#Damian Parvi

[lockwoodlitherland]

DAMIAN

Name: Damian Parvi-Beckenheim Age: Twenty One (during original) Birthday: July 17th - Cancer  Height: 5ft 8

[FC: Manish Dayal ]

The good-natured smile that usually lit up his face died instantly. Damian shook his head gently, closing his eyes tight for a minute before opening them; there was a ghost on his doorstep. Unable to move his startled gaze away from the figure, he kicked clumsily at the wheelbarrow he’d been pushing, sending it rattling into the dense, frosted shrubbery that lined the long driveway up to the cabin. He was wearing his uniform: thickly muddied combat pants tucked into chunky walking boots, navy blue polo embossed with the logo of the Provincial Park that Beck owned and used as the guise for the family’s private territory.

“I- uhh.” His mouth hung open slightly and he let out a long breath, dazed, walking towards the porch. One hand gestured out in front of him in a half shrug while the other fumbled for his keys in his back pockets. Damian took the steps up to the doorway two at a time, brushing past her. He didn’t say anything. Truth be told, he had no idea what to really do with himself here or how to react to her sudden arrival.

He had changed since the last time Jamie saw him. The passing by of all those months had matured his features, subtly changing his face to reveal more bone structure than chubby cheeks. He’d grown a little taller, but mostly he’d grown wider. His shoulders and chest had filled out to become more muscular, his arms were much stronger and thicker. With age and with the hard work that came along with the physical labour of tending the park, Damian had really grown up in his appearance. Over the winter moths he had let his soldiers’ crew cut grow out. Now, his thick black hair was a little shaggy about his ears where the undercut had begun to grow. Currently, the thick mass of it was quaffed up and slicked back over to one side, held in place –most probably- by his sweat. Black stubble covered his more defined jaw line. He smelled of the earth and damp and sweat that smeared patches of his warm tanned skin. It was a considerable change from the baby faced, spiky haired boy Jamie had first met, all those years ago.

For a moment he lingered, looking uncertain before finally twisting the key. He gave the heavy wooden door a shove, looking back at her for a second with a furrowed brow, both confusion and concern in his deep brown eyes. Damian had always been so easily manipulated, Jamie had known that especially. He knew it, he hated it and he feared it.

Why is she here? He worried. Things had changed so much in the time they’d spent outside of each other’s lives. Absentmindedly, he threw his keys into the beaten metal bowl atop the set of drawers beside the row of coats that lined the wooden panelling of the hall. Damian was pretty sure the last time he was with her, it had been for sex. Sex was one thing; sex could mean a lot of things Damian had learned. Maybe this was different, he always had struggled to read her. The unexpectedness of this encounter had sent his mind spiralling a little, why did he feel embarrassed?

Taking a deep breathe he moved his palm over his forehead, brushing his fingers into the thick quaff of hair and holding it there for a moment as he turned around to Jamie in the doorway. He was trying to figure out and process what he was feeling before just lashing out into any kind of impulsive action, as Silvie had been helping him to do. There was an anger that sparked in his chest at the sight of her, crawling up his back and setting in his shoulders. He recognised the dullness of it as the shock at seeing her began to fade. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shake it off.

Let it go Parvi. He told himself, Annika’s voice echoing in his ears. After a second of holding his breath, mouth open, waiting for the words to come, he finally broke the icy silence.

“Do you, uh, want to come in?” He gestured further down the hall with his free hand.

BASIC STATISTICS

Full name: Damian Jalesh Parvi (legally changed to Beckenheim) Name origin: Westernised version of the Punjabi ‘Daman’ Nickname: D or Parvi Nickname origin: n/a Do they like the nickname?: Yes Preferred Pronoun(s): He/Him Titles/epithets: n/a Sex/gender: Male Age: Twenty One (during original) Birthday: 19th June Place of birth: Toronto, Ontario, Canada Race: Indo-Canadian Religion: Sikhism/Agnostic Occupation: Park Ranger

Relationship Status: Single

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE Height: 5ft 8 Eye color: Dark Brown Face shape: Oval Distinguishing facial features: - Other facial features: -

Describe their smile: Good natured, friendly, goofy Left or right-handed?: Right How do they dress?: Casually and comfortably Any special accessories? If so, why are they special?: Wrist Watch- belonged to his biological Grandfather who migrated to Canada from Punjab, India. Wrist band made by his little sister Silvia. Something they always carry with them: Above and Park shed’s keys. Weapons: n/a Describe hairstyle: Quiffed, overgrown crew cut Natural hair color: Black Natural hair texture: Thick and straight Cleanliness/grooming: Good Miscellaneous physical characteristics: Stocky, barrel-chested, thick armed Usual mood/expression: Cheerful

SPEECH AND COMMUNICATION Pace of speech: Slow Voice tone: Accent: Ontario, Canadian English (slips into mothers more traditional Indian accent when angry or drunk, swears in Punjabi) Describe their laugh: Describe general speech pattern: Mannerisms/demeanor: Typical posture: Gestures:

LIFE Current residence: Beck’s Park Cabin Do they live with anyone?: Usually Where would they ideally live?: Same place Any pets?: Current occupation? Are they satisfied with this?: Park Ranger, yes General health: Great

FAMILY OF ORIGIN Mother’s name: Paavani Parvi Mother’s age: Deceased at thirty five Mother’s living status: Deceased Father’s name: Vikram ‘Vik’ Parvi Father’s age: fourty nine Father’s living status: Alive Describe relationship with parents: Was caring, positive, loving but tentative with mother, Any other caretakers?: Avan Sharma (maternal Grandfather), Kelsey Beckenheim Siblings: Silvia Mahi Parvi Describe their ancestral history: Punjabi Indian, Indo-Canadian, Canadian-English

EMOTIONAL CHARACTERISTICS Describe their sense of morals: Lawful Good How do they act in public?: Stiff but friendly How do they act privately?: Relaxed and goofy How do they react in a crisis?: Lean into impulsivity, uncertainty, anxiety, finds it hard to control emotions, especially anger How do they view life?: Simply How do they view death?: Not fully considered What motivates them?: Family, nature, happiness What makes them happy?: Family, food, nature, exercise What makes them sad?: Uncertainty, other people’s sadness, conflict What makes them angry?: Carelessness, Jamie Smith/Rivers What humiliates them?: Lacking confidence to stand up for himself, others

RELATIONS WITH OTHERS Who are their close friends?: Jackson Koh  (Jay), Abbie Tomlinson (f, park ranger), Shannon Tremblay (m, park ranger), Marcus “Levers” Levesque (m, park ranger) Sexuality: Heterosexual First love: Jamie Smith/Rivers Current love: n/a

MENTAL ATTITUDES Any psychological issues?: Anxiety, managing anger Intelligence level: Not academic Self-confidence level: Low self confidence Optimist or pessimist?: Optimist Emotional or logical?: Emotional Dominant or submissive?: Submissive Patient or impatient?: Impatient when stressed, mostly patient Compassionate or self-involved?: Compassionate Greatest fear: Losing his family, especially biological sister Silvia What is their greatest strength?: Simple, caring nature What is their greatest weakness?: Lacking self confidence, people pleaser Biggest accomplishment?: Managing the park and its employees Biggest regret?: Jamie Smith/Rivers

[lockwoodlitherland]

DAMIAN

It was summer now yet outside the sky was a stormy blue-grey and rain pattered down over The Park in thick sheets. Damian sat in the driver’s side of his truck, back to the door, knees up and feet resting on the passenger’s seat as he stared down at the open notebook in his lap. Thick brows furrowed in thought as he tried to concentrate on the muted sound of raindrops hitting metal above him. Idly, he traced small circles in the outer corner of the blank page. Attempting to clear his mind of the frustrated fog he stared at his fingers in motion.

Part of him felt stupid... doing this for her. Soft. Particularly considering the boiling pot of mixed emotions between them now. He would never voice the feelings he was having, especially not to her. He was scared that she’d spit them back at him with vitriol, or worse, stare at him with those big, brown, pitying eyes. 

Sometimes he had these moments of clarity were it was so painfully obvious to him that he didn’t even really like Jamie. They just didn’t mesh, they always eventually got on each other’s nerves. But sometimes that stream of thought was muddied and things became more complicated. Tonight was one of those nights, so he had decided to write to her.

Damian still wrote to his mother, but he often tried to do this in her native script. Although he was unpracticed these days it made him feel closer to her, as if that way it were a closed loop just between them. He found some comfort in the fact that no one here, aside from Silvie, would be able to read these letters if they were found before he had chance to burn them in a campfire, or let one of The Park’s many rivers carry them away, so that his mother would be able to read them. Strangely, he never wrote to his grandfather in the same way; Damian had always preferred just to talk to him. Sometimes he would speak to his grandfather’s watch, which Damian always wore on his left wrist, as if it were a conduit between them. He also remembered, less fondly, the many times he’d been encouraged to write or speak to his father over the years. He’d never done so. Never accepted the calls, never read the letters he still received now, addressed to him in his father’s hand.

Damian felt that he was best at communicating with people when they weren’t really there. He pretended that this was something he was trying to work on. Half the reason he’d changed so drastically in his physicality over the past few years was that he often resorted to push-ups as a means of growth instead. Physical exertion was less complicated and more distracting than thinking too deeply about himself; it had been an easier challenge. Moving his body, especially outdoors, stole his mind away from the internally raging anxiety, anger and grief that he was so afraid of taking over.

He noticed that the circles he’d been doodling in the margins were becoming bigger and bigger, deeply indenting the page with thick overlapping lines of ink. After scribbling a little more, as if trying to remove some sort of barrier between pen and paper, he moved the pen over to the first line on the page. He knew he’d feel a weight off his chest once he just let it go; once it was on the page it’d be out of his head, and maybe he could just get on with his day without it plaguing him. Damian let out a short, heavy breath and began to write the letter.

Jamie, I don’t think it’s got any easier between us. You confuse me, the way you’re hot and cold. I suppose it’s always been that way. Everything’s fine when you’ve been gone for a while, I don’t want to be with you,  I know that we’re not good for each other. But then you come around again, pay attention to me, look at me like that and I remember how you used to make me feel. You make me angrier than anyone else can. But no matter how much we hurt each other I know that I can’t stop caring about you. I’ll always answer your texts. I’ll always feel something when I see you light up my phone. I’ll always remember our silly jokes and the stories we told each other. The mornings we spent baking. The evenings we spent driving. The days we spent in bed. The nights we spent wrapped up in each other.  Do you still think about me? I feel like an idiot, but I still think about you. About how I used to kiss your head and wrap you up in blankets in my arms until I felt you fall asleep. Do you remember when I used to wash your hair in the bath and make sure the warm water went over every inch of your skin so that you weren’t cold for too long?  Do you remember when you used to read to me by the fire? And I would act out some scene and mash together whatever costume, stick some stupid shit on my head? You’d narrate, I’d be dumb protagonist of the week. How can I miss you after everything that happened?  I’m struggling to override the part of myself that remembers how important you were to me and how completely in love with you I was. I want to be your friend but we’ve never just been friends.  Having you back in my life confuses me. I know that I’ll always love you in some way, because you were so important to me, but it can’t be in that way. The way that I’m sometimes worried I still love you. I never told you that I’m sorry. That I wish things would have been different. I know that towards the end, and afterwards, I treated you badly, sometimes I still do, and I’m so ashamed of that. I can’t forgive myself for it. It’ll never work between us. It didn’t work before even though we were different then. I tried so hard, too hard.  I still think about you all the time and I hate it. I still want some kind of relationship with you and I hate it. I can’t stop myself from wondering if it could work now and I hate it, because I know it can’t… I know that you don’t love me. I don’t think you ever did. Sometimes I think that I still love you and that’s a problem. I can’t carry this anymore. I don’t know how to be around you. I want to touch you and laugh with you and kiss you. I want to feel you again. It fucking freaks me out because when I see you now, and when things happen between us... it’s nothing like it was before. It’s like I’m filled with adrenaline in the moment and I’m on fire and you’re all I want and it’s meant to be happening, but I always feel so wrong afterwards. It’s overwhelming.  You were the first person that ever made me feel like this and maybe that’s why I can’t shake it. It’s the only reason I can think. Nothing else makes sense. I know that this can never work. I can’t love you, it doesn’t make sense, it’s not fair. …Luckily, I don’t feel like this all the time. Sometimes, I really don’t want you around. I hope I start to feel that way again soon. I hope that that’s the right way to feel.

With a shaky breath Damian slumped a little, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t realised how tightly he’d been holding onto the pen as he wrote. Swinging his legs back under the steering wheel, Damian lodged the pen in the ringbinder and shoved the notebook into the glove compartment. He’d have to remember to rip it up later. Damian hoped shredding the pages he’d just poured his heart out onto might be a bigger symbol for the change he wanted. His head did feel less heavy now, that was a good start.

[lockwoodlitherland]

DAMIAN & JAMIE

Damian had to be up early most every day; up, washed and in uniform in time to open up the park and tend to its many acres. Not alone of course, Beck had just over 30 employees working during the winter months and ten times that many in summer. Due to the current condition of roads however the majority of staff had had a hard time traveling to their lodges this month so Damian was short-staffed and mostly lonely. The public section of the park was made ever smaller in the winter, at times even closed completely, but that still meant hundreds of acres and odd jobs to do, so the friends he did have were sparsely spread. Today, he was looking forward to clearing one of the parks many walking trails ready for opening in the coming spring months.

Walking into the kitchen Damian struggled into his thick pullover, bumping into the counter as he wrestled with the arms. Regaining sight he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and poured himself some coffee so disgustingly thick and so eye-wateringly strong it'd have him wired for at least the next six hours. Damian made a face after his first glug and filled his thermos with the rest of the gloop. Still groggy, pulling on his boots and finding his keys he made his way out the back, locking the door behind him. He continued to rub his blurry eyes as he jogged down the wooden steps and past the figure heaped in blankets sat on the back porch. Yawning, he started to make his way towards the big shed beside the house, but all of a sudden he stopped, turned, doing a double take.

"Jamie?" With a tired look in his big earthy brown eyes he took a few steps back. She wouldn't listen to him if he told her to go inside. Bowing his head a little he jogged back up the stairs towards her, fiddling with his keys.

"D'you want more blankets?" he asked, watching the keyhole as his big hands fumbled at it.

Jamie heard Damian before she saw him, his heavy footfalls approaching the backdoor. A rush of warmth even brushed her back from the inside of the house but as quick as it came it was gone again. It was mostly the same for Damian every day. He worked hard, exceptionally so, but Jamie could see a definite passion in his eyes for what he did. These forests were part of his home. This park was more than just a public trust site to all of them. Or at least that was what she guessed. So this was why she watched him as he went, ready to call out his name but he'd already turned to face her.

She gave him a tired smile and shook her head. She would find herself dotted around random places in the mornings, her blankets always her companion. It was easier than trying to get back to sleep. For a few moments she just looked at him before turning away and reaching beneath one of the folds of the blankets by her knee. From the fabric she extracted a box and offered it to him.

"I made brownies," She said quietly, her eyebrows knitting as if she was confused by her own words. She hadn't made them specifically for Damian but...well she certainly wasn't going to eat all of them.

"For you to take while you work," She added, as if there were some confusion in her empty statement.

"They're not particularly nutritious but uh," She stopped abruptly and squared her shoulders, finding no more words. "Yeah," Even when she was trying to be normal she was weird.

For the second time that morning Damian had to do a double take as she offered the box up to him. Through the clean sharp scent of the mornings cool air he could smell the sweetness inside. At first he squinted, rubbed the corners of his eyes once more, moving hands away from the half-open door. He didn't quite know how to respond to the offering; the two had been living in a soup of mixed emotions and signals for weeks, but nothing like this, nothing this affectionate. After a brief period of thought, in which he confirmed that he wasn't hearing things and what just happened had in fact happened, Damian took the box without a word. Instead he opened the lid a crack feeling the warmth of the contents on his cheek. Raising a thick eyebrow to her he smiled a little.

"So what, do they have like rat poison in them or something?" he asked, the dimples showing in his cheeks from the smile on his lips. Crouching down beside her chair Damian peeled back the lid and took out two brownies: one he gave to her and the other he took a huge bite out of. Truth be told he wasn't expecting them to be that great, so he was pleasantly surprised when he tasted the thing. When they were younger Lil had always baked with them, and it had become somewhat of a shared passion. So Jamie doing something like this...it meant something to him. Although Damian wasn't quite sure what that was. Nor for a minute did he assume that Jamie had made them with him in mind.

“It’s good.” He said, raising his eyebrows again,  lifting the half eaten brownie as if tipping an imaginary hat to her.

Relief flooded through her when he took her offering. He could easily have scowled and carried on walking but instead she saw some kind of happiness in his eyes. As he approached her she had the good humour to smile at his joke and after taking the offered brownie she chose to add, just as he took a bite "Nope, not rat poison. Cyanide."

There we go Jamie, whacking out the morbid jokes. She watched him for a few moments before she eyed her own brownie and broke a piece off. She recalled how after Lil had brought her here and they'd tried to get her to eat, she'd been eased into watching the woman bake cookies then given the chance to herself. Her heart ached slightly as she put the piece of brownie in her mouth and chewed, eyes downcast and unsure of where to settle.

She hadn't thought Damian would actually come near her. She'd just assumed the 'gift' would be given and he'd leave but his nearness brought warmth, even in the chill air. She couldn't even find words to say to him because she had nothing he'd be interested in even hearing. So she just sat, holding her brownie like a squirrel, a stark contrast to the way he practically devoured his own.

Whilst chewing he smiled, eyes downcast, letting out a puff of air from his nose as a faint laugh. Over the past few months Damian had let his thick hair grow out further and now it was pushed back, flopping over to one side. He'd let his stubble grow back in and it darkly shaded his cheeks. At this point he might not look amiss at an art class of some kind, with his lengthening hair and his woolly jumper. It was certainly a change from the dopey, clean cut eighteen year old Jamie had first met those years ago. After a moment of silence he looked up at her with his big brown eyes that had somehow never lost their light.

"Here," he handed the box back to her, taking a considerable amount of the goods out and wrapping them in a plastic bag he had in his pocket left over from his last lunch "there's not much in, only tins and bread."

Standing he turned to pull his keys out of the heavy wooden door. For a moment he lingered, looking uncertain. Deciding, he stepped towards her, putting a hand on her hair and kissing the top of her head.

"Thanks." he said finally, before patting his pockets to check that he had everything then jogging across the yard towards the shed.

 "Welcome," She replied faintly, eyes widening a little as he kissed the top of her head. Her body was stiff, surprised clearly, but she soon regained composure and watched him leave. Carefully she eyed the brownies in her hands and wrinkled her nose. She wouldn't eat them. Sighing she set them back into the folds of the blanket and stood up, shuffling toward the back door like an animate blanket monster. She was almost relieved when heat washed over her and after shedding the blankets she folded them neatly and put them on the sofa. As usual emptiness radiated back at her along with the sense of misplacement. That would never leave her though, it sat on her shoulder and hissed in her ear where ever she went.

"Water," She said aloud, as if forcing herself to think, before she headed toward the sink. Her gaze rose to the window she'd stared out of so many times and the looming forest looked back, dark and unmoving. Where did she go from here?

[lockwoodlitherland]

DAMIAN 

“I wish I could explain what it's like to just stand in a place like this to somebody from the city.” He breathed, frosted air whisping from his lips as he stared out at the scene beyond them, sincere longing in his tone.

“Nevermind what it’s like to live here, be responsible for looking after it.” The fingers of his right hand gripped the back of his head as he studied the landscape. The faint orange light of the setting Spring sun glinted off his watch as he moved, creating a faint beam of light behind his head.

“Standing right here, after an hours drive into the mountains to fix up some wizened old trail, with nothing but your mind and music that means something to you.” He didn’t smile, but his expression was easy to read; it held gratitude most of all, a sense of awe. A feeling of peace softened any tenseness to his features or in his body language.

“Driving for hours and not seeing another soul. Knowing you’re hundreds of miles from the nearest person. Understanding that the only thing you needed, to free yourself from all that stress, was to stand right here.” It was no secret that Damian had struggled to manage his emotions over the years; lashing out in anger or turning in on himself with anxiety. Towards the end of their relationship Jamie had increasingly become the target of these outbursts when they fought, even when they spoke.

“Finding a better place in your own mind. A mindset that you can forget exists, unless you’re stood right here... That never gets old.” It was plain to see how much this last sentiment really meant to him. As he’d moved into his twenties he’d begun to hold a tighter grip on himself, managing to reign himself in before horrifying himself with the way he’d reacted to something, someone. Clearly, he’d given much of the credit for this to the landscape that they stood in together now.

He turned to her, letting out a breath of peace that pulled a sincere smile along with it. Seconds after his deep brown eyes met hers, he seemed to realise himself, who he was talking to, the fact that they didn’t talk to each other like this anymore. Bashfully, he let his hand drop from his hair, shoving the pair of them into the pockets of his muddied pants before awkwardly moving past her from the cliff edge to load the rest of the unused materials back into the truck. Despite his embarrassment, that aura of calmness that had seemed to plump him up like a leaf thirsty for water, that hadn’t appeared to budge. 

[lockwoodlitherland]

JAMIE KOVEN + DAMIAN PARVI || (PLAYLIST)

He'd tried to heal the broken but Jamie was too far gone, she always was. Taking a shaky breath she stepped forward and crossed her arms across her chest. 

"Please," She said slowly. "Just listen to what I have to say," 

She was the ghost on his doorstep. She was the smoke in his bare hands before he tried to close his fingers, only for her to disappear again.