“ Bᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴꜰɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴏɴ ʜɪɢʜ. Tʜᴇɴ ʟɪꜰᴇ sᴇᴇᴍs ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ.
”―
Vɪɴᴄᴇɴᴛ Vᴀɴ Gᴏɢʜ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
|| 40
|| Mᴜsɪᴄɪᴀɴ
|| Mᴀʟᴇ
|| Bɪsᴇxᴜᴀʟ
|| 2 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs
||▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔Many think of Cecil as intimidating when they first meet him, and he certainly looks that way, just a bit over 6’0” and weighing in at around 180 pounds, give or take. He’s not athletic (damn these love handles!), per se, but he isn’t fat, either. Really, the best way to describe Cecil’s physical appearance would be the term ‘dad bod’, toeing the line between chubby and muscular. Most of the time, his expression is set in a pensive scowl, dark, soulful eyes narrowed in what seems like contempt, but once you strike up a conversation with him, you’ll find that he’s the type of person who smiles easily and sincerely. Never judge a book by its cover, and all that.
On the whole, Cecil can look a little… grungy. His dark hair is often carelessly mussed, and on occasions where looking presentable is a necessity, he just slicks it all back with a dollop of pomade. Furthermore, there always seems to be the beginnings of a beard forming on his lower face, blurring the angular lines of his features. You’ll almost never seen him clean-shaven, mostly because he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to do so everyday, but underneath that stubble, a sharp, well-defined jaw is hidden. Upon closer inspection, one will also find a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.
Even now, he still dresses as he did in his youth. It’s mostly t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers, though he does have a nice suit jacket he busts out for special occasions. When it gets chilly, he resorts to heavy flannels and sweaters. While he isn’t one to accessorise, Cecil can often be seen wearing a knotted bracelet around his left wrist, made from intertwining strings in a rainbow of colors — a gift from his daughter.
ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔Cecil doesn’t ask for much in life — as long as he’s got his guitar, a cigarette, and his cat,
Wolfgang, he’s satisfied. Truly, he’s the kind of guy who knows how to find joy in the smallest things. You see, he firmly believes that you only have one life, and you’ve got to live it, otherwise what’s the point? There’s no such thing as mistakes in his mind, only learning curves and stories you can one day share with your grandkids. Cecil often states that no one should take life too seriously because in the end, everyone ends up in the same place.
The first thing most people see when meeting him is his spirit. Cecil has always been an energetic one, full of life and personality, though he
has mellowed out a little with age. As far as he's concerned, life's too short to sit around let shit just happen, it’s all about the now, and how you handle the people and things that surround you. If he likes something, chances are he’ll let you know it, and if he doesn’t, well, he’s never been shy about voicing his opinion in that matter as well. Try as he might, he’s never really had the best poker face in the world, and it tends to give him away more than not.
While he may not realise it himself, he
has picked up quite a few traits from his mother, one of which is self-reliance. He’s very independent, and hates asking for help, even when he needs it. It must also be said that Cecil’s ego can sometimes get the better of him. He has no issues justifying his own reasons for saying or doing what he wants, but can be quick to dismiss others when they try and do the same. Some may find him rather exhausting to deal with in that regard, though it’s not something he’s consciously aware of. When faced with conflict, he often finds himself playing mediator
to varying degrees of success, mostly because he can’t stand negativity.
ʜᴀʙɪᴛs
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔Cecil plays a lot of music. While he can’t exactly haul a grand piano up into Redwood, it’s almost as if he’s physically joined to his guitar. More often than not, you’ll find him fiddling with it, composing his own pieces. He’s very much influenced by jazz and classical guitarists, though he often incorporates folk elements into his work as well. Cecil’s music isn’t something he shares with everyone, but for those who show genuine interest, he’s more than happy to talk about it.
Cecil is a smoker, and has been for the past decade or so, though he’s not the type to start jonesing for a cigarette after a mere hour or two. What started as a way of dealing with the stresses of work has turned into more of a social habit, and hey, it’s a great conversation starter, too.
ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔If you were alive in the 70s, chances are you’d have heard of Analog. With the release of their hit single ‘Hot Heaven’, this five-piece band from the UK were suddenly found themselves catapulted into the stratosphere of worldwide fame, seemingly overnight. To say that they settled right into the hedonistic lifestyle of rock’n’roll stardom… well, that would be quite the understatement. Cecil was the result of a drunken liaison between Keith “Patch” Nichols, the lead guitarist of Analog, and Joanna, one of their countless, starry-eyed fans. Nine months after Analog’s sold-out show in Omaha, Cecil was finally brought into the world, beet-faced and bloody.
For much of his childhood, Cecil was raised by his grandparents. They were conservative, churchgoing folk, and disapproved of their daughter’s recklessness. Much like his father, Cecil was drawn to music, and showed a natural talent for it, at first plinking away at the piano with unusual finesse for a child his age, then picked up guitar a few years later. His mother was delighted by Cecil’s interest, and encouraged him to keep at it. His grandparents were less thrilled, clamping down on these tendencies as much as they could. Still, Cecil remained resolute, and soon, he even started playing some hymns for their local church.
Cecil’s first and only encounter with his father happened when he was eight years old. Up until then, everything he knew about the man had been what his mother told him. He often thought about what kind of person he was, and what he would say to him if they ever met. With Cecil in tow, Joanna drove five hours to where Analog would be performing later that night. The show was nothing like he’d ever seen — all the people, lights, and pyrotechnics, but what fascinated him the most was the man with the red guitar.
After the show, what went down backstage was something a lot less magical. A long shouting match ensued after Joanna demanded that Patch play his part as a father, or pay child support, at the very least. There was no question that Cecil was his son; their resemblance was unmistakable, but Patch refused to believe it. It was only after Cecil went off on a tirade in defense of his mother and threatened to kick him in the shins that Patch finally relented. Perhaps Patch sensed that things would soon get messy if he didn’t, or maybe his conscience got the better of him. Either way, that was that. Patch never wanted to be a father, never tried to involve himself in Cecil’s life, just did what he could to avoid a scandal.
From that day onwards, Cecil stopped thinking of his father as someone to be admired, to aspire to be. Everything went back to normal when they returned to Omaha, apart from the cheques they now received in the mail every month. Joanna soon got married to a lanky, bespectacled accountant by the name of Steve, and Cecil just sort of… did his own thing. The rest of his childhood and adolescence went by rather uneventfully. He’d always been a happy, well-adjusted kid who had no problem making friends, and his musical talent earned him quite the reputation among the school populace. He and his friends even started a band in their sophomore year.
Then, he graduated, went to college, got a 9-to-5 job, and did what everyone else his age was supposed to do. For years, fear of ending up like his father – the man who never spared him a second thought – dissuaded Cecil from chasing his dreams. He wanted to become a musician, to create art that would be remembered for decades, centuries to come. But with Cecil’s marriage to his high school sweetheart, and the birth of their daughter a year later, he was content to let his aspirations take the backseat, at least for the moment.
While the first few years were idyllic, it seemed their marriage was not built to last. Eventually, living with each other became more of a chore than a pleasure. Cecil hated his job, and often came home reeking of alcohol after a night out with his coworkers. His wife grew antsy, suspecting him of having an extramarital affair. Too many times, they would get into arguments that lasted late into the night, arguments that ended up waking their daughter. They tried to make things work, but marriage counselling didn’t help, and neither did talking things out. It all came to an unceremonious end when one night, his wife announced that she was leaving, and taking their daughter with her.
The divorce was finalized six months later. His wife was the one who got custody of their daughter, while Cecil was left with the scraps — visitation rights. The next couple of months resulted in something of a downward spiral for Cecil, but eventually, he realised that he needed to get it together. So, he quit his job, and with the money he’d saved up, moved to Silvervale, a quaint, little town just two hours away from where he lived. He’d heard of its reputation as a nesting ground for creative souls, and thought it would be a nice change of pace. Call it a midlife crisis, but his subsequent move into Redwood Apartments was the next natural step.
Now, Cecil earns his keep doing what he loves, playing at local bars, clubs, and hopes that he’ll be able to make it big someday. Even if he doesn’t, well, at least can say he gave it that old college try, right?
ᴇxᴛʀᴀ
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔Has a twelve-year-old daughter named
Ruby whom he visits on the weekends. She lives with her mother (and Cecil’s ex-wife),
Sarah, in the next town over.
