August is not one of your typical town teens. August Lasair is a descendant of the famous Lasair bloodline; they’re known for their ice cream parlor that has been around since 1920 called Lava Cone. Their last name (Lasair) is Irish for flame. The parlor was a hit since the moment it opened. To keep it alive, the original owner George Lasair decided he wanted it to be passed down to the men in the future generations which is how August got stuck running it alone at 19 years of age (he was born October 5th, 2000). His older brother Nick was supposed to, but sadly, he passed away at the age of 7. August was not planning to run the ice cream parlor for the rest of his life. His father passed away when August had just turned 19 and passed the parlor onto him on his deathbed. August was not happy when he heard the news but knew he had to do it or else his mother would completely disown him. She would disown him if she found out he was in a metal band as well, but he’s kept it a secret for a few years. The townsfolk believe there is a cult that resides somewhere near the burning hill, however, it’s just August and his band rehearsing at night so his mother wouldn’t catch him.
August is a tall teen coming to around 5’9. He’s skinny, but not unhealthy skinny and his skin is pale enough that people can tell he doesn’t fancy being in the sun very much. He’s typically stuck running the shop during the day then goes outside at night. August has long black hair that ends above his shoulders and sweeps over his left eye in a side part. His face isn’t very friendly which he got from his mother; his father had the friendliest face which brought many customers into the parlor each day. This generation has been quite hard especially since the whole town is talkative and friendly except him and his friends. August is always wearing black except when he wears his work uniform which is a white button up short sleeve shirt tucked into black business casual type pants. He wears black shoes and over the outfit is an off white apron that each generation has worn since 1920. The name ‘Lava Cone’ is embroidered close to the top in red. The apron is big on August so he has to wrap it around his waist twice. He also has a white diner hat with red stripes.
When there aren’t many people around for the day, August typically sneaks into the basement where all of the ice cream machines and ingredients are and plays his electric guitar. He doesn’t want to get caught by his mother again so he leaves the amp at his friend’s house. When he was 17 years old, he bought his own electric guitar and amp. He would frequently play it when his parents and sibling weren’t home, but one night, his mother came home early and was so quiet that he didn’t hear her. The next thing he knew, she was in his room yelling at him to not waste his time playing a guitar and instead focus on learning how to bake cones and make ice cream so he could be ready to inherit the parlor. She told him to throw the guitar away and watched him as he put it next to the trash out back, but at night when his family was sleeping, he snuck outside and took the guitar back and hid it in his friend’s house. Once his dad passed and he inherited the shop, he stored the guitar in the parlor’s bedroom (which then became his bedroom) and brought it out when business was slow. He only played in the basement for fear of someone hearing and snitching or his mother hearing.
August had never really gotten along with his parents; they were extroverts and he was not. His relationship with his mother was the worst. Once his dad passed away, the string that was holding it together snapped and he immediately moved out into the parlor never to speak to his mother again only when she came to collect the parlor’s money for the night to store it in the bank. Any time they were in the room together, his mother would always find something to criticize and he would always find a reason to fight back. The only thing she didn’t criticize were his manners. He was always a clean person ever since he was a kid so the shop never had a speck of dust or a drop of melted ice cream. It was the only thing his mother seemed to be proud of. That and his ability to still make their fantastic homemade ice cream and cones.
~Ashley Carrier