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Your Name: Sparky
Age: 22
Username: unactive
Email: strongmeka.chan@gmail.com
IM: strongmekachan
Character Name: William McCallum. Prefers to be called Will. He'll also answer to Old Sweepy.
Background: Life for Will began on a stormy night in August. He was the first and only child to two struggling musicians Thomas and Mary McCallum. Mary's labor began while they were playing for a small club in Atlanta, Georgia. From the very beginning, Will expressed an intense love for music. It was something he inherited from his parents. On his fifth birthday, Thomas took the boy to a thrift store, purchased a trumpet for his son and began teach Will how to play. Will took to it quickly. He enjoyed ad-libbing and playing with his father.
Two years later, grief struck seven year old Will when his parents were suddenly killed in a car accident. There were no relatives to speak of and so Will became a ward of the state of Georgia. His first foster family had an older son, Casey, who played the piano. Will became intrigued when he heard the older boy playing one evening and he asked Casey if he would teach him. Casey obliged. Will's talent shone through. He took to it almost as quickly as he did the trumpet.
Will stayed with this family for nearly three years before they decided they no longer wanted to have foster children. His next foster family was not as nice and Will was rather miserable. His foster father did not like his trumpet, calling it ungainly noise, and Will was forced to practice on the nights he was not home. He only spent six months there before coming to the next family. His stint with them was even shorter as he was not allowed to play the trumpet at all. He clashed with the family and stubbornly refused to stop playing, citing it as a clear connection with to his parents. After three and a half months, Will was taken from them and placed with the Delacy family.
These were his kind of people. A family of musicians. They owned a piano and even purchased Will a new trumpet. He was positively thrilled. Mr. Delacy began building on Will's knowledge of the trumpet and piano. Will picked up a love for jazz then. He loved the feeling of the music and his playing began to reflect that. He grew fonder of free jazz which he felt allowed for a little more freedom in his playing.
He spent the rest of his childhood and most of his teenage years with the Delacy family. And in those years, he joined a small jazz band that would play on the street corners ever Saturday night. The group became popular and were soon asked to play for small clubs on a regular basis. Will loved it. He saved his earnings because he figured this would eventually come in handy. Later on, during his high school years, he joined the marching band.
He graduated from high school and was awarded a music scholarship to Hugh Hodgson School of Music at the University of Georgia. Although he was lax in his studies, he managed to earn his Masters in Music.
Hard times were hit then. There were no jobs. And no one was interested in hiring a lazy musician. Although he never did find work in his desired profession, he did manage to land a janitorial job. With his meager earnings, he rented himself an apartment. After a few months, he began playing his trumpet outside of his building and earned some extra cash that way. It was his plan to venture to California and try to make it as a musician out there.
When he finally decided it was time to pick up and move on, where he ended up was not California. It was the Elegante.
Appearance: Standing at a solid 6 feet 4 inches, Will is a broad, well built man and weighs 187 pounds. His hair is blonde and he has dark eyes. Will is just a little unkempt. He's scruffy and doesn't shave very often. His jeans are holey, his shirts worn and torn. And he has glued the soles of his shoes back on more times than he can remember.
For more formal situations, Will does own a button down shirt, a neck tie, and a pair of holeless slacks. His formal shoes were once shiny and bright but are now dull and worn. Clothes have never really been that important to him so he tends to wear them until they have literally fallen apart. All of his clothes have come from consignment shops, secondhand stores, and yard sales. He just doesn’t see the point in wasting money on clothes.
On his left wrist is an expensive silver watch. It stands out against his normally drab attire. And most wonder where he got it, since he doesn’t make the kind of money needed to actually afford it. He is a smoker and almost always has a pack of cigarettes with him. Even though he always tells people that he’s gonna quit.
Spoken / written languages: English
Abilities: He's been playing the trumpet for most of his life. And though not nearly as talented, Will can play the piano. He prefers to play more classical music as opposed to jazz. He's not the best cook so he usually resorts to take out.
Items: His trumpet.
Third Person Sample:
God, Will hated the rain. It was cold and bleak and dreary. And it was wet. Made business slow. He didn't know why he was still sitting here on the wet cement. The inside of his trumpet case was getting wet and the bills were going to have water stains. Ah well, money's money. He scooted closer to investigate his wages for the day. A five, two ones, and $1.43 in change. Well that was enough to buy him lunch.
He shut the case and disappeared into the building, leaving a trail of wet dirt behind him. "Hey, hey. Sweepy! You're trackin' on my floor!"
Will turned and grinned sheepishly at his landlady. "Sorry, Miss G. I'll mop it up."
"Yeah, yeah. You better. Or you an' me are gonna have words." She waved her hand at him to dismiss him and he squished his way up the stairs. His apartment was cold and tiny. Just enough space for him. No piano though. There definitely wouldn't be enough room to turn around in, if he added a piano.
He couldn't afford the bigger apartments that were upstairs. It was all part and parcel to the glory of being a janitor. Speaking of which, he had to be at work soon. Will groaned. He hated work.
The money he had earned was deposited in a jar, filled with bills of various worth and had the word 'California' clearly written across the glass. He left his shoes in a heap by the door and sat down on the couch to peel his socks off. They were dirty on the bottom, even though he had washed them only the night before. His toes wiggled once they were free and he got up to fish his uniform out of the bottom of his hamper. His shirt was grey, wrinkled and still had a pizza stain on it. And there was no time to get to the laundromat. "Damn," he swore softly. Oh well. It would just have to do. Not like anybody would care. He certainly didn't.
He was just the janitor, after all.
First Person Sample:
You've got to be kidding me...Where am I?
[The comm hits the floor and he swears when there's a crash. Whose bright idea was it to put a table there?]
Hey, uh, the table fell. I'm not paying for that, Jus' so ya know. So...is this some kind of joke? Did I lose a bet and somebody decided dumping me on a boat would be fun? Hey, I'm not gonna complain. Free vacations are awesome. Where we headin'? Bahamas? Hawaii? Jamaica mon?
[He waits for a laugh. Nothing from the comm. But a small chuckle from him.]
Okay, that was weak. Helloooo? Anybody on the other end of this thing?
Preferred Quarters: None at all