Benton Barrett
Oct 17, 2013 7:45:06 GMT -5
Post by Benton Barrett on Oct 17, 2013 7:45:06 GMT -5
The easy S T U F F . . .Name: Benton Quincy Barrett
Nickname: Ben, Benny, Quinn
Age: fifteen
Member Group: Student
Power(s): High Core Temperature: His body operates at about 111 degrees Fahrenheit. As a side effect, his metabolism is much higher - his body internalizes the heat, quite literally 'consuming' it. A comfortable ambient temperature is about 87 degrees Fahrenheit.
Heat Consumption: Benny is capable of drawing heat from any source, including the ambient air around him. This is primarily a reactionary response, much like scratching an itch. When he gets cold, he begins to absorb heat energy from the air around him. As this is mostly a reactionary ability, the colder her gets, the worse his 'sink' becomes.
It gradually gets worse as his environment gets colder. This in itself is a catch-22; The longer he is in a system where heat is not added in to the equation, the colder it will get by his presence, and the worse off he gets.
Ambient Draw ( This is for his core temperature )
Mathematically: At 111 degrees, he absorbs 0
At 109 degrees, he begins to shiver, and can drain a dorm room of about 2 degrees of heat per hour.
At about 107 degrees, he is actually beginning to shake more severely, and can drain about 4 degrees per hour.
At 105, he begins to experience the onset of hypothermia, and drains roughly 8 degrees per hour.
At 103 degrees, true hypothermia begins, and his 'sink' becomes volatile.
At 101, he will begin to get extremely sleepy, and should be considered a medical emergency.
Physical contact
When he is in contact with a significant heat source, he drains heat exponentially faster. On an average adult male, if he remains in contact with them, he can drain about one degree per minute, if he's close to his 'normal' core temperature or higher. Lower than that, and it is even faster. Anything that conducts heat well will respond this way, and the less heat something contains, the less he will be capable of drawing it.
Play By: Uriah SheltonLet it F L O W . . .
"So... you want me to do what..?" He asked, uncertainly, looking at the other man, sitting across the desk. He was older, unfortunately bald, with eyes that seemed to alternate between severely narrowed and boredly glazed.
"I want you to start at the beginning. When everything started." He scratched something on the page, and Benny just shrugged, uncertainly.
"Okay. Yeah, I can do that." He shivered a bit, shoving his hands into the hoodie pockets. He hated being in offices like this - they were always kept so cold, and he felt it, in his bones. "I don't really remember when it started. I mean... obviously it was only like, two weeks ago or something like that." Benton looked at him, observing, trying to understand why he was doing this. To help transition? After being, essentially, kidnapped?
"Before... well, before, everything was normal. I mean, I went to school, I got good grades, I've got two parents, and a little sister. I lost a goldfish when I was seven, but like... that's really the only major awkwardness at home. School..." He let out a breath, and rocked back in the chair, leaning it on two legs.
"School was fine. Like I said, I got good grades. I had a couple of friends. There were some dicks, of c--" He bit his lip, awkwardly, before pressing on. Too late now. "-of course. But nothing I couldn't handle. I don't care. If someone's an ass, I let them be an ass. But when someone gets in my face..." He slipped his shaking hands out of his pocket, and punched his palm forcibly with his fist. "I get them out of my face. Don't get me wrong, I'm not, like, one of those violent metas. My power... I don't even really get it. But I don't let people push me around any more."
It was a weird passive-aggressive way to put it, and the doctor seemed to note that. "You said 'any more?'"
He rubbed the back of his head uncertainly, before shoving his hands back, deeper into his pockets. His zipped hoodie was not enough to keep the cold at bay. "Yeah. I have two parents, but one's a step. My da-- my bio-dad, I mean... he was..." He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. He'd already been to therapy. He was done with this. "He never hit me. But he didn't have to. Mom got sick of it, packed me and my sister up, and left. Smartest thing she ever did. But she said something that always stuck with me: 'You protect what's yours. Do whatever you have to. But you protect what's yours.'"
It sounded almost cliche'd. But it wasn't. His mom had gotten them out before it... before things got that bad. For that, he'd be always grateful. "Then Mom met Allen, and he's a good guy. Like, genuine, 'climb a tree to rescue a kitten' good guy. Callie - that's my sister - and I both like him. He treats us like his own. So he's my dad, no matter who's ballsa-- no matter what any paternity test says."
He was already feeling it. Something that made him cringe inwardly, even with the relief it brought.
"So yeah. I'll fight if I have to, 'cause I'm not going to be the reason someone else has to. Not if I can help it." The chair thudded against the floor, as he stopped pressing it backwards. It was rude to be threatening the poor man's chair like that, anyways. He'd taken on that less-bored, more focused look that meant he actually had this doctor's attention.
"You're a very lucky boy, you know that? A lot of families... they don't recover from something like that." Benny just nodded. "All right. So, after the incidents with your father---"
Benton looked at him, sharply. "Biological father."
"Sorry. After the incidents with your biological father, everything got better?" Benton nodded another little reply, clearly losing a bit of the tension in his shoulders, even hidden beneath the dull red of his favorite hoodie.
"More or less. We got into a couple of fights, but nothing major. Callie and I never fight. Well, I mean, once or twice, little stuff, but nothing important." He, unlike most boys his age, liked his sister a lot. Provided she didn't go into his room uninvited. He wished she was a vampire like that - he couldn't help if he was a bit territorial.
"That's all I'm trying to say, though. My childhood hasn't been terrible. I don't come from a broken home. I'm not some mental case. I'm just a guy with this thing that's wrong with me. Once I figure out how to get rid of it, I'll be going back." There had to be something to fix this - or at least, he hoped. "There's someone else that could use your help a lot more than I can, Doctor Fell."
"I understand. But, for now, I'm here with you. For at least another... forty minutes or so. I've got a few more questions, about everything... but after that, if everything seems okay, we'll leave it at this."
He blew out a breath, not realizing that his chest was trembling. Okay, he really was cold. "Sure. Sounds like a plan."
"So what happened next? You get into some fights, but you don't start them unless you get threatened. That's a good sign. But don't you do anything else, besides school and work?"
Benny shrugged, absently. "I like to play Soccer. I'm no pro, but I'm good enough to play high school, I guess. I like movies, I like hanging out with my friends. Then... this all happened. A little before my birthday. Mom thought I had a fever, though I felt fine to me. She made me stay home from school one day, and hey, who turns that down?" He grinned, easily. "I was shaking - I had been for a while. I'm... I'm always cold, now." He shook his head.
"But Mom was cool. She made us grilled cheese, popped in a DVD, and totally convinced me that it would be okay to sit on the couch with her. Head in her lap. 'Like old times' she said." His smile was wistful. He tried to be good, he really did.
"It was maybe five minutes? Six? I was feeling amazing again. But I realized Mom had stopped running her fingers through my hair. She was shaking, though. I looked up at her, and she looked..." No, he hadn't been to therapy for this yet. When he shivered this time, it wasn't entirely from the cold. "She looked like she'd been trapped out in the snow. I didn't understand. I freaked - I called nine-one-one, threw blankets on her, cranked up the heater..."
His hands, in his pockets, were fists.
"Mom got better. She... she had hypothermia. She... could have been in major trouble. She was in major trouble. Because of this... thing that's wrong with me. I could have ruined everything." That was a massive regret. He hadn't known - he couldn't have known. But it was what it was, and she'd been hospitalized nevertheless. "She knew it was me. I don't know how she did. But... she just cried and said it was okay, that mistakes happened, that it didn't matter." His lip was viciously assaulted by his teeth.
"I wanted to hug her. I couldn't, though. I couldn't risk it. I was - I am... scared. Of what I can do. I don't want to hurt people, but... I don't know. Like I said, it is what it is. That's when the guys at Hammel caught up with me. It had been days. I don't know how they do it, but I'm glad they do. I still feel kind of like I got kidnapped... My family's back in Conneticut. But whatever. If I have to be here to fix this, I'll do whatever it takes."
He was trying hard to calm his body.
"What else do you need to know?" He asked, softly, his voice quiet.
The doctor looked apprehensive, but held up a finger for him to wait. The pen scratched eagerly along the paper, and Benton could feel the quiet almost like it was tangible. "All right, Benton. We're almost done here. Why aren't you interacting with anyone here? Anyone other than an adult, I mean."
His brows furrowed a bit.
"Uh, because I'm a walking, talking freezer box? What if it gets worse? What if I get into a fight with someone here? There's too much that can go wrong, and I'm not going to hurt anyone else if I can help it. I'm just going to learn what I need to learn until this is gone, and then I'm going home. That's all."
He saw the frown, and chose not to question it.Behind the M A S K . . .Name: Ven
Age: Old enough to drink! Regularly. In copious amounts. xD
RP Experience: Well over a decade at this point.
How did you find us?: RPG-DShow your S K I L L S . . .Black fingernails, tipped in red, traced gingerly along the side of one of the game tables. Her eyes traced the ball as it whirled and spun in the roulette wheel, the repetitive clatter of it making the vampire smile, though it was a thin thing. It settled, after what seemed like ages, on the red-lined number one. The wheel slowed to a stop, and her eyes narrowed unhappily.
"Do it again. I like to hear the pretty song..." Her voice was soft, no doubt lost within the din of the casino. The place was large, bright lights and deadened people - those who were consumed by a madness she couldn't share. This place was hypnotic - it drew hapless people in, sat them down, and told them solemn, sad stories. They never got enough of them, it seemed, those unfortunate enough to be caught in this place's pull.
She crept away before the ball started spinning again.
She could taste the ashes on her tongue, as she walked through countless people, heedless to their presence. There was something more interesting here - someone more interesting. She'd forgotten him, in the middle of the flash and lights, but now, she remembered.
Black silk adorned her shoulders - she had the thin, almost translucent shawl pulled tightly around her, like swaddling. But where that was tugged tight, the rest of her dress was wide - not quite victorian, as it lacked the full body of the clothes she used to wear. But it did not cling to her. It was almost like a wedding gown, for the blackest wedding one might find.
She passed through one set of doors, marked 'employees only' - away from the hustle and noise of the main floor. Her heels carried her towards a smaller door, though before she could pass through it, her arm was snagged, roughly, by a man.
She paused, to look at it, as though it had suddenly sprung from her arm. Drusilla let her other hand come up, first two fingers playing the part of legs, that walked casually along the back of the man's hand. He was speaking - saying something, but his voice wasn't what she could hear. No, she could hear the screams.
"Oh, no, I can't be held here. I've a place to be, and if I'm not there, I'll be quite cross." She walked her fingers casually up the man's arms, blue eyes glittering as she watched the movement. The hand on her arm tightened - almost to the point where it would hurt.
"You're a naughty dog. Ruff." She made a low growl, that wasn't vampiric in the slightest - more, the sound a child imitating a pet would make. The well-dressed man - security, of some sort, looked at her, his brown eyes speaking far more loudly than he was. caughtcaughtcaughtcaughtcaughtcaught. They were loud enough to pound in her ears, and her growl became far more bestial.
"Nasty dogs should be outside." Her fingers, which had previously been playing up the other vampire's arm ( he was so young... barely old enough to register at all ) lashed out. Nails - unbelievably sharp, considering how lightly they'd tickled the guard's arm before - tore into either eye socket, viciously.
The man would have screamed, but in the same motion, she'd wrenched her arm free and tore his throat out. It wouldn't kill him, of course - she didn't want to kill him.
She shoved him through the doors, into an office - the office of the man she'd been looking for. He crashed through, gurgling as whatever oxygen had been in his lungs were forced through the bloody swath she'd cut.
"Bad dog. You shan't have any dinner tonight." Her voice was petulant, and she waggled a finger at his fallen form - a finger still slick with his eyejuices. Her gaze swept around, not falling on anything or anyone in particular. Instead, she simply smiled, taking in the decor.
"A king on his throne of flesh and bone, doesn't wish to be alone. I can hear your heart whispering. It wants to say hello" She managed, before her eyes fell on the man from her dreams.
