NAME: Benjamin Oscar Darling
AGE: 25
BIRTHDATE: April 2nd, 1992
HOMETOWN: Stoke-on-Trent, England
OCCUPATION: Personal Trainer
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single
HEIGHT: 5'7
WEIGHT: 180lbs
BUILD: Stocky, muscular
HAIR: Blonde
EYES: Blue
HANDEDNESS: Right
EDUCATION: Undergraduate degree in Physical Education from the University of Edinburgh
PARENTS: Richard & Philipa Darling
SIBLINGS: Eleanor Jane Bell (27), Lucy Annette Darling (16) and Sophie Helena Darling (16)
OTHER FAMILY: Abram Calloway (stepfather), Isaiah Calloway (stepbrother), Harvey Bell (brother in law), Tatiana Bell (niece)
MYERS-BRIGGS:
KINSEY SCALE: 3
AGE: 25
BIRTHDATE: April 2nd, 1992
HOMETOWN: Stoke-on-Trent, England
OCCUPATION: Personal Trainer
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single
HEIGHT: 5'7
WEIGHT: 180lbs
BUILD: Stocky, muscular
HAIR: Blonde
EYES: Blue
HANDEDNESS: Right
EDUCATION: Undergraduate degree in Physical Education from the University of Edinburgh
PARENTS: Richard & Philipa Darling
SIBLINGS: Eleanor Jane Bell (27), Lucy Annette Darling (16) and Sophie Helena Darling (16)
OTHER FAMILY: Abram Calloway (stepfather), Isaiah Calloway (stepbrother), Harvey Bell (brother in law), Tatiana Bell (niece)
MYERS-BRIGGS:
KINSEY SCALE: 3
Just a city boy, born and raised in Stoke-on-Trent.
None.
Uh, elevators.
In Ben's words:
George is... well, he's a ghost, for a start. A spirit. Whatever you want to call it - I call it a pain in the arse. You see what most ghosts want is to get their business over and done with, pass on their dying message of 'the diamonds are under the stairs' or something - which they never are, by the way. Some of these people have been floating around so long looking for someone to tell there isn't even a house there anymore and either their heirlooms are under ten foot of concrete or someone else has had them.
Anyway, George hasn't got a message to pass on. Or if he has, he's long since forgotten it. God only knows what it is he's trying to do, but he doesn't like the fact that he's dead, and instead of going gentle into that good night, he's decided my corporeal form is just ripe for the possessing. Despite the fact that I'm still using it.
I don't know a lot about him, not least because I think he's forgotten most of it himself. What I do know is that he at least thinks he was a knight of some kind and thinks he got killed by a witch. He likes drinking, a lot, but doesn't much enjoy paying bar tabs or dealing with hangovers so of course those are left down to yours truly. Another thing he's particularly fond of is... well, people, in general. The man will make a pass at anything with a pulse. Apparently he's 'charming', except that the people who say so aren't the ones who have to wake up next to a complete stranger and try to pretend they know how they got there.
From what I can tell, George was probably alive around about the twelfth century and died from eating something rotten or poisoned - hence why he thinks it was a witch. He probably died quite young, and I genuinely think that's a shame, because clearly he had a lot of life left in him. Though even if he is starting to be more considerate of the fact that I've still got things going on, eventually he's going to have to properly pass on like all the others.
... Isn't he?
George is... well, he's a ghost, for a start. A spirit. Whatever you want to call it - I call it a pain in the arse. You see what most ghosts want is to get their business over and done with, pass on their dying message of 'the diamonds are under the stairs' or something - which they never are, by the way. Some of these people have been floating around so long looking for someone to tell there isn't even a house there anymore and either their heirlooms are under ten foot of concrete or someone else has had them.
Anyway, George hasn't got a message to pass on. Or if he has, he's long since forgotten it. God only knows what it is he's trying to do, but he doesn't like the fact that he's dead, and instead of going gentle into that good night, he's decided my corporeal form is just ripe for the possessing. Despite the fact that I'm still using it.
I don't know a lot about him, not least because I think he's forgotten most of it himself. What I do know is that he at least thinks he was a knight of some kind and thinks he got killed by a witch. He likes drinking, a lot, but doesn't much enjoy paying bar tabs or dealing with hangovers so of course those are left down to yours truly. Another thing he's particularly fond of is... well, people, in general. The man will make a pass at anything with a pulse. Apparently he's 'charming', except that the people who say so aren't the ones who have to wake up next to a complete stranger and try to pretend they know how they got there.
From what I can tell, George was probably alive around about the twelfth century and died from eating something rotten or poisoned - hence why he thinks it was a witch. He probably died quite young, and I genuinely think that's a shame, because clearly he had a lot of life left in him. Though even if he is starting to be more considerate of the fact that I've still got things going on, eventually he's going to have to properly pass on like all the others.
... Isn't he?