Post by The Exodus on Nov 3, 2012 1:23:32 GMT -6
Character: Tristan Vidal
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Occupation: Mortician (Prefers “Funeral Director”)
Personality: Tristan puts the “fun” in “funeral”. No, really, he really does. Armed with wit, graveyard humor, and a degree in mortuary science, Tristan puts families’ anxieties to rest. Maybe he gets too much of a kick out of bad, death-related puns. And maybe he’s a little desensitized to death itself (the worst part is the smell). But that isn’t to say that Tristan is a cold, unfeeling man. He’s just different. Maybe even odd. He always has been. And that’s okay with him. He doesn’t hear complaints when he’s working, which is more than most people can say.
Outside of work, Tristan fancies himself an artist. To Tristan, the city is his canvas and you can see his work proudly displayed on the sides of local delis, bakeries, and warehouses. He calls himself a muralist; local police call him a vandal. Either way, Tristan just wants to make the world a more beautiful place. Trouble is, when you work in a funeral home, your concept of “beautiful” tends to be a little skewed…
History: Tristan was born in a banlieue just outside of Marseilles to Cyril Leclerc and Esther Vidal. He doesn’t remember much about Marseilles, and what he does isn’t pretty. The couple often fought—verbally and physically. Often Cyril turned his anger on Tristan.
When Tristan was eight, Cyril broke Tristan's arm during a fit of rage and sent him to school the next morning. Tristan's teacher escorted him to the nurse... who took him to the hospital. Cyril insisted that Tristan slammed his arm in the car door that morning, but other, older injuries told a different story. Tristan was happy to be taken away from his parents and sent to Paris to live with his maternal uncle, Laurence. Laurence was Esther’s half-brother and a confirmed bachelor, unused to children running around. At first, Tristan was given free reign of Laurence’s apartment. This proved a mistake when Tristan began to bring home small animals and insects he caught to keep as a small menagerie in his bedroom. It wasn’t actually a problem, per se, until the Cockroach Incident, but that’s another story altogether. Suffice to say, when a “family” of cockroaches get loose in an upper-middle class apartment complex, no one is happy. Except maybe the roaches.
For years, Laurence tried to get Tristan to find a productive creative outlet. However, many of Tristan’s outlets were viewed as “deviations” from Laurence’s expectations. When Laurence signed Tristan up for music lessons, he formed a rock band with his friends. When Laurence signed Tristan up for art classes, Tristan would skip lessons to tag buildings. Tristan tried to please his uncle at first, but more often than not, what Laurence considered “productive” and “creative” Tristan thought of as “boring”. The one thing Laurence and Tristan could agree on were Tristan’s studies. He always got top marks in art and in science. His math and language skills were fair, but neither were his passion. Laurence agreed that it would be best for Tristan to read for something to deal with biology. Despite some minor behavioral problems, Tristan was a good student. He could focus on school work, funnel his energies into it, and it was almost as fun as tagging and rock-and-roll.
So it shouldn’t have surprised anyone that Tristan went into mortuary sciences.
Tristan packed his bags and left the country to get his degree in America. In New York, he blended in with the thousands of other foreign-exchange students that live, study, and work in the city. While studying, he took a few office jobs to learn how to balance accounts and to save up for his own funeral parlor some day. He graduated from American Academy McAllister Institute of Funeral Service and returned to Paris to open his own business.
After all, the world is filled with surgeons and pediatricians. Someone had to do the dirty work. And it is dirty work. Literally, of course, since dead bodies are rife with disease and decay. But also, it’s really taxing work—unpleasant until you’re used to it.
One thing Tristan never could get used to were the kids. They still make him sad. The first time his professor brought in a child cadaver, he cried. Not in class, of course. But after. It was the only time Tristan ever wondered if becoming a mortician was the wrong choice. However, when Tristan graduated university and opened his own funeral parlor, Laurence smiled and confessed how relieved he was that Tristan grew up to make something of himself. They’ve stopped butting heads since and Tristan visits Laurence once a week now.
Tristan spends a lot of his time helping the living. And the time spent in the preparation room can be utterly fascinating, if isolating. Tristan’s friends from mortuary school are loners and he’s lucky to hear from them once or twice a month. He keeps in touch with his old band and they get together once or twice a year to fool around with music. Tristan also volunteers with a local school to do art with at-risk kids. The kids like him because he doesn’t patronize them. He treats them as equals and sometimes collaborates with them for big projects. In fact, there are times when the other volunteers and those kids form the entirety of Tristan’s social calendar. You see, Tristan is perpetually single. Not many women are looking for a guy who draws skulls and bugs on the sides of buildings for fun. And telling girls you’re a mortician is a great mood killer.
But he has hobbies and interests that keep him plenty busy. He still fools around with music. And he still makes art—murals, in particular. And then there are his clients…
Other: Tristan doesn’t see a difference between painting murals and tagging buildings. Art is art, whether it comes from an artist’s palette or a spray can. In fact, the few times he has been caught tagging, Tristan avoided being slapped with vandalism charges only because his defense argued that what he did was artistic expression. That’s how he ended up volunteering at the school in the first place: as punishment for tagging an apartment building. His biggest fear is that someone from the program will find out that he still tags—almost compulsively. If someone found out, chances are he’d be dismissed from the program and be unable to volunteer.
Tristan also keeps in touch with his semi-estranged mother and has for years. As a child, he would give her sketches from his collection and graded school work in exchange for spending money. He obviously doesn’t do this anymore. Instead, Esther sometimes comes to Tristan when she’s in a mess. Laurence thinks that this behavior is unhealthy and that Tristan should stop giving Esther money and a place to stay when she turns up, but blood is blood.
Tristan has a pet Madagascar Hissing Cockroach named Isolde, who he loves more than he loves most people.
AI: Terrance Zdunich
Note: As of 2013, France is legally requiring its funeral directors to hold national certification for the first time. Tristan and Vidal Funeral Home are up for examination soon.
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Occupation: Mortician (Prefers “Funeral Director”)
Personality: Tristan puts the “fun” in “funeral”. No, really, he really does. Armed with wit, graveyard humor, and a degree in mortuary science, Tristan puts families’ anxieties to rest. Maybe he gets too much of a kick out of bad, death-related puns. And maybe he’s a little desensitized to death itself (the worst part is the smell). But that isn’t to say that Tristan is a cold, unfeeling man. He’s just different. Maybe even odd. He always has been. And that’s okay with him. He doesn’t hear complaints when he’s working, which is more than most people can say.
Outside of work, Tristan fancies himself an artist. To Tristan, the city is his canvas and you can see his work proudly displayed on the sides of local delis, bakeries, and warehouses. He calls himself a muralist; local police call him a vandal. Either way, Tristan just wants to make the world a more beautiful place. Trouble is, when you work in a funeral home, your concept of “beautiful” tends to be a little skewed…
History: Tristan was born in a banlieue just outside of Marseilles to Cyril Leclerc and Esther Vidal. He doesn’t remember much about Marseilles, and what he does isn’t pretty. The couple often fought—verbally and physically. Often Cyril turned his anger on Tristan.
When Tristan was eight, Cyril broke Tristan's arm during a fit of rage and sent him to school the next morning. Tristan's teacher escorted him to the nurse... who took him to the hospital. Cyril insisted that Tristan slammed his arm in the car door that morning, but other, older injuries told a different story. Tristan was happy to be taken away from his parents and sent to Paris to live with his maternal uncle, Laurence. Laurence was Esther’s half-brother and a confirmed bachelor, unused to children running around. At first, Tristan was given free reign of Laurence’s apartment. This proved a mistake when Tristan began to bring home small animals and insects he caught to keep as a small menagerie in his bedroom. It wasn’t actually a problem, per se, until the Cockroach Incident, but that’s another story altogether. Suffice to say, when a “family” of cockroaches get loose in an upper-middle class apartment complex, no one is happy. Except maybe the roaches.
For years, Laurence tried to get Tristan to find a productive creative outlet. However, many of Tristan’s outlets were viewed as “deviations” from Laurence’s expectations. When Laurence signed Tristan up for music lessons, he formed a rock band with his friends. When Laurence signed Tristan up for art classes, Tristan would skip lessons to tag buildings. Tristan tried to please his uncle at first, but more often than not, what Laurence considered “productive” and “creative” Tristan thought of as “boring”. The one thing Laurence and Tristan could agree on were Tristan’s studies. He always got top marks in art and in science. His math and language skills were fair, but neither were his passion. Laurence agreed that it would be best for Tristan to read for something to deal with biology. Despite some minor behavioral problems, Tristan was a good student. He could focus on school work, funnel his energies into it, and it was almost as fun as tagging and rock-and-roll.
So it shouldn’t have surprised anyone that Tristan went into mortuary sciences.
Tristan packed his bags and left the country to get his degree in America. In New York, he blended in with the thousands of other foreign-exchange students that live, study, and work in the city. While studying, he took a few office jobs to learn how to balance accounts and to save up for his own funeral parlor some day. He graduated from American Academy McAllister Institute of Funeral Service and returned to Paris to open his own business.
After all, the world is filled with surgeons and pediatricians. Someone had to do the dirty work. And it is dirty work. Literally, of course, since dead bodies are rife with disease and decay. But also, it’s really taxing work—unpleasant until you’re used to it.
One thing Tristan never could get used to were the kids. They still make him sad. The first time his professor brought in a child cadaver, he cried. Not in class, of course. But after. It was the only time Tristan ever wondered if becoming a mortician was the wrong choice. However, when Tristan graduated university and opened his own funeral parlor, Laurence smiled and confessed how relieved he was that Tristan grew up to make something of himself. They’ve stopped butting heads since and Tristan visits Laurence once a week now.
Tristan spends a lot of his time helping the living. And the time spent in the preparation room can be utterly fascinating, if isolating. Tristan’s friends from mortuary school are loners and he’s lucky to hear from them once or twice a month. He keeps in touch with his old band and they get together once or twice a year to fool around with music. Tristan also volunteers with a local school to do art with at-risk kids. The kids like him because he doesn’t patronize them. He treats them as equals and sometimes collaborates with them for big projects. In fact, there are times when the other volunteers and those kids form the entirety of Tristan’s social calendar. You see, Tristan is perpetually single. Not many women are looking for a guy who draws skulls and bugs on the sides of buildings for fun. And telling girls you’re a mortician is a great mood killer.
But he has hobbies and interests that keep him plenty busy. He still fools around with music. And he still makes art—murals, in particular. And then there are his clients…
Other: Tristan doesn’t see a difference between painting murals and tagging buildings. Art is art, whether it comes from an artist’s palette or a spray can. In fact, the few times he has been caught tagging, Tristan avoided being slapped with vandalism charges only because his defense argued that what he did was artistic expression. That’s how he ended up volunteering at the school in the first place: as punishment for tagging an apartment building. His biggest fear is that someone from the program will find out that he still tags—almost compulsively. If someone found out, chances are he’d be dismissed from the program and be unable to volunteer.
Tristan also keeps in touch with his semi-estranged mother and has for years. As a child, he would give her sketches from his collection and graded school work in exchange for spending money. He obviously doesn’t do this anymore. Instead, Esther sometimes comes to Tristan when she’s in a mess. Laurence thinks that this behavior is unhealthy and that Tristan should stop giving Esther money and a place to stay when she turns up, but blood is blood.
Tristan has a pet Madagascar Hissing Cockroach named Isolde, who he loves more than he loves most people.
AI: Terrance Zdunich
Note: As of 2013, France is legally requiring its funeral directors to hold national certification for the first time. Tristan and Vidal Funeral Home are up for examination soon.
