Post by Deleted on Apr 15, 2014 22:52:23 GMT -5
ADRIAN HASTINGS
age-22
dob-02/18/1992
species-PsyChic/HUMAN
FC-AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON
dob-02/18/1992
species-PsyChic/HUMAN
FC-AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON
POWERS & ABILITIES
ABILITIES:
★ PSYCHOMETRY - TOKEN READING
★PRECOGNITION THROUGH SCRYING
★ PSYCHOMETRY - TOKEN READING
★PRECOGNITION THROUGH SCRYING
PREFERENCES
LIKES-
♥POWER ♥MONEY ♥ALCOHOL ♥KNOWLEDGE ♥ATTENTION
DISLIKES -
♠COOKED FRUIT ♠HUMILIATION ♠NO CONTROL ♠LIES ♠CHEAP WHISKEY
STRENGTHS -
♦PSYCHOMETRY ♦RUNNING ♦HIDING THINGS ♦MASKS ♦EVASION
WEAKNESSES -
♣KNOWLEDGE ♣POWER ♣CONTROL ♣LOVED ONES ♣SECRETS
♥POWER ♥MONEY ♥ALCOHOL ♥KNOWLEDGE ♥ATTENTION
DISLIKES -
♠COOKED FRUIT ♠HUMILIATION ♠NO CONTROL ♠LIES ♠CHEAP WHISKEY
STRENGTHS -
♦PSYCHOMETRY ♦RUNNING ♦HIDING THINGS ♦MASKS ♦EVASION
WEAKNESSES -
♣KNOWLEDGE ♣POWER ♣CONTROL ♣LOVED ONES ♣SECRETS
SECRETS & FEARS
SECRETS -
♥His desire for acceptance.
♥His first blood scrying vision.
♥Bank details.
♥The true nature of his abilities. -Somewhat a secret to even himself-
♥His complete lack of extensive knowledge on what is truly out there. He puts on an awful big front. It's all theories.
★
FEARS -
♣Not being accepted collectively.
♣Losing/being abandoned by his parents.
♣Losing his abilities.
♣Having no control of his future.
♣Not being known for something Great.
♥His desire for acceptance.
♥His first blood scrying vision.
♥Bank details.
♥The true nature of his abilities. -Somewhat a secret to even himself-
♥His complete lack of extensive knowledge on what is truly out there. He puts on an awful big front. It's all theories.
★
FEARS -
♣Not being accepted collectively.
♣Losing/being abandoned by his parents.
♣Losing his abilities.
♣Having no control of his future.
♣Not being known for something Great.
PERSONALITY
An English man with English manners, Adrian's first instinct is to create an impeccable first impression. With all his t's crossed and i's dotted, he appears to be a true gentleman. Though, this is more common sense to him than personality. Traits drummed into him through lessons learned. He can appear charming, flirting freely, but this can often be a tactic of evasion. By drawing attention to his company, he draws attention away from himself and onto those before him. It is often infallible. Somewhat cocky and very vain, he has a compulsive need to be at his best, to never let his guard down. This may be due to the many times he was looked down upon due to his insane obsession with all things Supernatural.
Upon first meeting him, he is all of the above, but to those able to crack further down, Adrian is a real mess. Never feeling quite fulfilled by the love of his parents, he often pushes himself to gain the favor of those around him. From two second strangers to bartenders, all the way to those he'd value as friends. But, he can often effectively cover up his neediness with his other stand-alone traits. That's not to say he's never been foiled. Though, Adrian can be very loyal, if given the chance. He is morally straight in most senses and has a strong feeling for right and wrong, the only thing is, this is often overpowered by his competitiveness.
Upon first meeting him, he is all of the above, but to those able to crack further down, Adrian is a real mess. Never feeling quite fulfilled by the love of his parents, he often pushes himself to gain the favor of those around him. From two second strangers to bartenders, all the way to those he'd value as friends. But, he can often effectively cover up his neediness with his other stand-alone traits. That's not to say he's never been foiled. Though, Adrian can be very loyal, if given the chance. He is morally straight in most senses and has a strong feeling for right and wrong, the only thing is, this is often overpowered by his competitiveness.
HISTORY
Adrian Hastings had his life mapped out for him since before birth, he was to be groomed for ‘Greatness’. Born into an influential, filthy rich family in the ridiculously expensive part of Kensington, West London, it quite a life. He was the Hastings heir, their first and would-be only son, and boy did that young man know it. With a family that flaunted him like a shiny trophy, throwing him at every possible privilege their money could buy - and that a hell of a lot. However, Adrian never quite fully committed to his promised life. Rebellious and ungrateful, unwilling to fully conform to his sky-high expectations, Adrian found a niche elsewhere, much to the chagrin of his parents. He found he had a great thirst for all things magical. This thirst began at a very young age, being a very peculiar boy with a very peculiar touch.
Since birth, Adrian had always been a little… different. Before he could hold his head up, Adrian’s parents would note that he had a strange… knowing to his glassy blue eyes. He seldom cried, unsettlingly calm for a baby. Adrian’s parents didn’t worry then, of course. He was baby, and they had more ‘important’ things at hand. Like Charity Balls and gloating. Fortunately for Adrian, he wasn’t old enough for them to show genuine, in-depth interest in his strangeness. Adrian’s nanny, however, she noticed. She would watch with larges eyes as he’d gripped everything so very tightly, as if to absorb its very matter. He’d grip her fingers and stare at her like he knew more. Like she was telling him a great tale through touch. This unsettled the woman, but it also fascinated her. She had been an open-minded woman who revelled in the unexplained; this fact would prove fatal later in her occupation with the Hastings as she greatly encouraged Adrian’s interest as he grew. The Hastings had to blame someone in the end.
Adrian grew, and with it, his ability did also. He didn’t understand it of course; why sometimes just shaking hands with people blinded him with overwhelming thoughts that did not belong to him. The feeling so very strong that he felt like he was splitting in two, but then, other times he’d get nothing at all. A blank canvas. But, more often than now, when he did tap into that forbidden, hidden part of people and objects, it was often excruciating. His body did not know how to process someone else’s decisions and emotions, but it matured with him. The ability went from a simple impression of past to great waves of visions that would paralyse the boy. He realized soon into adolescence that he was… a little more than human. This prompted the Hastings boy to delve into the world of psychics and mediums. ‘Soothsayers’ and clairvoyants. And in time, he found his place. ‘Psychometry’ was his base ability, the ability to listen to all the things that objects could not say, to hear what people would not admit. Adrian could open people up like old books, reading their hidden pages. And, despite his inability to control it, to stop the visions or bring them on, he was thrilled. Finally, he had something special. He was something special. He wasn’t just Richard, Dick’s boy. He was Adrian, the psychic.
However, with his newfound knowledge came obsession. Before, Adrian had been merely interested in all things that went bump in the night. He bought books, researched history. When the knowledge revealed that he, himself was a bump, there was no knowledge too dangerous, no stone left unturned. He allowed it to take over his life; this would finally garner the attention of his parents. With his falling grades and his slow detachment from reality and his friends, the elder Hastings soon began to take notice; confronting him they learned what was turning their son into less than their perceived expectations of perfection. They were outraged, shocked to find that their perfect little trophy was… insane, from their point of view. How could they brag at the dinner table about a boy who thought that witches, werewolves and psychics were real? How could they admit such preposterous tales? They could not, so, they took initiative.
Adrian was shipped out of sight, off to a remote, expensive all boys’ private boarding school in the English countryside. Famed for producing influential, greatly successful men, the Hastings had high hopes that the strict, no nonsense outlook would iron out the kinks in their only son. And even better, they wouldn’t have to do it themselves. A chunky cheque every month and they were all set. Except, not even the rigid regime of Adrian’s new surroundings could dampen the boys hunger. He was crafty and charming, able to bend rules and smuggle in books and old newspaper, anything to sate the thirst. It was at that school that everything began to fray at the seams. Overwhelmed and greedy, Adrian liked to play with the feelings of others, trick them and win games, he was not a sensible psychic. In time he found that he didn’t just have a penchant for touch, through luck and a very helpful tip from a very unwilling medium, Adrian fell into the art of scrying. It was a dark art; he couldn’t control what he was seeing, and he didn’t know enough to try. Did this stop him? Of course not.
This continued for quite some years. His scrying abilities were present but still no better, but he persevered. All the while, he completed that which his parents laid out for him. The boarding school and then, when he ran his course there, on to study Business at Oxford University. The boy was rebellious, but that didn’t mean his parents had no hold over him whatsoever. In fact, they had a considerable amount of influence; they controlled his bank account, which for Adrian, meant his life. He lived decadently, always had and it wasn’t like his parents kept the purse strings tight, they didn’t care what he did… as long as no one else saw. Plus, he loved them. He wished they supported him, he wished they looked at him with something more than disappointment and confusion. They did not understand him. This prompted his great search for his very own future. Scrying through water, ink, crystal. Everything that was possible and at hand… every option but one. Blood.
Scrying with blood is notably the most potent method; it is also the darkest and the most unpredictable, Adrian knew this at the time, but desperation made him a strange man. All he truly ever wanted was to feel like more than a trophy or a child. Special. Adrian’s surroundings made him self-obsessed, vain and arrogant. All less than stellar traits, but his parents were the same, just in different ways. So, it was no real surprise that Adrian went into his future looking for greatness. He did not find it. Using a bag of human blood, bought from an underground market, Adrian went about his first blood scrying. He felt less barbaric with his cleanly bought antique bowl and bagged blood, no extra thought put into the poor soul who had given the blood to begin with. He had more internal things to consider that fateful night. Perhaps things would have been different if he had put more thought into where his supplies came from, maybe then he would have had time for second thoughts.
Of course, the scrying did not go as planned. Black Market blood mixed with a slash of his own and Adrian was plunged into an excruciating vision. In this view of the future, he saw himself. Standing from afar he watched as a silent, invisible witness. Forced to watch paralysed as a future rendition of himself held a blade, glinting silver, the sharp edge glistening with blood. And below himself, a body. With open eyes and a large gash cutting across the body’s pale neck, Adrian did not need to see more to understand what he was seeing. There he was… a killer. A future not too far away, and in it he was not special, he was not great. Pulled back from the vision, Adrian was left numb. What was this future? What would drive him to kill a person in what he assumed was cold blood? Adrian did not know, but he vowed to find out, before he committed said crime.
After the shock faded, Adrian was left with very little, just the way he hated it. Impulsively packing a bag of his clothes, Adrian left his college with no notice at all, fleeing from what he had seen, but inadvertently running towards it. Very little of the vision remained afterwards – not unlike a dream - just the solid terror and the faceless, unidentifiable figure with the glazed eyes and the cut throat. Adrian felt like a little boy, left after a horror movie with all the lights turned low. So helpless, desperate to run and hide under a blanket somewhere. Stubborn, and with no blanket, Adrian cleared his bank account. Off to take a ‘gap year’ as he convinced his parents some days after his disappearance. Many parents would cut their child off, but Adrian’s did not. It took some convincing, a lot of bargaining, but Adrian was able to keep those purse strings open just enough to live well. So long as - after his time ran course – he went back to college, he got his degree and he worked for his father. They had such faith that this was just another ‘phase’. Such stupid faith.
Now, following the stories, following the path that unfolded out in front of him, Adrian has eventually found himself in Beacon Hills. Such strange happenings, but Adrian only plans on passing through. That is, unless he finds some reason to stick close. Some shred of fact.
Since birth, Adrian had always been a little… different. Before he could hold his head up, Adrian’s parents would note that he had a strange… knowing to his glassy blue eyes. He seldom cried, unsettlingly calm for a baby. Adrian’s parents didn’t worry then, of course. He was baby, and they had more ‘important’ things at hand. Like Charity Balls and gloating. Fortunately for Adrian, he wasn’t old enough for them to show genuine, in-depth interest in his strangeness. Adrian’s nanny, however, she noticed. She would watch with larges eyes as he’d gripped everything so very tightly, as if to absorb its very matter. He’d grip her fingers and stare at her like he knew more. Like she was telling him a great tale through touch. This unsettled the woman, but it also fascinated her. She had been an open-minded woman who revelled in the unexplained; this fact would prove fatal later in her occupation with the Hastings as she greatly encouraged Adrian’s interest as he grew. The Hastings had to blame someone in the end.
Adrian grew, and with it, his ability did also. He didn’t understand it of course; why sometimes just shaking hands with people blinded him with overwhelming thoughts that did not belong to him. The feeling so very strong that he felt like he was splitting in two, but then, other times he’d get nothing at all. A blank canvas. But, more often than now, when he did tap into that forbidden, hidden part of people and objects, it was often excruciating. His body did not know how to process someone else’s decisions and emotions, but it matured with him. The ability went from a simple impression of past to great waves of visions that would paralyse the boy. He realized soon into adolescence that he was… a little more than human. This prompted the Hastings boy to delve into the world of psychics and mediums. ‘Soothsayers’ and clairvoyants. And in time, he found his place. ‘Psychometry’ was his base ability, the ability to listen to all the things that objects could not say, to hear what people would not admit. Adrian could open people up like old books, reading their hidden pages. And, despite his inability to control it, to stop the visions or bring them on, he was thrilled. Finally, he had something special. He was something special. He wasn’t just Richard, Dick’s boy. He was Adrian, the psychic.
However, with his newfound knowledge came obsession. Before, Adrian had been merely interested in all things that went bump in the night. He bought books, researched history. When the knowledge revealed that he, himself was a bump, there was no knowledge too dangerous, no stone left unturned. He allowed it to take over his life; this would finally garner the attention of his parents. With his falling grades and his slow detachment from reality and his friends, the elder Hastings soon began to take notice; confronting him they learned what was turning their son into less than their perceived expectations of perfection. They were outraged, shocked to find that their perfect little trophy was… insane, from their point of view. How could they brag at the dinner table about a boy who thought that witches, werewolves and psychics were real? How could they admit such preposterous tales? They could not, so, they took initiative.
Adrian was shipped out of sight, off to a remote, expensive all boys’ private boarding school in the English countryside. Famed for producing influential, greatly successful men, the Hastings had high hopes that the strict, no nonsense outlook would iron out the kinks in their only son. And even better, they wouldn’t have to do it themselves. A chunky cheque every month and they were all set. Except, not even the rigid regime of Adrian’s new surroundings could dampen the boys hunger. He was crafty and charming, able to bend rules and smuggle in books and old newspaper, anything to sate the thirst. It was at that school that everything began to fray at the seams. Overwhelmed and greedy, Adrian liked to play with the feelings of others, trick them and win games, he was not a sensible psychic. In time he found that he didn’t just have a penchant for touch, through luck and a very helpful tip from a very unwilling medium, Adrian fell into the art of scrying. It was a dark art; he couldn’t control what he was seeing, and he didn’t know enough to try. Did this stop him? Of course not.
This continued for quite some years. His scrying abilities were present but still no better, but he persevered. All the while, he completed that which his parents laid out for him. The boarding school and then, when he ran his course there, on to study Business at Oxford University. The boy was rebellious, but that didn’t mean his parents had no hold over him whatsoever. In fact, they had a considerable amount of influence; they controlled his bank account, which for Adrian, meant his life. He lived decadently, always had and it wasn’t like his parents kept the purse strings tight, they didn’t care what he did… as long as no one else saw. Plus, he loved them. He wished they supported him, he wished they looked at him with something more than disappointment and confusion. They did not understand him. This prompted his great search for his very own future. Scrying through water, ink, crystal. Everything that was possible and at hand… every option but one. Blood.
Scrying with blood is notably the most potent method; it is also the darkest and the most unpredictable, Adrian knew this at the time, but desperation made him a strange man. All he truly ever wanted was to feel like more than a trophy or a child. Special. Adrian’s surroundings made him self-obsessed, vain and arrogant. All less than stellar traits, but his parents were the same, just in different ways. So, it was no real surprise that Adrian went into his future looking for greatness. He did not find it. Using a bag of human blood, bought from an underground market, Adrian went about his first blood scrying. He felt less barbaric with his cleanly bought antique bowl and bagged blood, no extra thought put into the poor soul who had given the blood to begin with. He had more internal things to consider that fateful night. Perhaps things would have been different if he had put more thought into where his supplies came from, maybe then he would have had time for second thoughts.
Of course, the scrying did not go as planned. Black Market blood mixed with a slash of his own and Adrian was plunged into an excruciating vision. In this view of the future, he saw himself. Standing from afar he watched as a silent, invisible witness. Forced to watch paralysed as a future rendition of himself held a blade, glinting silver, the sharp edge glistening with blood. And below himself, a body. With open eyes and a large gash cutting across the body’s pale neck, Adrian did not need to see more to understand what he was seeing. There he was… a killer. A future not too far away, and in it he was not special, he was not great. Pulled back from the vision, Adrian was left numb. What was this future? What would drive him to kill a person in what he assumed was cold blood? Adrian did not know, but he vowed to find out, before he committed said crime.
After the shock faded, Adrian was left with very little, just the way he hated it. Impulsively packing a bag of his clothes, Adrian left his college with no notice at all, fleeing from what he had seen, but inadvertently running towards it. Very little of the vision remained afterwards – not unlike a dream - just the solid terror and the faceless, unidentifiable figure with the glazed eyes and the cut throat. Adrian felt like a little boy, left after a horror movie with all the lights turned low. So helpless, desperate to run and hide under a blanket somewhere. Stubborn, and with no blanket, Adrian cleared his bank account. Off to take a ‘gap year’ as he convinced his parents some days after his disappearance. Many parents would cut their child off, but Adrian’s did not. It took some convincing, a lot of bargaining, but Adrian was able to keep those purse strings open just enough to live well. So long as - after his time ran course – he went back to college, he got his degree and he worked for his father. They had such faith that this was just another ‘phase’. Such stupid faith.
Now, following the stories, following the path that unfolded out in front of him, Adrian has eventually found himself in Beacon Hills. Such strange happenings, but Adrian only plans on passing through. That is, unless he finds some reason to stick close. Some shred of fact.
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