Name: Dariusz Tenenbaum
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Appearance (Trust us, we really need this!):
If you noticed Dariusz - which you might not - the first thing you would see about him is his size. Dariusz is short. No, not just short; tiny. Dariusz looks like a little boy with an older boy's face. At a mere four feet, eleven inches, the world towers above Dariusz, and all his life he has been trying to stand up straighter to meet it.
His posture is civil and straight; his dull green eyes, hard as cold jade. For someone in a body that seems so childlike, Dariusz's features contradict his shape. His movements are precise, his gestures efficient: when he walks, he neither hurries nor dawdles. His hair - dark, curly, shoulder-length - is well groomed, but shows no signs of primping or preening. He grooms for hygiene and protocol - no more, no less.
Dariusz does not know that the tips of his ears and the peaks of his cheeks turn pink when he is flustered. He does not know that his fingers twitch when he is thinking. He does not know that he pouts when he is dubious of something. Nor does he know that this makes him look like an irate chipmunk. If he did, he would be quietly mortified, then quietly mortified about his quiet mortification. And then the components of his mind would politely agree to change the subject.
What Are You Good At?
Obeying orders
Building and repairing machines
Crafting with wood and metal
Adhering to his ethics
Standing his ground
What Are You Bad At?
Handling animals
Knowledge of modern culture (ie: Still not sure what 'gay' means; suspects it involves sex and rainbow hair.)
Knowing when to be flexible; he has difficulty with new ideas due to a traditional mindset
Reaching high shelves
Admitting and processing his feelings
A little bit awkward with English, particularly because he is literal-minded
Tell us a little about yourself in a maximum of four paragraphs!
The Tenenbaum family was once resided in the remote forest town of Szymborga. Szymborga is a conclave of eccentrics and recluses which hides in the northern woods in Poland, filled with mystics and tinhatters who have eschewed modern society in exchange for solitude and the sense of security that comes with knowing one's neighbors. Dariusz grew up happy there, homeschooled by his mother and father to carry on the family tradition of clockmaking. Around the fall of his 14th year, he was sent abroad to a variety of boarding schools to broaden his education.
Around the summer of his 18th year, a horrific forest fire struck the forest surrounding Szymborga.
Dariusz has had no contact from anyone in his family in months.
Lost in a foreign land with an antiquated skill set and no family, Dariusz now clings to life in a youth shelter, working as a repair and maintenance man for his bread and board.
Dyson Spheres are checked off on the form.
I hereby proclaim that I am a member of the mysterious misery society.