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Posted: Feb 28 2018, 11:34 PM
Character Creation Form
PLAYER ALIAS: Lee
PREFERRED PRONOUNS: He/Him
PLAYER AGE: 30
PLAYER EXPERIENCE: Since AOL chat rooms were a thing
PREFERRED CONTACT: PM
CHARACTER FACE CLAIM: Brian Whittaker
CHARACTER NAME: Onamdazi Anderson
CHARACTER AGE: 19
Onamdazi is a 'chosen' boy among a 'chosen' people, and so at the core of him is a casual sense of arrogance. He doesn't necessarily believe he is better than other people, it's just that he is better than other people. His superiority is inherent, and he mostly does as he pleases. He does, however, feel he has a duty to make the world a better place, and strives towards that goal in whatever way his exceptional mind has decided is best. After all, he is chosen, and that designation is something he takes seriously. It falls to him to help the less fortunate and not use his superiority to exploit them. He is like the sole adult in a world full of children.
He was precocious from birth, always trying to join the adults and babbling along with their conversations. That precociousness grew into an intelligence that was beyond exceptional. His precocious nature has not lessened with age. He tends to slide into conversations whether or not it's his place to, and is absolutely sure his opinion is important. He has sharp eye for detail and a preference for long-term planning. He thinks of himself like a glacier--slow but unstoppable. In truth he might be something like a volcano. He seems quiet for a time (sometimes long and sometimes short) then suddenly--he explodes.
He's open with his homosexuality and outwardly revels in his differentness as he revels in the differentness of his intelligence and importance. But, in the end, being so set apart from other people is lonely. Onamdazi struggles to form deep connections with other people. He has many acquaintances, but few friends. He enjoys parties and drunkenness and sex, but beneath the arrogance and the wildness and the brilliance is a sadness that merriment cannot cure. Sometimes Onamdazi will find himself overwhelmed by depression and anxiety and will fall into uncontrollable periods of stillness. He has also been plagued by infrequent, but impactful, night terrors since childhood.
“Onamdazi, Onamdazi, Onamdazi,”
Dazi had grown tired of the chant, and struggles not to roll his eyes each time a relative or other acquaintance comes forward to shake his hand, hug him or kiss his cheeks. Instead he smiles and greets each of them by name, with warmth. Jacob. Eli. Yazmin. Rebecca. The next person is an old family friend and a piece of work if riled up. She requires Dazi’s full attention, and she’s already nearly thrown Rebecca aside to step forward. “Thank you for coming, Georgina.” Dazi smiles and reaches out for her hand.
She ignores it to lean in for a hug. “And thank you for having us. My son talks about you all the time.”
Though Dazi would have preferred death, he returns the hug. Her wet lips slam against his cheek, and her lips move so she can whisper in his ear. Her breath is hot and smells of garlic and ginger and liquor. The scent reminds Dazi that he should drink the first bottle of scotch he can find the second these people are gone.
“...And he cries about you.”
Oh, right. Dazi had slept with her son a few times the last few months. Dazi liked him at first, but he was presumptuous and needy and didn’t appreciate silence. Dazi moved on and left the man crushed. “Your son is a grown man. I would think he’d be able to regulate his feelings by the age of twenty-six.” He begins to say, but stops. “But, fine. Fine, Georgina, I’ll talk to him.”
She rewards (or perhaps punishes) him with another kiss, and then leaves. Behind her is Francis, Dazi’s father’s former business partner’s assistant, and then his mistress Wanda and then… Oliver.
“Thank you for coming, Oliver.” Dazi says, shaking his hand.
“You remember me!” He says with a smile.
Oliver. Mm. There’s no way Dazi would ever forget someone who looked like Oliver. Oliver isn’t everyone’s type, and Dazi could probably do better, but he's what Dazi likes. Pale, thin and angular with dark hair and light eyes. Dazi takes the opportunity to look him over again. “Of course. Your aunt and my mother have been friends forever. It’s good to see you, again. Come to my room, tonight. 11:15. We’ll catch up.” Dazi says, and moves on.