TUMNUS, evan james (done!)

[Evan Tumnus]

EVAN JAMES TUMNUS

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Characters Personal Information

Name: evan james tumnus
Gender: male
Age: twenty-seven
True Age: twenty-nine
Hair Color: dirty blonde
Eye Color: brown
Skin Tone: fairly pale
Height: 5'10
Weight: 135 lbs.
Sexual Orientation: homosexual
How Did They arrive here: after a severe panic attack, evan locked himself in his closet, late at night, due to his imagination running away from him.
Years In Wonderland: two years.
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What Are They Like?

Likes:

• being useful
  
• pastries
  
• intelligent conversation
  
• hot tea
  
• classic literature

Dislikes:

• unnecessary physical contact
  
• being manipulated
  
• fast food
  
• noisy, disruptive sounds
  
• television

Turn Ons:

• soft voices
  
• gentle touches
  
• being courted
  
• responsible
  
• energetically replenishing

Turn Offs:

• pain
  
• anger
  
• arrogance
  
• harsh words
  
• rude manners

Nervous Habits:

• placing himself in another perspective
  
• growing lethargic when contemplating
  
• awkward smile

Fears:

• guns
  
• falling in love
  
• bear attacks

Appearance:
evan stands at an even 5'10 at 135 lbs. His build is slim and lanky, often considered too skinny. his hair has the natural "bedhead" style, though this is less because of his prudent grooming and more because of his lack of caring. while hygiene is incredibly important to him, evan doesn't honestly mind what his hair or clothing looks like most of the time.

where ensembles are concerned, buttoned blouses, turtlenecks, and corduroy pants are his preferred style. evan enjoys warm and cozy clothing to anything that actually looks good, and half the time none of the colours match. but evan's mind, so caught up in itself, rarely has the time nor patience to spend much time over his body's appearance.

Personality:
evan is instinctively driven to put himself in someone else's position. without his conscious consent, he feels and experiences what his mind conjures up as they're feelings. while he's by no means psychic, evan is incredibly talented at retaining nigh photographic memories, from anything to his last page in a book to a person's speech, word-for-word.

the man sees his skill, normally referred to as an "eidetic personality", as both a hindrance and help. while it greatly increases his ability to relate and assist others, it's also deeply troubling.

evan can experience extreme distress when confronted with a traumatic circumstance. on one hand, evan is repulsed and highly bothered by this deep rooted need to be of use, even when he knows he's being take advantage of. but to others, his state of mind is considered a fantastic gift. he's inclined to disagree. still, when he knows he can be of help, evan'll forego much of his own well being if necessary.

when evan feels as if he's growing too close to someone, it's common for him to panic and suddenly feel the need for space. on some level, he doesn't want to feel dependent on someone else, which is what he fears will happen should he develop any lasting bonds.

because of this, he hasn't really made any friendships, despite his years in wonderland. he avoids people as a general rule, leaving his solitude only when seeking nourishment.

during times of deep stress, evan will often slip into a state of constant lethargy. his mind becomes overtaxed, and he experiences little to no joy for days at a time. it's common for him to slump in posture, his eyes to grow dark circles, and heaving great sighs. despite his body's sudden slowing however, evan's mind is usually running twice its normal speed, for the cause is generally an overtly generous workload.

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How Their Life Is / Was

Father: joseph
Mother: elizabeth
Sibling/s: n/a
History:
as a young child, evan was frequently the one who was treated inadequately by other children. with his bizarre english accent coupled with a particularly sensitive attitude, he was more often than not avoided, rather than outright bullied.

hailing from boroughbride, north yorkshire, evan was born to a scottish family. they always treated him with kindness and love, if not a bit neglecting. the boy lived in his hometown for several years, up until his ninth birthday, when his parents decided for a change of scenery.

after settling into a large home on the outskirts of philadelphia, evan handled the culture shock astonishingly well. while it took him some effort to settle into the groove of western society, along with the twelve hour clock, he did well adjusting. and, though he may not have had numerous friends, he wasn't opposed to talking openly and communicably.

however, during the summer of his thirteenth year, evan experienced the cornerstone of his childhood trauma. while running a few evening errands for his mother, he entered the small grocery for that night's dinner. soon after stepping over the threshold, however, he knew something was wrong.

immediately, evan was roughly hauled in front of a strong body and, unmistakably, felt the blunt, metal tip of a gun held forcefully to his head. through his panic-stricken mind, the boy was able to vaguely recognized that he was being held hostage. he watched through wide eyes as the cashier fearfully piled all the available cash onto the counter, even emptying his own wallet, and eyeing the child nearly encompassed by the large criminal. evan can still feel the way the muzzle of the gun dug into his temple.

after hurriedly dumping the money into his double strapped bag, the robber shoved evan to the ground and, within seconds, had disappeared.

hour long minutes passed before sirens were heard in the distance. distinctly, evan can recall his words to the questioning detectives, the sight of his mother, pale faced. the feel of her heaving chest to his cheek as she held him to her tightly, rocking and sobbing. his father's solemn gaze, struggling with words, and finally settling on pulling both wife and son into an ardent embrace. the way evan's breathing still hadn't evened out, his heart's fearful pounding, and the violent trembling of his entire body.

since then, evan's uncanny ability has been more of a hindrance than blessing. despite this, he can't seem to stop wanting to help people. some primal urge drives him to be of assistance, and try as he might, he can't beat it down.

because of his, evan had spent years training into a psychologist position. in some reversed twist of fate, he opted for the chance of talking to criminals and evaluating their mental health.

Roleplaying Sample:

"Absolutely ridiculous. Blasted children think they can just paint willy nilly and leave for lunch without a second thought."

Basil's grumbling, though helping to assuage some of his irritation, did nothing to further speed up his cleaning process. Being a man of numerous hobbies, he had opted to leave the craft hut unattended, though with a very obvious (he even used glitter!) sign to all those who entered to please clean up after themselves.

But no, his wishes went unheard, yet again. He wasn't unaccustomed to cleaning the place at the end of the day. Hell, he expected to, working at a summer camp. But what he was unused to was the sheer amount of mess littering nearly the entire room. There were paint splatters on the walls, on the floors, on the ceilings. Clay was left out to harden, the pottery wheel still spinning with a misshapen lump slowly rotating, various crayons, markers, and gimp scattered all over the counters. For God's sake, even Basil's desk wasn't left untouched. The fact that he rarely cleaned the thing at all was a thought he shoved to the back of his mind.

On hands and knees, the man scrubbed furiously at a spot where a canary yellow paint bucket had toppled from a high shelf and spilled its contents. Typically, being someone that always had a back up plan, Basil would have scooped the gooey substance back into the can, for this was expensive material and there was no need to waste. Unfortunately, this wasn't ordinary paint. It was a fast-drying sort that held true to its name, which only aided in infuriating Basil even more.

"Bloody children are so disrespectful," he muttered, gritting his teeth as sweat beaded on his temples, "Not a single person responsible enough to forgo their lunch in favour of making my life a little easier."

With an aggravated exhale, Basil threw the brush to the floor and stood up, pacing quickly over to the counter, where his hands immediately began scooping up various items and piling them into the appropriate drawers.

Was it that remarkably difficult to act like a human being? Scratch that-- a decent human being. Obviously, it must be simply ghastly to even contemplate, for there seemed to be no teenager on the planet that grasped the concept of respect. Was there truly that big a gap between maturity and greed?

"Underdeveloped, manipulative, needy neanderthals, the lot of them.."

word count: 401

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(OPTIONAL)

A Bit About You

Name: stormy <3
Age: 17, 18 next month =D
Experience: 4 or 5 years.
How you found the site: affiliate on looking glass.