❖ ⁃ nearly human [tryout ;; dnp]

[furby.]

xxxx
xxxx
I. nearly human
xxxxxxII. where's your mother
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxIII. can't you see that you're lost
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxIV. no one knows where the lone wolf's gone


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[furby.]

Tell us about their change from night to day. How do they feel about it? Why does it happen? How does it happen? Are they cursed, were they born this way, or maybe even blessed? It's all up to you!

He opens his eyes.

It’s morning, he can tell by the way the light stings his eyes. Idiot. He chides himself, as he reaches for the sunglasses. Idiot. He states again once they’re on his face and he’s up and moving, closing the curtains and shutting the morning sun out of his small apartment.

He stretches, yawns, and wonders when exactly he fell asleep. From what he can tell it was on the couch. A normal occurrence. He grabs a ribbon from the magazine covered coffee table and ties his hair up in a bun.

He turns on the television, more for the background static then the actual content, and begins his mornings tasks of getting ready.

He briefly rememberers his mother, with her golden hair and golden eyes. Eyes like his. He doesn’t remember his father much, but his mother told him when he was young he had his golden fur. His mother told him a lot of things, that he was destined for greatness, that he was carrying the creator inside him, that he, one day, would stop being an ordinary kalon and ascend to something greater. After all he had the power too.

Back then, he took her words in, holding on to everyone. Now he laughs at them. A god? Far from it. He was only a kalon who happened to have a couple quirks, no big deal. He sighs as he thinks this, and as if to dismiss his point, a strong breeze sweeps through the apartment, knocking down books and decorations to the floor. He almost wants to laugh at the irony of it, however the realization he’s going to have to pick those books up stops him from it.

His mother named him Aeolus. He liked the name Sean. Pronounced Shawn. Changed it to that a couple centuries after her death. He can’t remember how long its been since he took that name. Time tends to blend together for a being incapable of aging. No age means no death of natural causes. Unless he catches a fatal disease or is murdered, Sean is here to stay.

He goes to sleep out on the couch within a few hours; he was always more responsible during the day.






He opens his eyes.

He throws the sunglasses, haphazardly hanging on his face, on the coffee table. He stretches, as he opens the window curtains, taking in the bright city lights that block out the stars and moon above. He pulls the ribbon from his hair and shakes his head to free his hair. His golden eyes reflect mischievousness and playfulness.

His fur is a navy hue. Identical to that of his mother.

“God, how boring.” He states aloud as he thinks over his day. No matter, it was always funner at night. He leaves the door unlocked and flees into the city.

Horns honk and a bass booms from the club nearby his apartment building. Sean smiles, as he skips through the city. He hears whispers from the people he pass, admiring him, envying him. He hears the word curse. A curse? No, no, far from it. It was a blessing. He was a blessing.

His eyes twinkle as he blows out of his mouth at the one who said that. A gust of wind blows through them, chilling them to the core. They don’t give him another look as they run home.

A blessing, he was a god. Anyone should be able to see it. From his feathering wings to his magnificent powers, he was made to be worshiped. He shoos the thought away. As carefree as he is, he knows where to draw the line. No, he was not a god. Just a greater than normal kalon. He didn't want worship. He wanted friendship, companionship, not worship.

Mother always favored him at night. During the day, he was dull, boring, reading books and learning. At night he was up, roaring commands and taking full advantage of the spell he had over her. She treated him differently at night, she bowed to his every whim and listened to all of his demands.

His mother named him Aeolus. He liked the name Sean. Same story, same thoughts.

Sean stays out all night, going wherever his feet take him. As the sun starts to rise, he skips on home, where he passes out on the same worn out couch he woke up on.




The change is something he’s indifferent too. It’s familiar, home. Whenever he passes out he wakes up as the other. It’s been that way since his birth he supposes. Sean’s mother thought he was blessed, told him it everyday. His father was afraid of his power and fled.

Sean can’t explain why it happens. His day self would say it’s just another quirk, much like his wings and mist. His night self would argue that it’s a gift, a power for him to achieve greatness. The two are different in that aspect.

The day represents reason, the responsibility, the normalcy of the two. The night represents his dreams, the outgoingness, the desires he wants to act on. Separated into two conscious, the Day and the Night make up two halves of Sean. And in the end, they are the same.

[furby.]

A series of short writings meant to describe the complicated relationship between Sean, referred to as his former name, Aeolus, and his mother, one of the most influential people from his childhood and young adult life.


I.
Outside of a bustling village, an old wooden shack sits, built into a dugout hill. The windows are closed and boarded. The shack is overgrown with vines and leaves from age, nature taking back what was once its own. As abandoned as it seems, inside the home a mother and child sit in the kitchen. A fireplace is lit that warms the entire dwelling. The child, a young kalon with golden fur, sits on the floor, playing with sticks and rocks. The mother stands by the wood stove, heating a kettle.

“Mother,” a timid voice calls, interrupting the silence between the two.

The mother smiles down at the small child. “Speak louder, Aeolus. Who would bow to someone who sounds so meek?” She commands, running a hand through his golden hair.

Aeolus nods, raising his voice as he speaks. “I… I want to play outside today.”

The mother frowns at this, shaking her head. “It’s not safe for you, Aeolus. There is a monster outside, big and blinding, made of fire and light. If he sees you, he will take your eyes.”

“M…my eyes?”

“Yes, you see Aeolus, you’re eyes- our eyes are different than others, they’re weak against the monster’s blinding rays and if you look at him, just once, he will steal your eyes.”

“But I prom-“

“Aeolus." She said in a tone of voice that made people stop and listen, "You will not go outside and that is final.”

His mother always got the last word with him. He wanted to go outside, he never had; At least when he was in his day form he hadn’t. At night mother would let him out. Mother treated him differently then. Aeolus went back to playing and his mother smiled, content with her son's abiding behavior.

His mother didn't look like him. He was the day to her night, his pelt ripe with golden hues while hers was dark as the night sky. They had the same golden eyes however. Mother never left the house, except on the days she needed to go to the market or the town, both places Aeolus was not allowed to go. She always wrapped a veil around her face when she did; to protect her eyes, she said.



II.
"Aeolus, come here please." His mother called out to the boy. She was sitting in a rocking chair, old and worn; much like the rest of the dwelling.

Aeolus ran to his mother, golden wings dragging behind him, much too big for his body. His mother laughed as she patted her lap for him to sit there.

"I have a story for you today...

A story, of a man and a woman, held together by love and who were separated because their love.

The man never wanted children, and when the pair had one, a beautiful baby boy identical to him, he tried to be happy. His pseudo-happiness turned to fear however, when one day after the baby fell asleep, he awoke different. The babe’s golden fur was navy, mist surrounded his body, his tail and paws. The once quiet child was loud and unruly, crying and screaming. The man didn’t know what to do. Later that evening, he fled his wife and son. The woman was heartbroken.

Still, she kept strong and raised her son to the best of her ability. She realized that the boy held something greater to him. His changes happened when he awoke from sleep, at night his pelt was navy, at day it was gold. His nighttime tantrums swept a forceful gust throughout the house, knocking over pots and pans. A great child in deed, and a great name was bestowed upon him, Aeolus.

The story was one she often told, filling the boy's head with wonder, with dreams of what he could be. After all the boy in the story had the same name, the same story, as he. It had to be him.



III.
He sat on the roof. His mother was on the ground below him, her arms outstretched towards him. The moon was high in the sky and his pelt blended into the starry sky. He kept his eyes on the moon, bright and beautiful. He wondered if that's what the sun looked like.

"Aeolus," His mother's voice rang out calling him to attention. "Now, flight is something that is necessary, what kind of winged being doesn't fly? A pathetic one. And you, you are far from pathetic. When I say ready, I want you to jump, jump and flap your wings. I will catch you should you fail, however, I doubt a being as great as you could."

The words lifted his spirits. He was great, his mother thought so. That's all that mattered. He jumped, opening his wings and flapping wildly. Fear flashed through him, paralyzing him mid drop. He screamed a shrill ear piercing screech, as wind filled his body and pierced his lungs.

When he awoke that day, he was bandaged. Mother was sweeping up glass that littered the floor of the home. She scolded him upon waking, telling him he needed to get stronger to have control over his emotions and powers. It wasn't until he was getting ready to sleep he realized two things. One. The windows were missing their glass. Two. Mother likes me better at night.

iv.
He couldn't wait to sleep. Tucked up in bed, eyes closed in fake sleep. Hoping for the change to come. Mother liked him better at night. The sun had barely set, his dinner was untouched. Aeolus tried to will sleep to take him, all day he had read the books mother told him too, the books about conquerors and great men and kingdoms of old. He was silent, doing as he was told, dreaming of the night where he could do whatever he desired. Anything he desired.

He had begun to realize that something was different about him at night than at day. At night, he was more impulsive, more greedy, more everything mother wanted him to be. He wouldn't dare pull those stunts during the day, he knew better than to try to go against mother then. The sun agitated her, just like his golden pelt that too much resembled that of the his mother's lost love. He had heard her mumbling about it when he was suppose to be reading.

He longed for the night, for the attention given to him in it, he was jealous, he was bitter.

[furby.]

Within the drawer of the coffee table located in Sean's living room, a leather bound journal sits, it's pages yellowed from age. The journal seems to have been purchased long ago and upon opening it, it can be observed that some pages of been ripped out and some pages of a different material then the original ones added. On the back cover of the book, a pocket is stuffed with grainy black and white photos. Will you venture into the contents of the Journal?

Yes xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx No




xxxxxxxx/xx/xxxx

I purchased a journal today. I'm not sure how I'll use it, but it's leather bound and cost me way more than it should have. Griffin says it's because I have this look to me, a look that makes me easy to trick. I don't think I'm gullible, per say, just easy to trick and loose with my money. Money that I'm getting less and less off. Griffin says it's because I'm different. Says the smartest thing for me to do is to take up the persona of a prophet or a god. I'm sure that I, well, the other me, would agree. However, I can't do that. Not me. Not now. I'm not special or a god or anything of that sorts. I'm not blessed, not cursed. Griffin is wrong, just like Mother was. It's been fifteen years since mother left. Or I left mother. I forget which.


xxxxxxxx/xx/xxxx

Only one entry? That was my first thought upon opening this book. I've been traveling alone for a while, woke up on a dirt road. The book fell out of the bag and I opened it. Simple as that. I think it's been about forty years since the last entry? Something like that. It's around noon I think. It's funny how they cycles switch. How I forget that it's from sleep not the sun and moon's cycles. Like my mother preached it was. Anyway, my veil broke so it's easier to move around now. My day self is sensitive to light, so it's now my night self who is present in the sun. Doesn't make much sense, but what does in this world. I think I'll try to write in this more often.


xxxxxxxx/xx/xxxx

Found a home. A small room in a small building between a bakery and tailor's shop. Just big enough for a small mattress and bin of food. The town is nice, small, quiet. I entered as my night self, therefore he deals with all the interactions out and around town. Meanwhile I'm stuck in home during the day, cleaning the same spots every time I get up. It'd be easy if I could just go out, but only one of us came in and we're only paying for a room for one. It'd be easier if people were more accepting, more open to learning. We've been kicked out of the past couple of towns because of it. From what I remember, I've been getting more reckless at night. More outrageous. He's trying to convince the town he's a reborn god. I think it's working.



xxxxxxxx/xx/xxxx

Got ran out of town. Again. The building between a bakery and a tailor's shop went up in flames. My fault. Home is gone. I, he, we, took it too far, stunt after stunt until it was all too much. My head hurts. I need to...
No more Gods, No more Lies. For the me of now and the me of when I wake up next. I'm saying it now and while it's not out loud, it's just as good on paper. I'm ordinary. I'm ordinary. God, I wish I was ordinary.

[furby.]

lol this is gonna be like ,, introduction to the character ?? funny how that comes last