Floyd Tarlton's Questionnaire

Floyd lives in Portland Oregon, mainly because that's the best place that accepted him as their new professor of philosophy. He teaches at the University of Portland and hopes to one day expand the philosophy program to a doctoral program. He has quickly come to love the town he lives in for all of its eccentricities, it has even reshaped some of his personal beliefs and outlooks. For instance, he's considering getting a larger place so that he start a polycule, but he's not sure what type of individuals to seek out once he does get a larger place. So for now he is content to stay in his condominium in a (gentrified) neighborhood known for its younger, affluent residents, so he fits in rather well. Floyd enjoys the vibrant culture of Portland, indulging in its diverse culinary scene and attending local art exhibits and music festivals. Despite his busy schedule, he finds solace in the city's lush green spaces, often spending weekends hiking in the nearby forests or cycling along the riverbanks. His condominium, nestled in a picturesque corner of the neighborhood, offers him a peaceful retreat from the hustle and bustle of academia, where he can unwind with a good book or engage in stimulating philosophical discussions with friends over a cup of artisanal coffee.

As mentioned, Floyd is an associate professor at the University of Portland. He is glad he is no longer an adjunct professor and hopes to one day be tenured. He often spends his money on artisanal coffee, eccentric restaurant food, hiking gear, camping gear, accessories for his mountain bike, a vinyl record collection, craft beer, hair & mustache care products, fashionable clothing, hats, local concerts, et cetera. He also spends a (not insignificant) amount of money on materials for his mystical studies. He owns a Lucid Air Sapphire but uses a high-quality foldable touring bike when in town and of course public transit. Floyd also invests in organic groceries, sustainability initiatives, mindfulness workshops, book club memberships, vintage furniture, art supplies, home decor, community theater productions, yoga classes, and charitable donations. He's passionate about supporting local businesses and advocating for environmental causes.

Floyd Tarlton's ultimate goal is to see his philosophical socio-economic dream of "Communal Capitalism" come to fruition. This involves the hyper-regulation of businesses and increased taxation of the upper percentages of income to provide greater social program funding that will pour directly into the economic needs of the lower percentages of income. This supplemented by a standardized supplement to income for everyone under the wealth line would allow a more comfortable lifestyle for everyone else. He hopes that the regulation of profit-to-expense percentages, and the income ratios between the tiers of employees and employers will slow down or even halt the rise of inflation. Floyd is willing to tear down established governments, cause riots, and even sanction executions to reach his goals, but he is unwilling to do any of the bloody work himself. He never wants to get his hands dirty by directly killing anyone himself. He is also too scared to die to come any closer to it than he has to. He would hide behind a facade of being "too important to the cause" to let it happen, but the truth is he just doesn't want to go.

When Floyd Tarlton was 18 years old he performed the Restorative Ceremony of Aradia *successfully* for the first time. Not only did it change his entire outlook on the world (now all those CryptoLeaks really might have merit!), but it changed him physiologically (all his hair turned bright blue!), not to mention it changed his standing within his family. They told him that the permanent hair color change was a sign that the Blue Flame truly blessed him and that it was a sign that he was to be "The Greatest Blue Flame Mage of this Age." Not only were his eyes fully opened to the idea of the supernatural, (he considered himself a believer before, but now he had PROOF!) but it changed his socio-economic outlook. Now he wanted to see ALL people provided for, not just those who could provide for themselves. He started going to protests like "Occupy Wall Street", "Me Too", and "Black Lives Matter" as a matter of course. He was seen at various rallies, forum boards, soup kitchens, and shelters. He sees a connection between all living sapients and refuses to ignore that now.

Aunt Thea: Aunt Thea is Floyd's mentor in the mystic arts and a trusted confidant. She's a member of the previous generation in Floyd's family and has passed down the knowledge of the Blue Flame to him. Thea's guidance and wisdom have been invaluable to Floyd as he navigates the complexities of magic and its ethical implications. Her gentle demeanor and unwavering support provide Floyd with a sense of stability and reassurance in his mystical journey.

Aria: Aria is Floyd's openly polyamorous significant other who has recently introduced him to the merits of polyamory. She's supportive, understanding, and encourages Floyd to explore his feelings and desires openly. Aria's presence has brought a new dimension to Floyd's life, challenging him to reconsider traditional relationship norms and embrace a more fluid and inclusive approach to love and intimacy. Her vibrant energy and unwavering acceptance create a nurturing environment where Floyd feels truly valued and accepted.

Sophia: Sophia is Floyd's colleague at the University of Portland and a close friend. They share a passion for philosophy and engage in stimulating intellectual discussions. Sophia's insights and perspectives have broadened Floyd's horizons, challenging him to think critically and explore new ideas. Their friendship extends beyond academia, as they collaborate on research projects and enjoy each other's company outside of work. Sophia's warmth and wit add a touch of levity to their interactions, making every conversation enjoyable and enlightening.

When thirteen-year-old Floyd completed The Minor Restorative Ceremony of Aradia, the Blue Flame didn't just heal the sparrow's wing—it claimed them completely. Overnight, their hair turned the color of deep cerulean, a permanent mark of the Flame's claim. Aunt Thea called it a mage's mantle, but Floyd just saw a target.

School became an exercise in survival. Teachers dismissed them as a disruptive mystic; classmates either begged for love charms or shoved them into lockers. The Flame's gifts came at a price: every healed scrape left Floyd drained and feverish, every whispered spell tinged with the scent of burning wisteria.

Their first romantic disaster came at fifteen, when the socialist debater they'd been crushing on took one look at their glowing hands mid-healing and ran. By graduation, Floyd had learned two truths:

1. Magic didn't care about being convenient

2. Neither did the revolution

The Blue Flame had chosen them—for better or worse.

Floyd’s love life reads like a half-finished manifesto—full of crossed-out drafts and marginalia. There was Liam, the monogamous poet who called their magic "too much," and Jules, the anarchist who loved Floyd’s ideals but couldn’t share their heart. Each breakup left the Blue Flame sputtering, as if mourning the loss of what could have been.

Now there’s Aria, radiant and patient, who presses a mug of rosehip tea into their hands and says, "You don’t have to ration love like capitalism rations bread." Floyd’s still terrified of hurting someone, of getting burned again—but when Aria laces her fingers with theirs, the Flame burns steady and bright.

The Blue Flame burns restless in Floyd’s chest these days, reacting to fears they can’t yet voice aloud. Their greatest terror isn’t just irrelevance—it’s never getting the chance to matter. That "Communal Capitalism" might never progress beyond cocktail party debates and margin notes in their dissertation while corporate machines keep devouring entire neighborhoods. The Flame dims when they imagine decades passing, their carefully color-coded economic models gathering dust in some university archive while the world moves on without them.

They lie awake agonizing over the moment of commitment—when theory must become action. The first protest they organize, the first bank window smashed by someone following their words. Floyd knows they’ll send those emails, print those pamphlets, then watch from the sidelines as others take the real risks. The Flame sparks angrily when they admit the truth: they want change, but need deniability.

Most haunting is the fear that when the time comes, they’ll hesitate too long. That the perfect system they’ve designed in their air-conditioned office will wither from over-caution, leaving them just another armchair revolutionary who thought their brilliance exempted them from sacrifice. The Blue Flame’s light grows unstable when Floyd realizes—it’s already judging them for waiting.

The first-edition copy of Emma Goldman’s Anarchism and Other Essays, stolen from a corporate bookstore during their undergrad years, sits pride of place on Floyd’s altar. Its margins are dense with notes in three colors of ink—black for theory, red for rebuttals, blue for magical annotations where Goldman’s words accidentally aligned with sigilcraft. It’s less a book than a living manifesto, its spine cracked from being thrown at a libertarian during a 3 AM debate.

Beside it rests Aunt Thea’s pendulum, a teardrop of labradorite that hums when the Blue Flame is near a lie. It’s saved Floyd from bad dates, bad alliances, and one particularly treacherous tenure committee.

The new athame—cold-forged iron with a hilt wrapped in trade-union banners—hasn’t earned sentiment yet. But it has earned respect: last week, it sliced through a demon’s disguise like butter, revealing the creature’s true form (a grotesque parody of a venture capitalist). Floyd’s still uneasy about its violence, but the way the blade drinks in cobalt light suggests the Flame approves.