Background info
Apr. 18th, 2014 08:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bachjonesB A C K G R O U N D & H I S T O R Y
Bach lived with his mother until the day before his seventeenth birthday. For a birthday present he asked information about his unknown father, a man his mother wouldn’t even name. His mother, already always easy to explode, threw a tantrum that made their old deaf cat jump. “His father”, she had said, “the only man she had ever believed when he had told her the most insane fantasies and left the cheap hotel bed before morning returned”. If he so badly wanted to know about his deadbeat sperm donor, he could return to that horrible place with the weird people, Siren Cove. Ever since she knew she was pregnant she had regretted going to that place that was supposed to be New Orleans, Disney World for adults and Paris all rolled up into one. It was a creepy town full of strangers and it was clear that his place of conception has rubbed off on him, making him creepy and strange.
Before that explosion, Bach was homeschooled in between shows. Because at an early age it was clear that he had a talent for singing and playing instruments, especially anything with strings. His mother, very much in love with her pretty, talented son, drove him across the country to show the wunderkind and make money of him. He was placated with candy and toys until he was used to the endless drives and dodgy places. Near puberty his mother tried to keep him interested with alcohol and soft drugs, but something had changed in Bach’s brain. When he sung, when he created music, he seemed to weave a connection with anyone who listened. When he sung a ballad about a love lost, the people cried. When his song was cheeky, the mood brightened and bubbled. For the first time in his life he felt like he was in control of something, even though he didn’t know what exactly. He started writing his own songs, testing the waters of how much he could awaken in his listeners.His mother didn’t like it. Oblivious to his needs as she was, she had picked up on an independence brewing. Luckily Bach’s hormones were a willing ally, taking every boy or girl she offered Bach as a wonderful distraction from writing songs. From 14 to 16 Bach slept, had sex and sang songs with the same set of emotions as a jukebox. The brightness that had flared up inside him at 13, was dormant until he started writing again, two weeks after his seventeenth birthday.
Bach didn’t know how to take care of himself (still doesn’t, really), but did know that from making music came money. After two weeks of shows in small cafes, the owner asked if he wanted to stay at her place. That way he “didn’t have to travel that much every day”. The woman, 31 and torn between a motherly love and lust, took care of him for almost two years. In those two years he followed several high school courses, got a bank account and learned to dress himself in a ‘manly’ way. Bach fled when he realized it was his fault that the relationship soured, even though he didn’t know why. He didn’t understand where her jealousy came from, her need to hear that he only wanted and needed her. She, Mariska, admitted that she hadn’t ever felt at home somewhere until she had met him. That there was something inside him she would do anything for. Bach was confused, grossed out and left, wondering where to go next. It came to him on his twentieth birthday, after watching a bad water ballet called Dance of the Sirens. Maybe his mother has been right and he should go looking for his father. Maybe it was the kick he needed to start living, instead of functioning. Maybe .. maybe.
The entirety of his bank account went into a nice little apartment with sound tight walls. His shows gave him something to do, taking any offer that would allow him to play. Bach was saving for a harp, a better guitar, a cello. Anything that would come alive in his hands. The rest of his time went into working for a high school diploma. Somehow being in Siren Cove was enough of an effort for looking for his father. He didn’t even know the man’s name, why even bother? He never worked so hard for anything before, and was his life really that bad? So here he is, five years later. Learning, playing, looking at life from the sidelines.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Bach is apathy in person. Because of all the (cheap) thrills he was fed on a young age, he’s already over it at 25. It’s not like he’s bored, he’s just not ..there. From time to time he okays the company of a fan or groupie, sometimes even willing himself to cut away from the drowsiness. The worse his writing goes, the more human company he needs. After that, when they’ve temporarily awakened him, he discards them. It’s what he’s used to. It’s not like he’s anything to them but a music box.
But Bach is also very pretty, so a lot of these things are excused. He’s a Traveler, a Musician. People like that are above petty communication and promises. So what if his charms look like they’re on automatic, it seems like he means the words and gestures. He probably just didn’t meet the right person yet.
O P I N I O N O F T H E R I V A L R Y
Bach has no clue about the rivalry. It’s very possible he heard some gossips about it from time to time, but why would he make space in his head for that? He needs all of it for music.
L I F E S T Y L E
As mentioned before, a small one bedroom apartment with cushioned walls that make it (pretty) sound tight. It’s a mix of a bachelor’s pad and a teenage boy’s room, a bare space with collected messes all over it. He has a bank account for daily life and a sock underneath his mattress for his instrument money. He plays at every place that will have him, but his only regular spot is Quill, for brunch in the weekend. The rest of the day is filled with reading in their book room. He usually sleeps through breakfast during the week. Bach’s roommate is a black Norwegian Forest cat, named Cinderella. Cinderella knows how to take care of herself (she opens the fridge and the tap) and regularly follows Bach to his shows like a nanny. She’s pretty judgmental and will run of the people she doesn’t want Bach to sleep with (because he will sleep with anyone when the mood strikes).
P O W E R S & A B I L I T I E S
Human. Daddy was a siren. But Bach doesn’t know. Bach doesn’t know that there’s such a thing as the supernatural. He just assumes that he has some talent, something unknown that pulls people to his music and voice. After Mariska’s scary admissions he never met someone who acted so weird around him, so it was very probably just her issue..
Bach lived with his mother until the day before his seventeenth birthday. For a birthday present he asked information about his unknown father, a man his mother wouldn’t even name. His mother, already always easy to explode, threw a tantrum that made their old deaf cat jump. “His father”, she had said, “the only man she had ever believed when he had told her the most insane fantasies and left the cheap hotel bed before morning returned”. If he so badly wanted to know about his deadbeat sperm donor, he could return to that horrible place with the weird people, Siren Cove. Ever since she knew she was pregnant she had regretted going to that place that was supposed to be New Orleans, Disney World for adults and Paris all rolled up into one. It was a creepy town full of strangers and it was clear that his place of conception has rubbed off on him, making him creepy and strange.
Before that explosion, Bach was homeschooled in between shows. Because at an early age it was clear that he had a talent for singing and playing instruments, especially anything with strings. His mother, very much in love with her pretty, talented son, drove him across the country to show the wunderkind and make money of him. He was placated with candy and toys until he was used to the endless drives and dodgy places. Near puberty his mother tried to keep him interested with alcohol and soft drugs, but something had changed in Bach’s brain. When he sung, when he created music, he seemed to weave a connection with anyone who listened. When he sung a ballad about a love lost, the people cried. When his song was cheeky, the mood brightened and bubbled. For the first time in his life he felt like he was in control of something, even though he didn’t know what exactly. He started writing his own songs, testing the waters of how much he could awaken in his listeners.His mother didn’t like it. Oblivious to his needs as she was, she had picked up on an independence brewing. Luckily Bach’s hormones were a willing ally, taking every boy or girl she offered Bach as a wonderful distraction from writing songs. From 14 to 16 Bach slept, had sex and sang songs with the same set of emotions as a jukebox. The brightness that had flared up inside him at 13, was dormant until he started writing again, two weeks after his seventeenth birthday.
Bach didn’t know how to take care of himself (still doesn’t, really), but did know that from making music came money. After two weeks of shows in small cafes, the owner asked if he wanted to stay at her place. That way he “didn’t have to travel that much every day”. The woman, 31 and torn between a motherly love and lust, took care of him for almost two years. In those two years he followed several high school courses, got a bank account and learned to dress himself in a ‘manly’ way. Bach fled when he realized it was his fault that the relationship soured, even though he didn’t know why. He didn’t understand where her jealousy came from, her need to hear that he only wanted and needed her. She, Mariska, admitted that she hadn’t ever felt at home somewhere until she had met him. That there was something inside him she would do anything for. Bach was confused, grossed out and left, wondering where to go next. It came to him on his twentieth birthday, after watching a bad water ballet called Dance of the Sirens. Maybe his mother has been right and he should go looking for his father. Maybe it was the kick he needed to start living, instead of functioning. Maybe .. maybe.
The entirety of his bank account went into a nice little apartment with sound tight walls. His shows gave him something to do, taking any offer that would allow him to play. Bach was saving for a harp, a better guitar, a cello. Anything that would come alive in his hands. The rest of his time went into working for a high school diploma. Somehow being in Siren Cove was enough of an effort for looking for his father. He didn’t even know the man’s name, why even bother? He never worked so hard for anything before, and was his life really that bad? So here he is, five years later. Learning, playing, looking at life from the sidelines.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Bach is apathy in person. Because of all the (cheap) thrills he was fed on a young age, he’s already over it at 25. It’s not like he’s bored, he’s just not ..there. From time to time he okays the company of a fan or groupie, sometimes even willing himself to cut away from the drowsiness. The worse his writing goes, the more human company he needs. After that, when they’ve temporarily awakened him, he discards them. It’s what he’s used to. It’s not like he’s anything to them but a music box.
But Bach is also very pretty, so a lot of these things are excused. He’s a Traveler, a Musician. People like that are above petty communication and promises. So what if his charms look like they’re on automatic, it seems like he means the words and gestures. He probably just didn’t meet the right person yet.
O P I N I O N O F T H E R I V A L R Y
Bach has no clue about the rivalry. It’s very possible he heard some gossips about it from time to time, but why would he make space in his head for that? He needs all of it for music.
L I F E S T Y L E
As mentioned before, a small one bedroom apartment with cushioned walls that make it (pretty) sound tight. It’s a mix of a bachelor’s pad and a teenage boy’s room, a bare space with collected messes all over it. He has a bank account for daily life and a sock underneath his mattress for his instrument money. He plays at every place that will have him, but his only regular spot is Quill, for brunch in the weekend. The rest of the day is filled with reading in their book room. He usually sleeps through breakfast during the week. Bach’s roommate is a black Norwegian Forest cat, named Cinderella. Cinderella knows how to take care of herself (she opens the fridge and the tap) and regularly follows Bach to his shows like a nanny. She’s pretty judgmental and will run of the people she doesn’t want Bach to sleep with (because he will sleep with anyone when the mood strikes).
P O W E R S & A B I L I T I E S
Human. Daddy was a siren. But Bach doesn’t know. Bach doesn’t know that there’s such a thing as the supernatural. He just assumes that he has some talent, something unknown that pulls people to his music and voice. After Mariska’s scary admissions he never met someone who acted so weird around him, so it was very probably just her issue..
