Howell Chilton
Nov 20, 2011 6:09:13 GMT -5
Post by Howell Chilton on Nov 20, 2011 6:09:13 GMT -5
[/i][/size][/right]The Basics
Name: Howell Illfor Chilton
Nicknames: None
Age: 16
Orientation: Homosexual
Desired Rank/Job: Student
Powers: Dreamwalking
When asleep, Howell can mentally traverse into the dreams of others. He enters as a visitor, and so doesn't have much influence on these dreams. However, he's pretty adaptive to whatever dream environment he's in - from the absolutely silly, to the horrific, nightmarish moments. Basically, while not able to manipulate the environment, he can himself give reality the middle finger. The person whose dream Howell steps into immediately becomes aware that s/he is dreaming, as well as the fact that Howell's invaded into it. However, unless the person is a strong psychic or a dreamwalker as well, s/he is still subject to what's unfolding in the dream. Think of it like lucid dreaming, except instead of being able to do anything, the conscious is still within the reign of the subconscious. Howell hopes to one day be able to resolve that, as well as being able to pull more than two sleeping people into one dream.
Side effects - Howell will wake up acting as if he had been awake for however long he had been dreamwalking, so he tends to be drowsy throughout the day (the other person will be fine, though). Exhausted, he will usually get a good night's rest that night without dreamwalking. An unofficial schedule of alternating nights of using the power has been established. And despite the fact that he and the one dreaming both know it's only a dream, they can still feel the emotions appropriate to the situation (be it excitement while flying, the pleasure of eating ice cream, or terror being in a cramped, pitch-black pit where no one can find you). Also, if the person whose dream he steps into is mentally powerful enough, s/he can pull a fast one and invade his dreams.
Play By: Alexandre Imbert
The Details
Hair Color: Blonde; originally dark brown
Eye Color: Gray Blue
Any Piercings? Two, along the outer rim of his right ear.
Any Tattoos? None
Any Scars? A long scar on his left side, going from his hip to his thigh
General Appearance:
A lithe build, with only the barest of signs that he ever works out. Combined with a height of 5'10", Howell looks anything but imposing. His hair's usually in a wavy mess plopped atop his head. He's gone out of his way to keep it blonde, though the dark roots betray his efforts. His complexion shows that he has his fair share of sunlight. The teen's handsome, though sometimes dark circles appear under his eyes and tend to ruin this visage. There's always a broad smile upon his features, with dimples decorating the corners of his mouth. His eyes, large and heavily-lashed alternate between being wide and wandering, and heavily-lidded and cloudy. Howell has no standard clothing trend. A rainy afternoon can be met with shorts and a t-shirt. A sweltering summer day could be confronted with pajama wear. Lately he's been favoring hats and scarves. The only real central theme is that the color clashing would make any fashion guru vomit.
Personality:
Howell is... odd. More than odd, really. Bizarre is the appropriate word. The teen lacks the concept of (or, maybe just doesn't care to bother with) reservation. He speaks his mind, regardless of whether the situation calls for it, or if it would have been better to keep his mouth shut. Sometimes he rambles off in non-sequitur, making comments on things that have absolutely no relevance to what's going on at the current time. If he wakes up feeling like wearing a neon green shirt, red swimming trunks, and a yellow dazzle scarf tied around his waist... well, one or two people might go blind. He's quick to encourage this sort of freedom in others, and enjoys whatever the results may be.
There's an almost infinite amount of good nature and optimism within the teen. That's not to say that he doesn't know a bad situation when he sees it. He simply knows that, in the end, it will turn out okay. Friends will quickly attempt to be made with nearly everyone, since "no one is all bad," as he so eloquently puts it. His idealistic and helpful nature usually makes this challenge simple enough. He may have a terrible time keeping his feet on the ground, but he's still there for others - friends, enemies, Mrs. Norris at the retirement home...
Naturally, this boy is way over on the right side of the thinking spectrum. He relies much more on intuition and instinct than logic, prefers the symbolic meaning of things rather than their definitions, and indulges in the artistic world, forsaking the concrete, factual one. Howell's chosen a dreamy sort of attitude, barely connected to the here and now. In this way, the blonde always looks out of it, complacent to whatever's happening around him. But he does show signs of a strongly active mind beneath his spacey exterior. If anything, the dreamwalker's something of a visionary. Rather than say, "This is how it is," he'll be the one commenting, "Wouldn't it be awesome if it was like that?"
In a darker light, Howell does not handle disasters and tragedies well. He tries to ignore any turn for the worse, or if that's not possible, immediately sinks into a sullen mood. When an argument or fight breaks out, Howell really shouldn't be relied upon to play mediator. He's bad at assessing the situation and working it all out. He's more like an aftermath relief aid. And, of course, he's terrible at keeping organized. Things, whether his or borrowed, have a habit of getting lost, and often times are never heard from again. Unless the thing lost belongs to someone else, he usually never really cares.
Your Vices
Likes:
Butterflies
Sleeping
Weekends
Coffee
Cartoons
Mrs. Norris
Right after it rains
Art
Kids
Fantasy Books
Dislikes:
Numbers
Work
Arguments and other serious business
Reality TV
Nightmares
Keeping track of things
Birds
Raves
Classes
Loud noises
Strengths:
Painting
Writing
Listening
Capoeira
Yoga
Weaknesses:
Organization
Labor
Math
Concentrating
Narcolepsy
Fears:
Water
Walking in on someone's nightmare
Growing old
Secret:
Can't swim. Not even in his dreams.
Really wishes he could escape from reality, permanently.
Knows exactly what "Fooly Cooly" means - or so he claims.
Family Ties
Father: Bradley Chilton
Mother: Lindsay Chilton
Siblings: None
Any Other Important People:Vitimer, the blue butterfly that always seems to flutter around in his dreams. And Mrs. Norris, the something-year-old woman he always visits at the retirement home (she's never confessed her age and has no documents on it, so everyone there literally marks her as "something-years-old").
History
There was something about Lindsay Corwell that Bradley couldn't resist. He was a Harvard student. He was going into law school. He had a bright future ahead of him. She was a high school drop-out. She was a musician. She was doomed to poverty. Lindsay would always be visiting a friend rooming in the female dorm, strumming on her guitar and singing nonsensical lyrics about fading blue skies and and spring flings. Bradley avoided contact with her whenever they'd pass through the same hallway. He had been brought up to avoid her kind all his life. And by all accounts, he fully intended to. But one night, the one night he gave into his friends' demands and attended a frat party, they found themselves in the same room. In the same level of intoxication. In the same, right mood. The next morning was awkward, and the best moment of Bradley's life. It should have been just another Saturday morning for Lindsay, but she was just as unexplainably interested in this suit.
They would spend a lot more time together. He would attend her poetry slams, look at her modern art (though he wasn't sure how a toilet with a giant eyeball in it was art), and on one occasion shared a bong with her. But they both agreed that last part would be never mentioned again. For those who really want to know, it involved rocking out to Yoko Ono, trying to make spaghetti in the oven, and crying about how Bradley saw the Spanish maid more as a mother than his actual mother, even though he had quite a few dreams about her in his younger years. Soon, Bradley realized something: he really hated law school. So without further adieu he dropped out of Harvard, told his parents they could, for once, go fuck themselves, and hit the road with Lindsay. Throughout all of America, odd-end jobs were done, a quick marriage was had, and after a few romps in bed conceived a baby-rearing belly.
Realizing that a baby would not add well with their freeform living, Bradley and Lindsay resolved to "cool it down." Bradley attended a public college, using his former years at Harvard to quickly get an associate's degree and then a relatively well-paying job. Lindsay sullenly admitted to herself that a toilet with an eyeball in it was not everyone's idea of art, and instead began selling paintings and sculptures. Months of work were put into raising enough money to buy a decent home. Now to some, renting out at an apartment in Vermont might not sound decent. But it had four walls, a floor, a ceiling, and - amazingly! - no cockroaches. Plus, it was Vermont; nice, quiet state. That was enough for them. So when February 12, 1995 came around, they were happy to bring Howell into this world.
From the start, Howell was an oddball. Afterall, he was raised with his parents' ideals in mind. They were strongly liberal, so he was always rooting for the donkey to kick the elephant's ass. They loved nature, so he liked to venture around the park. They still rocked out to Yoko Ono, so he... okay, so he had to draw the line somewhere. Point was, he was always taught to be imaginitive, and to hell with social norms. It was a shame that not everyone liked that last part. Howell had a rough time in school. He was the freak who didn't like to sit still in class and said weird things, like how it would be cool if, instead of freeze tag, they played spontaneous-combustion tag, where if you were tagged, you had to act like you caught on fire, but since the swimming pool was a few blocks away and the water fountain was pretty uneffective, you burned to death and had to act like a pile of ash and be blown away by a passing breeze, and now your new objectve was to get into the un-tagged people's eyes. That idea, by the way, was frowned upon, and the other kids usually told Howell to stop talking, because he was frozen, even though they didn't even invite him to play. Eventually, his parents decided that home-schooling would be best.
Around the age of nine, Howell got into the habit of randomly visiting buildings, be they restaurants to chat with the waiters and waitresses, hotels to help greet the guests, or other fine establishments. One visitation was paid to a retirement home. There in that odd-smelling, blandly-painted place did he meet a particularly crabby old woman by the name of Mrs. Norris. She didn't like most people, and most people didn't like her. All except young Howell. He had run into her room, pretending to be a secret agent or some such nonsense. She ignored the antics in favor for guessing what was on the Wheel of Fortune board before the contestant. That was, until the orderly came in to give Mrs. Norris her much-despised medication. Howell lept out from the closet, screaming out the theme to Mission Impossible and startling the orderly into spilling the medicine all over herself. Mrs. Norris almost had a heart attack from laughing so hard, and the two soon became quick friends. Ever since then, he has frequently paid visits to her (even now, she'll sometimes insist that he hide in the closet to scare the dickens out of those damn meddling orderlies).
At the age of fourteen, things started getting strange. Not the sort of strange Howell was accustomed to, but a kind of strange that was... strange. His dreams started becomining "specific," as he put it. That is, instead of being wild and barely remembered, the dreams were detailed, as if he was actually there. And he was fully aware he was dreaming, too. The following days he would feel drowsy, no matter how many hours of sleep he got. Then the dreams became even more bizarre. He would meet others in them - people he didn't even know. They would be just as confused as he was. It was casually dismissed by his parents, until one night he visited his mother's dreams. The next morning they recounted the same exact dream of meeting each other. Bradley and Lindsay were thoroughly unsettled, and understandably at a loss as to what to do about this phenomenon. Thankfully, the answer came in a surprise visit a few weeks later. The person claimed to be from a place called Hammel Institute, a place that taught and trained unique individuals like Howell. After everything was explained, Howell's parents agreed it was best for their son. So off the boy went to Hammel.
Two years have gone by since then. Howell has learned to not be quite as aberrant, and at least makes an attempt at taking his classes seriously. The fact that he's often tired helps in this respect. Within his time at the insitute, Howell's finessed his dreamwalking ability, able to control when he does it, as well as whose dreams he visits - at least, most of the time. He still occasionally takes a wrong turn at Albuquerque. It's always good to meet new people, anyway.
Roleplay Example
Please redirect your attention to Verill's profile at this time.
What About You?
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Name: Beret
Age: Yep. Still Twenty.
Experience: About eight years, give or take a few decades
How Did You Find Us? RPG-Directory
Ready To Play? HAM-MEL. BOOM-BY-YAY.
