He struggled to Discover the Sword until a teacher (you?) intervened to suggest he learn how to dance first. Now he's proficient with a dagger!
His Maker is a boyfriend who lives in Canada from the Red Court. Matt was a thrall for some time and doesn't talk about it much.
He reads a lot, often while tending to his various horticultural projects. You may have run across him returning lost library books.
]
i. salon - poetry reading [ Matt's natural speaking volume is on the quieter end, and his natural stage presence is "behind the curtain." But after a couple seasons, he's learned to pitch his voice a little louder, and to imagine that when he has to address a group, he's only speaking to one person. Only visible and audible to that one soul. ]
[Yes there's a whole poem under here. It's not that long but it's also Too Long.] Neither for me the honey, nor the honeybee, but you, your lips the sweetness and the sting.
Neither for me the grave, nor the grave-digger, but you, whose mansion is the root-strung earth.
You, who holds your snares in one hand and wears a crown of dove eggs on your brow. Your deathless tread is like the sound of bells; your kisses make me stagger as if drunk.
Not the sea, nor the sea-bird–not for me. But only you, devourer of ships.
[ He takes clear pleasure in the taste of the words, shaping each syllable as if it were a velvety petal. It's just a bit of old religious poetry, but it's meaningful to him.
Maybe it's you he'd locked eyes with during the performance, treating you as his raft in an unfriendly ocean. Either way, after the performance, he sidles your way. ]
Thanks for coming.
ii. salon - bound and determined (aka a shibari prompt) [ Matt doesn't think of himself as an overachiever per se. But since he's not about to join the tournament, he feels perhaps doubly pressured to make a good showing for the Red Court. Hence his second salon presentation, this one at a much later hour of the night.
He stands before a small circle of vampires and novices, a length of scarlet rope looped around one wrist and trailing down to a loose pile on the floor. ]
Before we begin, I'm going to need a volunteer. [ He smiles at you, faint but with a hint of playful mischief, as he draws a fingertip down the coiled rope that lies against his wrist. ] Don't worry–you won't have to take any clothes off.
You will need a safe signal, however.
iii. hanahaki [ Matt had been hoping his cough was only a coincidence.
It's true, he doesn't get sick much these days. He'd been on his way down to the kitchens to beg for an early evening snack (he's ravenous), when a startlingly bad fit of coughing sends him staggering into the nearest wall. He coughs so hard that he feels like he's choking.
And then–
Something wrenches itself loose. Lands on the floor. He stares down at the spider lily blossoms, with their insectoid pistils, in a mixture of horror and fascination. Like if he stares long enough, they might tell him something about the future.
(Spider lilies mean too many things. Everything from passion to wisdom, death and rebirth to undying friendship. Matt has always wanted too much.) ]
iv. when life hands you petals (post-hanahaki) [ Like many crafters, Matt doesn't know what he's going to do with all these petals yet. But he does know he's going to need a lot of them. He has a basketful already by the time he encounters you in the hall. He points to a limp, wet pile by your feet, and asks politely: ]
Are you going to use those for anything?
[ Maybe they'd make a nice mural, if he can collect enough of them in the right colors. Something for Silvea. ]
v. wildcard [ See something else that looks interesting? Please wildcard me! More character/AU info here, which is also a good place to hit me (Merc!) up with questions or thoughts. I'm also reachable by PM at any of my journals. ]
Matt Jamison | OC | Red | 3rd Season Novice | TDM
who lives in Canadafrom the Red Court. Matt was a thrall for some time and doesn't talk about it much.i. salon - poetry reading
[ Matt's natural speaking volume is on the quieter end, and his natural stage presence is "behind the curtain." But after a couple seasons, he's learned to pitch his voice a little louder, and to imagine that when he has to address a group, he's only speaking to one person. Only visible and audible to that one soul. ]
[Yes there's a whole poem under here. It's not that long but it's also Too Long.]
Neither for me the honey, nor the honeybee,but you, your lips the sweetness and the sting.
Neither for me the grave, nor the grave-digger,
but you, whose mansion is the root-strung earth.
You, who holds your snares in one hand
and wears a crown of dove eggs on your brow.
Your deathless tread is like the sound of bells;
your kisses make me stagger as if drunk.
Not the sea, nor the sea-bird–not for me.
But only you, devourer of ships.
[ He takes clear pleasure in the taste of the words, shaping each syllable as if it were a velvety petal. It's just a bit of old religious poetry, but it's meaningful to him.
Maybe it's you he'd locked eyes with during the performance, treating you as his raft in an unfriendly ocean. Either way, after the performance, he sidles your way. ]
Thanks for coming.
ii. salon - bound and determined (aka a shibari prompt)
[ Matt doesn't think of himself as an overachiever per se. But since he's not about to join the tournament, he feels perhaps doubly pressured to make a good showing for the Red Court. Hence his second salon presentation, this one at a much later hour of the night.
He stands before a small circle of vampires and novices, a length of scarlet rope looped around one wrist and trailing down to a loose pile on the floor. ]
Before we begin, I'm going to need a volunteer. [ He smiles at you, faint but with a hint of playful mischief, as he draws a fingertip down the coiled rope that lies against his wrist. ] Don't worry–you won't have to take any clothes off.
You will need a safe signal, however.
iii. hanahaki
[ Matt had been hoping his cough was only a coincidence.
It's true, he doesn't get sick much these days. He'd been on his way down to the kitchens to beg for an early evening snack (he's ravenous), when a startlingly bad fit of coughing sends him staggering into the nearest wall. He coughs so hard that he feels like he's choking.
And then–
Something wrenches itself loose. Lands on the floor. He stares down at the spider lily blossoms, with their insectoid pistils, in a mixture of horror and fascination. Like if he stares long enough, they might tell him something about the future.
(Spider lilies mean too many things. Everything from passion to wisdom, death and rebirth to undying friendship. Matt has always wanted too much.) ]
iv. when life hands you petals (post-hanahaki)
[ Like many crafters, Matt doesn't know what he's going to do with all these petals yet. But he does know he's going to need a lot of them. He has a basketful already by the time he encounters you in the hall. He points to a limp, wet pile by your feet, and asks politely: ]
Are you going to use those for anything?
[ Maybe they'd make a nice mural, if he can collect enough of them in the right colors. Something for Silvea. ]
v. wildcard
[ See something else that looks interesting? Please wildcard me! More character/AU info here, which is also a good place to hit me (Merc!) up with questions or thoughts. I'm also reachable by PM at any of my journals. ]