Tip turned and found the alcove occupied by another man, who was also observing the progress on the Argus. He was dressed smartly—much more smartly than Tip—in a dark blue uniform and off-white gloves, with ruffled blond hair pulled back in the classic queue that had begun to go out of style in America. His voice was lazy with confidence, but on second glance Tip saw that he was no more than a boy, and a boy who barely passed his shoulder in height. Tip raised an eyebrow, half in distaste, half in amusement, and faced the ship again. “Know a lot about ships, do you?” he asked, mocking the boy’s sage way of talking.
“More than you, I imagine,” the boy replied easily, eyelids partially drooped. “You think she’s pretty big, don’t you?”
Georgie and Sky have written up the September edition of their Beautiful People series - something I look forward to every month, in case you couldn't tell. If ignorant as to how this works, you can take a look at the basics here. Last month I did Ethan Prince from my novel Wordcrafter and the month before that I did Justin King, also from Wordcrafter, so now I feel it my duty (or something) to return to the characters of my work-in-progress, The White Sail's Shaking. September's beautiful person will therefore be
1. Does he have any habits, annoying or otherwise?
Charlie is quick to notice deficiencies in others and rarely bites his tongue; he also has a rather colorful vocabulary and, though he tries to curb it, it bursts out when he is particularly angry. When agitated he pulls his cuff or shirt buttons.
2. What is his backstory and how does it affect him now?
Telling his backstory would give away a great deal of the novel, but as for how it affects him, for the most part Charlie tries to ignore it. When it is forced upon him, he tends to sink into depression.
3. How does he show love?
Charlie is neither good at loving nor good at showing it when he does. He does stand by the people he cares about, and though he will abuse them himself, he would gladly tear apart anyone else who speaks ill of them.
4. How competitive is he?
Extremely. Despite his cool exterior Charlie has the hot blood of Southern aristocracy in his veins, and he is jealous in all aspects of his life.
5. What does he think about when nothing else is going on?
Sometimes his past, sometimes complex trigonometry problems, sometimes how to cook a Barbary macaque. It depends.
6. Does he have an accent?
Charlie has a Southern drawl, but he is capable of turning it down, if not completely off.
7. What is his station in life?
This is a difficult question. Charlie has been at sea for four years, two of them as a midshipman; as such he is at the low end of the totem pole, but you would not guess it from his attitude.
8. What do others expect from him?
Another difficult question! I don’t know whether this question refers to daily labor or what, so I’ll try to answer as best I can. Not much is expected of Charlie as a midshipman; his duties vary, and the most that is asked of him is to obey without question, keep out of fights, learn (preferably), and eventually pass for lieutenant (hopefully). His relationship with his family is tenuous at best, so little pressure comes from that quarter. Darkwood is the one who expects most from him, encouraging him to progress and to both recognize and battle his faults. Tip is never quite sure what to expect of him.
9. Where was he born, and when?
A plantation in South Carolina, 18 January, 1789. At the start of the novel in 1802, he is fourteen.
10. How does he feel about people in general?
"How can anyone love a pebble in their shoe?" Ahem, sorry. Charlie is a firm believer in total depravity; he is also a believer in the Imago Dei, but unfortunately he has a more difficult time making that show in his relationships. He says himself that he is not good at thinking the best of people, and he tends to need proof. His hates are quite as fierce as his loves, but in between there is a cold region of simply not caring, into which most of humanity falls.
Charlie nodded, keeping a hand against his nostril. He held out the handkerchief and Tip pulled back in revulsion, exclaiming, “I don’t want it! I’m certainly not going to wash it for you now that you’ve bled all over it.”
Bent twitched a mirthless smile. “You’re such a girl,” he said faintly, balling the handkerchief in his fist.