, weights even less for constantly forgetting to eat.
- Doesn't own a single piece of clothing that does not have at least a speck of paint on it.
James is constantly working. Most of his income comes from plain plates and bowls he makes, but his obsessiveness with perfection appears whenever he is commission to do decorative vases, urns, even the odd statue.
He is movement. He is constantly doing something, always. The only times he sleeps is when he collapses from exhaustion. Food is only acquired when his hands shake too much for him to work. When not in his workshop, he jittery, brimming with unused energy. His words are quick and sometimes slurred. He finds people tedious and uninteresting, and prefers to talk to himself rather then try to socialize.
The only way to get him to pause, to become anything but a hummingbird on a sugar high, is to ply him with alcohol until he has difficulty to walk. Those are the only times he quieter, in voice, and movement.
The constant need to have his hands busy and his mind cluttered so he won't remember, won't think about his family. How his wife stole his son and ran away to a better life.James whole life had revolved around his son the moment he became a father, wanting to better then abuser that had father him. To rise them away from poverty and give his child everything he never had. and when that was taken away, he cracked.
He spent everything he had to find them for years, and could not, until he had nothing left. Unable to continue looking for his son, he poured himself into his work until there was very little left of himself.
He doesn't want to die, but certainly isn't sure that he wants to keep living.
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