LEVINE, micah gabriel

[MICAH DEVON LEVINE]

MICAH GABRIEL LEVINE!?
'but i thought, this wouldn't hurt a lot, i guess not'

FULL NAME Micah Gabriel Levine.
NICKNAMES Mic, Levy, Levine, Gabe.
AGE 24.
GENDER Male.
BIRTHDAY 04/06/1988.
SPECIES Human.
ALLIANCE Neutral.
SEXUALITY Heterosexual.

PLAY-BY Kevin Zegers.
EYES Slightly deeper set, steel blue/gray eyes.
HAIR Fairly dark brown, lightly curls when short. Often lets hair get our of hand, and grow to a length where it hangs limply to his jawline.
BODY TYPE Micah is pretty damn average. He manages to be muscular, but without the usual athleticism. He won't be playing on a sports team any time soon- his body is still too ravaged by his past to be considered 'healthy' on the inside, no matter how good he may look on the exterior. The exceptions to this are his two distinguishing scars that he keeps more or less covered. The first, on his torso, though unattractive, is not in such bad shape. Just a stretch of shiny, whitish skin showing a stab wound near the left side of his rib cage. The second is very prominent (if he's, ya know, nude) on his right calf. Stretches from the ankle to just below the knee- fully healed, but appears as an actual purplish gouge from his leg. Tendons survived the accident, so he has full range of movement at the knew, though the damage to actual calf muscles, and tendons near the heel means he limps slightly, even if it rarely pains him.
HEIGHT 5'11.
WEIGHT 175 lbs.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES Full mouth and long-lashed eyes. Not often seen, but has a horribly puckered scar on his right calf from a motorcycle accident, walks with a slight limp. Also has an unusually pale, wide scar indented in his torso from a knife.
STYLE Oh, the style. Micah has the potential to be handsome and- dare I say it- pretty, with those chiseled features, but it goes to waste. Maybe he's trying to cultivate his own style, or he's been hanging around the strange crowd too long, but he is somehow consistently shabby and...well, just weird. Jeans are the usual preference- new or not, Micah can riddle them with holes in a single night (bar fight or gtfo). Various band t-shirts make up a solid portion of his wardrobe, and are always topped off with either a battered black leather jacket, or an over-large army-green coat peppered with logos and symbols and whatever else he's picked up over the years.

LIKES At least 10.

• Sketchy bars. They are the best kind.
  
• Girls.
  
• Driving through the night.
  
• His brothers.
  
• Fried eggs and copious amounts of pepper.
  
• Actually, any diner food will do.
  
• Scratch that, just food is good.
  
• Sleeping in.
  
• His poison.
  
• Punk & Rock & Metal.
  

DISLIKES At least 10.

• Winter slush.
  
• Boutiques. C'mon.
  
• Scarves.
  
• Clarinets.
  
• The police.
  
• Jazz.
  
• Kids.
  
• 'The customer is always right'.
  
• VW Beetles.
  
• Hospitals.
  

STRENGTHS At least 4.

• Loyal to the very few close relationships he has.
  
• Humorous.
  
• Spontaneous.
  
• Straightforward.
  

WEAKNESSES At least 4.

• Aggressive.
  
• Quick to judge.
  
• Moody.
  
• Reckless.
  

HABITS At least 3.

• Heavy drinking & occ. drugs.
  
• Rolling up sleeves a lot.
  
• Scabbed/cut knuckles that he touches a lot.
  

FEARS At least 3.

• Harm to his brothers.
  
• His mistakes coming back to bite people he cares about in the ass. Doesn't really stop him though.
  
• Death by fire. Whut.
  

DESIRES At least 1.

• To live to see his 25th birthday.
  

SECRETS At least 1.

• He can actually be terribly insecure about scars, but makes up for it by making unprovoked attacks. Healthy, right?
  

OVERALL
Micah is the kind of guy you want to party with. Just the right amount of spunk and mystery to make things interesting. Funny enough, it's pretty much what he spends every night doing. When it's not for himself, he works the line at a bar, although cooking skills can't really even be called that. The extent of his work is plunging things into the fryer, throwing out unruly customers, and providing the booze from behind the counter. It's a popular haunt, but for the wrong sort of crowd- the grim, dirty underbelly.

To those Micah is close with, he can even be counted upon to be responsible adjacent. He cares for his brothers, but those feelings are lost on their parents. He never did get past the neglect as a child, and as such has created his own niche. The other staff at the bar are about as close to a family as he currently maintains. To them he is fun, quirky, sarcastic, but can turn cold and distant if irritated, or asked the wrong thing, though he is forgiving the people he knows well.

MOTHER Siobhan Levine.
FATHER Curtis Levine.
SIBLINGS Callum & Grayson Levine.
OTHER PERSONS OF IMPORTANCE Pfft. Yeah right.
ETHNICITY British.
WEALTH STATUS Poor.
OVERALL
During their upbringing, a house full of three boys should have been completely mad. For Micah, it felt like he was pushed out of all the action, sitting even further back on the sidelines than Callum. The younger boys were the center of attention with their health, but how could an older sibling hate something out of their control? He didn't resent the twins, but his disgust for his parents grew to an overwhelming scale. He shied away from seeking their help. His grades weakened, and his introduction to everything undesirable followed quickly behind. More than he hated the neglect, he hated himself. Failure. Loser. Joke.

The crushed pills and cold drinks handed to him became not only an escape, but a gateway to everything he thought could save him. After all, when the room spun, and colours bloomed and he felt weightless, those dark thoughts about his reality, and all the ways he could end himself subsided. He was happier there. In fact, he was happier all over when he was slowly poisoning himself, digging himself deeper and deeper into addiction. It made it easier to handle fights, and threats from teachers and parents trying to get him to turn his life around. The only person to sincerely take an interest in him was little Callum, eager to experience Micah's dark world. He obliged, censoring the worst of his scene for his brother's benefit, but letting him live somewhat vicariously.

When the family moved to Manuka, Micah made his exit. He had no plans, no saved money, nothing to keep him going, but the freedom was so much more appealing than sticking around and watching the successes of a family he no longer felt related to. He was jealous of the accomplishments of his younger brothers, but never tried to make things bad between them before he left. There were those reasons, and well...Callum's accident did nothing to soothe his older brother. Maybe Micah was just beyond the point of being horrified, but the whole thing just convinced him that the best course of action was to go his own way. The best he could do was sever ties with the people he knew, get a job, a crappy apartment, and see where he ended up supporting his habits.

Two years have passed since the Levines moved to Manuka. Micah is an established barhand at a local joint, and a familiar face in the darker recesses of the town. He had traveled for awhile, but returned out of curiosity regarding Grayson and Callum. He hasn't reunited with his brothers, but keeps an eye out for them, catching up on their lives through other people. His drug use has lessened, thanks in part to his early introductions that didn't include the worst of the addictions, and the support of his fellow staff. Alcohol is still a destructive part of his life, but he can function better without the cloud of despair urging him on. He has no goals, no intention to attend school and become a respectable man, but a small part of Micah can't help wondering what it's like to live on the other side.

NAME/ALIAS Barry.
TIME ZONE EDT.
HOW YOU FOUND US I live here silly.
OTHER CHARACTERS Nora Marie Pearl.
RP SAMPLE

Four steps to the the door. Three steps to hit the opposite wall of the hallway. About fifteen in either direction led to intersecting halls, each dotted with faded wooden doors, concealing patients.

None of this was useful to Nova Pearl, of course. She figured she could probably walk down the hall and back with her eyes closed, without encountering a single obstacle, even without counting. The nurses and doctors stuck to such a rigid routine that she could avoid them- she could even identify who it was just by the introduction of a wisp of perfume or cologne in the usually stale air, or the sound of a certain pair of shoes. And it all drove her crazy.

Well...crazier than she already was, apparently. That realization had been a tough pill to swallow, she thought to herself, blue-gray eyes fixated on the open door. So were the subsequent handfuls that I was prescribed. Oh, she was just such a comedian.

Hunched on her bed, arms wrapped around bony knees, Nora followed the progress of the 9:30 personnel as they marched back and forth, delivering medication. She'd been up for a few hours that morning already- her breakfast lay half-eaten on her tray. She should have been more hungry, but the medication put her appetite a bit off. In the beginning she had appeared fairly healthy- toned from her...well..'.departure from reality' as the head psychologist had dubbed it. Now she was gaunt, her hair limp and dead-looking.

Slowly uncurling from where she sat, she wrapped her gown closer over her white scrubs, stepping on the cold linoleum floor tenderly with one slippered foot, almost as if testing it before she rose up, gripping the edge of the bed. She eventually tottered toward the door, leaning on the post and gazing sullenly out into the hall. Orderlies smiled and nodded as they passed, but received nothing in return. Eventually she stepped out and headed to the common area, part of a staggering line of patients that came and went. For all of her apparent apathy, Nora's eyes still flickered alertly from left to right- her diagnosis of schizophrenia fell on an utterly normal girl who simply appeared a bit down on her luck. Her discomfort around the other patients was reflected in her slightly widened eyes, and the way she carried herself, fearful of getting too close to them. She just didn't belong.

Shuffling out of some sort of queue that had formed for the common room, Nora stuck to one wall, heading for reception. Every day she approached them, and every day they turned her down for mail- any contact, for that matter. Today was no different; a hopeful smile just barely surfacing in the twitching corners of her mouth, she rested a hand on the counter. The head nurse turned expectantly, and shook her head with a lopsided smile. The breath whooshed out of Nora. Okay, fine, move on. She turned on her heel and stalked back down the hallway, once again telling herself that no correspondence was a good thing.

[JURATE]