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xserenesky

Harvest Moon (title pending) [UndertheWeather | xserenesky]

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xserenesky

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Name: Astor Wight

Age: 25

Bio: Astor was considered in high school to be the “most likely to succeed” type with good grades and a sharp mind. He was generally hailed as a lady-killer to boot and in his high school days dated around frivolously. However, despite appearances he’d never had any particular desire to succeed; it had come easily to him, up until he was expected to make an identity for himself in college. He was gripped with indecision in deciding a path for his life, flip-flopping majors in college to such an extent that he found himself graduating a year late. He expected, as most youth do, to return home after college but was disappointed to find his parents less than welcoming after his expensive fickleness in school, especially considering the high expectations they'd had of him going into college. Astor managed to scrape by but living alone on a minimum wage salary changed his perspective drastically. When things became particularly rough, he found himself picking up walks as a hobby; what started as nightly walks through his urban neighborhood gradually evolved as he expanded his hiking grounds further into the country, until ultimately he found himself taking buses out to the mountains where he stumbled into Mineral Town.

Likes:

• most flowers and herbs that can be found on mountain paths

• fried rice

• spicy food

• really any food aside from desserts

• rain

• dogs and most other animals

Dislikes:

• cats

• chocolate and other sweets

• personal/invasive questions

 



I kind of had trouble with some parts because I wasn't sure what your character would be like so I hope they're compatible, hehe. I was also particularly sparse with the bio and I have a lot more so if it's necessary or something doesn't seem to make sense I can add a little.

 

 

"It's hot out today, huh," Astor murmured to himself, tipping what was left in his second lukewarm water bottle back into his throat. He shook the remaining drops onto his tongue then jammed the empty plastic shell back into his backpack with a sigh. He'd known when he got on the bus that morning that it would be a hot day but perhaps he'd underestimated the weather forecast; by the time he'd stepped off the bus onto the mountain path it was much hotter than he expected and he found himself almost wishing he'd put off this walk until tomorrow. He had his bangs pulled back into a lazy half-ponytail but they still spilled out onto his face and by now they were soaked and sticky with sweat. He didn't usually pay mind to his appearance while enjoying these personal excursions but at that moment he winced picturing the sweat-soaked sheen of his face.

 

Astor abandoned that line of thought immediately, rolling his eyes. Who was going to see him—indigenous wildlife? He turned his attention back to the path, focusing eventually on a small patch of wildflowers that caught his eye. This path was well-populated with lively yellow blossoms, he noticed—Astor had no idea what they were called, but he bent down to pluck a flower anyway. Maybe he'd press it later, look it up in some flower manual. He had little to no knowledge of anything out here in the mountains but he considered himself a casual hobbyist and was always up for learning a thing or two...

 

"Huh?" He frowned, having caught sight of something that had been blocked from his view by a tree branch at eye level before he'd squatted down. His little patch of yellow flowers were at the top of what might accurately be described as a ditch to the side of the mountain path which was, of course, naturally sloped and bumpy; at the bottom of this small descent was... Astor squinted further, to be sure he wasn't just seeing things in the heat. No... he wasn't mistaken. Down at the bottom of the ditch was a motionless body.

 

He didn't react at first. He wasn't sure how to react, frankly, having found a body out here in the middle of a small forest path in the mountains. Where was the nearest town—? How long could the body have been there...? It took him several minutes of motionless staring to finally realize that there was no overwhelming scent of death on the air and it finally dawned on him that what he was looking at was not a dead body, at which point he felt both incredibly relieved and absolutely stupid. Of course the body wasn't dead. He had the perfectly healthy complexion of someone who was mostly alive but maybe temporarily not all that OK.

 

Still cautious, Astor abandoned the flowers, tripping clumsily down the hill and kneeling next to the unconscious person at its base. He touched the body tentatively, finding it satisfactorily warm and recoiling his hand immediately. "Ah... are you all right?" he asked, slipping his backpack off of his back and placing it on the forest floor next to him. "Uhm... water?" He opened a bottle of water and then stared stupidly at the form's lips, wondering if he should go so far as to open them to allow the person to drink, or...

 

In the end, he sheepishly splashed half the bottle on the stranger's face. Maybe he looked like an idiot but at least he wasn't probing around strangers' mouths.

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UndertheWeather

It was not immediately apparent that the unconscious person was a female. The overly skinny body was wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt; no doubt, one that fitted the body quite well before the fats and muscles dissolved from under the skin for one reason or another. The skin on her face was pulled back, tight against her skull, accentuating the naturally-high cheek bones, and the sharp chin, making her look like a skeleton.

 

Under the folds and ridges of the grey sweatshirt, her pale skin sat protected from the scorching sun that had by now burnt her face, and hands, and legs, and all that was exposed to its flaming arms. Her brown hair was no less grilled than the rest of her unsheltered body parts. The dried hair, with streaks of decolouration, and clumps of dirt clinging onto it, was a mess, some hanging like dead branches from her scalp, some sat on her sweaty forehead like snakes in a swamp.

 

When Astor enquired the body as to her condition, there was no response. One cannot be sure as to how long she had been lying out there roasted by the sun, but she did seem terribly off colour.

 

The first touch of water from the bottle did not bring about any form of reactions from the body. She laid there limp like a corpse. Perhaps she was dead. Perhaps the body was warm from the heat. Perhaps the body was scentless because she died a minute ago. But seconds later, when half the bottle was emptied, the muscles on her face twitched, and she gasped in astonishment, and chocked at the water. Reflex took hold of her body. She immediately curled into a ball, resting on her side, and coughed the water out of her throat.

 

It was at this point that a voice became perceivable in a distance. Unclear at first, but it became increasingly loud very quickly, as the person moved about the mountain path in high speed.

 

“Erin! Erin!”

 

 

 

winery_siblings_liam_erin_white_by_utw_slightlyunwell-d6fu5nh.jpg

 

Names: Liam White; Erin White

Ages: 18; 15

Genders: Male; Female

Biography: When depression set in on Mineral Town, the White Winery was the first to be hit. Wine became a luxury, and business declined quickly. Liam had just hit puberty when their father left on a boat with many others in an attempt to seek opportunity elsewhere. Two weeks after his departure, a letter arrived from their father, detailing his present state, and his continuous effort. Weeks after weeks, months after months, letters arrived at their doorstep but with no return address. The three were swamped with letters, but could never write back. Just under a year after his departure, a brief letter arrived. Written in it was only, “I made it!” They waited. Days passed, then weeks, months, and years. Yet nothing happened but the continuous deterioration of the town. Three months after Erin’s 15th birthday, the siblings came home to a mother hung from the ceiling.

Likes:

Liam: Cellar, Winter, Hot Spring, Stew and Pumpkin Stew, Baked Sweet Potatoes

Erin: Wine, Tulips, Cheese, Chicks, Apple Pies

Dislikes:

Liam: Wine, Insects, Beach, Dairy Products

Erin: Animal waste, Bees, Chocolate


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Sorry for the wait. And sorry I can't write as long and as well as you do. Please bear with me >_>...

 

 

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xserenesky

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Really, don't worry too much about making me wait. As you can see...... my pace is pretty slow too, haha. I hope to not make you wait that long again.

 

Also, as for the length, most of the length on that post was due to it being an intro, so don't worry!

 

 

No response... Astor glanced at his water bottle, considering what to do. Pour the rest over him? Would that help? Probably no more than it did the first time. He sighed. He supposed he could go the distance and pour it into his throat. Or...

 

And then the form moved and Astor recoiled, his water bottle all but flying from his grip, depositing a good amount of water on his head before falling to the forest floor. He grimaced, touching his bangs with distaste. Sure, they'd already been a little damp, but now they were soaked. Was this karma? This is what he got for pouring water all over a stranger? He shook his head and ruffled his fingers through his hair, trying to shake out as much water as he could. As he fussed with his hair, a voice in the distance became louder, although he didn't pay it too much attention; he figured it must have been unrelated, another hiker perhaps.

 

"Are you OK now?" he asked, slowly approaching the form again, reaching out to touch his shoulder and then thinking against it. His hand hovered awkwardly as the man continued to cough. He simply watched, feeling pretty stupid all things considered. "Sorry, maybe that was kind of stupid. But I didn't know what else to do, you know?"

 

He realized with a frown that the form was blanketed in a huge sweatshirt, in this heat--and his skin was blistered where it was exposed. Had he been out here long? Maybe he'd come out at night? That would explain the sweatshirt... Astor's eyes traveled up to his face and he frowned upon noticing the man's delicate features and relatively long hair. It wasn't as though Astor could really judge a man for growing out his hair, but... was he actually...?

 

He didn't have time to closely analyze this when the voice in the distance became sharp and loud, most likely coming from nearby. Astor paused to pay it attention briefly, lifting his head to listen more closely. It was a name, right? The voice was looking for someone, so maybe they were looking for the collapsed stranger. When Astor thought about it, it made a lot of sense.

 

"Aaron?" he repeated the name quietly, then glanced back to the stranger's face. Or... Erin? he corrected himself silently, frowning. God damn gender-neutral names.

 

Whatever. Did it matter whether or not the strange was Aaron or Erin? Either way, he could use help getting him (or her?) off the mountain path and back to civilization. "Over here!" he called out.

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UndertheWeather

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She coughed uncontrollably. Her face had turned red as a nutmeg, being the result of the instinctive reaction of her body towards the intrusive substance in her throat, and beyond question, that of the merciless smouldering of the sun. Water spattered out through her desiccated lips, so did saliva, and droplets of blood – the violent coughing had scraped her dried throat like a grater – painting a decorative picture on the sleeves of her dull grey sweatshirt.

 

Fortunately the coughing quickly subsided as the banishment of the foreign substance deemed any further violent reaction unnecessary. The unfortunate situation in which Astor had gotten himself into, though, went unnoticed by the frail girl; only his question of her condition, and the statements that followed were perceived by her confused mind.

 

She looked up at him. Her eyes were the colour of faded emerald – like ones that had been left out in the open, exposed to the forces of nature, which carried away with them a little bit of lustre from the previously glowing emeralds every time they swept by. There was no glimmer of enthusiasm. No flicker of gladness. No gleam of exuberance. Her gaze was hollow, and the only thing alive in those discoloured gemstones was the reflection of Astor’s face.

 

Her gaze was brief as her attention was stolen by the distinct voice, which had, at the same time, taken Astor’s attention away from analysing her any further. Astor’s voice rang in her ears as he called out to the person hastening along the mountain path, hidden from her view down in the ditch.

 

He was like a jester in a jack-in-the-box; when the tune of Astor’s voice ended, out he popped from behind a tree. As quickly as he appeared, he was down in the ditch, seizing the limp body of the girl in his arms immediately. Certainly he had noticed Astor; who would have called if not for him? Yet his reaction towards the Samaritan was not a pleasant one.

 

He glared at him. His eyes were the same shade as that of the girl’s, and they had the exact same lacklustre characteristics, yet unlike hers something dormant seemed to be residing in the darkest depths of those worn-out gems, waiting patiently for its time on the stage to come. It was obviously shown on his face, and in his eyes that he was furious – furious at Astor for having done something filthy to the girl. It was also evident that it was purely emotional, and the notion of having made the wrong assumption had never crossed his mind.

 

“You bloody dirty creature!”

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