Matthew Reed Rowland

[Matthew Rowland]

Matthew Reed Rowland
FACE CLAIM: Legacy (Dominic Thomas)

♦ THE BASICS ♦

AGE: 18
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Homosexual
POSITION: Student. Currently part time at the local library.

♦ THE ABILITY ♦

POWER: If it had to be put into a category, it would be simply called “telepathy.” But, telepathy would be too simple in describing how it manifested for Matthew.

Matthew can “see sounds.” When others speak, cars crash, birds chirp, people clap. He can “see” those sounds. The way he sees the sounds are always interpreted based on what others around him can hear and how they interpret it. For instance, when someone is laughing, he’s gotten the full range of laugh, from simply “laughter” to “hahaha” to “xD xD xD,” “lmfao,” and even an . During fights, he’s gotten “whompf,” “POW!”, “crunch,” and more. Seeing spoken words are usually less up for interpretation. On more than one occasion, he’s seen other languages with his power due to the telepathic link.

These words appear around the source (or the perceived source, based on others understanding) of the sound, in varying fonts, colors, styles, and animations, almost like an old Batman comic at times.

Matthew also has the ability to project his own thoughts to others in a similar fashion, though he seems to be limited to only “ghostwriting” (as he calls it), which limits him to altering words that are already present.

LIMITATIONS:
He’s deaf and mute, and has to rely on his abilities to make up for those two setbacks. He does know and use sign-language, though, and can read lips to a small degree (simple, short sentences).

He has a hard time singling out specific chunks to be affected (or not) by his ability. It can be done, but is easiest if he simply has it on or off for everything. Similarly, when ghostwriting, he has a harder time only projecting to a specific group of people (much like talking). He can achieve this with effort, but normally chooses to project to everyone. Luckily, since he seems to be limited to changing words that already exist, he can still single out specific individuals by targeting something only they can see.

If no one is around him to perceive sounds, his main ability obviously cannot work. Also, because it’s a form of telepathy, those who can shield their minds normally can’t/don’t contribute to Matthew’s ability.

SIDE-EFFECTS:
His power is normally “on” by default and requires concentration to turn off. This has gotten easier through the years. Normally leaving it on or off for too long can cause him headaches (either from overload or stress), so he frequently switches between the two of the course of a day.

What he sees is limited to those around him, and normally who’s thoughts and understanding of a situation are “loudest.” In a crowded space, he can sometimes see many interpretations of a single sound, causing a form of dyslexia if one doesn’t stand out above the rest. At least once, he’s been rendered almost blind by a loud sound, that others interpreted was coming from everywhere, which filled his entire range of vision until turning his ability off.

♦ THE FREEFORM ♦

I popped another Ibuprofen and rubbed my head. My god this pain was starting to become unbearable. A glance at my nightstand showed it was 5:30am. My god. I think I slept for two hours? Three max.

The headaches started maybe two weeks ago. They were small at first, ignorable. Then they just became worse and worse over time. I’d gone to the infirmary here at school but there wasn’t much the nurses could do for me (I did get to miss Chem and Pre-Calc, so there’s that).

I looked around the dark room, seeing Corey shift in his bed. I groaned and let my bare feet touch the cold floor. I had to find something to do to get back to sleep… Eh, not that. And he wasn't completely woke enough to finishing reading The Name of the Wind, or any other book for that matter. What was on TV this early? I slipped on my pajama bottoms and a suitable shirt, then grabbed my phone and headed to the lobby.

Not a soul was out there. Lucky me. I could watch whatever I wanted. I flopped on the couch and grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels trying to find something at least mildly entertaining. My headache was still pounding, but the light from the TV somehow helped.

Next thing I know, I’m being shook. Aaaaaand the headache is back. Nice. I doze off for -- It’s nine o’clock already!? -- a few hours and I’m interrupted. Oh, but this is a nice interruption. It’s Dmitri, the floor advisor. He was definitely not a bad sight to wake up to. He raised his hands and began to sign to me.

“{There are some people here to see you,}” he says and I look behind him. There’s a woman I’ve never seen before standing next to a man of similar description. They look lost. And uncomfortable. I rub my eyes because I see something that doesn’t exactly make sense. Must still be groggy. Nope, it’s still there. I rub my eyes again as Dmitri helps me to my feet. My hero, I think as I smile.

“{Who are they?}” I ask. The woman was staring at me, squinting almost. She tried to mimic some of the signs we were performing, which was awkward to say the least. The male was looking around the room, scratching his head. He looked annoyed.

“{No idea, but they say they’re from B-E-L-L-E-F-O-N-T-E Academy.}” I tilted my head to the side and spelled the name of the academy back to him, making sure I understood him. Were they not aware I was already at thee Model Secondary School for the Deaf? A proud Eagle? And I didn’t play any sports, nor had my art or writing pieces been looked at. Hell, I didn’t even know what college I was going to, or if I would go, and if I did, what I’d do. I had at least two more years before I had to settle on those things.

So what the hell was a place named Bellefonte Academy doing here, for me?

Dmitri led us to an office and ushered them through. They took a seat at a round table and I sat opposite them. Dmitri asked if he should stay, but I told him I’d be fine, despite wanting his presence. I could lip read a bit. I also had no plans on talking to them for too long.

The man spoke -- Yes, come talk to the deaf kid and speak -- and introduced himself, that much I could tell. But the way he moved his lips made understanding his name difficult. Sen? Shen? Shin? Shun? Fen? Soon?

I rubbed my eyes again. That weirdness was showing up. Maybe this was a dream. Had to be. How else was I seeing the word “Sven” float around the man’s mouth. And in a horribly bold font, with italics. It seemed to match the way he pronounced it. Maybe the man had an accent? No more chocolate before bed.

The woman, however, cleared up any confusion, and began signing to me, through I could tell she was not familiar with the language. In fact, it seemed like she had never signed before in her life but was somehow guessing and managing to figure out which sign to use milliseconds before signing. The male's name was, in fact, Sven, and her’s Daphne. I introduced myself as thee Matthew Reed Rowland, fifteen-year-old aspiring comic book artist and journalist. Okay, so I left out the last bit, and I chose not to share my name sign because, again, this conversation was going to be short.

And there it was again.

I saw “creeeaaaak” float from behind me and over my shoulder, dissipating as it reached the visitors. I looked behind me to see the President of the university step into the room. She handed the visitors some paperwork; Sven went to work filling out a few things, seemingly relieved that he didn't have to participate in the conversation anymore. The Principal turned her attention to me.

“{It seems you’re leaving us, Matthew. It was a pleasure having you here as a student. I hope you enjoy yourself over at Bellefonte.}” She smiled and left before I could respond. As she closed the door, I saw “creeeeaaaaaaak” again, appearing from both hinges. I titled my head to the side and turned my attention back to the visitors.

“{I think you have the wrong person. I never said I was going to Bellefonte.}”

Daphne stared at my hands, seemingly trying to decipher the slew of signs. She nodded her head and replied. “{No, I believe we do. No one signs up for Bellefonte, exactly… Is there a shorter way I can sign ‘Bellefonte’?}” I made a generic B sign and transitioned it to an F. It’d work for the conversation. She nodded and continued.

“{We were sent here because you are a… M-U-T-A-N-T, and all… M-U-T-A-N-Ts -- }” I interrupt her to show her a sign for ‘mutant’ only to realize she’s talking about me.

“{What? I’m not a mutant.}”

“{I assure you that you are, though the specifics of your ‘mutant’"} -- I add the 'person' sign to mutant for her -- "{... is unknown to us. Has anything unusual happened to you lately?}"

Needless to say, I’m confused and ready to go. I pull out my phone. It’s 9:30. They’ve already wasted my time.

And like the idiot I am, I drop my phone.

And it happens again.

The random words. This time, I see both “crash” and “thump,” the latter being bold and heavy while the former is almost light. Both words originate from my phone and kind of fizzle off. I can feel the subtle vibration of Sven’s chair screeching back and I look up.

Again. This time it’s not really a word, just “grrrrnnnnnnnnnnn.” The font is almost wooden, like the chair.

My first thought has to be wrong. Has to be. I see the visitors exchange looks as my face goes from annoyance to concern and confusion. They exchange a few words; I catch a bit of it. Something about “not knowing.”

Again. Their entire conversation is suddenly subtitled. Like, random-words-in-the-air subtitled. Daphne’s is light, thin but strong. Sven’s is thick, bold, heavy, hard to read. Hell, there’s even a few words filled in by that square with the X character that shows up when a certain character can’t load on a website.

I slap my hands together and the both of them look at me.

Again. I see the word “clap” emanate from my hands.

“{What the hell is going on?}”

---

Daphne stepped into the hallway and pulled out her cellphone, pressing a few buttons. “Pick up, pick up.” She was anxious.

“Hello?”

“Mack!” She almost yelled, and then realized she was in a public setting. She lowered her voice and continued. “You will never believe what I found out I can do.”

Mack coughed and sighed. “What can you do, Daphne?”

“I KNOW SIGN LANGUAGE!” She almost yelled again, then quieted herself. It wouldn’t cross her mind until later that almost no one here at Matthew’s school could hear her.

“Wait,” Mack coughed again, this time sounding a bit more sick. “Sign language? I thought you only understood written and spoken?”

“I guess I’ve never checked before.”


They talked on the phone for a few more minutes until Bellefonte's newest student exited the office she just left. After saying goodbye to Mack, she turned her attention to Matthew.


"{Should I set up a meeting with your parents?}" She asked. Oh, so that's how you sign parents. I wonder what the etymology is. Speaking in new languages always raised similar questions. Why that intonation, how come this was done for some words, etc. Signing was a whole new ball game.

"{I'll video call them later...}" The boy looked a little sad, which was expected. Being uprooted from ones home was always difficult. She had the feeling that Matthew was going to feel the pain a bit more. How many at Bellefonte actually knew sign language? Was he ever going to feel as much at home at Bellefonte as he did here?

She wanted to say something, but the words -- the signs escaped her. This was going to be touchy, and she'd have to make sure Matthew was taken care of.

Daphne finally thought of something, and was just going to go for it. "{Language is tricky. I can't promise that B-E-L--- Oh right, Bellefonte. I can't promise that Bellefonte will be as accommodating, but I'll always be there for you if you need me. Who knows, maybe one day you'll get to accompany me on a recruit.}" She slapped her hands together in joy and smiled, staring at him. His face was confused. From what he told them, he was seeing things. Sounds. Whoops.

♦ THE PLAYER ♦

USERNAME: Scotty
AGE GROUP: 27.5
EXPERIENCE: Since I was a wee lad… No seriously, my first RP was Charmed back on AOL. So… at least 15+ years?
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? RPG-D

[Mel *]

ACCEPTED!
Welcome to BA, Scotty!
Go forth and fill out those claims!