gyuukidashin (gyuukidashin) wrote in thewickedplace,
gyuukidashin
gyuukidashin
thewickedplace

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The Turtle

 Ooh, info. I'll join in. Uh...the userpic says "default". I suppose that will do, since I don't have one of my own.


Name: Andrew Zimmerman

Age: 21 or so

Date of birth: I don't know. In the winter, I think. Late winter. Maybe...February? There was snow one year...I remember it on top of the mailbox in the little brick duplex I lived in with my mother when I was very small. But I don't remember the actual day.

Race and world: Human, Earth. Which Earth? My Earth.

Mother: Again, I don't remember her name. It might have been Alicia. To me, she was mostly just Mom. There's not a whole lot of investigative subtlety in an eight year old, I'm afraid.

Father: No idea. I'm not even sure if my mother could tell you.

Siblings: Once more, I have no idea.

I am a nowhere child, and I live a nowhere life of concrete and jimsonweed, mocha slush piled high in the gutters, and dandelions. Rainy nights and lonely streetlamps flickering over abandoned parking lots, and the crunch of broken glass under my feet. Hand rolled cigarettes, chapped lips and chillblains, trash fires and the lonely, secret insulating isolation of tucking myself up small under a highway bridge with my mouth down under the collar of my coat to warm my chest, listening to the cars go by and wondering about the busy lives that flash by inside them, quick as their streaking headlights. There's an itch in me--I can't stay put, and it gets worse as I get older. I love the road, I love to travel. There's a wanderlust on me as strong as a geas, and I'm always easier in my mind when I'm moving. I can't drive a car, I've never shot a gun, and I love my friend Rhiannon's cooking. I don't like being hungry, but it's gotten to the point where I don't really notice much anymore. I'm almost never unhappy. I hate hurting the people I care for. I don't drink, but I do smoke. I'm a Hunter, specifically an Avenger, although folk rarely guess that and it sometimes surprises me too. I'm dying, but I don't like to mention it. It bothers others far more than it bothers me. I like animals, and mountains, and I think everyone has at least one good story in them worth hearing. Like Anne Frank, I believe most folk are basically good at heart, and I've seen plenty to support that hypothesis in the course of my life. I've done a lot of living in not a lot of time, and I'm proud to say I've not done anything I look back on with shame. My only regret in the course of my life, at least so far, is that the eventual end of it will hurt people. I'm sorry for that.

I'm also, apparently, a little allergic to question-and-answer format.

I find it hard to quantify my likes and dislikes in a simple way. Maybe I'll update this later.

Why am I here? Truthfully, I'm not sure. I'm not certain that I'm wicked, although my ecumecism doubtless makes me appear so to various parties (*coughhunterscough*). I suppose I'm here because every gathering like this needs a few idealists. ...or maybe just because.

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