Player Name: Soujin
Player Age: 19
Contact Info: rainbowjehan@gmail.com / BitterRusset on AIM / rainbowjehan on gtalk
Time Zone: EST
Character: Jacob MacNaight
Based on: Sir Peredur/Percivale
Age: 33
Occupation: Cook
Bio: Sir Peredur was raised in the woods by his mother with his older sister Heliabel to protect him from the world and its habit of killing people. When he was fifteen he left them and earned knighthood in King Arthur’s court. He lived there on and off for a while until Sir Galahad came to court, and, in him, Peredur met the person he would love most in the world. He followed Galahad on all of his quests (except that they usually were Percy’s quests, and Galahad came along) until the Grail Quest, on which Heliabel, Galahad’s true love, and Galahad both died, Galahad after attaining the grail. Peredur was wounded on the quest, and without his sister and his beloved friend he chose to live the rest of his life as a religious hermit.
Jacob was raised in the country by his father, along with Ruth, Isaac, Simon-Peter, and Tamar, his brothers and sisters. He was the eldest, and also the one with the worst head for school-type things, and he did not go to college, although the rest of his siblings did. Jacob stayed home to take care of his father, and about ten years back they both moved to Britannia, where Jacob still takes care of Mr. MacNaight.
He is always picked to play Jesus in the annual Easter pageant, which disturbs some people and suits others just right. The rest of the year, he cooks for Florence Sandford’s diner and generally gets roped into barbequing for church picnics and doing the pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. Although he may kill all of you people if he ends up having to make the pancakes from scratch again this year, because there’s home cooking and then there’s pancakes for a congregation that includes sixteen teenagers. Just for the record.
Personality: Most of the people at the Presbyterian church think that Jacob is significantly older than he is. It’s not that he looks or acts old, exactly, it’s that he just seems a little tireder and sadder than is usual for someone who’s only just hit his thirties. The thing is that Jacob remembers everything about his previous life, and has, with perfect clarity, since he was thirteen. And it’s one thing to know who you used to be and to be all right with that, but it’s another to know that your best friend has been dead for over a thousand years, and to be pretty sure you’re not getting him back.
He’s a very warm person, not the kind of person to be scared of (although nobody’s ever seen him table-turning angry), and he has a safe feeling to him that goes along with the tiredness and the sadness. Every now and then the vestry committee tries to talk him into teaching Sunday School because the littlest kids like him, tend to mob him after service, and it is not unusual to see him (especially at church events) doing his job or talking to somebody with a random five year old tucked in the crook of one arm.
Adults are not quite as comforted by him, but the feeling is still there. You feel like if you gave him a Bible and pointed him in the right direction he’d end up with a flock of converts inside of an hour. The trouble is he keeps his religion to himself outside of church.
It is a very true and deep religion.
Sample Post: Ruth calls during Jacob’s lunch break, to wish Dad a happy birthday, and although he’s starting to lose his hearing and his memory of the day before keeps getting a little looser, Dad laughs and talks on the phone. Jacob can hear him as he gets his things together to go back to work.
It’s a good thing the kids still call. It keeps Dad from getting lonely. Phone’s a nice invention, Jacob thinks; nice to be able to let folks know from so far away how you are, goes a lot faster than letters, which were never much good in the old days anyway since half of everybody couldn’t read at all. He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and gets his bike back out of the shed, heading over to Sandford’s in the afternoon sun.
Sometimes in the winter the moon is cheese-yellow, a curvy-ended piece of homemade cheddar, by the time he heads home. His bike chain moves more slowly in the cold, but the starlight always comes back home. In the old days he couldn’t get too far in winter. He’d hole up by his clay fireplace and watch the snow out his door, thick and tumbledown, holding him in. He always missed Galahad, but it got worse when he saw something beautiful that he’d never gotten around to showing Galahad. Like what it looked like to spend the winter in your house, eating dried fruit and meat and thinking about God and what was done and what was coming.
He misses Galahad now. The bike chain runs around the slim, wide gears, slippery fast with the August heat, reminding him of how he used to chase cars out in Johnson Country, sprinting down the dirt roads after those clouds of dust and exhaust, like somehow you could catch one and stand on the roof of it with your arms open, flying to wherever it was gonna go.
Mrs. Sandford always gives him leftover pie or something at the end of the day to take home to Dad, knowing, he guesses, what a house with a just widower and a bachelor must eat like. Like most people here, she’s kind without necessity. Galahad would have been glad of that. The world outside his monastery had always been a little too much for him, full as it was of people who weren’t as generous as his childhood full of mothers, brides of Christ and keepers of orphans. Jacob had always wanted him to stay in good places.
The ride isn’t far, and a few minutes later he breaks in the gravel in front of the diner, swings his long legs over the back of the bike and knocks the kickstand down, parking it around by the side where it won’t get in anyone’s way.
He loves Galahad more than anyone, but Galahad’s gone, and the truth is you can’t wait around for someone to appreciate the world with you. In the end, you can’t even go back to bury your father (your mother). Jacob wipes the dust off on his jeans and ducks through the door. God is for the living.
Journal:![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
psalm_131
Played By: Mahershalalhashbaz Ali
Player Age: 19
Contact Info: rainbowjehan@gmail.com / BitterRusset on AIM / rainbowjehan on gtalk
Time Zone: EST
Character: Jacob MacNaight
Based on: Sir Peredur/Percivale
Age: 33
Occupation: Cook
Bio: Sir Peredur was raised in the woods by his mother with his older sister Heliabel to protect him from the world and its habit of killing people. When he was fifteen he left them and earned knighthood in King Arthur’s court. He lived there on and off for a while until Sir Galahad came to court, and, in him, Peredur met the person he would love most in the world. He followed Galahad on all of his quests (except that they usually were Percy’s quests, and Galahad came along) until the Grail Quest, on which Heliabel, Galahad’s true love, and Galahad both died, Galahad after attaining the grail. Peredur was wounded on the quest, and without his sister and his beloved friend he chose to live the rest of his life as a religious hermit.
Jacob was raised in the country by his father, along with Ruth, Isaac, Simon-Peter, and Tamar, his brothers and sisters. He was the eldest, and also the one with the worst head for school-type things, and he did not go to college, although the rest of his siblings did. Jacob stayed home to take care of his father, and about ten years back they both moved to Britannia, where Jacob still takes care of Mr. MacNaight.
He is always picked to play Jesus in the annual Easter pageant, which disturbs some people and suits others just right. The rest of the year, he cooks for Florence Sandford’s diner and generally gets roped into barbequing for church picnics and doing the pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. Although he may kill all of you people if he ends up having to make the pancakes from scratch again this year, because there’s home cooking and then there’s pancakes for a congregation that includes sixteen teenagers. Just for the record.
Personality: Most of the people at the Presbyterian church think that Jacob is significantly older than he is. It’s not that he looks or acts old, exactly, it’s that he just seems a little tireder and sadder than is usual for someone who’s only just hit his thirties. The thing is that Jacob remembers everything about his previous life, and has, with perfect clarity, since he was thirteen. And it’s one thing to know who you used to be and to be all right with that, but it’s another to know that your best friend has been dead for over a thousand years, and to be pretty sure you’re not getting him back.
He’s a very warm person, not the kind of person to be scared of (although nobody’s ever seen him table-turning angry), and he has a safe feeling to him that goes along with the tiredness and the sadness. Every now and then the vestry committee tries to talk him into teaching Sunday School because the littlest kids like him, tend to mob him after service, and it is not unusual to see him (especially at church events) doing his job or talking to somebody with a random five year old tucked in the crook of one arm.
Adults are not quite as comforted by him, but the feeling is still there. You feel like if you gave him a Bible and pointed him in the right direction he’d end up with a flock of converts inside of an hour. The trouble is he keeps his religion to himself outside of church.
It is a very true and deep religion.
Sample Post: Ruth calls during Jacob’s lunch break, to wish Dad a happy birthday, and although he’s starting to lose his hearing and his memory of the day before keeps getting a little looser, Dad laughs and talks on the phone. Jacob can hear him as he gets his things together to go back to work.
It’s a good thing the kids still call. It keeps Dad from getting lonely. Phone’s a nice invention, Jacob thinks; nice to be able to let folks know from so far away how you are, goes a lot faster than letters, which were never much good in the old days anyway since half of everybody couldn’t read at all. He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and gets his bike back out of the shed, heading over to Sandford’s in the afternoon sun.
Sometimes in the winter the moon is cheese-yellow, a curvy-ended piece of homemade cheddar, by the time he heads home. His bike chain moves more slowly in the cold, but the starlight always comes back home. In the old days he couldn’t get too far in winter. He’d hole up by his clay fireplace and watch the snow out his door, thick and tumbledown, holding him in. He always missed Galahad, but it got worse when he saw something beautiful that he’d never gotten around to showing Galahad. Like what it looked like to spend the winter in your house, eating dried fruit and meat and thinking about God and what was done and what was coming.
He misses Galahad now. The bike chain runs around the slim, wide gears, slippery fast with the August heat, reminding him of how he used to chase cars out in Johnson Country, sprinting down the dirt roads after those clouds of dust and exhaust, like somehow you could catch one and stand on the roof of it with your arms open, flying to wherever it was gonna go.
Mrs. Sandford always gives him leftover pie or something at the end of the day to take home to Dad, knowing, he guesses, what a house with a just widower and a bachelor must eat like. Like most people here, she’s kind without necessity. Galahad would have been glad of that. The world outside his monastery had always been a little too much for him, full as it was of people who weren’t as generous as his childhood full of mothers, brides of Christ and keepers of orphans. Jacob had always wanted him to stay in good places.
The ride isn’t far, and a few minutes later he breaks in the gravel in front of the diner, swings his long legs over the back of the bike and knocks the kickstand down, parking it around by the side where it won’t get in anyone’s way.
He loves Galahad more than anyone, but Galahad’s gone, and the truth is you can’t wait around for someone to appreciate the world with you. In the end, you can’t even go back to bury your father (your mother). Jacob wipes the dust off on his jeans and ducks through the door. God is for the living.
Journal:
psalm_131Played By: Mahershalalhashbaz Ali