Caldwell, January Clementine

[January Caldwell]

January Clementine Caldwell

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THE BASICS[/color]
Full Name: January Clementine Caldwell
Age: Eighteen
Gender: Female
Date of Birth: January 31st
Group: January is a bit of a mix between a Performer, a Musician, a Writer, and a Visual... but, in her opinion, Writing is her true nature.
Year/Job: Senior
Sexuality: Pansexual (Love is love; no gender restriction.)


APPEARANCE
Hair Color: Red; a bit like alabaster
Eye Color: Very opaque brown
Ethnicity: A bit Irish and a bit British, though she definitely looks more Irish.
Overall Appearance:
Maybe She's Born With It:
There was a very large debate, even amongst her family members, about January. Some people, usually people at school that were jealous of her looks - though January couldn't see why - and distant family members that didn't know much about family occurances, thought that January didn't look the way she did because of natural genes. Of course, this was entirely proposterous, but not to those who saw her that way. In this age that is growing more and more dependent upon technology, those that were just mentioned actually accused Isabella and Manolo of creating January by the way of the test tube. A test tube baby!? Seriously?! At first, January couldn't stomach the idea, and all she could do was laugh at the ridiculousness behind it, but, then she started thinking about it. Even though it still seemed like a long shot, it would certainly explain the attention of much older men that she had gained when she was younger... and it might even explain her parents' lack of caring for her. Maybe they felt awkward because she was physically their child, but she was scientifically manufactured....

And January actually had to wonder why some of her friends felt that she was a bit off...

That Alabaster Hair:
January got her brilliant red hair from her mother, a physical feature of hers that she both loves and hates. Who wouldn't love hair like that? Honestly, January sometimes wondered if she was weird for sort of hating a physical feature that connected her to the parent of her gender. Just because it wasn't that common. She had always heard her friends brag, I have my mom's hair or I love having my dad's ears... no matter how big they are. That connection to their shared-gender parent made them feel like one day they were going to be just as great as they considered that parent to be. But, really, that was part of the reason that she hated it. Some days, when her mother was being particularly irritating, January had wanted to take her razor blade and shave her head, one chunk of rememberance at a time.

Eyes:
January's eyes are, quite literally, a window into her entire soul. As cliche as it sounds, it's most definitely true. As much of a fighter as she might be, and as much as she might hide, it seemed like her eyes were pretty much transparent. If any of her friends were good enough at reading and interpretting a facial expression to the tea, January would have a very hard time hiding anything from anyone. Thank God most people either couldn't read that far into things, or just plain didn't want to.

Though, it also struck her as quite ironic.. because, physically, her eyes were probably one of the most opaque colors of brown physically possible in a human being. But, figuratively, they were the most transparent clear that anyone could possibly imagine. The two contrasts also kind of connect the two contrasts of her personality: on the outside, she's as sweet as can be, but she's truly filled with so much hatred, and she's really such a broken girl.

Sunday Best And Broken Glass:
Otherwise, there's not much about January that's not physically obvious. She's not an ugly girl, that much is certain, but she seems to think herself that way. Mostly, she's seen wearing very conservative clothing, even to Club Orange and whatnot, just because she's got such a low self-esteem (caused by lack of recognition from her parents) that she doesn't seem to think she has anything to show off. And she never believes it when people try to dispute this fact anymore, just because of the experiences she had in the few years when she was caught up in nothing more than one night stands. And so, sweatpants and hoodies, or relaxed fit jeans and t-shirts that seem to fit her loosely are her norm. Occasionally, you'll find her in something that was a gift from someone else, but you'll also notice that she looks very uncomfortable being in public dressed like that.

Face Claim: Alicia Witt


PERSONALITY
Likes:

• Her first name
  
• Her family
  
• Pretty much everyone
  
• Being unique
  
• Snow
  
• Beautiful landscape
  
• Learning unexpected lessons (for the most part)
  
• Love
  
• Fairytales
  
• Her hometown

Dislikes:

• Being in love
  
• Death/Eternal Seperation
  
• Moving away
  
• Stereotypes
  
• Stuck-up people
  
• Rap/Hip-Hop
  
• Showing off
  
• Large social gatherings
  
• Being away from her family/hometown
  
• Silence

Fears: Well, January actually has 27 phobias... so, here they are:

• Asymmetrical things- Asymmetriphobia
  
• Blindness- Scotomaphobia.
  
• Being bound or tied up- Merinthophobia.
  
• Crossing brideges, or bridges in general- Gephyrophobia.
  
• Choking or being smothered- Pnigophobia or Pnigerophobia.
  
• Confined spaces- Claustrophobia.
  
• Death or dying- Thanatophobia.
  
• Disease and suffering- Panthophobia.
  
• Disease of the brain- Meningitophobia.
  
• Failure- Atychiphobia or Kakorrhaphiophobia.
  
• Heights- Acrophobia, Altophobia, Batophobia, Hypsiphobia or Hyposophobia.
  
• Dealing with insanity- Lyssophobia.
  
• Insanity- Dementophobia or Maniaphobia.
  
• Jumping from high and low places- Catapedaphobia.
  
• Being locked in an enclosed place- Cleithrophobia, Cleisiophobia, or Clithrophobia.
  
• Loneliness- Eremophobia or Eremiphobia.
  
• Falling in love or being in love- Philophobia
  
• Mobs or crowds- Demophobia, Enochlophobia or Ochlophobia.
  
• Number 13- Triskadekaphobia.
  
• Open high places- Aeroacrophobia
  
• Dependence on others- Soteriophobia
  
• Crowded public places- Agoraphobia
  
• Being ridiculed- Catagelophobia or Katagelophobia.
  
• Sin or of having committted an unpardonable sin- Enosiophobia or Enissophobia
  
• Speaking in public- Glossophobia
  
• Undressing in front of someone- Dishabillophobia
  
• Ventriloquist's dummy- Automatonophobia

Goals: at least 3

• Getting over some of, if not most of, her phobias
  
• Become an independent member of society
  
• Find someone that will care for her just the way she is without trying to change her

Overall Personality:
The Girl's Too Sweet:
Often times, January is far too sweet for her own good. She allows herself, in certain situations, to be walked all over, just because she doesn't wish to hurt anyone's feelings. But she also takes great pride in her caring for others. January feels that it's her caring nature that seperates herself from others of her economic stature. The rich kids seem to have gained a reputation for being inexplicably mean, aloof, and stuck-up. Having heard that for far too long, January set out to make it her goal to shatter that stereotype entirely, at least in the lives of a few people. If she could even make two or three people see that not all rich kids were horrible, then she would consider her life an accomplished feat, and she would be able to die happily, from natural causes, at a ripe old age.

The Minor Fall:
January's mother is a screenplay writer, and her father is a semi-well-known actor. You know all those tv shows, cartoons even, that depict the rich kid with parents so busy that they barely have time for their children? It wasn't just a mere depiction for January Caldwell. This was her life, and she'd lived it everyday until her Freshman year of high school. She saw her parents for a grand total of five minutes in a day, if she was lucky. Her elementary and middle school days were spent getting to know babysitters and other students at daycare centers. Sometimes she was able to look up to her various babysitters - and even the butler - as more of parental figures than her own parents. That was never a good situation to find your child in, but her parents seemed to be absolutely oblivious.

The Major Lift:
Because of this, when the question of public school or boarding school at Estabrook came up, January instantly began pushing for boarding school. Granted, she would still run into the same lack of parents problems, but she wouldn't have to stay at home by herself because her parents felt a highschooler was old enough to do so. January honestly thought she'd go crazy alone in a house that big. Silence was always very bothersome to the girl, mostly because of her lack of parental influence in that house, but she'd never quite admit that. So, January found herself torn: she loved her hometown and her family dearly, but she felt that Estabrooke would be the best change that she could make in her life. And, after having spent four years here, she sees that it was. She got to see her family on holidays, but she still had a lot more consistancy in her life being at Estabrooke. Consistancy was good. It made her feel more secure.

January the Lover:
Being the person of consistancy and affection that she is, January is a very devoted person, when she's not deathly afraid of the commitment. But, quite honestly, who wouldn't be afraid of commitment growing up in a household like hers? January was always afraid of disappointing others, because she herself had been constantly disappointed as a child. And what if her significant other left her? God... she would never be able to live with herself. Because they would prove to be just like her parents, and January didn't think she could handle more people in her life that were like her parents. She loved them, but she hated them all at once. They were those people that January loved to hate.

But, of her two parents, her mother seemed to make the most conscious effort to be around her, which caused January to become more emotionally attached to females than males. Some people use this to explain why January considers herself a lesbian, but the girl herself really doesn't quite know. Hell, she can't even really decide if she's definitely a lesbian or not. She's very sexually open, but not quite a pansexual. She considers herself to be a lesbian, just because she's morely drawn to the female gender... but if a guy wants to try and turn her straight, or even bi, she wouldn't be entirely opposed to the idea... that is, if they can break through her fear of committment. And no, one night stands are not an option.

January the Fighter:
On the flip side of things, January's a hell of a fighter. This does not mean physically, though, but more emotionally. With the thing she's dealt with, all the people that have walked in and out of her life, she's learned to fight and fight hard for those that she truly cares about. Like when her parents, in the middle of her Sophomore year, told her that they really didn't want her to visit anymore, because they were rarely home, January gave them a run for their money. There was no way, just because her parents weren't going to be home, that they were going to deny her the right to see the other people that she'd gotten close to during her time with her family. Though, naturally, they wouldn't know about those people, because they hadn't been around enough for her to tell them about them. It was a rather sad struggle, actually, but, to this day, she still goes home for holidays.

'All we, like sheep, have gone astray...'
Like all teenagers, January has made decisions in her life which she regrets. And regret, in January's opinion, is one of the worst things to deal with. There was the sex... there was the cutting... there were a lot of things. And, honestly, - in January's mind - the regret of those things was a lot more to deal with than those things themselves, or even their cause. The causes were petty, and the acts themselves only took a small deal of courage combined with a little bit of momentary insanity. But the aftermath, and the complications... the scars, and the feelings of inadequacy... were a lot more permanent, and a lot harder to face the next day.

The sex, ironically, came from the feelings of inadequacy that she experienced from her parents. Her siblings were all older than she was, and were all very successful. And so, because of this, January spent most of her time with her parents listening to this exquesite tales of what Rhonda had done, or the role that Baxter was just cast in. They'd never asked how January was doing. They never wanted to know anything about how school was for her, or how life was panning out. The things she'd accomplished. It was always about Rhonda and Baxter. Even her cousins got more mention in dinner conversation than she did. And so, at the age of fifteen, a rather young age, January went out looking for someone or something that could make her feel like she was special, and like someone cared for her. Unfortunately, all she found was a bunch of one night stands where the guys made her feel important long enough to get in her pants... then, she was nothing more than another notch in their belt.. another condom in the trash can. So now, at age eighteen, she swore off one night stands for good, but that didn't stop her from living with the guilt...

The cutting came from those repercussions of the one night stands. You see, everything in January's life is connected to something else. It's humanly impossible for her to be 'waffle-minded' and keep everything in it's own seperate little compartment in her mind. She HAS to be 'spaghetti-minded' and make everything tangle into everything else. Granted, life was probably more complicated that way, but, really, it made more sense. Anyway, January's cutting developed out of her one night stands, because it caused so much emotional pain that she stopped being able to pinpoint the source. And so, she needed something that she COULD pinpoint. By placing a small vertical cut on her wrist, and watching it bleed, she could sit there and tell herself, "Yes, that's pain. That's physical pain. I know where it's coming from, and I know what/who caused it." And, for some reason, that assurance made her feel better.

Cold and Broken:
And so, all in all, yes, January is far too sweet to those around her, but it's all really a facade. A farse. A cover-up. Yes, she was a genuinely caring person, but she only became that way to combat the true feelings within herself. Throughout the eighteen years of her life, January has had a lot of time, and a lot of opportunity, to build up a need for revenge against a lot of different people. There were her one night stand partners... for making her feel special and then just throwing her away. There were her siblings, for constantly forcing her to live in the shadows of their accomplishments. There were her parents, for being unable to see her and how much she'd needed the basic things that parents are supposed to provide for their children: love, a tender ear, and guidance. But, most of all, there was herself, for letting all these things get to her enough to resort to some very ugly things. Things that all she could do now was cover up with abstinence and arm bands.



HISTORY
Birth place: Riverside, California
Family:
Mother: Isabella Caldwell, married, 43, freelance screen play writer
Father: Manolo Caldwell, married, 54, actor
Sister: Rhonda Caldwell, single, 25, business executive
Brother: Baxter Caldwell, single, 24, actor
Grandparents: Esme and Gregory Bransten

Overall History:
And It's Not A Cry You Can Hear At Night {The Birth}:
All of those beautiful stories about, "In the middle of the night, after 36 hours of being in labor, a smack is heard and then the crying of a newborn baby breaks the silence..." Yea, no. Unfortunately January's birth was not that beautifully poetic. In fact, she was born at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, in broad daylight, in the middle of her tiled kitchen floor. Her mother had gone into unexpected labor about three weeks early. The procrastinating woman hadn't even made an appointment for expected delivery at the hospital yet, and so they couldn't very well call and tell them that she was early. So what did they do? Manolo sat Isabella down on the tiled floor, put a cold wash cloth over her head, and tried to coach her through the birth of their second baby girl. Imagine 6 and 7 year-olds Baxter and Rhonda sitting in the living room trying to focus on cartoons, Daddy, can we come in yet? No! Can't you still hear your mother screaming!?

She Broke Your Throne, And She Cut Your Hair {Toddler}:
The semi-neglection started at a very early age with January, her parents always being too busy helping their school-aged children with homework. January was usually left with the butler or the maid to play with, cooing and giggling, completely unaware of the parental figures in the other room that were only accomplishing their parental roles with two out of their three children. To be blunt, as well as 'short sweet and to the point,' January was blissfully unaware of her parents' limited existance until she got about potty-training age, when she actually looked her butler in the face, screamed YOU'RE NOT MY DADDY! and proceeded to run down the hallway, throwing a fit, pants down and all. That was a day of realization for all of them... well, all of them but her parents that seemed to remain blissfully unaware of their second daughter's unhappiness.

This pattern of realization for young January contined into when the maid bought her her first puppy, she caught the babysitter putting "Santa's" presents under the Christmas tree, and other things that parents usually did. Needless to say, this made the child wonder, but she really wasn't quite of age to understand what was really going on. After all, a toddler didn't know the meaning of the word 'neglect' and one didn't understand the idea of 'prioritizing.' There was really no way for her to approach her parents and tell him Look, I want you to spend more time with me... like, now... She was just in single digits, as far as age goes. All she knew was that mommy and daddy weren't paying attention to her. And that lead to assumptions her in barely-developed mind that mommy and daddy didn't love her. Needless to say, this didn't go over well as she got older.

Maybe I've Been Here Before {Pre-teen}:
Finally, when her pre-teen years hit, January began to fully grasp the concept of being the over-looked child, the 'ugly duckling' of sorts. Though, she really couldn't do much about it, she could at least try to bring it to their attention, which she tried to do, multiple times. Sometimes, she was stopped by the maid and distracted into playing some sort of game that required a lot of mental thought, pushing the confrontation out of her mind entirely. Sometimes she was caught by the butler and made to sit and listen to stories until either her parents left or she fell asleep. Either way, she was caught and forced to think about other things. And because she was a pre-teen and still rather young, her attention span wasn't really fully developed, and they succeeded in making her forget for the time being.

Though, she did succeed one time. Just once. She can remember it very clearly, as the conversation was turned around on her, somewhat.

The little ten year old had padded her way downstairs in the slippers she'd received from 'babysitter Santa' last Christmas and peered through the opening that lead into the wide living room. There was a fire going pretty strong, which meant that her parents would be up for awhile yet. Her eyes shifted to the digital clock that was rigged on the mantle. 11:52pm. This was a typical night for her parents. And, right now, the butler and maid were nowhere to be seen. It seemed like as good a time as any, if not a better time, to approach her parents. As she'd stepped into the room, her voice was soft and somewhat timid. "Mommy? Daddy?"

Her mother was the first to turn around, and she smiled on her second daughter, catching the firelight in her eyes a bit, which made her look somewhat demonic in truth, but young January just saw the pretty light and smiled back at her mother. Isabella opened her arms lovingly to January, who wasted no time in almost running to her mother and climbing in her lap. Wrapping her arms securely around her daughter, enclosing her in warmth, her voice was soft on the girl's ear. "What is it, darling?"

"Do you love me anymore?" The question was simple and blunt, but, really, no one could blame January for that. Ten year olds didn't know how to be anything but straightforward.

Now it was Manolo's turn to respond. He choked on his unusually large gulp of black coffee and turned around from his desk to look at his child with wide eyes. It was like he didn't believe that the question had acutally come out. If one would look at him, you'd think he'd considered himself the pinnacle of fatherhood who'd just had his self-confidence insulted by a ten year old. "Of course we love you, honey. What would make you think we didn't?" The tone was rather cold though, the hint of his being insulted still trailing in the words.

"You don't play with me. You never read to me. I barely see you. You're always with Rhonda or Baxter, or you're not home." Again with being straightforward. Though, the ten year old had her own tone to her voice. It wasn't as cold as her father's, but it was even more hurt than his had sounded. This was the tone of a ten year old whose heart was breaking... or at least, that's how she made it seem.

Isabella's turn again, though, she seemed far less loving than she had a moment ago. She shifted her child off her lap and stood her on the living room floor to face her. As she looked her second daughter square in the eyes, her expression was somewhat wild, like she wanted to get this whole thing over with and get back to her laptop beside her. "Honey... you're just imagining things. We spend plenty of time with you. But, deary me, it's midnight. Get on up to bed, and we'll talk about this later, I promise."

That promise, to this day, had never been kept.

I Know This Room, I've Walked This Floor {Teen, Pre-San Fransisco}:
Her teen years is where things started to get a little bit messed up. Since that night when she was ten, January had paid very much attention to how much time Isabella and Manolo spent wither her and compared it to the amount of time that they spent with Rhonda and Baxter individually, as well as Rhonda and Baxter as a pair. You see, Baxter and Rhonda had grown very close, being only a year apart, but... since January was a good 6 and 7 years apart from them, they'd always kind of pushed her around, but never really accepted her. So, she couldn't even get time with her parents by spending time with her siblings. She felt kind of like a Cinderella. But, really, she learned to deal with it, especially as a teenager. There were plenty of things that she could occupy her time with. Unfortunately, those were not the best things.

Right before she was sent, mostly by choice, to San Fransisco, January developed the habit of cutting her wrists. Yes, she would cut vertically... but she really had no intention of killing herself. She just felt that, from all the emotional pain that had been involved in her life, she needed something physical that she could see and understand. Some kind of pain that made sense. And she'd convinced herself that if she could only see that kind of pain and understand it once, then she'd be okay. But that certainly was not the case. First, it was one line down her left wrist, and a rather small line at that. But then, her cutting became more frequent, and more in quanitity. Soon enough, she was cutting two and three lines down that one wrist at a time, and then she'd moved to her other wrist, the tops of her thighs, and the upper parts of her shoulders. It became somewhat of an addiction, but it had never been serious that it could actually be considered a suicide attempt. It was merely an attempt at some sort of security. Something she could understand.

I Used To Live Alone Before I Knew You {San Fransisco}:
God, being sent to San Fransisco was sort of like a blessing to January. Finally, she could get out of the deathtrap that was her usually empty mansion house and get into a school where consistancy was more often visible than not. Granted, not only being new but being a freshman didn't seem to work out too well, but she was accepted amongst some people who were writers by nature, as she herself was, and things just seemed to blossom from there. Life was good, for awhile. She felt very much accepted amongst her peers, at least the female ones, and her lack of acceptance from the males reminded her too much of home, where she was at least sort of cared about by her mother, and pretty much shunned by her father. January instantly set out to change that in a not so good way.

The second semester of her freshman year, Jauary got in with a female athlete... one of those traditional boyfriend-stealing types... and began talking to her about that sense of inadequacy that she started feeling at home with her father, and now here with the male portion of the population. The girl's advice? Very simple. Well, simple in thought, but not necessarily in action. Put out. That's all she was told. The athlete told her that if she put out for a guy, then they would care about her. She could get a relationship if she did what the boy wanted. And so, being as naive as she was at the time, January set off and found herself a male athlete and began flirting with him. He told her how special she seemed to him, and offered to walk her back to her dorm. She'd accepted and, once they were there, she'd invited him in. She gave in. She put out. And when she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

January had managed to convince herself that this was just a faulty guy, and tried again. She found another boy at a local club and had the same sort of situation. The flirtation. The compliments. Though, this time you add in alcohol and change the location to the changing room at the beach. They fell asleep together and she woke up alone again. Though, January was still stupidly following the female athlete's advice, convinced that she would find the right guy. After five or six more of these relationships between then and the beginning of the second semester of her Junior year, she realized that the girl had been wrong, and she vowed off of one night stands for good. Putting out certainly did not get you a relationship.

But, unfortunately, she'd already unintentionally gained the reputation of being a whore. This didn't fair well with the boys that wanted her to put out. Naturally, with her newfound realization, she denied them. She thought that once she did, they would understand and leave her alone. Unfortunately, teenaged boys are not inherently good. A group of three of them, she didn't even know their names, had decided to gang up on her one night. While she was on her way to Starbuck's to meet one of her few guy friends that would actually talk to her without expecting sex, they cornered her and managed to maneuver her into an alley. She was scared to deal of all of them and afraid to scream for help. They pretty much attacked her, not necessarily being violent, but morely being needy. They'd hurriedly half-stripped her and planned on who was going to 'hit that' first when the friend she was meeting walked by, naturally on his way back to his dorm after assuming he'd been stood up. He recognized her and somehow gotten the boys away from her. She couldn't say that she remembered much about that night except for waking up with a massive headache in the arms of said friend. He'd reassured her that they hadn't slept together, which made her really admire him and make a stronger conviction to stop the one night stands.

Through that night, she learned that sometimes when you don't put out, the boy stays. And when you do, you could get yourself hurt.

Finally, though, after about a semester and a half, she'd managed to regain her reputation of being your traditional 'good girl', going into her senior year and continuing friendships that she'd thought she lost along the way. It seemed to take three guys going way too far to get it through everyone's heads that January Caldwell was a changed girl. But, whatever it was, it had worked, and she thanked God that she'd lived through it to see its effects. She vowed to never do anything like that that would mess up her life that badly... especially in her senior year.




ABOUT YOU
Name: Danni
Age: Eighteen
Years Roleplaying: At least 6 years
Rule Phrase: -admin edit-
Sample Roleplay:

We're a million strong and getting stronger still
They'll remember we were here
With a million voices breaking silence 'til
They'll remember we were here...

As if there wasn't a nicer way to spend a beautiful California day, Forest was all smiles when he approached the Westwick Stables for the first time. He had never been too skilled in the area of horses, but it had always been something that fascinated the eighteen year old, even when he was younger. He used to steal the remote from his mother and change the channel to horse racing when she wasn't looking, just so he could marvel at the sight of people being able to stay up on those massive animals and still ride fast. Their coordination and mastery of the art of riding was an inspiration to him in everything that he did, including his own riding which he started when he was thirteen and quit when he was fourteen. No specific reason, really; no traumatic event. He'd just moved and couldn't bring his favourite horise with him; Forest was a 'one horse' kind of guy, well, rather, a 'one anything' kind of guy, and he didn't feel the need to try and get used to a horse here at Esta. That was, of course, until today presented him with nothing to do.

It was true. Forest had gotten up on a beautiful Saturday morning and taken his sweet time getting ready. In fact, he'd lounged around in his favourite navy blue pajama pants and grey t-shirt for awhile, doing absolutely nothing but flipping through a random literary magazine he'd picked up a few days ago. Deciding that there wasn't really anything interesting in it, he'd resorted to looking through the calendar on his cell phone. It was at that very moment in time that he came to the undeniable conclusion that he had absolutely nothing to do. He actually closed out of the calander and then re-checked it, wondering if something had gotten lost. Nope. It was true. Even though he was a shy boy, he usually did have plans on the weekends: a friend's gig, hanging out with random people, a lunch date with his mom, something. But not today. Mom was out of town, there were no bands playing that he knew of, and from further investigation in the form of going through his text inbox, he saw that he was not supposed to randomly hang out with anyone today. Huh. A Saturday to himself? Whatever shall he do?

He picked himself up, throwing on a worn out pair of light-coloured blue jeans that had genuine holes in the knees, not the ones that are pre-made, and a green t-shirt. Pulling a comb through his hair quickly, he'd slipped on socks and his old tennis shoes and headed out the door without a second thought. There had to be something in Estabrooke or the surrounding town to do today, there just had to be. Unfortunately, Estabrooke was a pretty big place, so Forest had a lot of ground to cover. He was hoping that he could randomly run into someone that wasn't doing anything and wanted to hang out, but this really didn't serve to be the case. And after about an hour of hoping, he gave up and just continued walking. After all, walking could be considered a good use of time in the day, right?

That was when he came across it. Honestly, he had no idea that Estabrooke had a stable until just then, and it put a huge smile on his face to see it. It was very well put together, and very well organized, upon first impression, and Forest couldn't help but feel himself drawn to it. Before he knew it, his feet were moving towards the stable, and it felt like nothing could stop him. Nothing, of course, except a face that he most definitely recognized, or, rather, the back of a head that he still would've recognized anywhere. Haru was, for lack of a better word, amazing, as cliche as that sounded. She was, at the least, beautiful and intelligent, but she was so much more than that. Plus, there was the fact that he didn't talk, and so conversations between the two of them involving infinite amounts of sign language often confused or even frightened passers-by, which was enough to amuse at least Forest. Though, sometimes, in the middle of those conversations, after a particularly interesting look from an outsider, Forest could steal a glance at Haru's face and see her smiling. Ah, how he loved those 'talks.'

Approaching her from behind, he gave her a gently hug and whispered to her, "Don't be frightened. It's just me. Forest." He would save his true greeting until she turned around, so that he could sign to her. Truthfully, this would probably be one of the very few times that he actually verbally spoke to her. He was the kind of person that didn't want to make anyone work harder than they needed to. If Haru signed to him, he signed back. It was a skill he'd picked up after having to learn to communicated to his two deaf cousins. He didn't mind signing to the girl. In fact, he thought that he made her more comfortable around him. It most certainly made him more comfortable around her. No pressure to speak. Only to sign. It was very nice. Signing is more of a visual language than a verbal one, and visual was definitely Forest's strong suit; at least, stronger than ANYTHING verbal.

[/blockquote]

[Riku Hewett]

Accepted.

Welcome to Dream Breakers. You'll be assigned your group as soon as you post to the face claims.