Finn Eogeum
Aug 29, 2014 6:50:31 GMT -5
Post by Finn Eogeum on Aug 29, 2014 6:50:31 GMT -5
The easy S T U F F . . .
Name: Finn Zared Eogeum
Nickname: Finn The Human
Age: Twenty-three (as of 2015)
Member Group: College Student - University of Vermont
Power(s): Saturation : Finn has the ability to saturate and desaturate the world around him. His ability also affects himself, as he will saturate or desaturate when he feels extremes of either a good or bad mood. More fiery emotions, such as passion, happiness and anger, will make him saturate, whereas as duller emotions, like sadness, fatigue and loneliness, will desaturate him. His saturation also links to his bipolar disorder, and can act as a warning sign that he is having a manic/depressive episode. He will be slightly, borderline unnoticeably saturated or desaturated, in this case, with the possibility of the colours of his body changing on top of that as a result of his current emotions and state of mind. As the power only spreads from his hands, his clothing would not be affected by this, not unless he changed their saturation himself on purpose.
He cannot change the colours of objects, only make them brighter or duller. He cannot add colours where there are none, i.e. trying to saturate an old black-and-white photograph will do nothing at all. He can, however, restore the colour to an object he has desaturated himself. He has to be touching the object with his hand(s) to affect it.
Side effects include dry, chapped skin on his hands and stiffness in the phalangeal joints, as well as temporary colour blindness.
Play By: Kang Daesung
Let it F L O W . . .
Finn took a breath before pressing the "Record" button on the camera he had set up on a tripod. This wasn't exactly regular procedure for him, but he didn't talk about himself all that much, and he thought, even if it was silly and he never watched it back, maybe it would help to just... talk. Let everything out. Maybe he would watch it again, when he was older, to see if anything had changed. He hoped that would be the case.
He had had to wait until Vicky had left the house before doing it, however. Even if he was in his room, by himself, he didn't want to risk being overheard, because he wasn't really certain what he might end up talking about. He sat down on his bed in front of the filming device and looked into the lens for a moment, before dipping his vision.
It was okay. It was just a camera.
He looked up again. "This is so weird..." He muttered, but it was his own idea anyway. He looked at his hands. They were familiarly dull, which made him frown a little. He tried to ignore that, and with another breath, he spoke again, "I thought I would just... talk for a bit. And as much as I would like to talk to myself for hours on end, I don't want to be labelled as insane, on top of everything else, so I thought maybe filming it would be a better idea." He sighed, "Okay, so, my name's Finn. Well, my full name is Finn Zared Eogeum, which sounds stupid. What kind of a name is ‘Zared’?” The saturator looked at the camera again and realised how he was talking, as he paused. He sighed again, shaking his head as he searched for a way to continue, “…anyway, I was born on February 7th 1992 at... two in the morning, if I remember correctly. So I was a pain in the ass from birth." He wasn’t self-critical all the time. He wished he could stop himself from being like that, but it was only what he believed, at the moment.
“I was born in NYC. From what I remember, it was cool there, but my family moved by the time I was nine, to Brunswick, Maine. I liked Brunswick a lot more that NYC – not as loud and ridiculous. It was still loud at times – every town is – but I preferred it. More trees.” Nature had always been a big point for Finn. Mainly animals, but since they tied in so well with nature that he couldn’t help but love the bigger picture.
"I like art. I like art a lot." He said, seemingly out of nowhere. However, a lot of his art would be based on nature and such, so it was linked. He looked around and crawled onto the floor, sliding out a sketchbook, and began flicking through, occasionally grimacing and generally showing distaste on his face, "I'm not exactly the best artist. My stuff could be a lot better." However, he was underestimating himself. The man was a talented one. He shrugged his shoulders at one design and held it up. It was a rather detailed (and very good) sketch of an eye, "This one isn't so bad. Could use some work, I guess." He had multiple other drawings, less serious things, like doodles, little cute people and comical things, as well as some more serious designs, such as sketches of his dog, of Vicky, of other stuff. Whatever came to mind, whatever inspired him. He closed up the cover of the book, rubbing his hand over it before putting it back, and ruffling his hair when he sat down again. Which made him look up at it.
"...my hair's stupid." Because hair could have intelligence, of course. He flicked at it, “I like dyeing it, sometimes. Sometimes, I will just go out on a whim and change it completely, just because I can. Because I think it’s a good idea.” He tilted his head, “It doesn’t looked bad, necessarily, but, it can be weird.” He looked up at the strands on his forehead, which stopped on his eyebrows, and lifted a hand to pick at them. The colour was a bit duller than usual, but, “My hair’s its natural colour at the moment, brown. Wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up at some point with it blue or something, though…” Finn rubbed the back of his neck and then remembered something, “Oh, yeah. I have some tattoos behind my ears.” He pulled back the hair on the right side of his head, “Sun,” He turned his head and revealed the area on the opposite side, “Moon.” Simple. He looked around his room as he spoke. “I got them when I was twenty. After...” His eyes searched the floor and a frown tugged on the corners of his lips, “I was, um, diagnosed with Bipolar when I was nineteen. In my junior and senior years at Hammel, my emotions started doing... weird things. I was a pretty happy kid and stuff, but I just got really, really energetic, out of no where. Went mad with things - one moment, I would be drawing something, and then I would leave that and start looking up stuff, and then I would just run outside and basically, looking back on it, it probably looked like I was going insane. It all seemed like good ideas though. Including the part where I dive-bombed into the pond, because it was hot out." He sighed. "It's... hard to deal with. I'm still cycling through different medications, because nothing really seems all that effective yet, or I get side effects. With the stuff I'm on right now, my mania seems to be okay, but I know it's not doing all that much to help my depressive episodes. Neither of them are good, really, but the depressiveness..."
Finn rubbed his face, "I just... I feel like I'm useless at the moment, and I know I'm thinking and feeling that, and I don't want to believe it, but I can't bring myself to deny it. I have been worse in the past," He trailed off for a moment, looking at his arms, covered by long sleeves, and for a reason. Underneath the fabric, he was hiding the permanent scars, made as a result of what his depression led himself to do. Self harm. "...I'm better now." He looked up, subconsciously tugging on the sleeves, "I haven't done anything that stupid in a while. Well, other than the usual." He said, shaking his head. "...I wish I didn't have this..." He muttered. He couldn't do much about it, though. Just... wait until he found the right meds, which he didn't want to have to do. He just wanted to be fixed, now.
His mind set became sadder, and as he had been speaking, his colour had began draining more. He looked at his hands and noticed that they were almost completely black and white.
Okay, Finn, he thought, you're okay.
He wasn't.
But he knew he had to keep himself from sinking too far down, so he sighed and thought for a moment, before forcing a smile as he forced himself to move on, "I'm glad that I have Vicky. She's my older sister, and we live together here in Pilot Ridge." Now, his smile became a little more genuine, "We look after each other. Well," He trailed off, "She seems to look after me more than I look after her, but that... that can't be helped." She was so supportive. He couldn't ask for a better sibling. "She... she's meta, too. We both went to Hammel, and we both go to UVM now. I'm taking Studio Art, which is a lot of fun. Never really like doing written stuff anyway. Vicky's taking a course in Counseling. She's good at all that empathy stuff. Better than me." He paused for a moment, "My other sisters..." The singer tilted his head, "Well... when it comes to meta things, Yasmin and Pandora could possibly still manifest, but Sophie's too old to now." He scrunched up his mouth a little, "It would be nice to have them here too, but I'm kind of glad that they're not. I like having Vicky around because she's so understanding of what's happening to me. Sophie... can tend to be a bit attention seeking and loud, and I have clashed with her in the past because of that. The other two... I don't know. I wouldn't want to inflict it on them much more than I already have... but I love them all." He nodded, "I love them a lot."
Finn remembered why Vicky had left in the first place, and his smile picked up again, if only gently, "I also love Coco, my puppy. Cheesy name for a dog, I know, but he's sweet. Only a year old, but I can deal with his energy, most of the time. Animals are nicer than people a lot of the time, anyway." They didn't judge or make mean, judgemental remarks was one thing. He could always trust Coco to gives him cuddles without being annoying. The corners of his mouth picked up a little more, "But I know nice people too. Like, my friend Rue." Finn nodded, "I mean, I have other friends as well, but he's kind of the best at understanding my difficulties and stuff, after Vicky." He looked at the floor for a moment, "I probably don't tell him how much of a help he is to me. It just never comes up, I'm too busy wrapped up in my own stupid problems." His smile dropped and he sighed, shaking his head a little, "Such an idiot." He mumbled. He looked at his hands again. They could have been worse, but they were still dull.
"Kind of lost my muse to draw recently." He said, not looking up from his hands, "Hope I pick up soon, I need to work on... stuff..." He had been scrapping a lot of projects recently, and he knew that was bad, but they just didn't sound... doable, anymore. Finn hummed a little, "Still singing though. I think that's the one hobby of mine that I won't ever stop doing." Even like this, it helped, "I have been told I have a powerful voice, but I don't always let people hear my singing, so I wouldn't know." As he was right now, he relied more heavily on the opinions of others over his own thoughts. At other times, he was very confident in his ability, "I'm trying to improve on that, though." He was thinking of starting something up to boost his confidence, but he wasn't sure. Maybe. Maybe if he had the time and the effort.
Finn looked up at the camera for the first time in a while, remembering that this was all being recorded. Suddenly overwhelmed, he put his face in his hands, "I don't know why I bother, sometimes," It came out muffled, "I just feel so crap and... uggghhhh." He groaned in frustration.
He wasn't always like this. But when he was, it was hard to deal with the weight of the sadness and self-doubt and self deprecation that weighed on his shoulders. The worst part was that he was like this, but he wouldn't ask for help. People noticed, but he didn't want the comfort, at the same time as desperately needing it. It was painful, to say the least.
He decided, right then, to stop there, before he broke down completely. He raised his head and gave the camera a sad expression, before sighing and going to turn it off with heavy arms, not giving much of an outro. He just didn't have the willpower anymore. He rolled back onto his bed, lazily, and pulled a stuffed toy out from under the sheets. Yes, he was in his early twenties - but what was wrong with having a cuddly toy? The artist looked at the fluffy object with discerning eyes before wrapping his arms around it and curling up.
He probably wouldn't move for a while.
Behind the M A S K . . .
Name: Apple's my name, roleplaying's my game.
Age: My mind is not entirely clean, even though I'm just sixteen.
RP Experience: A few years I believe it's been, since I began to roleplay screen to screen.
How did you find us?: Surely you remember dear? I've almost been here for a year <3
Show your S K I L L S . . .
Hammel, Hammel, I love you.
Please don't make me into stew.
Kay thanks bai.
