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statistics
Name: Victor Droman (Drovic)Nickname: Vickie
Species: Zafara
Color: Grey
Gender: Male
Age: 16 years
Build: Skinny and angular
Type: Albino
Is: An independant thinker
Owner: Kota
Strength: 18
Defense: 10
Speed: 17
Endurance: 17
Intelligence: 25
adoptables
THE RULES
No stealing, no removing the link back to this page, no ripping off my username, no claiming as your own, no taking a custom that doesn't belong to your pet (you are more than welcome to take a default adoptable, however), no altering these for your own purposes, and no matter how colorful they are, you mustn't eat them. They don't really taste like Skittles.
Custom Status:
Requests: If we're friends
Trades: Open
Basic Colors
Might do painteds later.
Blue
Green
Red
Yellow
Bori Version
Customs
to do: none
Drovic
Kruciel
Luneth
personality
Drovic is what some people would deem "weird." Reclusive by habit but outgoing by nature, he's a paradoxical social hazard that not many people would choose to keep company with. He seems oblivious to how awkward he is most times and enjoys life at full throttle whatever it is he's doing; whether it's building a homemade car bomb, blasting foreign rock music from his hand-me-down stereo, base-jumping from the roof of his twelve-story apartment, drawing on his own face with Sharpies, baking jellybean cookies, arguing the existance of the highly endangered "rainbow baboons" (which Drovic will swear are real), creating origami warriors for an epic battle on the dining room table, or using a pogostick as his usual mode of transportation, Drovic gives it his all and has a blast. The same cannot be said for his beleagured young uncle, Stanello, who tries to balance finishing college with two part-time jobs and making sure his eccentric nephew doesn't blow up the house while he's away.
Stan is only six years older than Drovic and the two have their share of rows, but although the two have a hard time agreeing on most anything, Stan still loves Drovic and tries to take care of him as best he can. Drovic's well-to-do parents had abandoned him shortly after birth, wanting nothing to do with the "mistake." Growing up in the city orphanage, shunned by his peers for his odd appearance, he had to become friends with anybody else he could, including the hobo who lived in the dumpster down the block, several stray dogs, and most of all himself. Stan took the boy in when Drovic was twelve, sometimes joking that it was the second worst decision he'd ever made (the first being majoring in English literature). Drovic still gets a present from his rich and snobby parents every year at Christmas, but he's never seen them before and is sometimes upset that they hadn't wanted him. More often than not, the explosives he crafts end up strapped to these presents and then set off in the abandoned parking lot behind the apartment complex. Sometimes, though, despite his hatred for his parents, Drovic will keep a present that he finds particularly useful or interesting, such as video game consoles (he likes taking them apart), a high-speed laptop with wireless internet (which he hardly ever uses unless he's researching rainbow baboons), spiffy binoculars (his favorite present so far), and a remote-controlled Hum-V that he likes to belt his petpet, Harold, into for a spin. Harold puts up with a lot, and the petpet is usually found passed out under the bathroom sink.
I think I probably should have mentioned before that Drovic is an albino. This makes normal life pretty difficult for him, as his condition not only prevents him from enjoying many daytime activities that we take for granted but also affects the way people treat him; most people find his appearance "creepy" and "unnatural," avoiding him or openly otherwise staring at the boy as though he were a freak on display behind bars. Drovic often chooses not to present himself to the scrutinizing eye of the public and usually does his best to avoid people. This takes its toll on the normally upbeat Zafara, turning him into a sulky and depressed cynic at his worst. Usually alone in his small, dark room, where he feels safe and wanted, Drovic finds escape in drawing. Drawing is one of the things that he loves best, usually covering the walls of his bedroom with fantastic creatures, landscapes, and patterns. Stan always makes him paint back over it, since they don't own the apartment, but Drovic doesn't really mind; it just means that he can start all over again tomorrow.
Drovic is a die-hard believer in the unconventional, the unloved, and the unpopular. Often found campaigning to save the rainbow baboons (THEY EXIST), his odd behavior coupled with his odd appearance makes him a target of derision. Most people don't hate him; they just want nothing to do with him. Drovic has very few friends oustide of his kinder neighbors or the dumpster hobo, so much of his conversation happens between him and his journal (named Steve). Highly possessive of this battered little book, Drovic treats Steve like a real person and confides everything to him; his fears for the future, his concern for his uncle, his longing for acceptance, his anger at himself for being born an albino (he often blames himself for pretty much everything), his 'discoveries' on rainbow baboons, and fantastic stories that he always has plenty of time to come up with. What Stan claims are several thousand doodles fill the margins. Drovic also keeps a running commentary in the book on the behavior of his neighbors, with detailed schedules, psyco-analysis, and ridiculous codenames. Spying through his window with the pair of fancy binoculars that his noncommittal parents gifted him is one of his favorite past-times. Despite being a bit clueless as to his often extreme behavior, Drovic isn't dull. He has an insatiable curiousity and a love for learning, and he's bright enough to teach himself just about anything. He's also very observant, if not self-aware, and his insight often provides matieral for the many witty quips he can toss out. It's a good thing that he's so quick to grasp new concepts and wrap his head around different ideas, because his condition prevents him from attending a normal public school. Drovic stays home and teaches himself with Stan's old college books. Anything he doesn't understand he'll try to figure out for himself, since his independant nature rebels against asking for things of that nature, but when he's truly stumped, he'll drop hints to his uncle for a bit of a leg-up, and Stan, who is also thankfully pretty quick on the draw, can help his nephew out without embarrassing Drovic too much.
When not engaged in pogosticking around the apartment building, cooking strange and questionably edible things he finds in old cookbooks, or muttering to himself about whatever particular quest he's on, the quirky Zafara enjoys annoying his uncle, exploring the city by night with Harold on his shoulder, and daydreaming about a girl named Atris. Drovic is firm in his affection towards her, as she is one of the only people outside his little internalized universe that shows a preference for hanging out with him. She discovered Drovic one evening in a tree in the local city park, binoculars to his face; Harold had gone missing. Atris offered to help the albino boy find his petpet, and over the course of their adventure that night (it turns out Harold was curled up under Stan's writing desk in the apartment), the two became fast friends. Often going out of her way to show companionship to lonely Drovic, Atris is a kind and (Drovic thinks) beautiful girl, and he loves nothing better than when they can spend time together just talking or sometimes cooking at Atris's house (it turns out Atris has a strange taste in food and a love of culinary arts too, but a much larger kitchen and better-stocked larder). She's always promising to take Drovic to the beach, but they both know that since Drovic would burn to a crisp in an instant in that kind of direct sunlight, it's more of a running joke between the two than anything else. Atris also helps Drovic in social situations, helping others to breach the awkwardness of his behavior and unusual appearance by treating him as though he was the same as any other person. In return, Drovic provides her with undying loyalty, hilarious conversations, and many great adventures fueled by his love for life and his ability to turn anything mundane into something special.
art by kota
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dear steve
July 15th, 2010.
Dear Steve, how have you been today? I hope you're nice and well-rested from your nap under the sofa. Man, how do you get so lucky? I wish I could fit under the sofa. Anyways, me? Pretty boring, I guess. Nothing too bad, though. I woke up this morning and there were these really weird noises coming from the bathroom. I grabbed the Creeper Beater bat, you know, the one we keep near the door, just in case the Tralfamadorians had come back. I was totally gonna beat the snot out of them, but it turns out the weird noises was just Stan singing while he showered. Go figure. He's really mad at me right now (he should have locked the bathroom door, it's not my fault), so he's sent me to my room. It's okay though. He's leaving for his Anthropology class in a few minutes and then we can sneak out; there's a ton of leftover paint that Mrs. Thyler downstairs said I could have, we're going to use it to redecorate the Lair again. Hehe. Oh, and Atris brought me some Gummy Bears last night so we can re-enact a few Lord of the Rings: Return of the King battles with those too. Then throw them in some cake mix and turn them into brownies. That'll be fun. I gotta go, Harold is puking all over the carpet again. Stupid Harris, I wish I had a good petpet. Why is everything I own crap? Why am I?
July 17th, 2010.
Dear Steve. We're out of peanut butter. Call in reinforcements.
July 18th, 2010.
Steve, I've been so bored today. I took Harold bungee jumping; I got a few rubber bands and lashed them together for the cord. Then I tied it around Harold, took him up to the top of the apartments, and I threw him off the roof. I bet it would have worked if I'd remembered to tie the other end of bungee cord onto an anchor. It's a good thing Harold landed on a busted old mattress that somebody had dragged out to the dumpster. Speaking of the mattress, once I'd gotten down there (stupid sun, why does it have to be so bright?) and made sure Harold hadn't broken anything significant, I found some very nifty springs just poking out of the thing (the mattress, not Harold) that I decided could be used. I took Harold and the springs back up to my room and I made Harold a robotic combat suit. It was very awesome. But Harold didn't like it. You can't ever really tell with him, since he's Grey and always looks miffed about something, but from the way he was slouching in a particlarly slouchy manner I guess it's pretty accurate to say he wasn't very fond of the toaster/mattress spring battle assemblage. Atris called on the phone today and we got to talk for about an hour. Her life is so much more interesting than mine. I want to go to school. When Stan came home today I asked him about it, but he didn't seem very into the idea. He mainly just grunted, said something along the lines of "not a good idea," and then dragged himself onto the couch and fell asleep. At least, he would have fallen asleep if he hadn't have sat on Harold. Then my life actually became interesting for about the next twenty minutes.
July 25th, 2010.
Sorry, Steve. I haven't written in a while. Haven't felt much like it. Nothing exciting happening. Why are all the lights in the house off again? I can't see what I'm writing; hope I'm spelling everything right. I guess it would help if I took off my sunglasses too. Maybe I'll go turn some lights on. Stan isn't home yet. I'm getting worried. He's always home by now. Oh, he just came in the door. Thank heavens. Stan's really annoying, but I don't know what would happen if he... I mean. I can't even think about it. I can't be abandoned again. I can't.
July 27th, 2010.
I asked Stan if I could have a missle. He said no.
July 28th, 2010.
Hey Steve. Atris came over today and we had a blast, even though I guess we just mostly talked about stuff. I swear, the entire building lights up when Atris steps through the door. How does she do that? She's been busy working at the diner, so I haven't gotten to see her much, so I'm really glad she was able to come see me today. Is it selfish to want people to take time out of their schedule to notice me? Maybe a little. Maybe it's justified. We talked about school (how I wish I could go) and all the crazy stuff they do there. There's this class called "Art Appreciation" where all you do is draw. How cool is that?! Stan probably wouldn't like that, he doesn't think that art serves a purpose. Whatever. Atris says that school isn't in session right now because it's summer, but when it's August it'll be time for it to start again. Since I'm around her age, a bit older, Atris thinks that I'm in the same grade as her, which meant that we would both be in ninth grade come August. A highschool freshman? I feel old. I told Stan and he said that if I was old, he was practically already dead. Atris is pretty excited for highschool. There's a lot of movies about highschool. I told her I wished I could go and she just smiled and said, "Maybe you will." Woah, what?
July 29th, 2010.
Dear Steve, Mr. Reman from downstairs found this old guitar at a pawn shop that was going out of business. He gave it to me. It's so cool, I couldn't believe it! He said that it's in pretty bad shape, and it needs a lot of work and a new set of strings, but I didn't care; it was like he was handing me the Holy Grail or something. It didn't seem that far gone, either. A little battered, perhaps, but nothing I couldn't fix. It just needed somebody to love it. I named it Connie and spent the whole day cleaning and tuning it up. When Atris came over later I showed her Connie. She was really excited too, haha, she didn't want to put it down. I'd cleaned and shined and decorated Connie (Sharpies work great on old acoustic guitars, I found) and she looked almost brand new again; just needed strings. Atris said she could get some for me. I hugged her. We both laughed. I'd learn to play her, I promised. That made her really happy. Atris had said that her dad had okayed her staying for dinner tonight, and I almost hugged her again. Almost. Harold decided to drag his carcass into the room at that point and make a scene of coughing up a lightbulb he'd swallowed, so we had to deal with that post-haste. I was embarrassed, but Atris just laughed it off. She said she wished her Petpet was as funny. Me and Atris and Harold made dinner together that night; spaghetti and meatballs with toast, and Harold stirred the Kool-Aid. When Stan got home he was pretty surprised to find the table already set and dinner waiting for him. I think he smiled for the first time in a week. He's been really tired lately. I worry about him sometimes. But all that jaded weariness just melted off of him as the three of us ate dinner together, Harold under the table gnawing on a particularly well-done piece of toast. Stan seemed five years younger, he felt like one of us kids. After we all cleaned up the dinner mess (Atris kept splashing the dishwater at me and I couldn't get her back because Stan was watching, no fair!), we all played a rousing game of Monopoly and Harold lost spectacularly; he kept trying to eat his gamepiece. I got Connie out so that Stan could admire her, and he seemed slightly interested, although doubtful that I'd ever learn guitar. We bid Atris good night at around nine. She gave me another hug before she left. All in all, it was the best night I'd had in like forever. I won't forget it. And I'll figure out how to play Connie. I'll do it for Stan. And for Atris. She'll be so proud of me.
Dear Steve, how have you been today? I hope you're nice and well-rested from your nap under the sofa. Man, how do you get so lucky? I wish I could fit under the sofa. Anyways, me? Pretty boring, I guess. Nothing too bad, though. I woke up this morning and there were these really weird noises coming from the bathroom. I grabbed the Creeper Beater bat, you know, the one we keep near the door, just in case the Tralfamadorians had come back. I was totally gonna beat the snot out of them, but it turns out the weird noises was just Stan singing while he showered. Go figure. He's really mad at me right now (he should have locked the bathroom door, it's not my fault), so he's sent me to my room. It's okay though. He's leaving for his Anthropology class in a few minutes and then we can sneak out; there's a ton of leftover paint that Mrs. Thyler downstairs said I could have, we're going to use it to redecorate the Lair again. Hehe. Oh, and Atris brought me some Gummy Bears last night so we can re-enact a few Lord of the Rings: Return of the King battles with those too. Then throw them in some cake mix and turn them into brownies. That'll be fun. I gotta go, Harold is puking all over the carpet again. Stupid Harris, I wish I had a good petpet. Why is everything I own crap? Why am I?
July 17th, 2010.
Dear Steve. We're out of peanut butter. Call in reinforcements.
July 18th, 2010.
Steve, I've been so bored today. I took Harold bungee jumping; I got a few rubber bands and lashed them together for the cord. Then I tied it around Harold, took him up to the top of the apartments, and I threw him off the roof. I bet it would have worked if I'd remembered to tie the other end of bungee cord onto an anchor. It's a good thing Harold landed on a busted old mattress that somebody had dragged out to the dumpster. Speaking of the mattress, once I'd gotten down there (stupid sun, why does it have to be so bright?) and made sure Harold hadn't broken anything significant, I found some very nifty springs just poking out of the thing (the mattress, not Harold) that I decided could be used. I took Harold and the springs back up to my room and I made Harold a robotic combat suit. It was very awesome. But Harold didn't like it. You can't ever really tell with him, since he's Grey and always looks miffed about something, but from the way he was slouching in a particlarly slouchy manner I guess it's pretty accurate to say he wasn't very fond of the toaster/mattress spring battle assemblage. Atris called on the phone today and we got to talk for about an hour. Her life is so much more interesting than mine. I want to go to school. When Stan came home today I asked him about it, but he didn't seem very into the idea. He mainly just grunted, said something along the lines of "not a good idea," and then dragged himself onto the couch and fell asleep. At least, he would have fallen asleep if he hadn't have sat on Harold. Then my life actually became interesting for about the next twenty minutes.
July 25th, 2010.
Sorry, Steve. I haven't written in a while. Haven't felt much like it. Nothing exciting happening. Why are all the lights in the house off again? I can't see what I'm writing; hope I'm spelling everything right. I guess it would help if I took off my sunglasses too. Maybe I'll go turn some lights on. Stan isn't home yet. I'm getting worried. He's always home by now. Oh, he just came in the door. Thank heavens. Stan's really annoying, but I don't know what would happen if he... I mean. I can't even think about it. I can't be abandoned again. I can't.
July 27th, 2010.
I asked Stan if I could have a missle. He said no.
July 28th, 2010.
Hey Steve. Atris came over today and we had a blast, even though I guess we just mostly talked about stuff. I swear, the entire building lights up when Atris steps through the door. How does she do that? She's been busy working at the diner, so I haven't gotten to see her much, so I'm really glad she was able to come see me today. Is it selfish to want people to take time out of their schedule to notice me? Maybe a little. Maybe it's justified. We talked about school (how I wish I could go) and all the crazy stuff they do there. There's this class called "Art Appreciation" where all you do is draw. How cool is that?! Stan probably wouldn't like that, he doesn't think that art serves a purpose. Whatever. Atris says that school isn't in session right now because it's summer, but when it's August it'll be time for it to start again. Since I'm around her age, a bit older, Atris thinks that I'm in the same grade as her, which meant that we would both be in ninth grade come August. A highschool freshman? I feel old. I told Stan and he said that if I was old, he was practically already dead. Atris is pretty excited for highschool. There's a lot of movies about highschool. I told her I wished I could go and she just smiled and said, "Maybe you will." Woah, what?
July 29th, 2010.
Dear Steve, Mr. Reman from downstairs found this old guitar at a pawn shop that was going out of business. He gave it to me. It's so cool, I couldn't believe it! He said that it's in pretty bad shape, and it needs a lot of work and a new set of strings, but I didn't care; it was like he was handing me the Holy Grail or something. It didn't seem that far gone, either. A little battered, perhaps, but nothing I couldn't fix. It just needed somebody to love it. I named it Connie and spent the whole day cleaning and tuning it up. When Atris came over later I showed her Connie. She was really excited too, haha, she didn't want to put it down. I'd cleaned and shined and decorated Connie (Sharpies work great on old acoustic guitars, I found) and she looked almost brand new again; just needed strings. Atris said she could get some for me. I hugged her. We both laughed. I'd learn to play her, I promised. That made her really happy. Atris had said that her dad had okayed her staying for dinner tonight, and I almost hugged her again. Almost. Harold decided to drag his carcass into the room at that point and make a scene of coughing up a lightbulb he'd swallowed, so we had to deal with that post-haste. I was embarrassed, but Atris just laughed it off. She said she wished her Petpet was as funny. Me and Atris and Harold made dinner together that night; spaghetti and meatballs with toast, and Harold stirred the Kool-Aid. When Stan got home he was pretty surprised to find the table already set and dinner waiting for him. I think he smiled for the first time in a week. He's been really tired lately. I worry about him sometimes. But all that jaded weariness just melted off of him as the three of us ate dinner together, Harold under the table gnawing on a particularly well-done piece of toast. Stan seemed five years younger, he felt like one of us kids. After we all cleaned up the dinner mess (Atris kept splashing the dishwater at me and I couldn't get her back because Stan was watching, no fair!), we all played a rousing game of Monopoly and Harold lost spectacularly; he kept trying to eat his gamepiece. I got Connie out so that Stan could admire her, and he seemed slightly interested, although doubtful that I'd ever learn guitar. We bid Atris good night at around nine. She gave me another hug before she left. All in all, it was the best night I'd had in like forever. I won't forget it. And I'll figure out how to play Connie. I'll do it for Stan. And for Atris. She'll be so proud of me.
collected adoptables
thanks to everybody who's made one for Drovic!
links
Link back? You can take this for your own pages so everybody can be made aware of the existence of rainbow baboons.
other pages by kota
