my shadow
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FULL NAME
Ellar Horace Fowler
E.H.F., as most of his correspondence is signed.
GENDER
Male.
Male, masculine, responds to he.
AGE
26
Ellar appears all at once haunted, as though with age, and soft faced as though very well-rested. It gives him a decidedly precocious youthful appearance.
SPECIES
Human
Despite his strange gifts, Ellar is nothing more than a human.
ORIGIN
The Fowler Estate
Born in a dark mansion settled on sprawling green, Ellar spent his childhood and adolescence there, reading, birdwatching, and sleeping.
OCCUPATION
Typist and intern at the Coldwell Agency; trainee detective.
Ellar fills mundane office duties as well as assisting Edgar Coldwell on such cases he is asked to.
PETS
John Keats, the musk duck.
John Keats, referred to always by his full name, is a musk duck adopted by Ellar. John Keats has the gift of mimicry, and frequently repeats his favorite word: "Delicious." Ellar utilizes the duck as a sort of therapy animal, finding his simple memories and happiness to be very soothing. He also brings him to work.
HEIGHT
6'4"
He is a short person in a tall person's body; he has never felt at home being so very lofty and his occasional very clumsy mannerisms reflect this.
BUILD
Chronic book-reader body type.
Ellar has wide shoulders and a thin build; clothes fall on him rather nicely given his simple shape. Has a bit of a hunch to his posture.
EYES
Brown
A striking, dark brown that seems to see straight through.
HAIR
Dirty blondebrown with a curling wave.
Pieces of his hair are blonde, pieces are brown. It has a distinct wave to it that borders dangerously on a curl.
SKIN
Fair and freckly.
Not so much on his face, save for one on his nose, he is mostly spotty on his shoulders and back where he has a fine dusting of cinnamon.
SCENT
Pistachio, caramel, and old books.
Warm and delicious and buttery, nostalgic and librarian.
VOICE
Worried, with the occasional fit of absolute stumbling. Also sometimes pronounces certain words incorrectly. It can be assumed this is because he's only ever read them and never heard them spoken.
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wn8RWDEgaqI]Joseph Quinn[/url]
CLOTHING
Knit sweaters, corduroys, funky socks and sandals, assorted color derby and boat shoes.
The sweaters vary in color and print and so do his pants. His preferences for sweater color range from creams and taupes to chocolate and green. His corduroys are either brown or green or some combination of the two in tartan or stripe. His socks are just a disaster. He wears the socks and sandals completely unironically because he thinks they are very comfortable; the sandal style is similar to a classic Birkenstock. His other shoes are for situations where sandals are not permitted, such as work.
JEWELRY
The occasional thing here and there.
Wood bead and glass bead bracelets, simple, as well as bracelets made of thread as though by a child at a sunny summer camp. Cheap watch on his left wrist.
OTHER NOTABLE POSSESSIONS
An heir, a reader.
Ellar is the heir to the Fowler fortune and estate, something he doesn't broadcast or acknowledge if he can help it. His one pride, though, is the Fowler family library, located within the drafty mansion. Any fictional world one might imagine is held within, as well as enough educational materials for any curious mind.
PERSONALITY
A very puppyish individual, a forever-optimist, a sweet little glass of peach lemonade.
He is studious, first and foremost, his mind very analytical and his reading retention absolutely broken how his brain seems to lint roll over words and pick them up and deposit them straight into some everlong bank of information. He is a walking reference book, thesaurical in his knowledge, but in no way heavyhanded with it; he is the picture of humbleness.
Ellar is an even-tempered sort of person because he absolutely abhors being upset, hates the way it makes him feel weak to be reactive, to be so quickly scared or angry. Ellar instead opts to let things roll over him in waves, braving them with held breath and a steady posture. His fear is of fear itself, the way his terror has ruled him. It is not a definitively solved problem; he struggles with it daily.
His fear manifests primarily with use of his power. Each touch and examination of memory is a risk, a dive headlong into an abyss that could possibly, and most likely is, full of snapping teeth and gristle. The images stick in his frontal lobe like pinned moth's wings, falling into his own chasm of memory like stone birds. He finds his own memory affected by prolonged exposure, experiencing bouts of memory loss where he cannot remember his own name, and instead feels as though he is the person he last examined.
WIP
LIKES
Birds, books, children's poetry, hot chocolate, fleece, Shostakovich, playing the viola.DISLIKES
Morbidity, gore, witnessing horrors, people fussing over him, cats, malevolent people and beings, fish for dinner.
