Former Turkey
Posts : 11
Join date : 2012-01-17
Age : 52
![Mr. Sadik Adnan||Turkey [Complete!] Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif) | Subject: Mr. Sadik Adnan||Turkey [Complete!] ![Mr. Sadik Adnan||Turkey [Complete!] Empty](https://2img.net/i/fa/empty.gif) Tue Jan 17, 2012 2:15 pm | |
| ~Your Character~![Mr. Sadik Adnan||Turkey [Complete!] 13448185_m](https://2img.net/h/i83.photobucket.com/albums/j308/Luna-da-dragon/13448185_m.jpg)
Name: Sadik Adnan [Commonly called “Turk”]
Age:
Birthday:
Country of Origin:
Floor in the building:
How long they've lived in the building:
Job: Veteran of War; Secondary School History Teacher
Powers: Regeneration and Time Manipulation
Appearance: Face
While there are many features that compose Sadik and great the unmistakable image of a man that he is, undoubtedly his facial qualities are most outstanding to anyone who sees him. A strong, angled jaw chizlse a shape of masculinity and undaunted power, sculpting at first glance the inner drive that the man possesses. Lining such a powerful, apparently youthful structure is a purposefully shaved and designed trickling stream of dark, stubbled hairs. The chin straps that lead from his sideburns to his somewhat pronounced chin age his otherwise deceptively young features, adding years to the face of the truly older Turkish man. A smile has curled its way onto Sadik's face, a rather pleasant look as it usually stands, though can spark into confidence, and intimidation within a moments notice. A single stress at one corner can change his look from kind to menacing, and he is completely aware of this change in appearance and mien. Sadik embraces his facial features, being a very expressive man, and does not let any part of his face not hold an emotion; however, he certainly knows how to keep a poker face, and how to be rigid, quiet, and disciplined when needed. Perhaps it is the definition in his strong cheeks, masculine on their own, that gives this rigid, obedience so much strength, that can change a man's presence with a simple straightening of a lip.
Or perhaps the reasoning could be seen in his eyes... if his eyes could easily be seen. Sadik is said to have brilliant, light green eyes that seem almost yellow in the right light, or appear emerald in the right darkness. However, very few people know for certain whether this is fact or not, as Sadik is rarely seen without his eyes and brow being hidden away by a white colored eye mask that shadows over his eyes oh-so-perfectly at times to the extent of making it appear as though he simply did not have eyes. As if this weren't curious enough, Sadik's eyebrow is also covered by this mask, sometimes making the reading of his emotions difficult if his mouth doesn't give away clue. Perhaps, though, he does this on purpose...
Sadik's hair is rich, thick, dark brown, essentially coal black color. The short-style flops, as though it were perfectly planned, in a very suiting manner atop Sadik's head. It was not cut long enough to hide any features of the Turkish man's rectangular face, but it was not so short that every little aspect of the man's head could be seen with a pair of spectacles and a pen. The soft, well-kept locks were perfect in the most unplanned event chain. His hair appeared wind-tossed, unbrushed, possibly greasy and uncared for from a certain distance; however, it's almost unavoidable to see just how perfect this intentionally messy, bed-head appearance fits Sadik very well. If hair could describe a man, then certainly this man's hair could it. Dark in color, uncared for, uncaring, unmoved by hair it came across, yet still soft, elegant, and fitting into the situation it was found; Yes, these were the man of Sadik. To add on to the image of Sadik's hear further, though, it would be important to note the location of a double hair curl off the back of his neck, looping its ends into two opposite directions before curling back up and in toward a think, strong neck.
Torso
Sadik's body is wrapped up and held together in a gorgeous creation of wondrous copper skin. Kissed by the sun throughout generations, Sadik is truly the result of mediterranean breeding and raising. His skin literally seems to have a shimmer to it, and it isn't from sweat or special body product, but simply the complexion of his skin. From the top of his head to the tips of his fingers, Sadik is undoubtedly tanned. His fingers, his hands, wrapped in this skin, do not possess the same beauty and glory as the rest of skin, though. His hands, large and seemingly clumsy in handling certain things such as jack buttons, zippers, needles and thread, and mechanical pencil lead, are very rough and very dry. They are calloused and worked, and occasionally bear a great deal of pain within the joints, leaving Sadik in a storm of curses toward is aging body.
Similarly, Sadik's feet seem to share the fate of his hands, being rough, tough, and dried skin. He does not take poor care of his skin, certainly not to this extent, but when one is constantly wearing heavy boots, one's feet tend to become very rough and very worn. Sadik is no exception this. Unlike his hands, Sadik has oddly soft cheeks. In fact, all of the skin on Sadik's face is unexpectedly soft and smooth. The only inference to this would seem to be the cloth coverings that he always needed during his work to muffle the sound of his breathing and eliminate other factors that would prevent his invisibility in the field.
As previously stated, there are many features that compose Sadik. One of the most crucial, especial in the position he's in at the moment, is his physical strength. Sadik is built like a soldier, made to survive and endure through the toughest circumstances the field can present. Weighing 82 kilograms and having the ability to carry it all is not easy, especially joints and bones and muscles that occasionally decide that aging is a perfectly good reason to destroy one's strength. Sadik's body is a pillar of strength and control, condition from a young age to be both lean and muscular, if such an explanation makes sense. His shoulders, broad and strong, could hold the weight of the world on them with little struggle; certainly they could lift another person and sling them, be it gracefully or mindlessly, over his shoulder.
There's also an advantage in his height in such an instance... not that it's a common one... But, strong shoulders are nothing without a strong chest to support it, and Sadik undoubtedly is strong not only in his broad chest, but also in his worked and hardened abdomen. His arms, too, have a good deal of muscle to them, his left arm being generally stronger than his right due to hand dominance. With so much muscle, though, it's hard to say that Sadik is a thin and trim fellow; in fact, beneath the layers of clothes that he's often found wearing, he looks like he's rather bulky, almost chubby. But, peeling back layers, it's clear to see the muscle, the strength, and in a way, the tribulations that Sadik had to face in his life, either of his own accord, to for the people he served.
Clothing
Sadik is a man of the land, or at least a man who can blend with the land. Having to be accustomed to being one with his surroundings in the most literal sense, Sadik quickly found a fondness in wearing neutral colored clothing and very earth-rich toned colors. Darker and muted greens, browns and tans of any sort are right up his alley and he's more likely to be in such colored clothing than anything bright and outlandish. The goal is survival of the fitness, not survival of the fab-est. Sadik can be seen wearing a thick, long trench coat of a darker green color, adorned with a few of the medals and admonishments of his status in the Turkish Armed Forces. Beneath this outer layer, though, is a simple, black shirt, usually a wife-beater of sorts or a form of under-armor, something to wear for the rare occasions in which he removes his trench coat. That isn't to say that he wears it twenty-four, seven, Sadik just as the tendency to wear the coat in the presence of others. Continuing his earthy trend, the Turk wears a pair of cargo pants, a dark beige in coloration and stretchy fabric, making them perfect for moving with ease. He tucks the bottom of his pants into the top of a pair of long, thick black boots, as strong and sturdy as he is despite the wear and tear they've faced. Around his neck he wears a beige scarf, nothing special, just something that he enjoys that reminds him of his time as an assassin, a more joyful era for him. Tucked away beneath the scarf and the buttons of his trench coat, he wears two necklaces, one concealing dog tags for identification, and the other being a special, religious necklace to him, an Ayat al Kursi symbol.
Everyone tends to break their own rules, and he is no exception, as on his face he wears a white mask, covering his eyes and his brow. It breaks the norm of his earthy tone and is quite outstanding, not subtle at all, yet he is always seen with it on. At times, he wears it when he sleeps, almost as a precaution. He also has a red hat in his possession, known as a fez, but he doesn’t wear it all that often.
But for work, the Turk’s attire changes quite drastically. Cargo pants are replaced with dark, chocolate brown dress slacks, a perfect length and almost slimming fit on the large-built man. His pants cover the black and yellow argyle long-socks he wears beneath his black dress shoes, shined and very impressive looking in his own opinion. Tucked into his slacks is a forest-green long sleeved shirt, kept at a perfect length with belted sleeve garters. The collar of his shirt holds a silver-colored tie, which, like his white mask, is a somewhat bold, outlandish statement on his part. This tie, though, is partially concealed, as it tucks into the body of a tan-themed two-tone dress vest, the front of which is pin-striped and the back of which is solid, the seamline found at the shoulders and sides dividing the patterns.
Regardless, though, Sadik wears his white mask.
You can see his attire here, the dapper thing it is.
Personality: First Sight
First impressions are often the most difficult thing in the world to portray correctly. In Sadik's case, though, that is only partially true. Upon first meeting the Turkish man, one would find his more obvious features-- the slight scowl that formed from his lips, his supposedly naturally furrowed brow peeking through his mask, his stature tall and strong, the epitome of pride-- to probably be the most convenient manner of judging how the man acts. It is true that Sadik comes off to be very cold and impersonal, always seeming to be watching with a very critical eye over everything around him that people do. He tends to scoff and scowl over things that don't really concern him due to a disapproval he has of the person or of the event. Tall and looming, Sadik has a naturally foreboding presence and a tendency to seem extremely deadly or vicious, especially behind the darkened holes in his mask. His face is more often strict and indifferent, a stone of intimidation and judgment, making him the picture of discomfort in situations of genial conversation and general kindness. But, standoffish and cold are not all the qualities that seem to outline the tall Turkish man, as his features are not always the same as mentioned before. There are times, admittedly very common occurrences, where Sadik can have the slightest, most arrogant smirk on his face, be it out of amusement or out of real pride. Sadik has an extremely confident air about him, and very rarely is he seen without his back straight and his chest strong and a certain strength in his face that shows his unbending confidence, swelling through every ounce of his being.
In Reality
Sadik is a very proud man. Like any other man, he needs to have his pride and needs and ego to stroke once in a while. But Sadik seems to be a little... too proud at times. He could find near anything to brag about, from the color of his lawn versus his neighbor, to how his coat was in perfect condition despite the hardships it's seen. Generally speaking, he doesn't do it to be irritating, he just has this natural drive to show his pride in the things that he possess or acts with. Should one choose to stomach all the insanity and aggravation that might ensue from listening to Sadik's bragging, they might surely find that beneath that layer of arrogance is actually a very well-humored man who, despite his pride and desire to be the greatest person possible, can really take a joke. He can tell the difference between a person mocking him and someone just having fun and goofing off, and he knows how to react to both. Though he might not seem to be the happiest in response to either of these instances, he will usually reply to them with a life, though it may be a wry, forced laugh.
Sarcasm is often met with a return of sarcasm, and not in a way to be rude, but to both acknowledge that he understood the person's sarcasm and to help him curve an underlying anger or annoyance with the person. He tries very, very hard to not snap on people, after his history of mistreating those closest to him, and tries to keep almost any one around him as close as possible. However, if someone opposes him-- that is to say, if someone tries to argue with his point of view in a downsizing manner, or even attempts to dissuade his pride in something, they will be met with the utmost contempt. Sadik does not try to stop himself from metaphorically chewing off the heads of the people he considers to be ignorant and rude, and if the right words are used, that can be almost anyone.
Sadik can't help it, but he gets riled up very easily, especially over little things that don't seem to matter to anyone except for him. He will fight, almost immediately, to defend his case. One word of opposition might put him on edge a bit, replying quickly but gently the justification of his pride or his view point or his statement, but the second to umpteenth time after that will only be met with aggravation, loud voices and an unwavering wall of Turkish will power.
Sadik has this natural desire to compete, and it honestly pushes him to be better than everyone around him. It's not an arrogant drive, but simply one of self-improvement. If there's anything that Sadik hates, it's being upstaged by someone, especially if that person isn't trying or doing anything significant. He may not enjoy taking second-best, but if his competitor fairly earned first, he'll accept it with the goal, desire, and need to be the best the next time. He conditions himself for success, strives for victory, and often will be quick to accept challenges his gut tells him he'll win. His sense of competition has helped him discern what battles to choose, and which to hold off on, but never has he walked away from a challenge or backed down when the going got rough. The harder Sadik has to push, the more of a rush he gets, and the more he feels compelled toward victory, and toward utterly demolishing his competition. From a simply game of rock-paper-scissors to a battle to the death, Sadik will be up for the challenge. The only notice of his possible uncertainty in the outcome comes from when he scowls upon accepting the challenge.
Deep Within
Despite all of the indications of Sadik being a narrow minded, self centered, arrogant, proud, self-absorbed man, there is yet another side to Sadik that isn't something he chooses to very openly share. This side of him, much gentler, softer, and unique from what he shows, is almost like the humanity that had been taken from him when he served in the war. Sadik, unbeknown to many a person, is very morose within his mind and his heart. He is plagued by so many regrets and apologies and so many things of the like that it's almost as if he has no room for the joy and personality that he shows on a regular basis. He acknowledges all the horrible things he's done in the past, and they haunt him with every passing moment. He humbles himself, but only internally, because it's the only way to let go of the pain, to avoid the tragedy, and to escape the painful memories that still refuse to relieve him of his turmoil.
Sadik is not a person who is easily trusting. He may be able to easily attach himself to someone, but he isn't a person who will confide in others his deepest thoughts and feelings and secrets on a whim. Trust is very difficult to gain with the Turkish ex-soldier, but it is very easy to sever as well. He does not easily open these inner qualities to people, not even those who served with him all during his military career were unaware of the depth of Sadik's soul. He is a man who would try to find a bloodless war if at all possible, but yet has no fears of death. If anything, he embraces and welcomes death to himself, always to be denied the company of such a cold guest. Sadik is very interested in death. It's not something to he fears, but not something at he understands either: he knows what death is and how people tend to die, but he isn't exactly familiar with what one experiences at their deathbed.
Sadik never bothered to worry of the act of dying, at least in a fearful way. The feeling, yes, the sensation, chilling, but the act was never a worry. This is due to two major factors of Sadik's hidden life. For one, Sadik is actually a very religious person. He prays every day, even if not as often as he'd like. He's open to listening to the salvation and protection and advice that Allah can give to him, and pledges his undying devotion to Allah, keeping faith in check in during a hellish experience. The second factor that protects Sadik, though, is quite different, and this is actually his newest job. Going from being Battle-Born to a teacher isn’t necessarily the smoothest transition, but Sadik’s students give him such hope for world and for the future.
But this is also because Sadik is very much a family man. He had to grow up with a large family, as the eldest child and the caretaker for all his brothers and sisters, and is therefore always joyful to see children or families, or siblings getting along. He’s not the type to spoil a child-- or at least, not his students. While he isn’t hard on his students, he does believe that they need to be challenged, and this actually does coincide with his view of parenting. Nothing in life is given away, except for the love of a family.
When very, very close to Sadik, he is likely to refer to that someone as a cousin to him.
Likes: + Sweets
+ His Homeland
+ Competition
+ Cute Things
+ Alcohol/drinking
+ Being in Good Company
+ Talking with the children he's taught/is teaching
+ Collecting old weaponry
+ Bellydancing
Dislikes: - People who close-mindedly argue
- Some types of beer
- Having the feeling of solidarity and abandonment
- Being led to believe everything he's done is for naught and there is no purpose to his actions.
- Brats; Childish behavior and schools of thought
-Throwing his back out
- Drugs; People who overdose
Any other information: Mask - If anyone asks about his mask, he’ll give different reasons as to why he wears it. No two people have heard the same excuse from him, apparently.
Languages - Due to where he was raised and his need to travel, Sadik knows in order of fluency, Turkish, Arabic, English, Greek, and German. He knows a little French, but it's more of a slang-fad in Turkey.
Cooking - Sadik takes enormous pride in his cooking, and the history of cooking in his culture. If you see him cooking a lot... it's all for him.
Keep it Classy - Exterior appearance, on a personal level, is obscenely important to Sadik, which is why even though the point of his beard is to be rugged, it's trimmed and managed.
Mister Mumbles - It's not so much that Sadik mumbles, he just doesn't speak with the greatest clarity in the world, especially in one on one conversations. As if that isn't bad enough, he has this sort of... I wouldn't say verbal tick, but a habit of ending certain sentences with a bit of a airy grunt, a rough "huh" sound. If it's heard and not supposed to be part of a question, it's just his grunting.
Pardon the Puns - Mr. Adnan is, actually, quite well-known among his students for being a horribly punny man. He's the type of person to hide his humor, though, not make it dreadfully obvious. Because of his rather serious outer shell, his jokes can often be missed, but he absolutely loves to throw in little word puns. It's incredibly amusing, I ashure you.
History: Birth
Istanbul was perhaps one of the most exciting places in Turkey during the 1970s, filled with excitement, festivals, business, and just general country pride. To add to all the pleasures of cities, for one particular family, there was also the arrival of a newborn son. Born October 29, 1970, Sadik Adnan was the first child born to Bayram and Burcu Adnan. He was a healthy child, welcomed into the world after six hours of labor, and was born without an ailment or a disorder. Such news was unbelievably joyful for the older couple, who had tried for five years to have a child with no success. Sadik was an answer to their prayers, a miraculous first-born son sent to them from Allah. His family was relatively well off, Bayram working with the government in a line of work that he never knew when he was younger. But that's not to say that Bayram was not a good father, as he was very loving and caring father, especially to Sadik, but to this day he cannot remember the sound of his father's voice, and only vaguely recalls what the man looked like.
Sadik really began to learn about his father when he was about four, during the Coup D'etat of 1980 in Turkey. With the large struggle taking place, and the inevitable control by the Turkish Armed Forces, it was only a matter of time before Sadik discovered his father's involvement in the government was made apparent. Sadik's father was a member of the Turkish Armed Forces, a greatly respected member at that, praised for his devotion, patriotism, and ability to separate personal thought from necessity of matter. However revolutionary and necessary the Coup D'etat of 1980, the third coup under the Republic, it was undoubtedly violent, but this was simply accepted and allowed to run its course. Everyday, Sadik's father said the same thing as he tucked his son into bed. "Any day now, things will be better, things will be peaceful. I can't have my son growing up in chaos, can I?" and he'd kiss Sadik's forehead and let him sleep, dreaming of a peaceful world where his father would always be home and his family would be happy.
This did not work as Sadik imagined it. Getting the news was probably the most awkward part of all it; after all, there's no way it could be true. He promised that everything would be better... but this was going to make everything worse. All at once, everything was gone; hope was void, peace was nullified. How was Sadik supposed to grow up with his father? How was he supposed to get along without the one thing that made everything in his life make sense? And he didn't even say goodbye... He was just dead, shot during one of the uprisings at the beginning of 1982. But Sadik wasn't angry at his father's death, which he mourned silently for a long time, he was hurt and frightened. His mother had just given birth to a second child, and without her husband, and having to stay home to care for an infant with but a twelve-year-old child, young and still in school. So eventually, she met a man who came to live with the family. Immediately, Sadik felt a threat to his family and his home. This man would have to compete for his mother's attention.
All Sadik knew is that this new man was not his father. He wasn't married to his mother, and he wasn't his biological father, he wasn't Coskun father, and he wasn't going to let anyone make the mistake of thinking otherwise. He didn't trust the man, he didn't like him, and he knew for a fact that if the man so much as gave his mother anything but a soft word, Sadik would personally end him. Often times, the young boy would find himself up late, hearing his mother and this man together in the room beside him, during which time he'd take his younger brother from his crib and cuddle him close, whispering to the infant and to himself about how he was going to kill the man, and he swore that he would one day. The man was gone in the mornings before Sadik woke up and was back at night, always laughing and making his mother make loud noises. He couldn't explain it, but he simply didn't like this, and he never gave this man anything except the utmost contempt. But at the same time, his dear mother had told him to listen to and obey this new man, which Sadik did without question in respect for his mother. Soon enough, there was another issue that appeared in Sadik's life-- a third child. All at once, Sadik's raged reached it's peak and the next time that Sadik saw this man, he made his intentions clear. If this man ever touched his mother in such a way again, he would regret it. Sadik swore to his face that he go to him in the dark of some dreadful night, just as the man felt safe and secure, and he would make him stop. No one would touch his family and get away with it.
Sure enough, the man did touch his mother again, about a year after the announcement of the third child. By now Sadik had figured out that the sounds that his mother made in the dead of night was the sounds of sexual pleasure. Sadik kept his word to this, and as the man snuck into the kitchen, going to get food, the young Sadik followed him, pulling himself on the counter behind the fridge. Turning to see the small, tan skinned child looking at him with large eyes, the man was taken by shock and asked what he was doing up so late. Sadik explained that he couldn't sleep and, seeing as his mother was sound asleep and his father was dead, this man would have to do for comfort and conversation. The man sighed, clearly bothered by this line of thought, but agreed as he ate. Sadik simply explained that his father would always give him a hug when he wasn't able to sleep at night and asked for nothing but that. The man seemed to silently question why he would do that, but complied, putting his plate of food to the side and going to Sadik on the counter and spreading his arms to embrace him. Sadik hung his head, but seemed to lean toward the man who loomed over him to embrace him. Sadik grabbed his arms, refusing to let him wander. There was this look in Sadik’s eye, in the eye of a child, the look of true malice. "You'll leave here, now, and you'll never come back. And the only contact you'll keep with my mum is sending her money to help the four children you're leaving behind." Was Sadik's warning. Frightened of but a child, the man agreed, swearing that he'd leave and that Sadik would never need to see him again. He left that night. But he was leaving five—not four-- children behind.
With the dismissal of this man, Sadik very quickly became the man of his house. He took care of his mother, his younger siblings, and was essentially the breadwinner for the house, even at his young age. Granted his "winning" of bread and income was usually through stealing, he did work when he could, shining shoes, sweeping floors, cutting grass, anything to make a dollar. But there was something missing from the picture of what he expected the family would be like without the man that his mother had turned to after his father's death. His mother was extremely depressed, and barely would leave her room, let alone the house. In fact, saying that Sadik was in charge of the house was very much an understatement. His participation in school became very sporadic, depending on whether his mother would be able to take care of the younger children or not. What was it that was depressing her so? She had her family and she always said that she loved her family more than anything...
Finally, when Coskun was a little bit older, he shed some light on the subject. While Sadik was away at school, or "working", the mother would be crying, and sobbing. She was depressed because of Sadik, her miracle child, becoming such a vexation, a curse. She had received a letter in the mail that included a very great sum of money, from the man who had left, along with a note explaining exactly why he had left, including Sadik's attack. Sadik's mother hated him; she hated her son who, just as she believed she had found another man to help the small family, help her, get along, Sadik took it from her. He was a curse. What was more, Coskun... agreed with her... They had a chance at a normal family, with a mother and a father and siblings... and now that was ruined ad would probably never get better. Sadik, of course, was overcome by the rejection of his family, the only thing he ever cared about...
But he did not reply to this realization with tears and apology, but with bitterness and harshness. He yelled at his brother, telling him that if he wanted their mother to be married to some scumbag who'd treat her like nothing more than a sex object, so be it. He'd leave their mother to do as she wished, but as long as he was living at home and bringing home money, he was equally in charge of the kids. He had to be the man of the house now.
Growing up
So Sadik grew up being in charge of his house, and not with much love and compassion. He was very serious with his family affairs, with almost everything around the house that he did, but he swore both to himself and to his family that he loved them more than anything. There were plenty of times, though, when Sadik attempted to have a laugh with his family, with his mom and Coskun especially, but they rarely responded with such amusement as his half-siblings did. One child in particular, Serhat, the oldest of Sadik's half-siblings, loved Sadik very much. He would follow Sadik around the house, and often times try to follow him to school or out to the market place, but Sadik would only let him come when the whole family was going out for a market day. The hardest part for him in the house, though, was that he gave his mother freedom. She was happier, and seemed to be warming up to Sadik more and more everyday, slowly rebuilding the relationship they had, but that was still far away. Burcu was often gone during the night time, leaving Sadik with the children, but now she was home and functioning during the day to care for the young ones while Sadik was at school or work. He never questioned, but he knew what she did; he wasn't ashamed, though, as Sadik knew that at this point, anything to get money would help, especially since the letters from the last man had stopped.
Sadik was a very good student in school, very devoted to his studies and very serious in classroom settings. He would often get into arguments with classmates on various things, and would not relent until they either admitted he was right or could not argue any longer. Sports were also something interesting to have Sadik in. Any sport he participated in, he played to be the best. Nothing was going to keep him down, no one should be able to beat him. However, not ever sport was very interesting to him, and soon enough, he'd drop it, also having to work more as he got older. Eventually he settled on wrestling. There was something about the aggression, self-improvement, competitiveness, but also the comradery and closeness that the sport offered that simply made Sadik love it. Wrestling was the one constant in Sadik's life from age nine to eighteen, and perhaps one of the only things that really kept him going to school.
It's not that he disliked school or did poorly, he simply had more important matters to attend to. And he never really had an intention of going to college, not with the condition of his family. Besides, Sadik had made some great friends and got do a great deal of traveling with the wrestling team. They were never more than a day or two trip, which could put Sadik's mind at ease while he was away. At one point, he had the opportunity to go to Greece, which he took up solely because of the wrestling team. While exploring the city, he happened across a young man, definitely younger than he was, who he just had a rivalry with from first sight. It's highly possible that the two of them don't even remember what their first argument was, but to Sadik all that matters is this young man, A Greek, would grow up to be a constant vexation in his life.
It can not be said with real confidence that Sadik was ever a "boyfriend" in a dating sense. However, that's not to say that he didn't enjoy intimacy during his youth. With prostitution legal in Turkey, it wasn't difficult to find a good harem in his area. He had the money, even more so when he was in his mid to late teens, so payment was never an issue. He became a regular at one particular harem, visiting at least thricely in a weeks passing. Besides that there was a brothel that he visited on occasion where a barccha would satisfy some urge inside him that he found odd at first, but soon grew to embrace as just another one of the characteristics that made him human-- this was a trait bestowed upon him by Allah, and therefore there was nothing wrong with it. However, though Sadik enjoyed the pleasures and services of the men and women of the Pillowing World, he soon came to discover a horrible truth that would change his treatment toward the harems. A man does, after all, begin to treat situations different when his family is directly involved.
Yes, Sadik knew that his mother was a prostitute; he wasn't ashamed of this fact, there was no shame in doing what it took to get money. If anything, it made Sadik treat prostitutes with more respect than most people would. But when he discovered that his youngest singer, Ferah, was involved in a brothel, a flip in Sadik's head went off. Sadik never serviced a brothel or a prostitution service of any sort from that moment on and, though he did try to remove Ferah from the system, she personally refused.
At the age of eighteen, Sadik enrolled in the Turkish Armed Forces. (The age of eligibility for volunteer service in Turkey begins 1 January of the year that the candidate will turn nineteen.). It had always been his intention, every since he discovered his father's role in it. Even after his father's death, Sadik showed nothing but love and support for his country. Through good times and bad, change in government, change in foreign relations, no matter what occurred within the country of Turkey, Sadik believed without a shadow of a doubt that it was for the inevitably good of the country. He proudly flew the Turkish flag on a pole in front of the house, and he always greeted government officials, members of the armed force and so on with nothing but pure respect. He would brag about the greatness of his country, and would defend it when others spoke slander. Sadik was a through-and-through patriot, and this showed during his enrollment period and training.
While many of the young men who had enlisted dropped within the first few weeks, Sadik did not, keeping true to his goal for his country, for his sanity, and for his family. For he knew that being in the Armed Forces allowed for certain privileges for his family...
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During his time in the Armed Forces, Sadik was very serious about what he did, and was very good. Though working as one of the team was not something he enjoyed, he still did it, though he was often a radical in warfare. He would stray from battle plans and sometimes go with his gut before his commanding officer, but he always took up punishments with no complaints and listened attentively to everything said to him. After a while, he did not go against orders, but would always tell his officers that he didn't agree with their battle plans. One particularly short-tempered commander lost his patience with the proud young Turk, exclaiming that if he was so certain that the commanders line of attack was so flawed, that Sadik himself should draw up a plan.
Taking the man literally, despite being aware of his sarcasm, Sadik drew out his plan. The commander rejected the plan, issuing his own (which Sadik still follwed, now without question), but the commander showed his Lieutenant the specs. The word traveled through the higher-ups that this young patriot did, in fact, have a very good plan, but he needed to learn discipline. It took one stern conversation, telling Sadik to straighten out or leave, that turned him around. He never disobeyed an order given to him, but always utilized the opportunity to use his own discretion.
After the Service
Life after being in the Armed Forces was extremely difficult at first. Sadik had been in the forces from the age of eighteen to the age of thirty-three, and most of his service was involved in the Turkey-PKK Conflict, which began not long before Sadik lost his father. The conflict lasted ten years from the time of his official induction in 1989 to the ceasefire of 1999. In 2003, Sadik was discharged following the 2003 Istanbul Bombing, which Sadik was not only present for, but also injured in, though not critically so.
As soon as Sadik had left medical attention following the bombing, he was set with the difficult task of trying to adjust to normal life again. For some time, he returned to live with his family in Istanbul. Much to his joy, he was welcomed back with hugs and a great deal of love, especially from his mother and from Serhat. Coskun had moved out while Sadik was away, having served his conscription and got out as soon as he could, and Ferah had gotten married, but lived in the area. This sense of joyful return made things much easier on the Turk, but things weren’t… exactly right despite this.
It is hard to explain, but Sadik felt a greater anxiety in the “normal” world than he did as a soldier. He had received wounds in battle, he had had grenades nearly deafen him, but in it all there was a sense of control and familiarity. Normal life, especially something as simple as traversing about the bazaar, was a faint memory for Sadik now, and there was nothing controlled about it. It was hectic, it was loud, and it was frightening.
On more than one occasion, Sadik found his heart racing, his body breaking into a sweat, and his eyes rushing over everyone. There was danger in the market, no matter where he looked. The man by the fruit stall could have a firearm readied to attack, the woman standing with the pottery stall could have a knife concealed on her person with ease. In some depth of his mind, Sadik felt a twanging sense of guilt that he was so quick to assume the worst in people, but on the forefront, the worst is what he knew. Sure, he knew that these people were law-abiding Turks—hell, most of them had finished their eight to fifteen months of conscription and knew what horrors were out there—but one cannot shut off how their mind has learned to work for fifteen years with great ease.
It got worse, though, for a little while. Sadik would wake in the middle of the night, rolling from his bed and sneaking carefully into his living room, a firearm in his hand. His General warned him to stay low and stay quiet, that if they were going to get the drop of the enemy, they’d have to be unseen. With a low voice, he told his commanding General he understood, holding his firearm safely in his hand. He cocked the gun, peeking his head over his couch, when a voice called to him. Immediately, Sadik turned, aiming his firearm at his youngest brother, completely ready to fire at him.
And that was just one small incident. Many times, in large places, especially near the synagogues, Sadik would get these flashes. One moment, he’s walking around, just find and dandy, the next… He could hear screams, he could feel the ground quake as the explosion set off, he could see the expressions of agony that he couldn’t help. Fires ripped at the burning carcasses of the trucks, and sirens shattered the deafening screams of shock and panic…
The only thing Sadik could ask was why he couldn’t move, why he had to be so tortured as to watch his kinsmen suffer. In anguish, he’d let out a scream. In a panic, having fallen to the ground by a force he couldn’t pinpoint, he could see a figure approaching him. The figure did not associate with him, but was speaking, saying something that he could barely understand, but he knew that he head the word “success”. So, desperately, Sadik forced his his body to move, grabbing at the figure, only to find a man being pulled down at his grasp and a horde of people suddenly holding his body back, his forehead in sweats.
But it wasn’t one or two instances. They kept repeating, getting worse and worse with each time. His house would be under attack by Kurds, the market was in danger of another bombing, and each time more people “died” as Sadik froze in his own weakness. Soon, he would avoid public places, he would avoid anything with loud sounds, as he noticed that he was always jumpy around them, he would even avoid his home. The pub became his home, alcohol his lover, cigarettes and hookah his family.
To cut a long story short, Sadik had been diagnosed with stress disorder known as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. In reality, it wasn’t a shock to Sadik, he had been in a bombing and got out with only relatively minor wounds. Over fifty people had died, and over seven hundred were injured; it made sense that he’d have some after-effect. There were, of course, ways to help ease him back into things, help him to cope with this PTSD.
Thankfully, the symptoms of PTSD were noticed early on, which meant that he had a greater likelihood to recover. After getting together with a therapist from England, Sadik began several different types of treatment, the best of was a cognitive-behavioral therapy, in which he was gradually exposed to the elements of his trauma, forcing him to face them and conquer his internal fears. The more sessions he attended, the better he felt, and soon his therapist said he was ready to associate with the world again, though his sessions would still be necessary.
A New Era
A few months before his thirty-fifth birthday, Sadik applied to Middle East Technical University in Ankara, where he earned his bachelor’s in History and Secondary Education, receiving his teaching certificate at the age of thirty-seven.
Throughout this time, Sadik had continued his trauma sessions and got to a point where his therapist believed that he was, more or less, cured of his trauma. It would be something that would be with him for a long time, no doubt, but it wasn’t something that would plague him like it had.
All the same, Sadik kept in contact with his therapist, as he was rather fond of her, finding her to be a good friend to him and someone he was indebted to. Near the end of his first year as a teacher, working in Ercis, he received a letter from his therapist stating that a friend of hers, a principal at a school in London, was going to be in need of, who would’ve guessed, a new history teacher. So Sadik made his way to England, whereon he was interviewed for his position. After a few weeks, during which time Sadik had stayed at a hotel in West Minster, Sadik received a call, informing him that the position was his.
Not too long after, Sadik began to find a place in the area where he’d be able to move into, finding a quaint building with a flat that would be perfect for him. After returning to Turkey, gathering his things, and moving in, Sadik fell in love with the students he came to teach in England. It became a place he was happy to be, though he’d always miss home. In a way, England was better for him. It wasn’t as loud as the streets could be in Turkey, and things were peaceful in the area he was in.
Details of their powers: Regeneration
As the name very aptly states, Sadik possess the ability of regeneration. This means that in the event that any harm comes to Sadik, his body is able to heal it. This ability cannot be used on others, and it is limited. A minor wound can heal in a matter of moments, under a minute to about five depending on the size. Broken bones can be healed within an hour, unless the bone breaks through the skin, which takes just a little longer. Potentially mortal wounds can, externally, heal quickly, but the internal damage will remain for up to five hours.
The only time that this ability cannot work properly is if Sadik's heart, which temporarily stopped during the lightening strike, is damaged in any way. If his heart is damaged, all energy is focused solely on the heart, which is the most difficult thing for his body to heal.
As a result of the lighting strike, you see, Sadik's cells were literally electrified and supercharged. Because of this, the life process of Sadik's cells is greatly and oddly altered. The life span of the cells is expanded significantly, but the multiplication rate of the cells is changed. Unless damage is sustained, Sadik's cells do not multiply, and when they do, it's only where needed. So when cells do die, they are replaced, and when they're damaged, they're replaced.
Time Manipulation
The sound of the ability seems like it's something out of Prince of Persia, but it is surely Sadik's ability and very unique to him. As its name suggests, Sadik can control the flow of time-- sort of... There are four manners in which Sadik can control the ribbon of time, previously untouchable by human effort.
The first control that he holds is the ability to hasten. With this ability, Sadik can increase the speed at which everything around him moves. He, himself, will move at a relatively "normal" speed in comparison, though he is unseen by things and people moving around him. He cannot keep this ability running for long, or it will exhaust him to a point where he will black out, or at least be in a drunken state.
The second control that he possess is the ability to stop the flow of time, himself excluded. It's a beautiful ability, really, but also one that someone like Sadik, who though an adult, has an awfully childish mindset, would abuse it. Thankfully, restriction exist for this too. Sadik is only able to keep a pause of time for what would be equal to two minutes, if time had been moving. However, the closer that Sadik gets to two minutes of holding, which he must consciously do, the more fatigued he becomes. With practicing, he believes that he would be able to extend this time, but for now, two minutes is the maximum time he can pause before blacking out.
If hasten is one of Sadik's abilities, it only makes sense for the ability to impede being another. Similar to hasten, Sadik can slow down the course of time. This ability requires great amounts of concentration on Sadik's part. If his mind so much as strays off his current task, time will return to its regular pace and Sadik will be unable to use his time manipulation for some time. Also similar to hasten, impede can only be used for a short amount of time, lest Sadik experience exhaustion.
Sadik's most powerful ability of Time Manipulation is a sort of time reversal. By "most powerful", though, one should not believe that this is control that he has the most control over; rather, it's the power he has the least control over. It is, though, the strongest that he has. Because of how much power Sadik's ability to reverse time contains, the control is more like a time leap than a reversal. Sadik, in reality, has very little control over the power and, therefore, upon attempting to use it, often finds himself being blown far into the past, sometimes blasted centuries into the past. To return to his present, though, is a bit complicated, and Sadik isn't even sure how he's able to do it. From his previous experience of leaping, though, he knows that the minute he tried to use any other time manipulation, or even if his body tried to regenerate, he found himself forced back into his own time.
A shame really... the past is always much more fun.
RP Sample:
( From Midnight Hour, a Persona/Hetalia cross. )
Secrets.
Like poison slipped in a wine glass, they were impossible to identify until it was too late. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone had they own glass to drink out of, and each was thick with poison. Some people had an immunity to it, though, and continued to drink without the faintest hint of weariness or discontent. Others, though, were victims to the claws of fate; though once blissfully unaware of what they were served, they find themselves teeming with pains of betrayal, and the death of trust. Yes, secrecy often led to the downfall of those involved, merciless and impersonal.
Sadik enjoyed bearing this cup, though. It was a sweet one for him, filled with raki rather than wine, and regardless of the poisonous undertones, he would pleasantly indulge. Everyone had secrets; they were, essentially, the backbone of society. Every country had its secrets, every city in that country, every town and citizen, young or old, and Sadik was no exception. He was a proud young man, very much so, and rarely showed shame for any of his actions or principles. To him, secrets were not things that he didn't want people to know, but rather things that he wouldn't outright tell people. If one asked about a secret Sadik held, sure, he'd share it. Perhaps not in the detail one'd like, but in the detail he felt they deserved.
It was, however, no secret that Sadik could be very nosy about certain things, and it didn't take long for the newer student to become interested in the comings and goings of one Lars van Wubble. It wasn't so much his constant in-and-out habits that drew in Sadik's attention, though, as much as the flowers. Perhaps Lars was trying to hide them and failing, but Sadik always noticed them. Of course, the prevailing question remained of where he kept these plants. It was unbelievable that all the plants Sadik had watched him walk in the house with on occasion could fit solely into Lars' room. Though, the Turk had searched around before. There was no garden in the back, no area on the roof, no window boxes, no chance of understanding without confrontation. Sadik had no issue with confrontation; he just preferred to be informed before striking deals.
Sadik wasn't following Lars, to straighten out the record. He happened to walking to the same destination at the same time at a fixed distance away as to throw off suspicion.. not that Sadik expected Lars to understand the attention to detail and sound needed to be in such a situation... All the same, the large build man tried to fit in the best he could... which was relatively difficult, considering his size and somewhat outlandish clothing. He had followed behind Lars as he went to the flower shop, confirming his belief of Lars' floral activity. Of course, now he just needed to catch Lars in the act of gardening.
The opportunity came sooner than Sadik expected it to, and the Turk leaped to it. He had taken up Lars' wine glass and prepared to indulge, sampling his senses with the tangy aroma. Lars was simply walking through the halls, though at first it began to appear that Sadik's steak-out would be all for naught... Until he followed Lars toward a room behind a door he didn't recognize. After a moment of waiting, Sadik approached the door, gloved hands taking hold of the handle. With a gentle turn of the nob, Sadik completely downed Lars' glass of secretism. The door opened quickly, not hitting the door against the wall and not causing too much of a sound, keeping his entrance polite and less person.
What Sadik saw was almost a present to him. He had longed for a garden for such a very long time, but not being the best with any garden NOT planted in the ground would always end up in disaster, so he shied away from potted plants. Sure he had taken care of some offhandedly in the past, but nothing like what he saw before him. Tulips; vibrant, rich, wonderful tulips, the flower of his country, lining the room in potted bliss. The beautiful bulbs boomed with elegance in the small, well lit room, cared for additionally by small lamps, toward which the juvenile plants reached, like an infant reaching for its mother. Had he not had his mask one, it would be seen that his eyes smiled with a sense of completion, but also with longing, a shimmer and a waver, as though tears would form at any moment.
Finally, the awe subsided and the shock diminished, Sadik shook his head, bringing him out of reverie and into reality. He rapped his knuckles against the door to the room with a faint chuckle.
"Hey... Lars...." Sadik said gently. "What's all this, huh?" The Turk leaned himself against the door frame, arms folded over his chest, looking with humor toward Lars. He was curious, really, to see what Lars would do when he finally reached the poison in his glass.
~OOC~
Name:
Candace! But you can call me anything you wish.
Common nicknames are Candi, Lietuva, Turk, and Frap.
Timezone/Country:
EST (GMT –5) || East Coast USA
Age: Seventeen as of April 2011
A little about yourself: Um… huh… well, Hi, I’m Candace. I live in Massachusetts. I’ve been playing Turkey for a little over a year, though my first character was Lithuania. I also play Spain and my Original Character for Wales. I’m a history nut, a language nut, a music nut, a video game nut… I’m a nut. XD
I’m looking to go to uni for Foreign Language and International Relations. I can speak English (clearly), Spanish, a fair amount of Japanese, a little Turkish, a little Lithuanian, conversational French, and I’m trying desperately to learn Welsh. I’m self-taught in all but Spanish and English. And yes, I’m desperately obsessed with Wales. I have Welsh-flag earrings. 8I
Anything Else?:
Um… I’m not a terribly huge pairing player? And I’ve a tendency to Ramble? Oh, and the walls of my room are purple.
Also, fff, um, probably has a crap ton of mistakes and stuff.. just let me know, I'll fix it up. ;;
Last edited by Sadik Adnan on Mon Jan 30, 2012 1:06 pm; edited 1 time in total | |
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