Post by TRISTAN PHOENIX QUINN on Jun 21, 2012 22:29:14 GMT
TRISTAN PHOENIX QUINN
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Tristan • 22 • Francisco Lachowski • Resident • Quick-tempered[/center]
The sound of a crying baby filled the house. Gabriela Quinn groaned and pulled the pillow over her head, pushing her husband to wake him up. He didn't move. She pushed again. He let out an angry noise and turned his back to her. She sighed. Of course. He didn't want to wake up. He never did. She pulled the pillow off her and sat up, fuming. Carl never did anything. He moaned and bitched, but never actually did anything. She had to take care of a toddler and baby all by herself. This wasn't where she thought she'd be by the time she was 18. It was exactly where she didn't want to be. Two years ago, she and her boyfriend at the time had sex. That's how Justin came along. About 12 months ago, she found out she was pregnant again. Once again, Carl's baby. They were married by this point, but she was convinced they were only together for Justin. Now with the added stress of a three month old baby, their marriage was crumbling...She left the room to lure Tristan back to sleep, wondering how long she was going to live like this.
August, 1993; Boulder, Colorado
Tristan, almost 5 years old now, huddled in the corner as his parent yelled at each other. He could see his brother standing in the doorway, staring in terror at the scene in front of him. Tris didn't understand what was going on, but it was scaring him. He clamped his hands over his ears and stared at the ground, but he could still clearly hear his parents screaming at each other. Words he'd never heard before...slut...whore...bitch...fuck...he started sobbing as he heard a slap resonate around the room. Who had hit whom, he didn't know, but parents weren't supposed to act this way.
January 29, 1998; New Orleans, Louisiana
Tristan glared at his older brother, Justin. The prick. He was grinning down at him, pointing to the remains of their father's prized baseball bat. The one signed by some famous ball player. Yankee or...something. He didn't know, but all he knew was that their dad would be furious. He'd end up grounded for another month, because of course Justin would blame it on him. Tris stamped his foot. It was his birthday! His ninth birthday! Justin should I least stop with the blame games today...the one day that was all about him. Now Carl would ruin the day by reminding him how much of a waste of space he was. A dick. Idiot. Stupid. Always going to fail. Never going amount to anything. How he and his bastard brother were never even wanted. That their mother had left them because they were such dumbasses. How it was his fault that their marriage was ruined. He'd heard it all a thousand times, and hated it. Hated his brother for it. Hated his dad for it. He lashed out at the other kids at school to vent his anger. Got into fights almost every day, and sassed his teachers.
Steps were heard in the hall. Here he was. He'd heard the noise. Tristan could already hear his yells. "...hell have you done, you little piece of shit?" He braced himself for the string of verbal abuse. Justin quickly got his story straight in his head and gave his little brother another wink before putting on the angry older brother look he'd perfected years ago. Tris swallowed as his father came in, red in the face already. He saw his sons, then saw the broken bat. Thus began the yelling. Directed at both of them. Justin's smug look slipped a notch, not expecting to get blamed as well. He explained that it was Tristan's fault, he hadn't been there!
smack! Tristan fell backward onto the ground, an angry red mark appeared on his face where his father had hit him. He held his throbbing cheek and exchanged a terrified look with her brother. Their dad had never hit them before. Only yelled. This was a whole other situation that neither were equipped to deal with.
September, 2003; Grant, Indiana
Gabriela: Tristan, straighten your shirt. Stop slouching. Don't get any of your lunch on your new clothes, I don't have the money to replace them and I don't need to worry about finding you some of your father's things. Here we are. Your new school. Alright, get out. Come on, you'll be late. Don't forget your backpack. Tristan, stop looking like that. And for god's sake fix your hair!
Tristan: -half-heartedly messing with his hair- I don't want to go, mom. I don't know anyone here and I can just do my work at home or something...
Gabriela: Look, I don't need you around the house all the time taking up room and getting in my way. Stop whining. I have to get back and get ready for work. Now would you get out?
Tristan: Fine... -jumps out of the car and trudges toward the school-
Two years later
Tristan watched the back of the girl's blonde hair in the lunch line. Penelope Freeman. He had most of his classes with her, and had talked to her before. They were in the same group of friends, at least they overlapped, and she was intriguing. To his embarrassment, he was starting to develop feelings for her. Now was his chance. He could talk to her and sit with her. He wondered if she'd go for a guy like him. He wasn't exactly a nice guy...he got into fights, was known to smoke, got suspended, pulled pranks, that sort of thing. Still, he'd seen her around people like him before. Alright. Here goes. He tapped her shoulder. "Penelope, right?" He paused as she turned around to look at him. "I hear you're slightly okay...I guess you can sit with me, if you have to. I guess it wouldn't be completely awful to hang out with you more."
July, 2007; Grant, Indiana
Tristan: What the hell? You're pregnant?
Penelope: How'd you find out?
Tristan: You're huge, Pen! What, is this why you broke up with me? You cheated on me and decided to stay with the fucking baby's father? What the hell, Pen? I trusted you! You're such a whore! Whatever. I'm leaving the state, anyway. That way I'll never have to see your face again! I wish I was still living with my dad, because even that's better than living here knowing what you did!
February, 2010; Chicago, Illinois
"...And then she stared at me like 'but you're my world...i need you!' and I was like 'it's been a nice run, but the lovin' wasn't good and I just don't think you're worth it.'"
The table of young men burst out laughing. Half were high, half were intoxicated, all were complete assholes. Tristan sat among them, newly 21 and able to drink. He was listening to an older man's story about his latest 'conquest.' The shit these guys got up to was insane. He, himself didn't leave nearly an interesting life.
As the hours passed, the numbers dwindled. Soon it was just Tris and Brent, his coworker at a fast-food place. He was constantly getting women. Almost every day Tristan would hear of a new girl he'd banged. The guy was a legend. Personally he thought it was a bit overboard, but he still admired the guy. "Hey, man. I think I'm gonna turn in. Try to grab a taxi while I still have money..." Tristan stood and headed for the door, waving vaguely in Brent's direction.
"Wait up, I'll split the taxi with ya." Tristan waited for Brent to get his coat. Wonderful. The guy was a lot more trashed than he was, and he didn't was to split a fucking cab with him. He wanted to get home and sleep...sleep for days. Once outside, the waited in the rain for a taxi. Chicago at night...so busy. It had to be 1 or 2 in the morning by now. Good thing he didn't work tomorrow. He turned toward Brent to tell him no, he didn't want to split a cab, and to fuck off. But before he could say anything, Brent grabbed his face and kissed him. When he pulled away, he stepped calmly into the taxi waiting for them and left Tristan standing in the rain.
June, 2012; Beechshire, California
Tristan stretched and glanced around. Oh, look, she was awake. He grinned despite the killer headache. Yes. Eden, his co-worker at the strip club and current girlfriend, had finally let him fuck her. It was good. It was so good....right? He frowned, thinking about the night before. Wrong. After his bartending shift ended, they'd gotten smashed. So drunk. That would explain the awful hangover. They came back to his apartment and...and...didn't fuck? Shit. Sure enough, they were both fully clothed. No! He still hadn't managed to convince her to open her legs when she was that drunk? This girl was impossible. She'd never let it happen. He climbed out of bed and frowned at her. Might as well tell her it wouldn't work out.
"Yo, Eden. Hey, we've had a nice run, but seriously. No sex even now? Shit, girl...anyway, I'm not looking for anything serious, so you can go on now. I'll see you at work tomorrow."[/size][/ul][/ul]
alias: Lydia
age: 15
random fact: My apps aren't usually this long...woops. XD Anyway, HAI! Lydia. Erm....Tristan is cool...he's straight, but when he lived in Chicago he got kissed by Brent dude...then whenever they got drunk he let Brent kiss him...neither of us know why, so. Yeah. That happened. He's so embarrassed by it so, yeah. Me? I'm. Currently exhausted. Heh. Excited for this, though. :3
other characters: None~
rp sample: Even feeling incredibly depressed, Stella couldn't help but notice the awkward silence. Part of her hoped it would continue, maybe he'd leave then. If he left, she could sit in misery alone, wallowing in it all. That would be...awful, but she didn't feel like doing anything else. There wasn't anything else to do. She could watch tv, play cards with herself, and sleep. It was depressingly boring in this awful, white room. She was almost positive the walls were slowly, slowly closing in on her. This place was definitely smaller than it had been when she arrived. It had to be. It also seemed like their idea of decorating was making everything as white as possible. Oh! There was an accent color of tan on the beds. How interesting! Honestly, Pierce and the flowers were the most colorful things in the room. It was such a contrast that it was hard to keep one's eyes off them. This, of course, led to her examining his tattoos, the way she liked to when she didn't think he was paying any attention to her.
His speech about how to have fun brought a small smile to her lips. She couldn't help it. The smile grew as she envisioned herself doing that. It did sound fun. The hospital staff would hate her. None of that had occurred to her. She hadn't thought to stir up trouble. Probably because she'd done enough of that already. Before she could start dwelling on everything that had happened, she was distracted by him scooting himself toward her feet. She raised an eyebrow and kicked him lightly through the blanket. She shook her head in response to his questions, then frowned. She really was a stick in the mud at the moment. Something in the corner of the corner of the room caught her eye and she had an idea. Pierce would agree to it, certainly. He liked to cause trouble, and she'd always wanted to do something like this if she ever got stuck in a hospital. Of course, she thought she'd be stuck there because someone else got hurt, not her. But that was beside the point. Her eyes lit up in anticipation and she pointed at a wheelchair in the corner.
”They don't want me to walk around much because I might 'tire myself out,'” She used air quotations and rolled her eyes. ”Anyway, I've always wanted to race down the hallways in a wheelchair. And if we happen to leave the hospital in the process, so be it...” She bit her lip and looked at Pierce hopefully. He couldn't say no to her, not now. That'd just be cruel. Condemning her to sit around in this hospital bed for the rest of her stay here with nothing to do. And if he wanted her to cheer up, this was definitely the way to go about it. Who cares if they got yelled at? She welcomed it. She'd had enough of the silence of this awful, awful place. It was time to make some noise.[/ul][/ul]
