#hunter burns

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ACCEPTED! Hunter Burns Audition

Your Name: phnx

Age: 16,000,000

Time Zone: EST Personal url: http://critiqualicious.tumblr.com How active will you be?: It depends. Basically, I'm on if I have a reply to do—so if there is a reply to be done, I will come on and do it. xD I'm good about instigating new paras or conversations (being shameless and all) so ya'll don't gotta worry about that. If I had to quantify it I'd say around 7, but that's not as precise an answer as I'd like.

P.S: I won't be as active as usual next week because of finals, but after that school's over and I'm all yours ;* Character name: Hunter Burns Writing Sample:

Guitar in hand, he was attempting to make some semblance of a song, trying to channel his days as a paid musician, but it just seemed to fall short. It was hollow, dissatisfying; it left him feeling like there was so much left to be had in the world, innumerable possibilities brushing by his fingertips that he simply couldn't reach. Sure, he could try to leap up and grab them, but they would just flit away, remaining uncaught for yet another day.

Sighing, he set the guitar down and stood up from his spot on the porch. He used to be the grabby type. Before he moved back home, he would grab at anything that seemed appealing, doing this or that until he was tired of it and moving on. Now that he really thought about it, that wasn't the best course of action, really, for he'd ended up with this sort of Jack-of-all-trades thing going on and it was nothing short of annoying. There were lots of things he could do, yeah, but few he could do well.

A bird twittering in the large oak tree nearest him made him decide to take a walk—he could do worse, right?—so he set his guitar down just inside the door and made for the town in a meandering kind of way, taking the sort of steps one takes when one isn't really trying to go anywhere but doesn't want to be where they've just been, either. He'd been in town again for a few months, almost half a year, but it was still a tiny bit surprising to see all the smiles the locals offered him. It had taken a few years and several large cities of bland, gray strangers to realize that the people surrounding him were something special, something one didn't see every day, and having gotten used to the aforementioned strangers made each colorful face here pop out like a little firework, making something warm stir in his chest region, something like “belonging” or maybe “fondness,” fondness for the people who would always welcome him back, no matter what he said or did.

I missed this, Hunter thought, as was customary every time he went remotely near the town proper.

Abandoning the sentimental thoughts still floating around in his head, he pressed his way into the shop he was steadily approaching and prepared a smile for the shopkeeper. Sure enough, there he was, and Hunter's premeditated smile sprung to his lips like a mouse springs a trap. It was genuine, though, it really was, he'd just... gotten out of the habit of using it when he'd moved and it'd never quite come back.

“Ah, Hunter,” the man said, one Ali Patel, short and plump and always a little red in the cheeks. Hunter's first name rolled off his tongue with the kind of familiarity you really only get when you've watched someone sprout up like a weed and do very silly things in the process.

“Mr. Patel. How are you?” The formality was there, but the barrier wasn't.

“Fine, fine. What can I get for you today?”

Hunter frowned. He hadn't thought about that.

“Peach rings,” he blurted carelessly, not wanting to look like he hadn't put any thought whatsoever into his visit. The knowing look in Mr. Patel's eye didn't buy it, but he handed Hunter a bag of the candy anyway. Hunter popped it open without paying first—a habit, perhaps—and bit into one of the rings, offering the shopkeeper one he knew would be rejected.

“What are you really here for?”

Hunter sighed. “I don't know. Just wandering, I guess. I'm a bit bored.”

Patel looked surprised at that. “Bored? Half of the country is at our doorstep and you're bored?” He chuckled. “Kids these days. I'd have given my right arm to be in the sort of excitement you're in. Yet here I am, sitting here, managing my shop like I always did. Funny, isn't it, how things change?”

Hunter looked out the window of the shop, over the hill, through the trees, straining his eyes to see the roof of Mr. Regan's mansion, the mansion in which Darcy now resided. Funny, how things change.

“Yeah, funny,” he replied, his voice barely more than a murmur as he pulled out his wallet to pay. Your Interpretation of the Character: This interpretation is subject to change, what with the hidden backstory and all, but purely from the bio I've made my own little Hunter to giggle at and poke affectionately. I've gone out on a bit of a limb here and crocheted my own fuzzy Hunter history mittens, so if you find that my mittens are fingerless and rainbow and yours are purple and the cute little cuppy kind, I'm happy to knit another more suitable pair!

Anyway, I think Hunter tries to be dependable, but his wishy-washiness makes him fall just short of that. While he'll bend over backwards for Darcy, she is about the only person he can be truly consistent for and that's just because he's so thoroughly enamored with her. That period of “lost contact” was when he went off to do his own thing like artsy-types do (because us artsy folk can't seem to stick to one dream), his childhood dream of being a horse farmer lost in the excitement of the world at his fingertips. For a while he sang in a band, which ultimately fell apart; painted, but he ultimately didn't have the patience for it; worked at an animal shelter and, later, in construction, but the pay wasn't enough in either case; and trained in karate and boxing, both of which he actually stuck to, surprisingly.

It was at this point that he realized something.

He did a bit of self-exploration during his time away from the family house, and it was only with people he couldn't easily walk all over that he actually understood his fatal flaw: he was manipulative. He'd never thought about himself that way before. Sure, he always got what he wanted, but it was because he deserved it, right? After some thought, though, he realized that he had basically been using his charisma and charm to win over others rather genuinely deserving the thing, and that shook him to the core.

Thus he returned to his hometown to do some soul-searching and come to terms with the thing he'd been using all his life but hadn't actually realized existed. When Darcy returned, of course, he was overjoyed, but as he began to help her out to try and reestablish himself back in her life, little pangs of guilt blossomed in his mind. If he ever does win Darcy's heart, he wants it to be because he's a good person and someone who's right for her, not because he makes her think he's right for her. He wants it to be genuine, so now that's what he's striving for, even while struggling to find his own identity and be the guy he'd always imagined he'd be. He'll get there and he knows it, he just wished he didn't have to wait!

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I was hoping to get my audition done quickly, but life is in the way so you'll have to forgive me. xD I'd love to reserve Hunter ;*

Sure! Reserving Hunter for 24 hours. :)

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Jack and Hunter are inactive.

I am aware of that, they already told us that they would be inactive in advance, so I won't be reopening their characters for now :)

[jeffreygordonarchive]

Meeting || Jeffrey and Hunter

Jeffrey exited his room, shutting the door behind him. It was about time he explored the manor. After all, that was the whole reason he and Amelia were staying here. It wasn't like the other hotels, which were normally just run down pit stops. This place, for whatever reason, was linked to the disappearance of so many people. He had no plans of idly spending time in his room when he could be searching the hallways for clues. Although Regan Manor was full of guests, it was also huge, meaning the hallway he stepped into was deserted. Creepy. Someone obviously took care of the building, because it wasn't too dusty, but the old furniture and architecture made it look like something out of a horror film. His eyes skirted around the old portraits on the walls- they definitely freaked him out, seeming as if they were watching him as he moved through the manor.

He didn't know quite what he was looking for, but he knew he had to find it. He hadn't traveled this long for nothing, right? And all these other people couldn't be wrong too. This place had something to do with the recent disappearances. Someone just had to figure out how. That train of thought was a stressful one for him though, and he found himself once again picking at the cuticle on his thumb. At this rate, it was going to end up torn and bloody by the end of his stay in the manor. Over the last few months, fidgeting and constant movement had become habit though. It was comforting.

Although he'd arrived at the manor practically bursting with hope, convinced that they'd find something almost as soon as they set foot inside, Jeffrey was realizing now that that was a pipe dream in the extreme. It wasn't like clues were just going to be sitting on every shelf, easily accessible for anyone who decided to look. He'd obviously watched too many mystery films in his life. Still, he didn't plan on giving up. What do cops do first in those movies, anyway? They found someone to talk to, someone who'd been around the suspect for a long time. Except the closest thing he had to a 'suspect' was an old house full of newcomers. They weren't going to be any help.

Part of him wanted to talk to the other guests, compile their stories. Unfortunately, people tended to not take sixteen-year-old boys seriously. For the most part he could understand that, but he felt that he'd dealt with enough recently that he should be allowed the status of mature adult. Weren't people supposed to age faster under stress? And he wasn't just going to use his age as an excuse to make someone else do the work about the disappearances. Besides, the people here were concerned about their loved ones, not his. If he and Amelia didn't focus on their parents, no one would.

When they'd first gone missing, he and his sister had turned to the cops, thinking that they would be able to fix it. Instead they'd just been carted off to their aunt's house, and their parents had disappeared into a stack of files, other people who were gone. He didn't blame them. Given the amount of people in the manor, their family's situation was nothing special to them. That was why he had to find the clues himself, figure out where they were, because it was a special situation to him.