Post by JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS on Sept 21, 2011 17:38:51 GMT -5
Erik Spectre
"Angel of Music"
"Angel of Music"
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Alias: Leffie
Other Characters: Sebastian Timothy Martin, Dr. John Watson, Rhys Phillip Hawthorne
Rewritten City Found Via: Originally through Sisi
Contact: Skype (lefantomeromance), googledocs (rewrittengirl), pm any account
Comments: Well, for starters I’m making Erik a lot more modern than he was before. He just seemed like a carbon copy of the actual book Erik, and I don’t want that for the revamp. I hope he seems more fun and more menacing, in many ways now. Just a heads up. ^^
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00I. full name Erik Spectre (real name Jean Paul DuBois)
0II. canon or original The Phantom of the Opera (it irks me when you don’t add the The)
III. years of age 40
0IV. orientation (optional) Heterosexual
00V. social status High Class (just barely)
0VI. occupation High school Music teacher, composer
00I. play by Adrien Brody
0II. body type The composure of a skeleton, basically, but Erik carries himself with a distinguished poise and grace, both frighteningly ghostlike and charmingly powerful at the same time.
III. height 6’5”
0IV. eyes color A rare gold that change from bright and happy to dark and gloomy with his mood.
00V. description Erik isn't what you'd call... beautiful. In fact far from it. Many who have seen his real face have said it was the work of the devil. Unfortunately, he believes them to be right, most of the time. He is hideously deformed, beyond surgery. He has little hair, only a few dark locks on his forehead and behind his ears. His eyes are very sunken in, due to both the deformity and sporadic sleeping problems, and almost appear just as sockets in a skull. His cheeks are hollow, and his lips are so thin there is little to speak of them. His skin is a yellowish color like aging parchment, stretched tight over his bones thinly, revealing tiny veins protruding when his temper flares. He is deathly skinny, almost like a skeleton, and if that wasn't enough, to complete his entire appearance is the absence of a nose! Fortunately he has enough money to use prosthetics when out and about, and uses theatre makeup to hide his skin discoloration. He also wears a wig to hide his bald head. The wig is usually a darker color, usually pretty long, but sometimes he’ll wear a lighter short wig, if he wants to feel sophisticated. He looks much younger when he’s wearing a wig and makeup, and that pleases him immensely.
Dressing-wise, Erik’s wardrobe is what you call varied and... colorful. When on a business venture he will dress typically, white shirt, nice suit and tie, black dress shoes, shorter wig. Normally however, he likes to dress fashionably, and his version of fashionable consists of nice suits, but in rather... colorful shades. He’s rather eccentric in his tastes, and due to his occupation as a street magician he’ll often wear bright and verbose colors like royal purples and blues, and happy yellows, lustrous reds, gold metallics, even bright pinks on occasion. He’ll wear bow ties as well as regular ties, though they’ll always match whatever he’s wearing (he’ll usually where two or three colors at once, though they always coordinate with each other). He always has suspenders on underneath his jacket, and will often wear wacky bowlers to further his “magiciany” feel, but fedoras are his hat of choice. No matter what he wears though, unless its a formal “black tie” event or a business meeting, he’s always colorful.
00I. overall personality Erik is what you’d call... Eccentric. And that’s probably an understatement. He’s probably, no, definitely is clinically insane, but don’t tell him that, or he’d just get angry with you. And you really don’t want to anger a clinically insane person. There are many layers to him, some so contradictory that you’d swear he was two people, and he may just have dissociative identity disorder.
Let’s start with how he sees himself. First of all Erik considers himself a complete gentleman, and even though he realizes he has incredible flaws, he’s far too proud of himself to acknowledge them in any real setting. He rather considers himself the greatest composer of the modern age, but honestly, that’s just him trying to build himself up, to appear better than his appearance (ie: his noseless face) would suggest. He wants to be the perfect man, but in turn is inexplicably dishonest and rude, not to mention generally unlikable when he’s being himself. Or is he? He’s often pitiful, in a strange, off-beat sort of way, though he refuses anyone’s pity when offered. He’s a sad little (or rather tall) person, though without guidance, the sadness sort of became a sick, skewed view of everything, and he’s a rather pessimistic man indeed.
That’s just skimming the surface.This is the self he’s aware of, though most of it he’s not proud of. When he’s not aware of his actions, when he just goes about his day, and on the rare occasion he interacts with people (outside of his magician profession), he can be many things all at once, or nothing at all. It depends, really, on how he’s feeling at the time. Most of the time he will resort to being incredibly sarcastic, his humor dark and morbid. He’ll often sneer at people, simply because they annoy him with their frivolity and mindlessness, but really, he’s just super jealous of their noses. Honestly. He loves noses, and envies every one he sees. People take their noses for granted.
Many would call Erik loud and verbose, but that’s only when he’s fully confident in his abilities. Sometimes he will be a bit on the quiet and introspective side when he is undermined by someone else, though this is not often. He mostly just scares people with his strange and down right creepy way of moving and acting, and his tall and overbearing figure does nothing to help that case, either. Perhaps if he was a bit shorter, a bit less gangly and well... skeletal looking, he might get along better with people, but he’ll always honestly terrify them, one way or another. He’s grown to like this, and often takes pleasure in frightening the little people around him, like they’re krill swimming away from a rather large, and very hungry, whale.
When he’s alone (which is often) he’ll go for days on end without eating or sleeping, only writing music. Music is his life, and without it, he would not live. Of course he enjoys other things, such as magic and illusions, illustrated clearly by his day/night (depending on the time of day, of course) job as a street magician. He enjoys fooling people and manipulating how people see him and the world, for he believes nothing is as it seems and one should not have the highest regard for appearances at all. They can always deceive you, one way or another.
Surprisingly, though his job would suggest otherwise, he’s quite the loner, and rather dislikes most, if not all people. He likes the attention of the crowds, as long as they never see his real face, but he has difficulty communicating properly with people due to his years of being abandoned and ridiculed. This has lead him to become a sort of hermit, though he does go out and enjoy New York City. How could he not, with all the artistry and music it has to offer? He likes watching people interact with each other, but does not like it when people interact with him. He sort of envies their ease of communication. However, Erik gets frustrated with people easily, though, and with himself. The man is dyslexic, and has the handwriting of a child, so he likes to avoid having to give signatures on official documents or anything of the sort. He’s very self conscious about himself, even though he displays mostly confidence when dealing with other people.
When concerning his jobs (as a composer and as a magician), he is both passionate and brilliant, even though his temperamental nature can get in the way. He does have a way with music and illusions, and puts all his energy into both. It is no wonder he has become so rich doing so, though he still works for tips in the streets, perhaps just to be noticed, or perhaps just to play games with people. He has a rather sadistic mindset, and has been known to torture people just for fun, both physically and mentally. This is only when he is at his most diabolical, however, and the man is not truly evil. He may revert to a natural primal state at times, especially when someone sees his face, or they deny him happiness (and he will see to it that his happiness is not disturbed). He is rather forceful and pushy, but at the odd hours of the day can be extremely compassionate and caring, though only to people or things (such as animals) he trusts with his unbalanced nature. It is unexpected and awkward for most to experience his kindness, as it is so rare, but it is there.
As stated before, Erik is not a terrible person. He is just thoroughly misguided and has a lack of correct judgement, which leads people to believe he is inherently evil. He’s not, really. A bit dangerous to be around, but has a kind heart buried deep down. He’s a bit of a grumpy old man, but he’s humorous when he wants to be. So before you judge him (as he’s often judged), take a moment and put himself in his shoes... Or rather, give yourself no nose and call it a day. Because living without a nose isn’t really a good life, honestly. He at least gets by with his magic and music, living vicariously through the happiness and splendour of people’s smiling faces as he surprises them with spectacular tricks and illusions, and through the joy of musicals and opera, where his heart truly belongs.
0II. strengths Brilliant composer of music, excellent magician, could fool anyone, quick witted, highly intelligent, resilient, pretty funny when he wants to be, kind when he wants to be, a very large imagination, can be childlike in an adorable sense at times, etc.
III. weaknesses A complete asshole sometimes, hates people, pretty much mentally insane, sadistic sense of humor, shy, compulsively obsessive, compulsive liar, never keeps his word, pushy, egotistical, haughty, insensitive, hates children, very manipulative (and good at it too), physical outbursts, has an odd obsession with choking/strangling people (especially with his Punjab Lasso, but anything will do, including his hands), morbid beyond all belief, speaks in third person on occasion, a wino... and he’s ticklish.
0IV. goals Long term goals are to be remembered as a brilliant composer, to be regarded among the likes of Mozart and Beethoven (his hero), and to find a wife who loves him for him, and not his face (who could love a corpse?). Immediate goals include... well... There’s really only one... And that’s... To have his first date. At 45.
00I. notable family & friends Mother Colette DuBois, has never really hated her, but doesn’t like talking about her or remembering her due to what she did to him. Distant father Christian DuBois, never really spoke to his son. His only “friend” if you could call her that is currently Jane Eyre, a girl he met in a graveyard while bemoaning himself. She makes him smile at least, and he enjoys her company, but he is really just using her for now because he doesn’t want to be alone all his life, even though he advertises that he does.
0II. overall history Erik was born in Quebec to a master mason father and stepford wife type mother. When he was born he was immediately frowned upon because of his face, and his entire family became pariahs of society. No one wished to associate with the parents of the demon child in a small, rural town with high superstitions. His mother was cruel to him, never even bothering to kiss her only son, and placed a black mask upon his head the moment he was born, like the hood of the condemned.
His mother kept him in the basement, away from prying eyes. He practiced music at an early age from the pages of musical scores that sat in dusty boxes, left over from his mother's glory days as a jazz singer. She also had good taste in operas, classical music, and musicals, especially musicals, so Erik would listen for hours to the old records she had kept.
When he was 7 years old, his father died, and he ran away from home, knowing any security he might have found before died with his old man. He joined a gypsy camp that roamed around Canada, showcasing him as "the Living Corpse" that could sing and shock audiences with his grotesque face. The jeers he received from his superiors, and the occasional peer, scarred him for life, and he lost all self confidence in his youth, after he’d so hoped the world would be different from his mother’s basement. In this camp, he was showed all the wonders of magic and illusions, and it was only through this that he could escape the torment he faced every day, so he developed a fondness for all things fantastic.
He escaped the dreadful fair after a few years, and found himself in New York City. He was 13 at this time, and though he was incredibly ugly, child services eventually found him wandering the streets while playing the violin (rather beautifully), and put him their care. He refused to say who his parents were, and there was no way anyone could find them through tests. He’d told them his name was Erik Spectre, and since his mother kept him locked away after he’d been born at home, he technically didn’t exist in any system. He was like a ghost.
They couldn’t very well put him into the system without knowing who his parents were, so they placed him in a private school with a boarding house that would house him until he was 18. There, he was made fun of, naturally, for the mask he wore on his face, and he drowned himself in music until it became his own little world. He wrote music, he sang music (only by himself, however), and he played music on all sorts of instruments. It was only through the kindness of the school’s music teacher that he was able to see that there was some sort of goodness in the world, so he aspired to be like her. She helped him apply to NYU when it came time for him to graduate, and he decided he wanted to be a music teacher too. He knew music well enough, so this is what he focused on. He dual-majored in education and music theory, and minored in music history. He devoted himself day and night to his craft, and graduated with high honors.
During his time in college, he worked on major compositions that he dreamed of sending to the Philharmonic, and perhaps the Met. When he graduated, he had completed three concertos and two symphonies (he basically never slept or at much). But he was extremely afraid to be turned down, as he always was. So instead of just sending them to them, he went to the Philharmonic and played for them. They were extremely impressed, though estranged by his mask. He was turned down. They told him his work needed refining. He knew it was because he was a freak. He was incredibly distressed, and then and there decided that he would strive to look as normal as possible, and pooled all of his money into plastic surgery. Doctors said there was no way any surgery would fix such a deformity as his, so they recommended prosthetics that he could apply himself. He did so, and the next time he went to the Philharmonic, he told them that he had been insecure and raised under a strict rule (which he had), and finally decided to shed the comfort blanket of his mask. The compositions were accepted, and they were playing his music a few months later.
He decided to remain anonymous, publishing his music under a pseudonym so that his private life could be kept private. He was pretty rich now, since everyone loved his music, but he was too shy to come out that he wrote it, so he had to find work elsewhere. He turned to his degree, and found a job at a local public high school, in dire need of some form of art education. The students there are problem students, but he works hard to get them to appreciate music. His temper has showed a few times, but the students walk all over him for the most part, do to his shy and passive nature. He continues to write music in his spare time, and sends what he can to the Philharmonic. He’s working on an musical, and hopes to compose operas one day, but he’s got a long way to go.
III. sample post”Mew!”
‘Stop with the incessant meowing! It’s driving me insane!’
“Meeeeew!”
‘Stop it, right this minute, you evil little thing. I’m trying to nap.’
“MEW!”
“AH!” Erik exclaimed, falling off the bench when the cat’s mewing was right next to his ear. She (or was it a he? No, now that he looked, definitely a she) wasn’t particularly loud, just close enough now for him to be extremely annoyed with the animal who had awoken him.
Who’d want to sleep on a park bench? Well, hobos for one. Drunks for another. He could have been drunk, but the days blended so swiftly together sometimes he could barely remember what day it was, much less if he had been drinking.
But no, Erik had been thinking, and thinking turned to dreaming, and dreaming turned to napping.
So now here he was, rubbing his head and staring up at the cat who had taken his seat on the bench. It seemed to be all she had wanted, as she laid sprawled out precisely where he had been not moments before.
He carefully rose to his knees and rested his arms on the bench. “That’s mine,” he said with a glare.
The cat didn’t look at him, rather at the yellow butterfly that had landed delicately at the other end of the bench. She stretched out her paw to it, her entire body the length of his forearm (he had a rather long forearm).
The butterfly didn’t move, just resting there as if waiting for something. He watched the cat (whose fur was a rather luxurious shade of black) creep up from her position and stare at the insect straight on. Erik raised an eyebrow, but consented to let the animal do as she wished, as it was all rather interesting. Cats were his favorite, after all.
The cat’s tail swam in the air like a snake, and she licked her lips in hunger. Erik then realized the intent of the cat, and blinked. She couldn’t be serious. How could she catch (and eat, he might add) a Jezebel butterfly, he recognized it as, who could easily flit off at a moments notice.
But the cat was a clever huntress, not making a sound as her tail end rose in the air, her paws stretched out in front of her, ready to pounce.
Suddenly, the cat looked at him, and he saw for the first time that the creature’s eyes were a stark shade of blood red, something he’d never seen before in such an animal. It was both alarming and fascinating at the same time.
Then, she winked at him! Or what he thought was a wink, you could never be too sure. But it seemed like one, and he had to rub his eyes (not too much, else the makeup would wear off) to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. What an attitude this feline had!
And she leaped! What a sight it was when she clamped down upon her chosen prey! Her claws tore apart its wings and stuffed it hungrily into her mouth, her whiskers flicking with each gulp she took.
It was a positively entrancing sight. He’d seen many a predator in action, of course, from his travels abroad, but he found that now nothing could compare to the vision of a simple domestic cat eating a bright yellow butterfly. It was practically morbid and grotesque in the highest sense.
Erik loved every minute of it.
When the cat finished, she sad delicately back on her hind legs, bringing one front paw to lick it of the insect’s remains, her red eyes looking at him from their corners, as if she said “Now will you challenge me?” Of course he wouldn’t.
Suddenly he realized that if the cat had been well fed, she would not have to resort to killing butterflies for food. “Are you homeless?” he said.
Surprisingly, the animal turned her head toward him, as if in answer. She padded over to his face where watched her intently, and as if she knew, and rubbed her cheek along his, bringing with it as she pulled back a massive section of his makeup.
“Hey!” he cried, hand immediately moving to his face to rub the remaining makeup where she’d rubbed some off so that it looked relatively normal.
The cat simply sashayed off, her hips swinging and her tail gliding in the air. Erik could detect a hint of a smirk plastering her lips.
“Well aren’t you a little Jezebel!” he exclaimed, remembering the butterfly. He stood up with a scowl.
The cat turned and looked up at him, as if he had called her name. Suddenly, he felt particularly obligated to the creature. He reached down and wiped away the makeup on her black cheek, realizing how dirty and unkempt she was.
She purred against his hand, and he felt her close her rouge eyes, leaning against his hand for comfort. He leaned down again, and said, “You’re just like Erik, aren’t you? Alone and angry at everyone around you.” He could have sworn she nodded.
After a long moment of him petting her, and her responding graciously to the warm touch, Erik stood and picked the cat up, cradling her in his long arms as she rested her head on his yellow suited chest (the same shade as the butterfly now in her stomach). “Would you mind if I took you home? I think not, you seem just as lonely as I.”
He stood there a moment, then nodded to himself, turning away and heading back to his apartment with his new pet in tow.
“I think I’ll call you Jezebel.”
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SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this, modified by Yols with Shakespeare lines.
