Member
Snowdrops
Damo021
He lost something there, left it in a desert to dry
❖ Hideaway - Kiesza ❖ Hymn for the Weekend - Coldplay ❖ When We Were Young - Adele ❖ Elastic Heart - Sia ❖
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❱ ❱ ❱ N A M E ❱ ❱ ❱
Gabriel Archibald Benedict Carrington
❱ ❱ ❱ A G E ❱ ❱ ❱
36
❱ ❱ ❱ G E N D E R ❱ ❱ ❱
Male
❱ ❱ ❱ O C C U P A T I O N ❱ ❱ ❱
Retired Air Force Veteran
❱ ❱ ❱ S E X U A L I T Y ❱ ❱ ❱
Homosexual
❱ ❱ ❱ R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S ❱ ❱ ❱
Single; Technically in a fake relationship.
❱ ❱ ❱ F A M I L Y M E M B E R S ❱ ❱ ❱
[Name TBD]; Fake Fiancée
❱ ❱ ❱ A P P E A R A N C E ❱ ❱ ❱
Compare this man now to what he once was and not a soul would believe a 6'2" behemoth of a man used bar stools just to get a glass from the kitchen cabinet. Or that any of his siblings could wrap their whole hand around his bicep - twice. Only determination over his developing years earned Gabriel his stature now. A lot of that motivation stemmed from a pack of bullies and his father's 'encouragement' to "toughen up." Even the slow increase in muscle mass, height, and weight didn't quite allow Gabriel to adjust accordingly. There have been moments aplenty where Gabriel forgot he spanned half a hallway, instead of a fourth. The grace and poise subtle in his smaller frame didn't register in his larger one and it took quite a few years for Gabriel to regain that. Like telling someone to put on over sized gloves to lift a tea cup without dropping it.
Even now, Gabriel feels most comfortable filling in small, tight spaces - curling his knees to his chest, or trying his best to take up only half the cushion on a sofa. Masculinity hasn't really been a pressure for Gabriel and he took a comfort in his own body, a confidence gained from years of working toward this one goal, that it's rare to see him spread eagle, or with any swagger in his step. Even now, Gabriel takes most from his mother. Even in his clumsy phase, every movement Gabriel took came deliberately, thought out in a span of a few seconds. Decisiveness had remained a trait of his throughout the years, especially when it came to facial cues and expressions, standing in certain spots, moving a certain way. Body language became viewed as an art form, especially when remember his own mother - in so far as mimicking her movements as a child.
With impeccable complexion, healthy and bright with a glow that distracts from the distance in his eyes, Gabriel achieves what any Carrington should in beauty - genes took 90% of the credit, thank god. After his transformation from a sleek, petite thing, early 'teen magazines' doted on Gabriel as a modern Adonis - though, that may not seem as special. Those smooth, soft features found time trying and stress even more so. Time spent in the military and through various struggles roughed the gentle visage with sandpaper. His edges came out rough and course. Even with the smoothness of his complexion and the sleek attribute of his form, there's a sharpness to Gabriel's eyes and a worn set to his cheekbones.
Falling to more casual attire, Gabriel likes taking advantage of the weather through his fashion choices. Winter leaves him heavy set in thick layers: pea coats, sweaters, scarves, and winter hats. They'll often appear in washed out colors: blues that look like they've seen better days, and reds this shade of worn out maroon. However, despite this attitude toward clothing, Gabriel refuses to wears shorts or tight fitting pants (though slacks are an exception; he likes his business-y pants to feel form fitting, but not constricting - silk feels too nice on skin not to take advantage of). Anything that takes the attention away from the fact that he's missing a leg is always, always a priority. So far, Gabriel sits on a high middle ground when it comes to fashion - he likes tasteful things, but not overly expensive.
Even now, Gabriel feels most comfortable filling in small, tight spaces - curling his knees to his chest, or trying his best to take up only half the cushion on a sofa. Masculinity hasn't really been a pressure for Gabriel and he took a comfort in his own body, a confidence gained from years of working toward this one goal, that it's rare to see him spread eagle, or with any swagger in his step. Even now, Gabriel takes most from his mother. Even in his clumsy phase, every movement Gabriel took came deliberately, thought out in a span of a few seconds. Decisiveness had remained a trait of his throughout the years, especially when it came to facial cues and expressions, standing in certain spots, moving a certain way. Body language became viewed as an art form, especially when remember his own mother - in so far as mimicking her movements as a child.
With impeccable complexion, healthy and bright with a glow that distracts from the distance in his eyes, Gabriel achieves what any Carrington should in beauty - genes took 90% of the credit, thank god. After his transformation from a sleek, petite thing, early 'teen magazines' doted on Gabriel as a modern Adonis - though, that may not seem as special. Those smooth, soft features found time trying and stress even more so. Time spent in the military and through various struggles roughed the gentle visage with sandpaper. His edges came out rough and course. Even with the smoothness of his complexion and the sleek attribute of his form, there's a sharpness to Gabriel's eyes and a worn set to his cheekbones.
Falling to more casual attire, Gabriel likes taking advantage of the weather through his fashion choices. Winter leaves him heavy set in thick layers: pea coats, sweaters, scarves, and winter hats. They'll often appear in washed out colors: blues that look like they've seen better days, and reds this shade of worn out maroon. However, despite this attitude toward clothing, Gabriel refuses to wears shorts or tight fitting pants (though slacks are an exception; he likes his business-y pants to feel form fitting, but not constricting - silk feels too nice on skin not to take advantage of). Anything that takes the attention away from the fact that he's missing a leg is always, always a priority. So far, Gabriel sits on a high middle ground when it comes to fashion - he likes tasteful things, but not overly expensive.
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❱ ❱ ❱ P E R S O N A L I T Y ❱ ❱ ❱
From a very early age, everyone knew who Gabriel was. Not that everyone knew his name, or even knew him personally. Just looking at him, anyone could tell what that boy stood for. What he felt. What he wanted out of life. The years haven't been kind to Gabriel's younger half. In this day and age, being an open book meant absolute vulnerability. It forced you to wear your heart on your sleeve, sew it on and leave it to dry under the scrutiny and gaze of other people.
Curiosity worked as a driving force for Gabriel. The pursuit of knowledge had always interested him; he actively sought out more information. Even under the criticisms of his mother, Gabriel held out, let her often blunt words encourage him further. If she found a flaw in what he attempted to do, Gabriel saw meaning in it and let it drive him toward improvement. Gabriel always worked tirelessly. At first, the diligence came about to impress in a need for reward and praise - a basic human function. Eventually, that diligence turned into wanting to improve himself for the sake of learning, gaining knowledge - making mistakes and fixing them.
Even years later, Gabriel could never find a reason to blame his mother for her demeanor. She may have a wit and personality sharper than a mountain's peak and colder than one too, but he couldn't deny that her inherent shade of cruelty only drove him toward improvement. Of course, looking back at it, he had many reasons to resent her. Her need for perfection elevated her standards to unbelievable heights - unreachable. And the feeling of gaining her ire over her gratitude eventually led to bouts of depression. Things that needed therapy to correct. Lack of self-worth. Lack of focus. Lack of drive. He could very well blame his mother for all of it; send her the damn bill, if he wanted to. Could blame his father for lacking shits to give unless he found a winning side to latch onto; what he always did. A kid earned a Pulitzer Prize, he'd be there with his thumbs up like he'd been motivating and inspiring that entire time.
Yet, that would defeat the purpose. While, yes, they did deserve a lot of the blame, most of Gabriel's insecurities fell unto himself. No doubt in his mind his mother and father lacked any real experience as parents, despite having ten children. They were awful parents. But people? No, they were half-way decent people. They tried. They sucked at everything they attempted with their kids and they needed to stop having more after the fourth one - even the phrase, 'it's the thought that counts' comes up short. They tried and it wasn't enough, simple as that.
At least he didn't owe them everything. Years in the air force built Gabriel up, even encouraged his brash curiosity. They gave him something his parents didn't: a support beam that wasn't flimsy. Yet, even then, everything ended up crumbling, as it should when one literally gets shot from the sky. That incident took more than just a limb, it took every piece of Gabriel's mind with it. All the stability he tried building up years after leaving his home found itself abandoned in a barren carcass of a jet plane. Lucky for him, that was the only thing he left in the desert.
Now, Gabriel remains a huddled mess of emotions. Even years after he'd earned a sense of normality with his mind. That took more money and time than he'd ever want to spend in any one sitting - or multiple ones. Even if the PTSD remained unchecked, he'd fight it soon enough. He'd find some peace of mind in it. Though, any hopes and aspirations Gabriel had as a child seemed dashed and broken. But, hey, at least he still has that bit of his mother he can't seem to lose. A want for absolute accuracy and precision - utmost efficiency. That'll be a constant reminder of what he left behind, eighteen, young, and brash.
Curiosity worked as a driving force for Gabriel. The pursuit of knowledge had always interested him; he actively sought out more information. Even under the criticisms of his mother, Gabriel held out, let her often blunt words encourage him further. If she found a flaw in what he attempted to do, Gabriel saw meaning in it and let it drive him toward improvement. Gabriel always worked tirelessly. At first, the diligence came about to impress in a need for reward and praise - a basic human function. Eventually, that diligence turned into wanting to improve himself for the sake of learning, gaining knowledge - making mistakes and fixing them.
Even years later, Gabriel could never find a reason to blame his mother for her demeanor. She may have a wit and personality sharper than a mountain's peak and colder than one too, but he couldn't deny that her inherent shade of cruelty only drove him toward improvement. Of course, looking back at it, he had many reasons to resent her. Her need for perfection elevated her standards to unbelievable heights - unreachable. And the feeling of gaining her ire over her gratitude eventually led to bouts of depression. Things that needed therapy to correct. Lack of self-worth. Lack of focus. Lack of drive. He could very well blame his mother for all of it; send her the damn bill, if he wanted to. Could blame his father for lacking shits to give unless he found a winning side to latch onto; what he always did. A kid earned a Pulitzer Prize, he'd be there with his thumbs up like he'd been motivating and inspiring that entire time.
Yet, that would defeat the purpose. While, yes, they did deserve a lot of the blame, most of Gabriel's insecurities fell unto himself. No doubt in his mind his mother and father lacked any real experience as parents, despite having ten children. They were awful parents. But people? No, they were half-way decent people. They tried. They sucked at everything they attempted with their kids and they needed to stop having more after the fourth one - even the phrase, 'it's the thought that counts' comes up short. They tried and it wasn't enough, simple as that.
At least he didn't owe them everything. Years in the air force built Gabriel up, even encouraged his brash curiosity. They gave him something his parents didn't: a support beam that wasn't flimsy. Yet, even then, everything ended up crumbling, as it should when one literally gets shot from the sky. That incident took more than just a limb, it took every piece of Gabriel's mind with it. All the stability he tried building up years after leaving his home found itself abandoned in a barren carcass of a jet plane. Lucky for him, that was the only thing he left in the desert.
Now, Gabriel remains a huddled mess of emotions. Even years after he'd earned a sense of normality with his mind. That took more money and time than he'd ever want to spend in any one sitting - or multiple ones. Even if the PTSD remained unchecked, he'd fight it soon enough. He'd find some peace of mind in it. Though, any hopes and aspirations Gabriel had as a child seemed dashed and broken. But, hey, at least he still has that bit of his mother he can't seem to lose. A want for absolute accuracy and precision - utmost efficiency. That'll be a constant reminder of what he left behind, eighteen, young, and brash.
❱ ❱ ❱ L I K E S ❱ ❱ ❱
❖ Anything sci-fi; growing up, Gabriel had an intense love for space, as well as literature. He'd hole up in his room with dozens of books: H.G. Wells, Frank Herbert, Aldous Huxley, Isaac Asimov. He had an entire case filled with only various copies of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein taken from all over the world.
❖ Space; there was always a reason to be out at night, whether to star gaze or just bask in the feel of an entire trillions of light years of space just sitting above. Gabriel always had a fascination for the stars and he's spent many nights charting the constellations, as well as researching everything he can about those distant balls of gas filling the night sky.
❖ Being Precise; something he got from his mother - anything Gabriel does needs to be with absolute precision. Whether it's charting a graph, fixing up a room, talking, or lining up a shot.
❖ Silence; nights spent aboard planes and jets have given silence a new meaning to Gabriel. Silence means peace, a near blanket of security. Alone for hours in the fading hum of a plane have given Gabriel more peace of mind than he cares to admit. Enough time in his thoughts to justify any actions he's ever taken - even if the excuses are flimsy and last for but a few seconds of respite.
❖ Space; there was always a reason to be out at night, whether to star gaze or just bask in the feel of an entire trillions of light years of space just sitting above. Gabriel always had a fascination for the stars and he's spent many nights charting the constellations, as well as researching everything he can about those distant balls of gas filling the night sky.
❖ Being Precise; something he got from his mother - anything Gabriel does needs to be with absolute precision. Whether it's charting a graph, fixing up a room, talking, or lining up a shot.
❖ Silence; nights spent aboard planes and jets have given silence a new meaning to Gabriel. Silence means peace, a near blanket of security. Alone for hours in the fading hum of a plane have given Gabriel more peace of mind than he cares to admit. Enough time in his thoughts to justify any actions he's ever taken - even if the excuses are flimsy and last for but a few seconds of respite.
❱ ❱ ❱ D I S L I K E S ❱ ❱ ❱
❖ Loud Noises; raucous, loud, and abrupt noises send Gabriel into a panic. Anything louder than a car alarm shocks him into a catatonic state. The less noisy, the less it takes to bring him back from the edge; the louder, the worse the panic settles in.
❖ Wearing Shorts; shorts don't leave anything to the imagination and, honestly, that's where he wants to keep his leg: locked in peoples' imaginations. If it's not seen, they can't tell it's not there to begin with. Even years of therapy haven't stopped the crippling shame he feels looking down.
❖ Stairs; just, honestly, fuck stairs. Fuck long flights of stairs. Fuck stairwells. Fuck anything without an elevator or a ramp.
❖ Losing Control; that feeling of being hammered drunk? The feeling right before anesthetics put you under? That feeling when you touch a part of your body and can't, for the life you, feel any sort of sensation there? That scares the shit out of him. Freaks him out. Increases his heart rate and leaves him stammering. He refuses to touch alcohol, or any kind of pain relieving drug - or drugs in general. Those weeks spent on morphine may have been amazing during, but getting to that high was a ride in and of itself.
❖ Wearing Shorts; shorts don't leave anything to the imagination and, honestly, that's where he wants to keep his leg: locked in peoples' imaginations. If it's not seen, they can't tell it's not there to begin with. Even years of therapy haven't stopped the crippling shame he feels looking down.
❖ Stairs; just, honestly, fuck stairs. Fuck long flights of stairs. Fuck stairwells. Fuck anything without an elevator or a ramp.
❖ Losing Control; that feeling of being hammered drunk? The feeling right before anesthetics put you under? That feeling when you touch a part of your body and can't, for the life you, feel any sort of sensation there? That scares the shit out of him. Freaks him out. Increases his heart rate and leaves him stammering. He refuses to touch alcohol, or any kind of pain relieving drug - or drugs in general. Those weeks spent on morphine may have been amazing during, but getting to that high was a ride in and of itself.
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❱ ❱ ❱ H I S T O R Y ❱ ❱ ❱
Out of all the Carrington kids, Gabriel likely comes off as a distant memory to most of the family. Not a failure in his own right, not a disappointment, but maybe a lost cause. Someone who grew into their own person too soon, out of necessity and maybe even survival. At a point in life, something just happened and the support Gabriel made for himself out of the little bits and pieces his parents allotted him crumbled. Further luck shaped and molded Gabriel into the man he sees in the mirror daily and though he has no qualms with his own reflection, there's something missing. Something that needs to be fixed and filled in before he can truly find satisfaction. And maybe satisfaction isn't even what he needs or wants - but, it's hard to put a word to something he doesn't quite know the contents of, just yet.
Starting out as a Carrington meant more than a few days spent away from family. Or at least, his mother and father. At a young age, Gabriel mostly kept to himself, even in the company of his siblings - leaving him perpetually introverted and solitary. Gabriel's childhood often found itself wondering at books, learning to read and write, and then finding time to spend with his nose buried deep in a novel. Until, eventually, a book of the stars landed in his lap, opening wide a new avenue of wonder and passion. A curiosity like his refuses to be sated.
Young and yearning for a glimpse of the stars, Gabriel notified both parents. The enthusiasm observed in the boy's tone was something to keep note of and, once their schedule opened up, they allowed a night of stargazing for the boy - after buying a much, much too expensive telescope for an adolescent. After that night, both parents knew that telescope would find itself in use nightly, likely for years to come. A fire like that in a boy so young could only lead to potential greatness, at least in their eyes.
From then on, Gabriel found himself piled head to toe in resources that further nurtureed his passion. While they didn't take quite an active role in building Gabriel's passion, both Carringtons invested much into allowing Gabriel to take the reigns alone. Even were it to be a flight of fancy, the amount of money they spent on Gabriel could hardly make a noticeable dent - not enough to rise to anger over disappointment. However, That neither need worry about as the older Gabriel grew, the more knowledge he soaked in. A child that young probably had no reason to delve into advanced mathematics, however, learning math and even physics came simple to Gabriel. While he didn't exactly sky rocket into Calculus at the age of three, he did grasp equations and formulas astoundingly easier than most kids his age (and if he started learning Calculus in middle school, who could blame him?).
At that age, most of the accomplishments that went under his parents' scrutiny only encouraged Gabriel to work harder. That determination allowed him to succeed beyond what was expected of him. However, even that had negative consequences. The higher he raised the bar, the more his parents expected of him. And if he couldn't reach the standard he'd set himself, they wouldn't waste their time beyond giving him small, hole punching critiques. Even tiny, they still felt like jabs to his gut. At its worse, everything seemed discouraging.
However, Gabriel could very well take it. He could handle a lot of things at his age. If he could handle graphing the sky and finding the distance from earth to a random star just by looking at it, well he could handle his mother's off-hand comment about how his 98% science report wouldn't hold up in a college course - "Something to think about, Gabriel, if you really wish to succeed. Mediocrity is a sin." In the long run, she had a point and he always worked to improve himself toward a milestone where he no longer craved to see his parents proud, but to see himself proud.
That wouldn't last long.
As a young boy, puberty didn't exactly hit hard - he would take growing pains and acne over bleeding through his genitals any day. That couldn't be said for his sexuality, though, and discovering his apathy towards the female form and a rather alarming attraction to cute boys (not riddled with acne, that is; and with muscles, ahaha) lead him down a very trying experience. Hiding that meant hiding himself, which also meant making sure that everything he did was done to conceal his secret - exhaustive work for a kid who still had time to be a kid. Even then, many of the children in his school had it out for him just because his parents had enough money to not only bribe his way into any school, but tack on a Ferrari, as well, without making even a small dent in their fortune. If people found out he was gay, especially rabid pre-frat boy acting middle school teenagers, that would turn an already gross and irritating environment into a hellscape.
Unfortunately, in a school full of kids of parents who have 'connections' and ways of finding dirt, rumors spread like fire and if one of those rumors happened to be true, well, that kinda just sucks. Kids can be nasty and kids with money, even worse. So, when a rumor spread that Gabriel Carrington was liked sucking dick, they took the bait and found it to actually be true (at least in theory; don't tell my mom, please). That meant coming home with bruises and welts and black eyes for days until his parents found out. That conversation didn't go too well; he never expected it to. His mother hadn't said a word. His father, on the other hand, made light jabs, targeting his tiny frame and lack of muscles as if to encourage him to bulk up and fight those kids himself. In a very typical, asshole-ish way. Sure, it worked, but Gabriel didn't have very many kind words to say to his father after that.
One good thing came out of the talk, however, and that had been his father's lack of care for his sexuality. Even if it came as a thinly veiled threat.
"If I think you're a disappointment, which is unlikely, it's because of who you are, not who you like."
Unlikely his ass.
That fiasco happened at age twelve, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Bullied, ridiculed, and then told to, "... toughen up," by his father, put Gabriel in a hole he didn't see a way to get out of. He needed comfort, needed something his parents wouldn't provide because they thought tough love was the only approach to parenting. That meant going to his siblings, in particular his older sister. Unfortunately, that had been the exact time of her own troubling outburst.
School had just finished for the lot of them (graduation for their eldest had been something his parents wanted to attend, giving them the perfect opportunity to the see the damage already done to their third eldest) meaning at least one would be on their way to, hopefully, college. Unfortunately, Sam didn't see the bright side of her parents' approach, didn't see them wanting only reason, and teen spirit won over logic. She burst into a fit of rage in what she assumed had been in private, yet young Gabriel had already sought out his oldest sister to confide in. Privy to the details and grit of the conflict raging in front of him, Gabriel only stood and waited, hoping the one person who understood his troubles would only stay.
"Where are you going?" he asked, after watching her pack in front of their parents - watching as Sam stomp past him without a glance. He turned to both his mother and father, confusion and anger twisting his bruised face. "You can't just let her go. She's family. She can't just leave. She can't just... S-Sam?" Gabriel broke into a panic, dashing down the stairs to watch the door slam before he could get a word in. From the windows, he watched the smoke of burning tires mark the driveway and the black gates of their home close with a heartbreaking finality.
From then on, Gabriel looked at his parents with a deep resentment. Young and brash, he never quite forgave them and that only exacerbated their critiques, the comments he knew were only made to better him. It turned, "This equation is off by a decimal, that's why it's a 95% and not a 100%," into, "You'll never amount to anything; you're small, weak, and hopeless. You're not a Carrington. You're a disappointment." He twisted their words for his own benefit, he thought. He made them sound like monsters in his head until he couldn't find a reason to stay.
Even then, Gabriel forced himself to improve beyond what they expected of him. Aided with a growth spurt that summer, Gabriel began bulking up. Over the years and to the end of high school, Gabriel gained more muscle mass and height than was honestly reasonable. Everything his parents did behind his back came unnoticed. The fact that, not only did he attend school no longer harassed, but the bullies who had assaulted him no longer drifted the hallways. Were sent away. Expelled. Whatever. Gabriel refused to notice, refused to catch his mother or father's eye because once he did, he knew he couldn't hold his philosophy. His little fictional world that painted them as the villains; deep down, Gabriel knew they couldn't have done anything to stop Sam. She had her mind set and they were simply trying to understand her. But that would make his own escape hard. Dramatic, yes, but he lacked the reasoning an adult might have had.
Once he graduated, Gabriel threw all the scholarships, all the college letters, all the things his parents gave him to allow him success by the wayside. Without a word, Gabriel packed everything that he needed, signed up for the Air Force, and left for boot camp that fall. He needed to see them as monsters. He didn't want to. He knew they weren't, but it was the only way for him to justify cutting ties completely.
Those years built him up. They allowed a freedom Gabriel hadn't experienced. Not a freedom from his parents' restrictions, but a freedom from himself. Everything boiled down to orders, to obedience, to following directions, and to being lead. It felt mindless to him, not in a bad way, but in a way that he could lose himself and refuse to find what he left behind. Not only that, they let him fly. They let him see the stars up close, the sun shining behind the weight of heavy clouds. It may not have been what he truly dreamed of, but it was damn well close enough.
At that point, Gabriel had experienced a fair bit of the world. He allowed the military to raise him, mold him into the man he wanted to become. Or at least, what they wanted him to become. They pushed him in a direction and he went, without ever looking back at what he left behind.
Unfortunately, it never did allow him to really grow. And, while the foundation for their support was built sturdier, it would eventually crumble. That much Gabriel knew. Mainly because he also knew there were a lot of things he was avoiding in the real world and those things would eventually catch up to him. He'd ride it out, though, for as long as he could.
That end came a lot quicker than he anticipated. A routine air sweep over sanctioned parts of the Mediterranean turned into strafing too far into Libya, which turned into a lock down of that particular air space. Artillery fire and the night made it exceptionally difficult to wrap around and fly back to their designated air base. With only two planes on a scouting mission, it shouldn't have been too hard - hard, but not impossible.
On his turn around, Gabriel spotted a stray artillery shell flanking the second jet. Knowing it'd rip through the cockpit and whoever inside, Gabriel made a split second decision. Diving beneath the other jet, he took the missile head on. The explosion ripped into the wings of his lane, and inverted a good portion of the hull into the cockpit. Parts of the metal and wiring of the plane dug into Gabriel's right calf, pinning him to jet. Unable to eject safely, he'd have likely died in the crash. The other plane fared far better, having taken the bulk of the damage with his own plane, the other merely lost function to the aftershocks of the explosion, forcing the pilot inside to eject. The force of his impact on land had knocked him unconscious, however.
Gabriel still refuses to detail exactly what he did to get himself out safely, but it left his right leg severely injured to the point of losing all function and left him nearly bleeding out on the desert sands. He had to physically crawl through the barren sands in order to make contact with the other soldier, unconscious but still breathing. He bound his wound as well as he could and took stock of his surrounding, the cold shaking their claws into his bones. Unfortunately, his woulds had been the least of their worries as the wreck gave away their location to a roving, enemy mercenary group - pick off the survivors and scavenge what they could. To Gabriel, it'd be he last stand, unknown to the medical rescue team alerted to their location prior to his partner abadoning his plane for safety. After holing up with his lone pistol behind a sturdy rock formation, he held them off until the medical team arrived to dispatch the remaining enemy soldiers and lift them both off to safety. He lost consciousness well before they shipped him out for surgery. Gabriel woke up two days later with no leg and under a high dosage of morphine - his subsequent freak out took quite a bit of the on hand staff to calm and sedate him. With no family written in his records, Gabriel suffered his time in the military hospital alone for nearly a month.
After the ordeal he'd been honorably discharged, awarded a Purple Heart and the Medal of Honor for his valor in combat and his willingness to sacrifice. Of course, that likely televised event wouldn't have gone unnoticed by his parents. Gabriel, however, refused to take any of their calls and worked on recovering what mental stability he had left through various therapy sessions before ever thinking of approaching them again. It took years before Gabriel deemed himself ready and by then, he'd already received a letter for a Carrington family reunion. Now it was just a matter of finding a way to explain himself, while acting like his life afterwards was just him rebuilding some kind of normalcy, educating himself, finding a reasonable excuse that he would have been much too busy to talk.
Starting out as a Carrington meant more than a few days spent away from family. Or at least, his mother and father. At a young age, Gabriel mostly kept to himself, even in the company of his siblings - leaving him perpetually introverted and solitary. Gabriel's childhood often found itself wondering at books, learning to read and write, and then finding time to spend with his nose buried deep in a novel. Until, eventually, a book of the stars landed in his lap, opening wide a new avenue of wonder and passion. A curiosity like his refuses to be sated.
Young and yearning for a glimpse of the stars, Gabriel notified both parents. The enthusiasm observed in the boy's tone was something to keep note of and, once their schedule opened up, they allowed a night of stargazing for the boy - after buying a much, much too expensive telescope for an adolescent. After that night, both parents knew that telescope would find itself in use nightly, likely for years to come. A fire like that in a boy so young could only lead to potential greatness, at least in their eyes.
From then on, Gabriel found himself piled head to toe in resources that further nurtureed his passion. While they didn't take quite an active role in building Gabriel's passion, both Carringtons invested much into allowing Gabriel to take the reigns alone. Even were it to be a flight of fancy, the amount of money they spent on Gabriel could hardly make a noticeable dent - not enough to rise to anger over disappointment. However, That neither need worry about as the older Gabriel grew, the more knowledge he soaked in. A child that young probably had no reason to delve into advanced mathematics, however, learning math and even physics came simple to Gabriel. While he didn't exactly sky rocket into Calculus at the age of three, he did grasp equations and formulas astoundingly easier than most kids his age (and if he started learning Calculus in middle school, who could blame him?).
At that age, most of the accomplishments that went under his parents' scrutiny only encouraged Gabriel to work harder. That determination allowed him to succeed beyond what was expected of him. However, even that had negative consequences. The higher he raised the bar, the more his parents expected of him. And if he couldn't reach the standard he'd set himself, they wouldn't waste their time beyond giving him small, hole punching critiques. Even tiny, they still felt like jabs to his gut. At its worse, everything seemed discouraging.
However, Gabriel could very well take it. He could handle a lot of things at his age. If he could handle graphing the sky and finding the distance from earth to a random star just by looking at it, well he could handle his mother's off-hand comment about how his 98% science report wouldn't hold up in a college course - "Something to think about, Gabriel, if you really wish to succeed. Mediocrity is a sin." In the long run, she had a point and he always worked to improve himself toward a milestone where he no longer craved to see his parents proud, but to see himself proud.
That wouldn't last long.
As a young boy, puberty didn't exactly hit hard - he would take growing pains and acne over bleeding through his genitals any day. That couldn't be said for his sexuality, though, and discovering his apathy towards the female form and a rather alarming attraction to cute boys (not riddled with acne, that is; and with muscles, ahaha) lead him down a very trying experience. Hiding that meant hiding himself, which also meant making sure that everything he did was done to conceal his secret - exhaustive work for a kid who still had time to be a kid. Even then, many of the children in his school had it out for him just because his parents had enough money to not only bribe his way into any school, but tack on a Ferrari, as well, without making even a small dent in their fortune. If people found out he was gay, especially rabid pre-frat boy acting middle school teenagers, that would turn an already gross and irritating environment into a hellscape.
Unfortunately, in a school full of kids of parents who have 'connections' and ways of finding dirt, rumors spread like fire and if one of those rumors happened to be true, well, that kinda just sucks. Kids can be nasty and kids with money, even worse. So, when a rumor spread that Gabriel Carrington was liked sucking dick, they took the bait and found it to actually be true (at least in theory; don't tell my mom, please). That meant coming home with bruises and welts and black eyes for days until his parents found out. That conversation didn't go too well; he never expected it to. His mother hadn't said a word. His father, on the other hand, made light jabs, targeting his tiny frame and lack of muscles as if to encourage him to bulk up and fight those kids himself. In a very typical, asshole-ish way. Sure, it worked, but Gabriel didn't have very many kind words to say to his father after that.
One good thing came out of the talk, however, and that had been his father's lack of care for his sexuality. Even if it came as a thinly veiled threat.
"If I think you're a disappointment, which is unlikely, it's because of who you are, not who you like."
Unlikely his ass.
That fiasco happened at age twelve, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Bullied, ridiculed, and then told to, "... toughen up," by his father, put Gabriel in a hole he didn't see a way to get out of. He needed comfort, needed something his parents wouldn't provide because they thought tough love was the only approach to parenting. That meant going to his siblings, in particular his older sister. Unfortunately, that had been the exact time of her own troubling outburst.
School had just finished for the lot of them (graduation for their eldest had been something his parents wanted to attend, giving them the perfect opportunity to the see the damage already done to their third eldest) meaning at least one would be on their way to, hopefully, college. Unfortunately, Sam didn't see the bright side of her parents' approach, didn't see them wanting only reason, and teen spirit won over logic. She burst into a fit of rage in what she assumed had been in private, yet young Gabriel had already sought out his oldest sister to confide in. Privy to the details and grit of the conflict raging in front of him, Gabriel only stood and waited, hoping the one person who understood his troubles would only stay.
"Where are you going?" he asked, after watching her pack in front of their parents - watching as Sam stomp past him without a glance. He turned to both his mother and father, confusion and anger twisting his bruised face. "You can't just let her go. She's family. She can't just leave. She can't just... S-Sam?" Gabriel broke into a panic, dashing down the stairs to watch the door slam before he could get a word in. From the windows, he watched the smoke of burning tires mark the driveway and the black gates of their home close with a heartbreaking finality.
From then on, Gabriel looked at his parents with a deep resentment. Young and brash, he never quite forgave them and that only exacerbated their critiques, the comments he knew were only made to better him. It turned, "This equation is off by a decimal, that's why it's a 95% and not a 100%," into, "You'll never amount to anything; you're small, weak, and hopeless. You're not a Carrington. You're a disappointment." He twisted their words for his own benefit, he thought. He made them sound like monsters in his head until he couldn't find a reason to stay.
Even then, Gabriel forced himself to improve beyond what they expected of him. Aided with a growth spurt that summer, Gabriel began bulking up. Over the years and to the end of high school, Gabriel gained more muscle mass and height than was honestly reasonable. Everything his parents did behind his back came unnoticed. The fact that, not only did he attend school no longer harassed, but the bullies who had assaulted him no longer drifted the hallways. Were sent away. Expelled. Whatever. Gabriel refused to notice, refused to catch his mother or father's eye because once he did, he knew he couldn't hold his philosophy. His little fictional world that painted them as the villains; deep down, Gabriel knew they couldn't have done anything to stop Sam. She had her mind set and they were simply trying to understand her. But that would make his own escape hard. Dramatic, yes, but he lacked the reasoning an adult might have had.
Once he graduated, Gabriel threw all the scholarships, all the college letters, all the things his parents gave him to allow him success by the wayside. Without a word, Gabriel packed everything that he needed, signed up for the Air Force, and left for boot camp that fall. He needed to see them as monsters. He didn't want to. He knew they weren't, but it was the only way for him to justify cutting ties completely.
Those years built him up. They allowed a freedom Gabriel hadn't experienced. Not a freedom from his parents' restrictions, but a freedom from himself. Everything boiled down to orders, to obedience, to following directions, and to being lead. It felt mindless to him, not in a bad way, but in a way that he could lose himself and refuse to find what he left behind. Not only that, they let him fly. They let him see the stars up close, the sun shining behind the weight of heavy clouds. It may not have been what he truly dreamed of, but it was damn well close enough.
At that point, Gabriel had experienced a fair bit of the world. He allowed the military to raise him, mold him into the man he wanted to become. Or at least, what they wanted him to become. They pushed him in a direction and he went, without ever looking back at what he left behind.
Unfortunately, it never did allow him to really grow. And, while the foundation for their support was built sturdier, it would eventually crumble. That much Gabriel knew. Mainly because he also knew there were a lot of things he was avoiding in the real world and those things would eventually catch up to him. He'd ride it out, though, for as long as he could.
That end came a lot quicker than he anticipated. A routine air sweep over sanctioned parts of the Mediterranean turned into strafing too far into Libya, which turned into a lock down of that particular air space. Artillery fire and the night made it exceptionally difficult to wrap around and fly back to their designated air base. With only two planes on a scouting mission, it shouldn't have been too hard - hard, but not impossible.
On his turn around, Gabriel spotted a stray artillery shell flanking the second jet. Knowing it'd rip through the cockpit and whoever inside, Gabriel made a split second decision. Diving beneath the other jet, he took the missile head on. The explosion ripped into the wings of his lane, and inverted a good portion of the hull into the cockpit. Parts of the metal and wiring of the plane dug into Gabriel's right calf, pinning him to jet. Unable to eject safely, he'd have likely died in the crash. The other plane fared far better, having taken the bulk of the damage with his own plane, the other merely lost function to the aftershocks of the explosion, forcing the pilot inside to eject. The force of his impact on land had knocked him unconscious, however.
Gabriel still refuses to detail exactly what he did to get himself out safely, but it left his right leg severely injured to the point of losing all function and left him nearly bleeding out on the desert sands. He had to physically crawl through the barren sands in order to make contact with the other soldier, unconscious but still breathing. He bound his wound as well as he could and took stock of his surrounding, the cold shaking their claws into his bones. Unfortunately, his woulds had been the least of their worries as the wreck gave away their location to a roving, enemy mercenary group - pick off the survivors and scavenge what they could. To Gabriel, it'd be he last stand, unknown to the medical rescue team alerted to their location prior to his partner abadoning his plane for safety. After holing up with his lone pistol behind a sturdy rock formation, he held them off until the medical team arrived to dispatch the remaining enemy soldiers and lift them both off to safety. He lost consciousness well before they shipped him out for surgery. Gabriel woke up two days later with no leg and under a high dosage of morphine - his subsequent freak out took quite a bit of the on hand staff to calm and sedate him. With no family written in his records, Gabriel suffered his time in the military hospital alone for nearly a month.
After the ordeal he'd been honorably discharged, awarded a Purple Heart and the Medal of Honor for his valor in combat and his willingness to sacrifice. Of course, that likely televised event wouldn't have gone unnoticed by his parents. Gabriel, however, refused to take any of their calls and worked on recovering what mental stability he had left through various therapy sessions before ever thinking of approaching them again. It took years before Gabriel deemed himself ready and by then, he'd already received a letter for a Carrington family reunion. Now it was just a matter of finding a way to explain himself, while acting like his life afterwards was just him rebuilding some kind of normalcy, educating himself, finding a reasonable excuse that he would have been much too busy to talk.
❱ ❱ ❱ M I S C E L L A N E O U S I N F O ❱ ❱ ❱
❖ Lost his left leg and wears a regular prosthetic. He hides this rather well and refuses to explain how he lost it when people find out.
❖ He's laid low enough that his stint on TV only remains in vague memory. People don't recognize him on the street and he doesn't ever really boast about his received reward. He still doesn't think he earned it, after everything that happened.
❖ Takes medication for his anxiety and depression - still deals with PTSD. Loud noises and flying trigger him heavily - he needs to be thoroughly sedated before boarding a plane.
❖ Still dreams of becoming an astronaut and astrophysicist and has even sent in applications to places like MIT. He refuses to name drop, but his high school records are impeccable and he hopes he can somehow find a way to pay for classes himself. Right now, he's just taking a few small classes at a community college, learning how to cook, even knit, and some creative writing course.
❖ He's laid low enough that his stint on TV only remains in vague memory. People don't recognize him on the street and he doesn't ever really boast about his received reward. He still doesn't think he earned it, after everything that happened.
❖ Takes medication for his anxiety and depression - still deals with PTSD. Loud noises and flying trigger him heavily - he needs to be thoroughly sedated before boarding a plane.
❖ Still dreams of becoming an astronaut and astrophysicist and has even sent in applications to places like MIT. He refuses to name drop, but his high school records are impeccable and he hopes he can somehow find a way to pay for classes himself. Right now, he's just taking a few small classes at a community college, learning how to cook, even knit, and some creative writing course.
❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱
❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱
❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱ ❱
Gabriel Carrington
"You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!"
-Albus Dumbledore, 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' by J.K. Rowling
Name
Gabriel Tate Carrington
Nicknames
Tate - Really likes going by his middle name, actually.
Gabe - Derives from Gabriel. Just shorthand.
Archie - Short for Archangel, since Gabriel is one of the seven.
Merc or Mercury - Since Gabriel is the Messenger of God and, during his edgy 14 year old phase, Gabriel demanded he be called Mercury cause he was the cooliest of the Roman Gods, since he's pretty much Gabriel, anyways.
Mulder - "Just call me Mulder. Fox Mulder." It's usually more to mock him, but he kinda likes it.
Gabe - Derives from Gabriel. Just shorthand.
Archie - Short for Archangel, since Gabriel is one of the seven.
Merc or Mercury - Since Gabriel is the Messenger of God and, during his edgy 14 year old phase, Gabriel demanded he be called Mercury cause he was the cooliest of the Roman Gods, since he's pretty much Gabriel, anyways.
Mulder - "Just call me Mulder. Fox Mulder." It's usually more to mock him, but he kinda likes it.
Age
37
Gender
Male
Occupation
Agent for the FBI
Residency
A quaint apartment in Washington, D.C.
Sexual Orientation
Super Gay Homosexual
Relationship Status
Single. Pringle. Mingle. The whole nine yards or nine inches aaaaaayyyyyy.
Appearance
What can be said of a man in a large, imposing, 6'4" frame?
A brief glance gives the perspective of a stoic giant, with his face a lazy pull. There's a brief glimpse of vibrancy in the fluidity of his movements that matches the brightness of blue eyes. Though, many get caught up in the broadness of Gabriel's figure, intimidated by the sheer power he exudes. Gabriel doesn't skimp on his health and tends to boast a musculature that demands a rigorous diet and workout routine. And it actually does, though he wishes he could inhale a mountain of sweets sometimes.
Many people like to describe Gabriel as untapped energy, just waiting for the right moment. His muscles bunch up, flex and stretch in his movement; a lot of the intimidation factor centers around the fact that Gabriel doesn't just walk, he stalks. He moves deliberately, slowly, patiently, and keeps his focus and attention in the radius around him. The constant surveillance is a staple of his person. There's literally no one who hates being surprised than Gabriel. He's broken a few arms and legs from people deliberately trying to scare him. Not many people understand that a man who's movement resembles a hunting jaguar will not hesitate to pounce. That's where the energy bursts from, when he's found a target to pounce on, whether that be tackling his job or actually tackling an individual.
Thoughtful and efficiently expressive, Gabriel's gaze is almost always focusing on something. Blue eyes are inquisitive and teeming with curiosity. After being given nothing but blank or hostile expressions all of his life, Gabriel tries to convey his emotions as best as he can. Giving off a sincerity to the way he expresses himself and his actions, especially. Of course, that need for vibrancy in facial expressions doesn't translate to clothing.
Everything Gabriel owns denotes an air of efficiency. Most of his clothing consist of suits, pieced together beforehand and almost always conservative, though he does like anything that hugs his body. A well fitting suit is a godsend. However, there's really nothing bright in his wardrobe, no odd socks, or colorful pants. A lot of things range from grey to charcoal black, even his ties lack a real style—solid color seems to be a thing with him. Any casual wear usually comes with a pair of jeans, maybe a flannel or a grey Henley. Anything that's uncharacteristic of his usual style of clothing comes from other people. What more, it's likely all due to a lack of any real fashion sense, since attempts to wear anything besides his average wardrobe ends in an amalgamation of horror and the grotesque.
A brief glance gives the perspective of a stoic giant, with his face a lazy pull. There's a brief glimpse of vibrancy in the fluidity of his movements that matches the brightness of blue eyes. Though, many get caught up in the broadness of Gabriel's figure, intimidated by the sheer power he exudes. Gabriel doesn't skimp on his health and tends to boast a musculature that demands a rigorous diet and workout routine. And it actually does, though he wishes he could inhale a mountain of sweets sometimes.
Many people like to describe Gabriel as untapped energy, just waiting for the right moment. His muscles bunch up, flex and stretch in his movement; a lot of the intimidation factor centers around the fact that Gabriel doesn't just walk, he stalks. He moves deliberately, slowly, patiently, and keeps his focus and attention in the radius around him. The constant surveillance is a staple of his person. There's literally no one who hates being surprised than Gabriel. He's broken a few arms and legs from people deliberately trying to scare him. Not many people understand that a man who's movement resembles a hunting jaguar will not hesitate to pounce. That's where the energy bursts from, when he's found a target to pounce on, whether that be tackling his job or actually tackling an individual.
Thoughtful and efficiently expressive, Gabriel's gaze is almost always focusing on something. Blue eyes are inquisitive and teeming with curiosity. After being given nothing but blank or hostile expressions all of his life, Gabriel tries to convey his emotions as best as he can. Giving off a sincerity to the way he expresses himself and his actions, especially. Of course, that need for vibrancy in facial expressions doesn't translate to clothing.
Everything Gabriel owns denotes an air of efficiency. Most of his clothing consist of suits, pieced together beforehand and almost always conservative, though he does like anything that hugs his body. A well fitting suit is a godsend. However, there's really nothing bright in his wardrobe, no odd socks, or colorful pants. A lot of things range from grey to charcoal black, even his ties lack a real style—solid color seems to be a thing with him. Any casual wear usually comes with a pair of jeans, maybe a flannel or a grey Henley. Anything that's uncharacteristic of his usual style of clothing comes from other people. What more, it's likely all due to a lack of any real fashion sense, since attempts to wear anything besides his average wardrobe ends in an amalgamation of horror and the grotesque.
"I do a surprising amount of field work."
Personality
For a man who fears complete silence, Gabriel spends quite a bit of time silent himself. It surprises a lot of people, since Gabriel most resembles a golden retriever—or at least, that's what he always gets on quizzes. Gabriel simply isn't a fan of wasting his words; he doesn't like throwing something out there just to fill the void. If he needs to express something he will, but if a situation doesn't require his voice, Gabriel won't hesitate to stay completely mute. Of course, the issue lies in moments that do require his voice and when Gabriel overwhelms himself with anxiety, he also shuts down. Anger, depression, fear all leave Gabriel voiceless, or near enough.
A man of little words, however, often expresses himself in his actions. Gabriel doesn't shy away when a situation calls for action. He takes a stand wherever he can. Though, it's not always a heated situation that causes him to leap in. Gabriel expresses himself in affection, in giving of his time and effort. He lets people know he cares through the little things, but also doesn't hesitate to show it in large, grand gestures. Hell, if you need it and he cares a whole helluva lot about you, Gabriel won't hesitate to hop on a plane and fly where you need him. Point him in the direction and he'll take off running.
Of all things, Gabriel keeps his guard up and defenses strong. Getting hurt doesn't always mean physically and, for Gabriel, the worst pain isn't a broken leg, but a broken heart. And so, his efficiency and almost ruthless tact keeps his heart off his sleeve. Sometimes it requires looking at the bigger picture to realize that some things don't matter. Though, he doesn't often realize his utilitarian views on his job can often leave people worse than he left them. Gabriel is far from a bleeding heart, but he cares and sometimes he finds that a weakness and tamps down on it with immorality and amoral perspectives. He just doesn't realize desensitizing oneself can hurt a lot worse than a broken heart.
A man of little words, however, often expresses himself in his actions. Gabriel doesn't shy away when a situation calls for action. He takes a stand wherever he can. Though, it's not always a heated situation that causes him to leap in. Gabriel expresses himself in affection, in giving of his time and effort. He lets people know he cares through the little things, but also doesn't hesitate to show it in large, grand gestures. Hell, if you need it and he cares a whole helluva lot about you, Gabriel won't hesitate to hop on a plane and fly where you need him. Point him in the direction and he'll take off running.
Of all things, Gabriel keeps his guard up and defenses strong. Getting hurt doesn't always mean physically and, for Gabriel, the worst pain isn't a broken leg, but a broken heart. And so, his efficiency and almost ruthless tact keeps his heart off his sleeve. Sometimes it requires looking at the bigger picture to realize that some things don't matter. Though, he doesn't often realize his utilitarian views on his job can often leave people worse than he left them. Gabriel is far from a bleeding heart, but he cares and sometimes he finds that a weakness and tamps down on it with immorality and amoral perspectives. He just doesn't realize desensitizing oneself can hurt a lot worse than a broken heart.
Likes
- Cotton Candy
- The Smell of Pine Trees
- Netflix
- Expensive Wines
- Longhaired Cats
- Cheeeeeese!
- The X-Files
Dislikes
- Camels
- Sushi/Seafood
- Getting his picture taken
- Country Music
- Misquoting Shakespeare
Strengths
- Encyclopedic Knowledge
- Athletic
- Mechanically Inclined
- Problem Solver
Weaknesses
- Overworking/Tunnel Vision
- Self-Deprecating
- Utilitarian/Slightly Immoral
- Extremely Secretive and Prideful
Fears
Losing everything he's worked towards, the quiet, dying alone.
"I see all that I have built and worry not for its ruination but for its growth. Have I done more harm than good?"
History
No one quite broke away so easily as Gabriel Carrington. Second child of the Carrington bunch, and not quite too long between him and his eldest sister. Coming second offered a respite from the eyes and ire of Reginald Carrington. Maybe that's why Gabriel took so strongly to his mother. Maybe she hadn't gotten the eldest right, but Cassiopeia had been intent on at least nurturing Gabriel until she deemed him old enough. For a short time, at least.
If anyone asked how it happened, Gabriel couldn't say. He'd been at least four, at the time. The connection between mother and child broke—snapped with little resistance. One moment she'd been doting on him, the next she was gone. For a toddler, emotional whiplash could possibly break a child. At thirty-seven, Gabriel would attest to that; he was broken, or at least he thought so. And, so, Gabriel wandered for most of his adolescence, wondering if mother would take him to see a movie or go get ice cream. Instead, he asked and only ever received her blank stare. She would guide him to the front door, and then disappear again, promising to be back soon. That was a blatant lie, if ever there was one. A nanny would step out where she'd came from, take his little hand, and usher him into one of the many cabs they had available.
Every time, it never failed, Gabriel would break down into sobs and the nanny (among the numerous they had) would hush him. She would reassure him with lies, tell him that his mother got caught up in a meeting, that she didn't hate him. It didn't quite help and it never would, especially during those moments of identity crises. No mother to hold him close while he begged to be told he was normal, that it was okay, and that the other children were just raised ignorant and uncaring. Neither father or mother offered him much when he came home bruised and beaten one day. His father had merely asked what happened, and his mother left almost immediately. Gabriel's coming out didn't quite garner the reaction he expected, but it wasn't one he wanted.
Reginald's solution was to beef him up, not for some masculine, macho man reason, but as an act of intimidation. Gabriel had thought it was the former, though his father reassured him that, no, he completely understood his son's dilemma. At that moment, Reginald had become less of a distant, absent father, and more... well, his father, even for a short while. Surprising enough, when Gabriel returned to school that fall, he'd quickly found that none of his tormentors returned for the school year and that he had all these muscles for damn near nothing.
He did, however, get his first phone number and a date to prom. So, there's one outta a million his father did right. Better than nothing at all, he supposed.
Among all of his siblings, Gabriel found a much easier time slipping away after college. His father gave up on him running the business probably upon his birth and his mother didn't really pay him much attention. Of course, the lack of parents did skew his view on pretty much everything affection related. Gabriel craved attention, love, and affection, but had no idea of how to get it. Every time he tried to urge his mother into at least a hug, he was shot down. The only parental figure in his life, which he owed a million and one things to, was their old housekeeper for their Washington cabin. Of course, she was always more of a grandmother than a mother, but she gave Gabriel the tools to go and make a person out of himself.
Gabriel may be born a Carrington, but he'd become something entirely different. He, begrudgingly, could say he was a better man for it, as well. With a job in a distinguished position in the FBI and a nice home of his own in a nicer part of D.C. Gabriel had built for himself a life outside of his family name. And, though he cut most ties with his siblings, for the most part (a few who tried to remain in contact succeeded), Gabriel has never been happier.
If anyone asked how it happened, Gabriel couldn't say. He'd been at least four, at the time. The connection between mother and child broke—snapped with little resistance. One moment she'd been doting on him, the next she was gone. For a toddler, emotional whiplash could possibly break a child. At thirty-seven, Gabriel would attest to that; he was broken, or at least he thought so. And, so, Gabriel wandered for most of his adolescence, wondering if mother would take him to see a movie or go get ice cream. Instead, he asked and only ever received her blank stare. She would guide him to the front door, and then disappear again, promising to be back soon. That was a blatant lie, if ever there was one. A nanny would step out where she'd came from, take his little hand, and usher him into one of the many cabs they had available.
Every time, it never failed, Gabriel would break down into sobs and the nanny (among the numerous they had) would hush him. She would reassure him with lies, tell him that his mother got caught up in a meeting, that she didn't hate him. It didn't quite help and it never would, especially during those moments of identity crises. No mother to hold him close while he begged to be told he was normal, that it was okay, and that the other children were just raised ignorant and uncaring. Neither father or mother offered him much when he came home bruised and beaten one day. His father had merely asked what happened, and his mother left almost immediately. Gabriel's coming out didn't quite garner the reaction he expected, but it wasn't one he wanted.
Reginald's solution was to beef him up, not for some masculine, macho man reason, but as an act of intimidation. Gabriel had thought it was the former, though his father reassured him that, no, he completely understood his son's dilemma. At that moment, Reginald had become less of a distant, absent father, and more... well, his father, even for a short while. Surprising enough, when Gabriel returned to school that fall, he'd quickly found that none of his tormentors returned for the school year and that he had all these muscles for damn near nothing.
He did, however, get his first phone number and a date to prom. So, there's one outta a million his father did right. Better than nothing at all, he supposed.
Among all of his siblings, Gabriel found a much easier time slipping away after college. His father gave up on him running the business probably upon his birth and his mother didn't really pay him much attention. Of course, the lack of parents did skew his view on pretty much everything affection related. Gabriel craved attention, love, and affection, but had no idea of how to get it. Every time he tried to urge his mother into at least a hug, he was shot down. The only parental figure in his life, which he owed a million and one things to, was their old housekeeper for their Washington cabin. Of course, she was always more of a grandmother than a mother, but she gave Gabriel the tools to go and make a person out of himself.
Gabriel may be born a Carrington, but he'd become something entirely different. He, begrudgingly, could say he was a better man for it, as well. With a job in a distinguished position in the FBI and a nice home of his own in a nicer part of D.C. Gabriel had built for himself a life outside of his family name. And, though he cut most ties with his siblings, for the most part (a few who tried to remain in contact succeeded), Gabriel has never been happier.
Education
Graduated from Stanford University for both his bachelors in political science and engineering.
Favorite memory
"The first time I ever saw him. I was somewhere in Illinois, in a field down south. I don't know what I was doing at the time; I actually don't remember anything outside of this instance. But being there, it seemed surreal. For all it's worth, that fate mumbo jumbo is pretty astounding—poetic wise, perhaps.
"I do remember what the field looked like, a tiny hill with itchy grass and spotted with blankets. No lights, just the fireflies to guide everyone. And they dotted the side of the hill like tiny stars, blinking into and out of existence in the dark backdrop of green and brown. I wanted to float, it looked so beautiful, like the stars wanted to coalesce right in that field.
"What did I smell? Rosemary? Cloves? Honeysuckle. So much nectar it made my tooth ache. You could practically see the trail the bees left. And I swore, as cheesy as it sounds, it all led to him. He wasn't even moving, but he'd captivated me in an instant. His shoulders were bunched up, hands propping himself up, gripping the grass like a lifeline. A leg splayed out, the other, a prosthetic, lay at his side, while his head looked up at the night sky. He looked so comfortable, and I felt disturbing him would offend the balance of the universe, or some shit. So I waited until I could burst and I finally approached him. Sat myself right down next to him.
"I wanted him there. Wanted to call him mine. Wanted to bury my nose in his neck to breath the honey. Wanted to bite at his jaw and whine until he gave me attention, affection. Oh. I was an embarrassment. I couldn't see myself, but I knew, when he gave me this confused, concerned look, that my face looked like a damned tomato. And I blurted out, 'Your leg's a nub!' and gave him this pained expression like I knew what I'd said because I knew exactly what I'd said.
"God, I could have kissed him there. Almost did. He just smiled at me and put the prosthetic in my hand. Said, 'It's a prototype. I used to be a runner and this one gives me back something I thought I'd lost forever.' and I wish I didn't just give him this stupid look. But, I think he knew, even to this day, I think he knew and he appreciated that I was trying. But I could still kill myself, I swear.
"We said nothing afterwards. He staid beside me while everyone called out stars and constellations. And then fastened his leg back on, stood up, and smiled at me before he left. I was stupid. I should have followed. I think he waited for me for hours and I just... I didn't come. I didn't think to. And I wish I had. But, I'll keep this memory forever. Hopefully. And maybe I can share it with him again."
"I do remember what the field looked like, a tiny hill with itchy grass and spotted with blankets. No lights, just the fireflies to guide everyone. And they dotted the side of the hill like tiny stars, blinking into and out of existence in the dark backdrop of green and brown. I wanted to float, it looked so beautiful, like the stars wanted to coalesce right in that field.
"What did I smell? Rosemary? Cloves? Honeysuckle. So much nectar it made my tooth ache. You could practically see the trail the bees left. And I swore, as cheesy as it sounds, it all led to him. He wasn't even moving, but he'd captivated me in an instant. His shoulders were bunched up, hands propping himself up, gripping the grass like a lifeline. A leg splayed out, the other, a prosthetic, lay at his side, while his head looked up at the night sky. He looked so comfortable, and I felt disturbing him would offend the balance of the universe, or some shit. So I waited until I could burst and I finally approached him. Sat myself right down next to him.
"I wanted him there. Wanted to call him mine. Wanted to bury my nose in his neck to breath the honey. Wanted to bite at his jaw and whine until he gave me attention, affection. Oh. I was an embarrassment. I couldn't see myself, but I knew, when he gave me this confused, concerned look, that my face looked like a damned tomato. And I blurted out, 'Your leg's a nub!' and gave him this pained expression like I knew what I'd said because I knew exactly what I'd said.
"God, I could have kissed him there. Almost did. He just smiled at me and put the prosthetic in my hand. Said, 'It's a prototype. I used to be a runner and this one gives me back something I thought I'd lost forever.' and I wish I didn't just give him this stupid look. But, I think he knew, even to this day, I think he knew and he appreciated that I was trying. But I could still kill myself, I swear.
"We said nothing afterwards. He staid beside me while everyone called out stars and constellations. And then fastened his leg back on, stood up, and smiled at me before he left. I was stupid. I should have followed. I think he waited for me for hours and I just... I didn't come. I didn't think to. And I wish I had. But, I'll keep this memory forever. Hopefully. And maybe I can share it with him again."
Least favorite memory
"There's this place we used to go when I was a kid, somewhere in Washington mountains. A lot of pines. It smelled amazing. Still my favorite smell today. Brings back good memories.
"I was 17, at the time, and I think I knew. It was snowing, mom and dad had wanted to personally drive us up. Just the few of us, not as many as there are today. But there was something off about that day, about the way my mother kept looking at me in the rear view. She wanted to say something the entire trip up, but she didn't. I think she saw the look on my face that begged her not to.
"The entire stay there was nothing like before. It was an experience, definitely.. I had the most amazing time and could tell you a lot of memories I still love to reminisce today. But leaving that place—that was the hardest, worst time of my entire life. My mother came up to me while I was packing my things. She usually avoided physical contact, but that day she seemed different, like the cold outside had drained the cold she held in her body. She hugged me in front of the frosted balcony windows. She hugged me while I was packing my underwear. And then she cried. She cried until I did, until we could only hiccup our sobs.
"She told me, after we'd cried long enough, that the housekeeper died. The woman who practically raised me had died in her sleep a week before we were scheduled to come up. I had no more tears, but I stood there, numb. And I just... I wanted to hate my mother. I wanted to blame everything on her. I wanted her to be the villain, to be the murderer, to go to jail forever. And then I remembered. My mother actually cried. She pulled me into her arms and she sobbed and I had no idea why.
"I think I understand now. Maybe it wasn't for her, the old lady who used to come up here every Christmas to decorate. She had had a good life. She made an impact. Maybe my mother was scared; that she wanted to live up to what she'd done for me. And that she knew she couldn't. And I started crying again. I hugged her, buried my head in her chest. Because I understood. And I knew she was right."
"I was 17, at the time, and I think I knew. It was snowing, mom and dad had wanted to personally drive us up. Just the few of us, not as many as there are today. But there was something off about that day, about the way my mother kept looking at me in the rear view. She wanted to say something the entire trip up, but she didn't. I think she saw the look on my face that begged her not to.
"The entire stay there was nothing like before. It was an experience, definitely.. I had the most amazing time and could tell you a lot of memories I still love to reminisce today. But leaving that place—that was the hardest, worst time of my entire life. My mother came up to me while I was packing my things. She usually avoided physical contact, but that day she seemed different, like the cold outside had drained the cold she held in her body. She hugged me in front of the frosted balcony windows. She hugged me while I was packing my underwear. And then she cried. She cried until I did, until we could only hiccup our sobs.
"She told me, after we'd cried long enough, that the housekeeper died. The woman who practically raised me had died in her sleep a week before we were scheduled to come up. I had no more tears, but I stood there, numb. And I just... I wanted to hate my mother. I wanted to blame everything on her. I wanted her to be the villain, to be the murderer, to go to jail forever. And then I remembered. My mother actually cried. She pulled me into her arms and she sobbed and I had no idea why.
"I think I understand now. Maybe it wasn't for her, the old lady who used to come up here every Christmas to decorate. She had had a good life. She made an impact. Maybe my mother was scared; that she wanted to live up to what she'd done for me. And that she knew she couldn't. And I started crying again. I hugged her, buried my head in her chest. Because I understood. And I knew she was right."
"I should smile more. I like to smile. So much that it's distracting; maybe that's why I don't."
Birthday
November 2nd, 1978
Astrological Sign
Scorpio
Social Media
Twitter: TateCarr
Instagram: horned_messenger
Everything Else: gabetc
Instagram: horned_messenger
Everything Else: gabetc
"I just want someone to tell me that it's alright—that I can care too much. That I won't hurt myself doing so."
