Demetrius Henry Catesby

Full name: Demetrius Henry Catesby
Nickname: Demetrius
Age: 25
Date of birth: 23th of August
Gender: Male
Nationality: Navarrian
Status: Single
Religion: None
Species: Human

Place of birth: Navarre
Current residence: Navarre - D'auvignon

Occupation: Owns a theater - Artist
Hobby’s: Painting
Likes: The smell of the sea and rain, standing outside when there is a storm, acting, paint, art, fish (food), apples
Dislikes: Flies and mosquitoes, very high temperatures, people who got everything without doing anything for it, sand between his toes, sleeping alone, when you’re surviving but not living, kids

Faceclaim: Jamie Campbell Bower
Hair: Blond hair that comes to his shoulders
Eyes: Bright blue
Skin tone: Pale
Height: 1,83m
Build: Slender, not very muscled

Positive traits: Calm, Forgiving, Independent, Loyal, Observant, Tolerant
Negative traits: Abrupt, Critical, Envious, Messy
Pet peeve: People who walk slowly or stop suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk
His dog: Klik

History is a work in progress

My father drank a lot and when he did, he became aggressive. Everything was a trigger to him and acted almost like a wild beast. Sometimes I thought he was the reason my mom died.
"Get some fucking money you worthless piece of shit!" I only saw the glass he threw at my head when it was too late. It left a small scar on the back of my head and a headache that wouldn't stop for some days. That night I went out and actually got some money, a lot actually. It's strange how much people are willing to pay for a body.

Painting was like the only stress reliever that really worked. Yet paint and canvases are expensive and it was not like father would help me buy them. I needed them after he'd one of his outburst, so I could calm myself. That also meant a lot of my paintings were drawn in blood. My own blood.
Each painting told a story or was an expression of how I felt. Some I kept for myself, but others I tried to sell to people. Those that I painted when emotions ran high, always sold for more money than my other ones.

"Art? What is art? Nothing! It's worthless, which is probably why you like it so much. This is exactly why I am in so much trouble because you can't find a decent job. No, yours is one for a woman, just like your previous one! Your mother would be ashamed." That finger. It was always pointing to me. Judging me. Blaming me. While he was the biggest asshole and did absolutely nothing. Without me, we would've died from starvation, but he didn't believe that.
The bad part is, that I believed him at some point. I even cut my own hair - which looked horrible - to prove he was wrong about at least one thing. Not that it helped. He only laughed.

I was not planning to leave, at least not that day. But it happened. Nothing really bad happened and yet I got what little stuff I had and left. i ended up working in a theater, a place that I can now call mine.

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