(no subject)
OUT of CHARACTER
Name: Nai
Other characters: None
IN CHARACTER
Name: Katurian K. Katurian
Fandom: Martin McDonagh's The Pillowman
Canon point/AU: Beginning of Act II.
Journal:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
downbeat
Icon: here
Headshot: I'm not yet at a computer that lets me resize images, but the (too large) headshot is here.
History: Wikipedia entry. | Self-written history.
The wikipedia entry can be a little confusing, so I've attached a history I wrote up as well.
Presentation:
Katurian is a nervous wreck of a man with pale skin and thin arms and sunken eyes. He is cringing and cowardly. He is small in stature. He's aware of his weaknesses and therefore tends to be "lily-livered and subservient on one hand, yet vaguely sarcastic and provocative on the other," preferring to argue with subtle jabs that could easily be revoked should the other person prove too strong. When he speaks, it's with a trembling voice. When he tells stories, that voice finds melody, a confidence exploding from his words and gestures that seems almost foreign. He is a man that does better in ideas than reality, a man who would rather drape himself in fiction than face the horrendous truths of the world around him.
With his brother, he is pitying. Gentle. He expresses his affection through touching and soft words and stories. Around strangers, he's considerably more awkward, finding it difficult to connect. Katurian sees the negatives in life more than the positives; he relishes being unable to find the answers to life’s questions, craves morbid irony, and expects unhappy endings. This pessimism renders him paranoid and distrustful of most people, and therefore very alone.
He is at his most cheerful when discussing fictional death and destruction. He rattles off creative murder ideas like a child talking about dragons, filled with awe and excitement and a dark, bubbling pride. It is easy to understand how he could be mistaken as a murderer -- he is a nervous loner who works in a slaughterhouse, after all, and the only time he smiles is when talking about death.
Motivations:
Katurian's quiet, anxious surface belies a man with a furious temper, a man who could kick someone to the floor and slaughter his two parents. The systematic abuse of his older brother lit a fire inside of him and filled his mind with gruesome nightmares. He is broken, but still standing: a dangerous combination. Although he normally operates with a tremendous patience, one push is all he needs to plunge back into the depths. He is hardly the murderer others suspect him as, however -- he has a strong personal code and believes that innocent people should be protected (no matter the cost) and horrible people should suffer (no matter the cost). He kills his parents for their sins. He kills his brother to protect him from horrors to come.
He is less cowardly than appears. As a man of ideas, he would gladly give up the physical to protect the conceptual. He would accept torture to prove his loyalty. He would accept death to keep his stories safe. He is at times masochistic, at times martyring. He has a tremendous survivor's guilt from escaping his parents' tortures and subtly sabotages himself to make up for it, even as he whines and complains along the way.
His writing is everything to him. He is obsessive. Although every time he tells a story he can feel the influence of his parents, he writes because he’s convinced his life is insignificant and that stories are the only way to leave his mark on the world.
SAMPLES
Thread:
here!
goryteller was my last journal and my last PB!
Prose:
In the room with all the Gamemakers, Katurian carved up dummies.
The movements were simple enough (push cut pull cut cut cut slice slice) and reminded him vaguely of reciting a dance, one step leading into the next, motions shaping a brilliant narrative of form and fluidity. This was what he thought about instead of the reason he had been sent here. This was what he thought about to keep himself from breaking down.
He had screamed and screamed for Michal when he first arrived, and then a cold needle sank into his skin and he screamed no more, only shuffled forward with blind steps, his legs taking him where his mind could not. He had thought it was all a trick at first, a clever ruse set up by the police to prove that he really was that vicious, that he really was capable of great violence against innocents, but the police here wore different uniforms and spoke with a different cadence. Had he gone mad? Was that what this was all about?
In the room with all the Gamemakers, Katurian carved up dummies and stressed fear over efficacy. The techniques he learned from the slaughterhouse would not allow him to dodge a punch or overtake a knife-wielding attacker -- he could only defeat the already prone, the already fallen, but mutilating bodies was a thing of nightmares and Katurian was well-versed in nightmares. He hung a dummy by the foot and slit its plastic throat so that invisible blood would pour from it down onto the ground below. He stood underneath and mimed washing his hair with the thick, caking liquid, his trembling fingers tying his hair in knots. He "eviscerated" a second dummy and pretended to tie its intestines around its throat. He removed the face of the third and placed it on the second. He spelled the word "End" with each dummies severed hands and feet.
When it was over, Katurian felt something fiery inside his chest, something like pride. This was art. This was art.
This is what he was made for.
He started laughing so strongly, so hysterically, that the guards and the needle needed to guide him once more.
What is your character scored: 8. The poor guy should only earn a 4, though -- although he's not afraid to kill, he's physically weak. Creepiness can only get him so far.
Name: Nai
Other characters: None
IN CHARACTER
Name: Katurian K. Katurian
Fandom: Martin McDonagh's The Pillowman
Canon point/AU: Beginning of Act II.
Journal:
downbeatIcon: here
Headshot: I'm not yet at a computer that lets me resize images, but the (too large) headshot is here.
History: Wikipedia entry. | Self-written history.
The wikipedia entry can be a little confusing, so I've attached a history I wrote up as well.
Presentation:
Katurian is a nervous wreck of a man with pale skin and thin arms and sunken eyes. He is cringing and cowardly. He is small in stature. He's aware of his weaknesses and therefore tends to be "lily-livered and subservient on one hand, yet vaguely sarcastic and provocative on the other," preferring to argue with subtle jabs that could easily be revoked should the other person prove too strong. When he speaks, it's with a trembling voice. When he tells stories, that voice finds melody, a confidence exploding from his words and gestures that seems almost foreign. He is a man that does better in ideas than reality, a man who would rather drape himself in fiction than face the horrendous truths of the world around him.
With his brother, he is pitying. Gentle. He expresses his affection through touching and soft words and stories. Around strangers, he's considerably more awkward, finding it difficult to connect. Katurian sees the negatives in life more than the positives; he relishes being unable to find the answers to life’s questions, craves morbid irony, and expects unhappy endings. This pessimism renders him paranoid and distrustful of most people, and therefore very alone.
He is at his most cheerful when discussing fictional death and destruction. He rattles off creative murder ideas like a child talking about dragons, filled with awe and excitement and a dark, bubbling pride. It is easy to understand how he could be mistaken as a murderer -- he is a nervous loner who works in a slaughterhouse, after all, and the only time he smiles is when talking about death.
Motivations:
Katurian's quiet, anxious surface belies a man with a furious temper, a man who could kick someone to the floor and slaughter his two parents. The systematic abuse of his older brother lit a fire inside of him and filled his mind with gruesome nightmares. He is broken, but still standing: a dangerous combination. Although he normally operates with a tremendous patience, one push is all he needs to plunge back into the depths. He is hardly the murderer others suspect him as, however -- he has a strong personal code and believes that innocent people should be protected (no matter the cost) and horrible people should suffer (no matter the cost). He kills his parents for their sins. He kills his brother to protect him from horrors to come.
He is less cowardly than appears. As a man of ideas, he would gladly give up the physical to protect the conceptual. He would accept torture to prove his loyalty. He would accept death to keep his stories safe. He is at times masochistic, at times martyring. He has a tremendous survivor's guilt from escaping his parents' tortures and subtly sabotages himself to make up for it, even as he whines and complains along the way.
His writing is everything to him. He is obsessive. Although every time he tells a story he can feel the influence of his parents, he writes because he’s convinced his life is insignificant and that stories are the only way to leave his mark on the world.
SAMPLES
Thread:
here!
goryteller was my last journal and my last PB!Prose:
In the room with all the Gamemakers, Katurian carved up dummies.
The movements were simple enough (push cut pull cut cut cut slice slice) and reminded him vaguely of reciting a dance, one step leading into the next, motions shaping a brilliant narrative of form and fluidity. This was what he thought about instead of the reason he had been sent here. This was what he thought about to keep himself from breaking down.
He had screamed and screamed for Michal when he first arrived, and then a cold needle sank into his skin and he screamed no more, only shuffled forward with blind steps, his legs taking him where his mind could not. He had thought it was all a trick at first, a clever ruse set up by the police to prove that he really was that vicious, that he really was capable of great violence against innocents, but the police here wore different uniforms and spoke with a different cadence. Had he gone mad? Was that what this was all about?
In the room with all the Gamemakers, Katurian carved up dummies and stressed fear over efficacy. The techniques he learned from the slaughterhouse would not allow him to dodge a punch or overtake a knife-wielding attacker -- he could only defeat the already prone, the already fallen, but mutilating bodies was a thing of nightmares and Katurian was well-versed in nightmares. He hung a dummy by the foot and slit its plastic throat so that invisible blood would pour from it down onto the ground below. He stood underneath and mimed washing his hair with the thick, caking liquid, his trembling fingers tying his hair in knots. He "eviscerated" a second dummy and pretended to tie its intestines around its throat. He removed the face of the third and placed it on the second. He spelled the word "End" with each dummies severed hands and feet.
When it was over, Katurian felt something fiery inside his chest, something like pride. This was art. This was art.
This is what he was made for.
He started laughing so strongly, so hysterically, that the guards and the needle needed to guide him once more.
What is your character scored: 8. The poor guy should only earn a 4, though -- although he's not afraid to kill, he's physically weak. Creepiness can only get him so far.