JONES, Morgan Sky

[hound]

drowning in drunk sincerity

MORGAN SKY JONES
morgan. 23. male. gay. warlock. neutral. hound.

Morgan Sky Jones. He’s 23 and has been since January 27 of this year. They would say he’s the strong and silent type, but he wouldn’t agree. This is a young man that likes to fade into the background a lot of the time, simply so he can watch. Yup- Morgan is a bit of what they would call a voyeur. Not in the sexual sense (that you know of)—he likes to watch people. He likes to watch people a lot. It’s what one would call a pastime, and he does it often. Morgan looks for ways to pass time. He knows he’s a warlock but it’s no skin off his back. Either way it doesn’t horribly particularly matter. Right now he’s an overgrown teenager trying to find his niche.

When you’re raised up in the Midwest you know how to say your ‘yes sir’s and your ‘no ma’ma’s. Morgan’s been drilled on his manners since a young age. His mother was strict with him, not letting the young man get away with much. His father wasn’t much better, keeping a rigid practice schedule. The young man was fit to be the next great saddle bronc rider from the time he could climb into the chute. He’s the middle child, with an older and younger sister. Both siblings resented the fact that their father was so fixated with their only son—their father never noticed. Morgan just found the attention stifling. He doesn’t like to be cooped up, held back, or caged in. With the iron fisted rule at home, the young felt as if he was stuck in the middle of all three.

Sure, Morgan liked rodeo well enough. It was fast paced, exciting, and there was always something new and different going on. He can’t really think of his younger years without the sport, and it’ll always be a part of him. Still, in his teenage year as he was drifting from old friends and making new ones on the road through the summers, he learned something about himself that was far different than any of the other guys out there. He’d never been that much into girls, sure he knew they were there and he’d made a friend of a barrel racer or two, but that interest was never there. It was with a young man who went by Landon over the course of the summer after he turned 17 that Morgan accepted himself.

His family still doesn’t know of his sexuality. They don’t know much of anything anymore, just that he’d gone off to pursue something new. He never heard from Landon after that summer. Rodeo stopped being interesting. All in all it was time for a change, and with his grandmother’s power cropping up the young man has made his way here. It’s like a moth to a flame, and he’s been sucked in to the point of burning.

As for looks, you could say that Morgan is a good looking kid. He’s just shy of six feet tall with a rancher’s body- shocker, right? The color of his eyes, the unsettling violet, has always perturbed him, leading the man to wear a greenish hazel shade of contacts. He’s shed most of the cowboy style of dress as well, not putting too much effort into appearances so long as it’s clean.

Morgan is an introverted creature until you put a bit of liquid courage into his system. The man avoids alcohol except on what are considered special occasions, and it’s probably for the better. When drunk he’s stuck in the middle of a polar personality shift. What’s usually a polite young man becomes vulgar, crude, and rude. He’s mastered the art of driving while intoxicated, but that gets quite ugly quite fast. It’s the one time that any sort of rage breaks through the man.

Overall, Morgan has a placid surface. He keeps himself bottled up, which can end badly. The young man longs for a community of his own, but would much rather view it all from a distance. He’s an amateur photographer, and feels much safer behind the lens of his camera.

app by kel <3

rp sample

The woman listened easily as the young man spoke. The death of his parents was weighing them down. It was weighing them all down, really, and she was reminded of the time in the Harbor after her father had passed away. The filly hadn’t thought of him in ages, for the simple reason that she had no part of him to remember. Both of her parents were simply fleeting glimpses in the realm of memory. None of her time with either was actually clear in her memory, and maybe that was a good thing.

She spoke evenly over the shoulder of the hysterical filly to the young man, gently comforting Arris as the words came. ”Word has it my younger brother, Baron, is back in town. I’m not sure where he’s living, but a friend of mine is a friend of his.” The mare had done some of the raising of the colt, and as far as she could tell he’d turn out alright.

The grulla creature sways slightly, comforting the hysterical young woman as best she could. Of all of the children that had been around in the Cove, Arris had been one of the most intelligent and outspoken. Linger couldn’t help but be fond of the mare, like an aunt that had taken a liking to one particular niece over another. Playing favorites wasn’t something she’d own up to, but it would be the truth.

”I don’t think I’m staying either. Going back home, probably, with this little boog in toe.” Aodhan had been standing, staring up at the girl that had lost it. Oh, the oblivion that was childhood, for the child had no idea what had just been going on in the Cove. His eyes are gentle on the face of the mare he has no idea is his older sister yet happy to stand next to Kent and try to figure out what was going on. ”We shouldn’t stand about much longer, Miss Arris, it’s not a healthy thing to linger about. Do you have somewhere to go?” Whatever happened, Linger wasn’t going to let the hysterical mare go off on her own unless there was someone waiting to keep her company.

[JURATE]