Perfect Cities 31/?
Perfect Cities: 31/?
Title: Personna
Characters: Étienne
Genre: IDK
Rating for this chapter: T+
Pairings: Étienne
Summary: Character piece on Étienne
Perfect Cities
Persona
Perfect Cities
Persona
Étienne liked to let others construct their own images of him. It was always easier that way. To his peers, he was easy, loose, and full of low morals. He drank, smoked, partied, and took just about anyone to bed. He was loud, opinionated, and full of himself. Others would look at him and see the uncaring, impulsive man who agreed to whatever was faster, easier, as long as the job was done. He was the supposedly multicultural French annoyance who was stuck in the past, while aiming for a lost ideal.
And that was fine.
There had been a time, before, when he had cared. A time when he had wanted everyone and anyone to look at him and see hope and opportunity. But when things hadn’t turned out that way and many had fled him in disappointment, Étienne had rebranded himself as a momentary escapism with a dash of culture. An easy place for some weekend fun that wouldn’t break the wallet.
Therefore, he walked into meetings with fake confidence and an air of complete boredom. He flirted with the others and made passes at whoever was there to receive them. He would only half listen and pretend to be uninterested in the day’s matter and repeat the same show day in and day out.
His bed was often filled with a new face or two and he would at least make sure to give as well as he received. He supposed it was an old habit, but he wasn’t about to dwell on that particular thought.
Étienne preferred cultivating this particular image of him instead of sharing his authentic self, for many different reasons. It was always easier to let others be disappointed in him - in his city - if they only had his persona to think about. It was easier to be the one deceiving, instead of the deceived.
On top of that, Étienne genuinely didn’t want the others to know. They did not care and why should they? It was best to lead them on to think what he wanted them to and leave it at that. And when they made comments about his ways, he would only shrug. Why would he want to settle? Why would he want to be like everyone else?
When his friends spoke of love, he scoffed. Love and forever were constructs for fools and dreamers. How could one like him simply pick one person? Notwithstanding his never-ending longevity, he preferred exploring his options. He liked people - found them fascinating and he wanted to try as many new things as possible. Humans intrigued him and he marvelled - every time - at how one same action could be and feel different from one person to the next.
(And really, why would he settle for one? Why would he put this person through that? How could he deal with broken promises and a shattered heart if God forbid he develop feelings and then end up disappointing them? Again. He much rather experience short moments of pleasure and joy, instead of seeing passion wither and die with no way out.)
It was easier this way, for he could enjoy his authentic self without any taunting or teasing. He could stand in his living room, smearing paint on a canvas larger and bigger than him, and listen to some soothing jazz without having to worry about pleasing anyone, or about someone’s biting remark.
He could lecture in French to hundreds of students about the similarities of sports worship and religion on Tuesdays, and do the same in English on Thursdays, without anyone mocking his fascination for theology and sports.
And lastly, he could curate his tiny little art gallery in peace, and share with other passionate people about texture and contrasting colours in the various modern and abstract pieces he had carefully chosen to display.
It was easier this way and he preferred it.
His peers could mock him for his shortcomings and failures, but they could never have his authentic self and in the end, he would be the one laughing at them.
And if ever he let someone glimpse a particle of his real self, well, that would be his doing and he could only hope he wouldn’t come to regret it again.
FIN 31
Started writing: March 9th 2017, 3:05pm
Finished writing: March 9th 2017, 3:50pm
Started typing: March 30th 2017, 1:50pm
Finished typing: March 30th 2017, 2:32pm
Title: Personna
Characters: Étienne
Genre: IDK
Rating for this chapter: T+
Pairings: Étienne
Summary: Character piece on Étienne
Perfect Cities
Persona
Perfect Cities
Persona
Étienne liked to let others construct their own images of him. It was always easier that way. To his peers, he was easy, loose, and full of low morals. He drank, smoked, partied, and took just about anyone to bed. He was loud, opinionated, and full of himself. Others would look at him and see the uncaring, impulsive man who agreed to whatever was faster, easier, as long as the job was done. He was the supposedly multicultural French annoyance who was stuck in the past, while aiming for a lost ideal.
And that was fine.
There had been a time, before, when he had cared. A time when he had wanted everyone and anyone to look at him and see hope and opportunity. But when things hadn’t turned out that way and many had fled him in disappointment, Étienne had rebranded himself as a momentary escapism with a dash of culture. An easy place for some weekend fun that wouldn’t break the wallet.
Therefore, he walked into meetings with fake confidence and an air of complete boredom. He flirted with the others and made passes at whoever was there to receive them. He would only half listen and pretend to be uninterested in the day’s matter and repeat the same show day in and day out.
His bed was often filled with a new face or two and he would at least make sure to give as well as he received. He supposed it was an old habit, but he wasn’t about to dwell on that particular thought.
Étienne preferred cultivating this particular image of him instead of sharing his authentic self, for many different reasons. It was always easier to let others be disappointed in him - in his city - if they only had his persona to think about. It was easier to be the one deceiving, instead of the deceived.
On top of that, Étienne genuinely didn’t want the others to know. They did not care and why should they? It was best to lead them on to think what he wanted them to and leave it at that. And when they made comments about his ways, he would only shrug. Why would he want to settle? Why would he want to be like everyone else?
When his friends spoke of love, he scoffed. Love and forever were constructs for fools and dreamers. How could one like him simply pick one person? Notwithstanding his never-ending longevity, he preferred exploring his options. He liked people - found them fascinating and he wanted to try as many new things as possible. Humans intrigued him and he marvelled - every time - at how one same action could be and feel different from one person to the next.
(And really, why would he settle for one? Why would he put this person through that? How could he deal with broken promises and a shattered heart if God forbid he develop feelings and then end up disappointing them? Again. He much rather experience short moments of pleasure and joy, instead of seeing passion wither and die with no way out.)
It was easier this way, for he could enjoy his authentic self without any taunting or teasing. He could stand in his living room, smearing paint on a canvas larger and bigger than him, and listen to some soothing jazz without having to worry about pleasing anyone, or about someone’s biting remark.
He could lecture in French to hundreds of students about the similarities of sports worship and religion on Tuesdays, and do the same in English on Thursdays, without anyone mocking his fascination for theology and sports.
And lastly, he could curate his tiny little art gallery in peace, and share with other passionate people about texture and contrasting colours in the various modern and abstract pieces he had carefully chosen to display.
It was easier this way and he preferred it.
His peers could mock him for his shortcomings and failures, but they could never have his authentic self and in the end, he would be the one laughing at them.
And if ever he let someone glimpse a particle of his real self, well, that would be his doing and he could only hope he wouldn’t come to regret it again.
FIN 31
Started writing: March 9th 2017, 3:05pm
Finished writing: March 9th 2017, 3:50pm
Started typing: March 30th 2017, 1:50pm
Finished typing: March 30th 2017, 2:32pm