ROCHESTER, vincent

[bizz]

Vincent Rochester

Full Name:
Vincent Rochester

Nicknames:
Vincey, V, Rochester

Age:
seventeen.

Grade/House:
senior, white house.

Gender:
male.

Nationality:
His family is originally from Kent, England, but moved to the USA three generations back. So that makes Vincent an third generation American.

Orientation:
Straight... ish?

Playby:
Heath Ledger.

physical

Height/Weight:
six feet one inch and hundred and fifty-four pounds

Scars/Tattoes/Piercings:
His left thumb is shorter and fatter than the other from jamming it when he was younger. He has no other noticeable scars, no tattoos or piercing.

Striking Features:
He does not really think of himself as striking but when asking other people they normally say his eyes. His eyes are a darker shade of blue than most and are really the mirror of his feelings—which makes looking him straight in the eye an intense experience for the other person.

Anything else?
Not really, no.

personal

[/size]
Likes:
-helping others
-riding
-jumping
-watching others smile
-succeeding
-watching others succeed
-listening
-hugs

Dislikes:
-drugs
-liquor
-sex
-hate
-catty girls
-fighting
-yelling
-being forced to answer questions
-watching people cry
-failing
-watching people fail

Fears:
-seriously hurting himself
-that people will need to much help
-that he won’t be able to help
-that the weight of the world will finally prove to much

Flaws:
-his slight messiah complex*
-stand-off-ish-ness
-inability to speak his mind
-inability to physically hide his true emotions

Hobbies:
-helping other
-keeping to himself
-video games
-horseback riding

Background:
”I don’t remember much of my
childhood. I remember when my dad
was alive—and all that stuff… I mean
what do you want to know?”

Vincent grew up in a privileged household in New York State. That was his childhood—privileged is truly the only way to explain it. He was instantly gotten and tutor, the best money could buy, and was never expected to do anything except learn to read and more importantly learn to ride. The boy was born to famous event rider, William Rochester and jumper rider, Lindsay Tuner. Before Vincent knew how to pronounce mama he was strapped into a saddle. Double stick tape in his stirrups and laced through his reins, his show jacket hemmed to fit him properly and his helmet stuffed with cotton so that it didn’t slide down his face. He was known around the USEF zone 1 lead line circuit as every little girl’s nightmare.

Most of Vincent’s early childhood was filled with a small pony named Mr. Fancy Pants, Jeans for short. The pony was Vincent’s best friend, babysitter, and greatest teacher. They went from lead line, to walk divisions and from there the small pony hunters. IN his childhood V knew no failure. Mom and dad at the gate, always waiting with a blue ribbon for their little superstar and his little grey pony, hotel rooms and ring side playgrounds. That was until disaster struck the Rochester household.

Vincent was ten, and had just moved onto his large pony Golden Gloves (Champ). It was an off weekend for this horse show family, Capital Challenge a week away they decided to give the horses a weekend off. Dad had been sent a project to work on for a woman who desperately wanted her horse to settle into the nice animal she knew he could be. Vincent remembers the horse well, a large chestnut. Mean thing, didn’t let you get close to him, wouldn’t tolerate any amount of grooming or groundwork. He remembers that mom didn’t want Dad to take the horse, rumors of the horses viciousness, and pure nastiness circulating. From what Vincent could piece together the horse had been saved from the slaughter house and then instantly resold for five thousand dollars after a cowboy hadn’t been able to calm it. A trainer bought it and then sent it to a client for near twenty thousand dollars, and was later bucked off by the animal. Apparently this horse not only bucked you off, but then went after you. V remembers standing in the door, listening a awe as Mom begged Dad to send the horse back, not to try and work it. Of course Dad got on the horse. Mom refused to stand in the ring, she stood on the rail with Vincent who sat perched on the top rail anticipating an exciting ride. He was proud of his father, watching him sit through the bucks and work the horse down till it went quietly on the bit. He was beaming, happy to see that Mom had been wrong. He watched as dad went through the small combinations of jumps, the horse obviously submitting to the rider.

He only looked away from a second. Only a second, to look at Mom, to see if she was proud too, to see if she was happy like he was… In the world of horse back riding an accident only take a second, only a second. Mom gasped, and V looked back to the ring. Dad was on the ground, his head twisted in a stand angle, the horse turning to lunge at the man on the ground. Everything else happened to fast. Mom was yelling for help, people were running into the ring, grabbing the horse as it reared and bucked, calling nine-one-one, trying to get Dad to talk, to answer, to breath. Vincent still sat, perched on the fence, knuckles turning white as he gripped the plank of wood. The ambulance came soon enough… Dad lived for twenty-four hours after the fall.

”My pre-teen years? What
do you mean? Like between
eleven and thirteen? They were
boring.”

After that day Mom gave V a choice. Ride or quit. He chose to keep riding. It was the only thing he knew how to do. So a month after his father’s death Vincent was back on the back of his pony, and back into the ring. His tutor was employed again, and they family—significantly smaller—went back to the busy show schedule.

Of course that day changed Vincent forever. The helplessness he felt, sitting while everyone else had something to do—someway to help. He vowed never to let himself get that way again—never, ever again. Suddenly Vincent was helping out the grooms, comforting the girls who got red ribbons when their favorite color was pink, wanting to help every single person he saw that needed a hand. Mom was confused of course, her introverted little boy suddenly reaching out when complete strangers were in need. He wasn’t trying to make friends—he didn’t introduce himself to these people when he helped, he just did. He didn’t try and reconnect with them when they were at different shows—he was just helping. Mom didn’t think much of it until she caught Vincent curled around a radio as it yelped through the static about an earthquake on the other side of the world. Mom instantly took him to a therapist to figure out what was going on in Vincent’s head. It became obvious that Vincent had given himself a Messiah Complex, though not to its full extent. What had started as his need to help others, had now become a totally disconnect between what Vincent felt and how he should react to the emotions of others.

This didn’t stop Vincent’s riding though; they just learned to deal with it—journals helped mostly. And so it went. He moved up to doing the Large Pony Hunters, desperately trying to give his life some sense of purpose.

”Since then? School I
guess? I mean I’ve been here.
It’s been more of the
Same.”

As Vincent moved from pony’s to horses he moved from pony hunters to children’s then juniors. Then he started to dabble in jumpers, which thrilled and terrified Mom. While she wanted control of everything he did, as Vincent reached his teenaged years he was fighting for some kind of freedom. And so he was sent to Blue Ridge Academy. He has been there since his freshmen year of high school.

And it has been—as he says—more of the same. He still goes to school, he is still introverted with a complete need to help everyone he comes in contact with, and he is of course still horse back riding.


* For those of you who do not know what the messiah complex is, it is basically when the person cannot not help someone. So say Vincent sees someone crying he HAS to go help them—he cannot not help them if you have ever read Secret Life Of Bees think April.[/right]

horse talk
Favorite discipline:
Jumpers

Years of experience:
fifth-teen
(trained also in hunters but has more fun in jumpers)

Accomplishments:
-Top Honors at Lake Placid, WIHS, NHH, and Lexington before he out grew juniors.
-Trained and is successfully showing his mare
-Got Dad to say he was proud

School or Board?
boarded horse.

Other:
Vincent throws all he has into horseback riding and naturally doesn’t do anything else. He has had a tutor since he started riding at the age of three. His freshman year at the academy was he first year in a "real" school. Horseback riding is truly his life and he must do well if he ever wants to do well in life.

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