Post by Emily on Sept 19, 2015 8:33:44 GMT -8
"As unoriginal as any other tale, as unique as any other life. Lives are snowflakes -- forming patterns we have
seen before, as like one another as peas in a pod (and have you ever looked at peas in a pod? I mean, really looked
at them? There's not a chance you'd mistake one for the another, after a minute's close inspection), but still unique."
-- Neil Gaiman, American Gods
Full name: William Brendan Byrne
Goes by: Will, Burnsy, Asshole
DOB, current age: 08/17/1992, 23
Occupation: Student at Shepherd University; third year, education (music); downtown busker
Immediate family: Alistair Byrne (father), Lauren White (mother, deceased)
Face: Charlie Winzar
Screen name: Any other tale
Webpage, optional: N/A
Story
"You're a wizard, William!"
Will's Hagrid impression needed work, but he was going for ridiculous as he recalled some of Alistair Byrne's first words to him for Shepherd University quadmates Miriam Roth and Ash Popov.
"Who the Hell does this guy think he is? 'Wizard.' My ass. Why couldn't he have just left me alone? I've done Goddamned fine without him for 23 years, now. It's a little too late for Take Your Bastard Son To Work Day, Dad. I'm not his personal Jon Snow. Do I look like Kit Harrington to you? Seriously, do I? Where's my smokin' hot redheaded wildling?"
And then it hit him. It all hit him. The university he didn't remember applying for. The scholarship he didn't remember being awarded. Will's brown eyes opened wide.
He grew up in King County, Washington's foster care system, never knowing home or family as it existed beyond sitcom television. The first place he can remember ever having felt like home to him was the music room where he started guitar instruction in middle school, thanks to some blue state agenda to better fund music education for low income public students.
All that he's ever had has been a name that someone he didn't know left him with, his guitar, some guy who used to get volunteer hour credit to pretend to be his Big Brother and an uncanny ability to piss people off with what comes out of his piehole.
Now he has a whole two friends, a baby cat that he's decided to call S.Mo (it's an inside joke -- you're not on the inside) and some limey who looks just like him in old photographs tricking him into a move to the UK, trying to get him to stay by teasing him with free higher education and trying to talk him into the idea that he's descended from some kind of lame fairy-lovers, too.
"Can I go back to Ballard, yet? God, I need a decent beer."
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