#folklore (about)

There’s the obvious, of course.  Spiders, slow deaths, bizarre freak accidents, serial killers.

The deeper ones, the ones that twist your soul, well, maybe they used to know what they were but it’s a little hard to say now.  Or maybe they didn’t.  Maybe they should have.  Maybe they would have-

Anyway.

It’s hard to say, now, if those fears would be the same.  They’ve been a little too numb for a little too long to know if it’s still the old ones or if new ones have moved in.  Or so they like to tell themself.

They do, however, have a recurring nightmare.  

It goes like this:

They’re running down a dirt road, through a vaguely wooded area.  It’s hard to make out the exact surroundings – they aren’t focused on them.  They’re just focused on the road, on going as fast as they possibly can.  Their lungs are already burning, their legs already aching, but they don’t stop.  They can’t stop.

It’s a race, after all.

But there’s no one else around them.  Or behind them.  No evidence of any other competitors, except for the foot prints ahead of them that they follow.  The other runner isn’t visible, but it’s still a race.  They still have to run, they still have to try.  If they’re fast enough, maybe, maybe...

The finish lines comes into view, a stereotypical red ribbon stretched across the path, the ends stretching off into the distance.  And they’re almost there, they’re sure they’re almost there, and they reach for it, and

It crumbles away.  Like ash.  And falls to nothing.  And they find themself standing on the last of the footprints.

They can feel the spectators, then, as they start whispering.  It’s really too bad.  They did their best.  Really stuck it out.  Maybe if they’d just gotten started a little faster.  Such a shame.

Such a shame.

Such a shame.

And through all that, there’s a cold but gentle hand on their shoulder.  “It’s alright, Fri.  You’ll get it next time.”

Next time?

“I can’t do this again!  I can’t-”

“Next time, Fri.  You won’t let me down.”

...

Basics

Name: Freddie Lark

Age: 24

DOB: Feb 6, 1998

Sign: Aquarius (Gemini Moon)

Gender: Nonbinary

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Software Developer

Sleep Habits: Semi Nocturnal

Family: Presumably they have some, somewhere.

Height: 5′9

Build: Lanky

Some Details

Freddie appeared in Coolsville about two years ago, though it probably took around six months for anyone besides their landlord to notice they were there. 

 They never bothered to explain why they’d moved or chosen Coolsville in particular.  They actually seem to make every effort to avoid doing so, artfully deflecting or downright denying questions when someone actually gets the chance to ask.  The nearest offices for their company are in Cincinnati, but Freddie almost exclusively works from home.  All they need is their computer and an internet connection, after all. 

 Freddie is a software developer.  They are not, they will assure you, a hacker.  They are, however, an amateur digital forensics expert.  They’ve always had a mind for puzzles and mysteries - observant, logical, and diligent.  It started with an elective Freshman year and quickly spread out into a full minor alongside their computer science major.  If you really get them talking, they’ll tell you they thought about going into it professionally or going back for another, more focused degree.  They won’t tell you why they changed their mind. 

 It’s unusual to see them out before seven, and even when they do leave the house, they mostly keep to themself.  They’re not unfriendly if you speak to them, though their sense of humor can be a bit dark and they seem to have a knack for dodging questions.  Still, they’re a clever and attentive conversation partner, if you can get them to look up from whatever comic or book they’ve brought along for company.

Freddie’s approach to dealing with anything is a combination of wit, perseverance, and their somewhat kilter sense of humor.  It’s not mean, but it does tend toward a little dark, a little deadpan, and irreverent to a fault.  If they’ve got something to say, with rare exception, they’ll say it.

Freddie is not a put together person.  They always look vaguely disheveled and pretty tired.  They like to think it’s part of their charm.

Background

You must be a level four friend to unlock this backstory.

Aesthetic

Worn grey sweatshirts, cold fingers, rubber duck debugging, the sound of a rubber duck hitting a wall very hard, the sound of someone apologizing to a rubber duck, clenched jaws breaking way to brilliant smiles, you did not just say that, fourth cup of coffee and counting, playing brahms to focus on a project, furious typing, cranking up the fall out boy to finish the goddamn project, terrible jokes, perfectly poorly timed sarcasm, running off to prove a sudden break through, one second one second, okay look-, tired, knowing eyes, mac n cheese and chocolate milk, sitting upside down on a couch, standing with your face tilted to catch the rain

Playlist

Fire, Barns Courtney

Modern Jesus, Portugal the Man