Étrangement, malgré tout ce qui venait de se passer, Ross se sentait plutôt obligé de suivre ce 'Shadrach'. Peut-être qu'il en savait plus qu'il ne le voulait. Ou peut-être qu'il aboyait tout simplement fou. Pour être vrai, il n'était pas tout à fait sûr qu'il lui faisait confiance car il était certainement fou de rage... Bien que la mort ferait probablement ça
"Je suis heureux de faire votre connaissance. Je suis, ou peut-être plus exactement, le docteur Ross." Ross répondit, le suivant lentement en regardant sa montre et en lisant l'heure. Il soupirait faiblement alors qu'il se rendait compte qu'à peu près à ce moment-là, il aurait enseigné une classe d'anglais a-- Il se demandait si Mme Henderson avait repris la classe en son absence? Ou peut-être qu'ils n'avaient pas encore entendu du tout, et qu'en fait, il ne le pensait pas exactement en retard. C'était une pensée plutôt inconfortante; Il connaissait trop bien sa classe du matin et était tout à fait conscient qu'en l'absence d'autorité, ils se transformaient en hooliganisme. Il avait fait l'erreur de les laisser seuls pendant quinze minutes au moment où il est arrivé à terme et quand il est revenu a trouvé son dossier superglué fermé.
Il était tout à fait incapable de suprimer un petit ronflement; Il était un fantôme ou quelque chose du genre, avait regardé son corps juste quelques minutes avant et pourtant il pensait encore à son travail.
Son sourire s'est évanoui assez rapidement car il s'est rendu compte précisément de ce que son esprit essayait de faire pour faire face à ce stress. Une partie de lui voulait crier, une autre partie voulait se lancer dans une sorte de rancune folle et en colère... et surtout il voulait comprendre ce qui s'était passé ici. C'était juste... faux. Et pourquoi s'est-il senti plus... Puissant. Non, il ne sentait pas seulement qu'il savait; il pouvait dire que s'il le voulait, il pouvait faire de si grandes choses... et de si terribles choses.
"Ça change tout." Il murmura à haute voix en sillonnant son front, en regardant ce 'Josh' un moment. Tout le monde prenait ça remarquablement bien, du moins à la surface.
Ouais, d'une certaine façon mon message a été supprimé quand je l'ai envoyé la première fois. Toutes mes excuses.
Name: Ivo Shadrach, he/him.
Age: 19.
Personality: Ivo's aversion to crowds has occasionally portrayed him as a quiet individual, but he's no less social than anyone- So long as he doesn't have to deal with too many people at once. In this way he can actually end up putting more effort into seeking and maintaining conversation than most, as a chance to chat in an environment he finds comfortable might not come around often. When he feels overwhelmed, he simply vanishes into his own thoughts and keeps doing whatever he thinks is most useful for him to do. When conversing, he is prone to change the subject to something more abstract or unusual suddenly and abruptly, though he tries to avoid speaking over anyone. Ivo laughs little, but smiles very often. It is difficult to say whether he is a friendly person, partially because he treats everyone like a friend, and partially because he seems so disinterested in what people are doing in their relationships and careers, much preferring to ask about their dreams, their emotions, their fantasies and guesses.
Interests: Ivo has long wished about overcoming the inherent materialism of his Avernalese upbringing and styling himself into a spiritualist, fanning the flames of a childish belief that there really is something under the bed, that mirrors winked at you when you looked away. The commercialisation of classical monsters held no appeal to him, and Ivo has always sought out entertainment that emphasises the unknowable and the forgotten. Lovecraft's sonnets were his bedtime stories, and old chants and ambient recordings were what he defined as music. Though applying his capacious memory to science was the only way he stood a chance of passing at his public school, Ivo secretly and privately wished that he'd forget everything and discover his own beliefs about the nature of the world, and did poorly in all but mathematics, which he enjoyed for its abstract, almost otherworldly nature. He keeps himself busy with sketches and poetic records of his emotions when he's alone in a new place, neither of which will ever be worth publishing. After many attempts to apply for work in novelty shops that sold dreamcatchers and practiced crystal healing, he eventually found his employment in a factory, hand-crafting gorgeous candles and perfumed soaps. He smokes irregularly with hand-grown tobacco, though what else might be in his cigarettes is hard to say.
History: Born to an old and somber family in Avernale, Ivo was raised in the shadow of his much older brother Ezra, who was very alike to himself, almost to the point of being twins. Like Ivo, Ezra did poorly in school but quickly found work, and left the family with barely a trace when he knew he was financially secure. Though difficult at first, both of Ivos parents soon surmounted their loss, knowing that Ezra had left only to seek independence, and not because there had been a lack of love or good parenting between them. A quiet expectation permeated the family that Ivo, too, would leave when he was able and no later. Knowing that Ezra had turned out well even without a successful education, they waited patiently as Ivo's grades collapsed, and did what they could to help him when he started seeking employment. Now that he has a job, they wait, neither impatiently nor regretfully, for him to take control of his own life.
Appearance: Unimpressive. Though he's more fit than he looks from long wanders and hours of overtime work, Ivo still looks like a twelve-year-old, with a bulky body and just the faintest touch of pudge still lingering in his face. His hair is short, dark and uncombed. While travelling to work on the day he died, he was suited up in a simple blue factory work jacket and trousers, stained by wax and dyes.
Notes: ayy lmao


Realm: Empty.
Form: Human.
Other: None.