Name: Carson Anthony Graye.
Age: Seventeen (Senior).
Gender: Male.
Power: Duplication (temporal) - Ability to bring past and future versions of oneself back to the present.
Personality: Carson is full of wasted potential, a kid who grew up being told that he was smart and that he had a chance to go very far. He was imaginative and creative, often writing silly stories or drawing strange monsters. Though he is smart, incredibly clever and prone to thinking of complex plans and ideas, he's also very lazy. The extent of this laziness is almost horrifying, he has a tendency to never complete assignments, sometimes to never start them at all, it's nearly ridiculous the levels that he's willing to go to avoid doing them in general. Prone to trying to avoid tests and to trying to skip school, Carson is almost always ready to jump at a moment's notice. Too preoccupied in his own self to care about the grades that he's let drastically fall. Though he tends to look on the bright side and keeps an almost amused air about everything that he faces.
Likes: Parties, smoking, meeting people, beaches, rain, animals, video games, drawing.
Dislikes: Arguments that involve screaming or loud noises, math, dreams that end on cliff hangers.
History: He was born here with his mother and father, a pair who were often on the fritz of divorcing and that kept him almost always on the edge, made him sort of act out. He became very good at story telling, found a penchant for weaving tales to all who would listen to him but as he got older, his parents started to find that the tales had become clever lies and that the boy was no longer making his gentle stories but instead finding new ways to trick them into letting him do just about everything he wanted to do. This often got him in trouble, leaving him to his own devices, the boy started to rely on his story telling to guide him forth, found ways to weasel out windows and he ended up constantly getting in trouble. This new habit of sneaking out at night and becoming somewhat lazy with his school work lead him to dropping in his grades and the stories gave way to his new hobbies, bumming cigarettes and disappointing his dear parents.
Awakening:
The sound of the bass made the floor hum beneath his feet, he could hear the laughter and the loud clattering voices, all talking at once. It was a crescendo of noise, meshing together and rising, rising, rising to it's peak. They fell together and rose together, bending with his vision, he could see shapes and the way some seem to split when he moved too fast. It was disorienting, a tempo that he couldn't keep up with, thumping with the beat of his heart. He saw boys and girls, saw hips grinding hips, saw mouths trailing throats. It was cramped, made it hard to breath with their pushing hands and the smell of beer and cigarette smoke and the way he couldn't see his way through the crowd of kids. It was just a party, a really
shitty party by the way his sweat was starting to soak through his shirt. The AC didn't seem to be blowing enough air around the living room and nobody seemed to really care that the place was a threshpool of hormonal, drunken teenagers or that Carson was crushed in between them.
He'd only come here because the invitation had seemed promising, an upscale house, an upscale neighborhood but now he was trapped in a mass of kids and he couldn't tell left from right. The black dress shirt was sticking to him now and he had to settle herself for trying to readjust it so he'd stop sweating into the silky fabric. He couldn't see anyone he knew at all, lost in the crowd of constantly moving teenagers. With a groan of defeat, he made his way back out the door he'd came through, it'd been fun while it lasted but now he far too frustrated to gain anything else from the situation. It was just so irritating, he was sweaty, and he reeked of secondhand smoke, it was disgusting. He felt disgusting, it was all so disgusting. He'd never been made to follow this crowd and yet here he was, half trapped in a mass of teenagers that couldn't seem to slow down. Grabbing the knob in his hand, he twisted it and pushed the door open. The night hair was cool and few scragglers were hanging around on the porch, he could hear the lilt of their conversation as they spoke.
He could hear their voices drifting from all around, soft voices and noises. He could remember a story he once told his mom at bedtime. A story about a prince who's ears were so big that he could hear everything all at once. A prince who couldn't find a princess who would not hurt his delicate ears and his mother had asked him how he'd run a kingdom without a Queen because Queen's were very important. Obligingly, he'd told her that he would give his kingdom completely to the Princess with the softest voice and so the Prince waited for days and days before he found the perfect girl, and she was strong, a kind and had the softest voice. She rose to be the greatest Queen that the kingdom had ever seen and the Prince with the very big ears moved to a house by the sea, where he could always playing the water and nothing was ever too loud. The memory was interrupted by a voice.
"Ay, you, kid says he knows you? Did you bring a kid here?" it was a girl that he went to school with, a pretty thing with brown hair and brown eyes and at her side was a child with red hair, biting his thumb and smiling. "This ain't exactly a good place to babysit."
"No. Shit, I don't know any kids." he mumbled, staring down at the smiling mite before him. "Why would he be mine?"
"I don't know, he said he knows you. He pointed at you specifically."
"But I-" staring at the the child, he thought back to an old family photo, one of a grinning four year old with messy red hair and large eyes. A four year old who liked to bite his thumb. He felt sick very suddenly and grimaced at the kid, squinting and leaning forward while the girl watched with a frown. "Yeah, I think I do know him."
"Fantastic. Take him home." she snapped, strolling back over to her friends.
"Hey." he mumbled to the kid.
"Hi!" the child barked back, waving erratically.
