&& ben
⸻ josh o’connor, 28, cismale, he/him/his ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of BENJAMIN “BEN” GRANT. they are TWENTY-EIGHT, and have been missing for ONE MONTH. when the sun rises, they work as a HUNTER. rumors in town say they can be SENSITIVE and BRILLIANT. they chose to live in A CABIN, and have an uncanny resemblance to GREGORY EDDIE (Abbott Elementary), KATNISS EVERDEEN (Hunger Games), ELSA (Frozen), ANDREW (Whiplash), ADRIAN MONK (Monk), and THEO CRAIN (Haunting of Hill House).
BIO - STATS - PINTEREST - MIRROR
*// A E S T H E T I C S
warm hands over frostbitten cheeks, flashlights and books under covers in the dark, a tightly taut string pulled so tight it starts to fray, pen stains in shirt pockets, graphite on the sides of hands, hands so dry and cold they crack and bleed, a clacking keyboard at 3am, black coffee ring stains on wood furniture, a white comforter balled into fists and pulled up to to the chin in sleep, tored eyes after studying all night, the quiet of a library after closing, the scent of an old book opened again, flowers icing over and cracking petals after snowfall
*// I N Q U I R I E S
How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?
The bar. It’s not something he’s necessarily proud of, but it was all just too much to handle. It was early in the morning when he passed by a townsperson, desperately asking what town he was in and how quickly they could get a doctor out to find his father. Ben wasn’t familiar with the area either, this being in a whole different state for that matter. When nobody moved to help, just exchanged a few glances between each other, he nearly lost his temper.
That was when the kind person he initially stumbled upon gently laid out for him the circumstances of the town. Ben didn’t believe it, couldn’t have. It was preposterous, that this place was just some dimensional pocket where people could enter but not leave. How was he supposed to get help back to his father? What was he to do, just leave him to bleed out in the snow? That was nonsense. Ben walked some more, from where he came from - if nobody was going to help, he’d do it himself - but he kept walking. Through more woods, more trees. When he finally saw signs of civilization, a jog over only led him to the familiar settings he once tried to escape from. Dread seeped into him, something about a welcome sign in a desolate town he could never leave - now that he just proved it - allowed for despair to settle into the pit of his gut.
What else could one do, but drink? The sun was starting to go down and he mindlessly made his way to the bar. He drank what was available - foul, fermented liquids until he was hearing voices outside of the window, falling asleep on the countertop.
Why did your muse choose to live where they do?
Somewhat of a creature of solitude, the cabin was the only appropriate choice. Of course, being a hunter, it felt more than appropriate to conceal himself in a place that would be of use. Should someone need a hunter, someone on short notice, Ben could be there.
Plain and not too unchanged from where he found it, the only difference was a small shelf of books collected from the library, finding a home close by to his bed. An open spot against the door where his hyper adjusted bow lay, constantly at the ready from any perceived threats. A heavy quilt lay over the bed, too heavy to not haphazardly slide off the sides. A once empty desk was now home to various notebooks, dry and brittle pages with careful pen. Ben keeps it clean and relishes the solitude, very few personal effects carried with him into town to make it more homey.
What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?
Target practice - sort of. It was an outside-of-civilization sort of range his father found, meant to be a two day trip tops, to get some fresh air and a reset, a new place to make sure he was ready to go for the next Olympics. There was some arguing - one sided argument on behalf of his father, with the helpful commentary on how he needed to focus more on winning, specifically to “shoot at his head in the clouds and bring it back down to earth.” There was a flinch, maybe, purposeful or accidental (it was hard to tell) and suddenly his father was screaming bloody murder, a pointed arrow sticking out of his left thigh, staining the white snow red.
His help was dismissed, so Ben ran and kept running, hoping he would find a ranger’s station. There was a brief notice as to how big the tree was, black looking and devoid of any snow, like the rest of its surrounding foliage.
Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?
Ben has been in something of a limbo in his life, caught between things he has and things he wants. While he lives a life of luxury, bankrolled by the Olympics Committee and a house paid for by his wealthy patronage, not doing much but traveling and tournaments, he has so much he wants to know. His mother, where she disappeared to fifteen years ago, to solve that mystery he’s never been able to fully comprehend. The love of his life, broken off five years ago in what he thought was the smart decision, only to live with that regret every day since. And his father, Ben having to live with the knowledge that the man could have very well bled out into the snow, dying, unsure whether or not it was an act on purpose or not.
Somehow, he wants to escape and return to the same things at once, a walking oxymoron.
*// T H R E A D T R A C K E R
(owed in bold)
Total: 6
Bastian / Ben (event)
Dilara / Ben (event)
Joel / Ben
Juliette / Ben
Logan / Ben
Tessa / Ben
(starters to write)















