OLIVER CALLAGAN
Race: Passive
Birthday: Yaris, 6th 2707
Age: 12
FC: Original art by Cap' O Rushes
Place of Origin: Florne, Bastia
Current Location: Vienda
Occupation: Shoe-shiner, runaway, cub of the resistance.
Player Name: Sigil
APPEARANCE
There is something decidedly off about Oliver. His face is too clean for a boy from the Soot, his voice too soft and gentle, and his Estuan is hardly ever marred by slang, though he sometimes throws in a word of Tek that Djika or Lee taught him. His clothes are no better or worse than those of the boys and girls born amid the smoke and noise of industry, and they're the reason hardly anyone ever truly notices his too-gentle features. Besides, the passive mark inked onto his upper arm would be a far easier way to discover his true nature, which is why sticks to long sleeves when he can and keeps a fake bandage over his arm at all times, just to be safe.
His tousled, dark-brown hair is kept short enough not to get in the way, but given little attention otherwise. At a little over five feet, Oliver doesn't particularly stand out until one considers that he is a still-growing galdori.
During warm seasons he usually wears a rolled up long-sleeved button-up shirt, a cap, and shorts held up by suspenders. During cold seasons, he puts on dark, woolen trousers, boots that are a size too large for his feet, a woolen cap, and overcoat that almost reaches his knees.
When he's out shining shoes, getting dirty is a given, and so he wears an old, stained leather apron to protect his clothes. By the end of the day, his hands are often greasy and he often ends up with a few smudges on his face from idly wiping the back his hand across it.
When the need arises, Oliver can conjure a lopsided smile, flutter his eyelashes and tell a sad tale in a husky voice to make strangers part with their money, though he prefers not to beg. On the whole, first impressions are unlikely to label him as much of a threat, simply another soot-faced boy amid the swarms of factory children.
DIABLERIE
Being rewritten
PERSONALITY
Oliver from Soot District is almost indistinguishable from Oliver Callagan. The latter was a shy, quiet boy, bursting at the seams with insecurities, but Olly from the streets is much more confident, perhaps overly so. Whilst Anny has largely erased his prejudice against humans, he's still cautious around strangers. Frankly, he only really trusts Anny, everyone else could be out to get him and so he keeps them at an arm's length, both physically and emotionally. Any meeting with a galdori is sure to throw his guard up and likely to trigger his stutter. For that reason, and because he values his freedom, he tries to avoid interactions with galdori as much as possible. Of course, it can't always be helped and he worries that a keen-eyed galdori might one day cross his path and recognize him to be a rogue passive.
Out of all people, Oliver is most at ease around wicks whose personalities and culture(s) fascinate him. While he won't be able to articulate it, the wandering, homeless nature of wicks speaks to him because he understands at some base level that he'll never be able to come back home, or make establish a home and family for himself.
On the whole he makes a cheerful impression, because despite the hardships of living under the smoke of the factories, he has gained freedom. He can be rather charming and endearing when he chooses to be, and it's all too easy to think him harmless and innocent until your money's gone.
HISTORY
Born to Eleanore Moore and Hayden Callagan, much was expected of Oliver. As last child and first son he was to be the golden child, the one to carry on the proud family name and leave an even greater heritage.
Oliver’s fondest memories are of days spent sat on the kitchen counter while Anny the cook prepared supper. Though she was a human widower well past her prime, she was more of a mother to him than Eleanore, who spend most of the money her husband made on expensive hats, dressed, and fragrances. He only saw his sisters at dinner and lunch, the rest of the time they were either being schooled by private tutors to prepare them for a live at Brunnhold, or dolled up and dragged off by their mother to some important party. His father was like a ghost, who drifted between his study and the luxurious dining room when the necessity of eating drew him away from his work.
By age six, both his sisters had started in Brunnhold with high marks and his life took a sharp turn. The small army of tutors that had set up his sisters for success now came for him, armed with endless stacks of dull books that he had no interest in reading. He spent less and less time with Anny and more with his mother who fussed over his clothes and manners until she deemed him fit to bring along to some high-brow party. In a way, he liked being there, Eleanore was a lot nicer when he’d done a good job of shaking hands, smiling and making endearing comments about her. But the effect never lasted long, and his father grew increasingly dissatisfied with his poor performance at his studies. The solution? More tutors came, more hours were sunk into memorizing history and religious texts and he was denied going anywhere else unless he memorized what he could recite it all perfectly.
By age seven, his mother put him on piano lessons which he showed to have some talent for, but was still forced to keep up his already busy schedule alongside it. Once he’d mastered a few simple songs, she made a habit out of making him play at parties that went on into the deep of night. Eleanore thrived on the applause and adulation he received and smothered him in the approval that he so craved, motivating him to push on despite the heavy toll it put on him.
By age eight, he’d developed a stutter, had nodded off during private lessons, had fallen asleep on the piano when his teacher went for some tea and became startled by the simplest questions. One day, he’d mustered up the courage to knock on the door to his father’s study and entered the darkened room with trembling legs. After teary-eyed outpouring of pent-up frustration and anxiety, his father gave him a cold once-over and told him to stop putting on an act and bloody well get on with his lessons, or he’d never amount to anything in life.
Not much later, his father surprised him by announcing that he was to take an important test. The news devastated young Oliver, but in a rare moment of selflessness, his mother came to his room the night before and consoled him, telling him he’d be fine and promising to talk to his father about it. While it helped his nerves, it didn’t help the results. Whenever Oliver thinks back to his father, he sees the bitterly disappointed face that stared at him from across the room when the results came back. He was a passive, a mutant, a can-not, a stain upon the family name.
Oliver doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, but his father was up in a flash, seized his arm, ignored his mother’s protests and dragged him out of the house, still in his morning bathrobes. Cursing the heavens for his misfortune, Hayden Callagan tossed his son inside the family carriage and drove to Vienda himself, never stopping for refreshments, never uttering a word.
It was dark and wet and cold by the time they arrived and Oliver recognized the signature shape of Brunnhold looming in the distance. His father’s intentions were crystal clear to him now, and for the first time in his life, he defied his father. Under the cover of thunder and lighting, he leapt out of the driving carriage, splashed down into a puddle and darted into the cover of a narrow alley, too frightened to look back.
He doesn’t know how long he wandered for, only that things could’ve ended very badly for him if he hadn’t happened upon a familiar face. Anny had retired from her job as a cook two years prior and could hardly believe her eyes when the little pile of rain-soaked limbs by the side of the road proved to be the child she’d helped raise.
Though stiff with old age, Anny insisted on helping him and took him into her small home on the outskirts of Soot District. She had only what she needed, which wasn’t enough for two people to live off of, and so Oliver went looking for work in the days that followed. The factories weren’t an option, he was too afraid that someone might check if he wasn’t a passive and so he settled on polishing shoes, the irony of which wasn’t lost on him. While it provided enough of an income during summer time, it wasn’t nearly as profitable during the cold seasons and he was forced to resort to petty crime in order to sustain himself, and old Anny who was getting a little worse for wear each day.
Presently, Oliver still lives with old Anny, but hasn’t had the heart to confess that he has to steal in order to sustain them. He can often be found outdoors, either polishing shoes, earning a bob from an odd job thrown his way, or stalking a mark, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
SKILLS
Aptitudes:
Mental: Poor.
Physical: Good.
Social: Good.
Focus:
Combat: Unarmed Combat (Basic)
Linguistics: Estuan (Fluent), Estuan Sign (Fluent, Passive Bonus Language), Tek (Broken).
Magic: Spoke's Tricks (Beginner).
Professional: Thief (Beginner), Student (Beginner)
CAREER, INCOME, INVENTORY
Income - Poor:
Oliver lives with old Anny but is the sole earner. While she has some savings still, it isn't enough for both of them and they have to be careful with any expenditures they make..
Housing
Oliver lives in old Anny's home on the outskirts of Soot District, far enough from the factories to be unaffected by the smell, but close enough to be affected by the neighborhood's tumultuous on-goings. Whilst Anny's home is small, she has looked after it well and made a few small investments over the years that make it one of the coziest homes in all of Soot District.
Inventory
- Basic toiletries
- Three sets of clothing, two for suitable for the warmer seasons and one for winter.
- An extra pair of boots he once fished out of the garbag
GOALS
- While Oliver sometimes idly wonders what Brunnhold looks like from the inside, he has no desire to actually go there. The idea of losing his freedom makes him sick to his stomach, and so he does his utmost best to avoid the authorities.
- At some level Oliver knows he can't ever return home, but he still wants to try. Some part of him believes that if he can achieve success, his parents will finally love and approve of him. Until that time comes however, he's hopeful to get back in touch with one of his sisters at least. He wonders if they ever think about him as he thinks about them...
- Anny's getting old and frail, and with him away for most of the day, there's no one to look after her. Oliver aims to earn enough money so that he can look after Anny more, perhaps even move her out into a brand new home! If he could earn it the honest way, he would... but since that's out of the question, he figures he'll have to get in on a good heist.
- Eventually, Oliver might come to realize that his dislike of his own kind aligns, at least partially, with the goals of The Resistance, and may attempt to join them.
Fears:
- Very afraid of his diablerie. It has never happened to him yet so he doesn't know what to expect at all. Worse, he still holds hope that he was misdiagnosed and once his diablerie sets off, he can't deny being a passive anymore.
- Afraid of the Seventen and what will happen to him should he be found out.
- Afraid of his father and the demands/expectations his father placed on him. He sometimes worries he'll run into his father on the streets, however unlikely that might be considering the distance between Florne and Vienda
