Post by anty on Sept 20, 2012 8:54:09 GMT -5
DEAR ____ JOHN
Name:[/font][/size][/b][/u] dear john[/font]
Nickname:[/font][/size][/b][/u] anty, tic, tica, etc...[/font]
Nationality:[/font][/size][/b][/u] penuria, none (antarctica)[/font]
Gender:[/font][/size][/b][/u] male[/font]
Age:[/font][/size][/b][/u] seventeen[/font]
Social Rank:[/font][/size][/b][/u] citizen[/font]
Occupation:[/font][/size][/b][/u] local brat[/font]
Hair Color:[/font][/size][/b][/u] white[/font]
Eye Color:[/font][/size][/b][/u] red[/font]
Weight:[/font][/size][/b][/u] 167lbs.[/font]
Height:[/font][/size][/b][/u] 6'0"[/font]
Special Features:[/font][/size][/b][/u] albino, currently wielding both eyes.[/font]
Likes:[/font][/size][/b][/u]
Dislikes:[/font][/size][/b][/u]
Strengths:[/font][/size][/b][/u]
Weaknesses:[/font][/size][/b][/u]
Dreams:[/font][/size][/b][/u]
Fears:[/font][/size][/b][/u]
Personality:[/font][/size][/b][/u] Frightened, alone, and childish... These three words best describe Anty's most current personality. His wild and childish personality makes him irritating to be around, people often grating their teeth at just his presence.
Dear John, the product of abandonment, poor parenting, and isolation, has become someone with poor social skills. He has a difficult time understanding other's feelings, often acting as he pleases whether it is appropriate or not. Anty seems to have never been trained in manners, and thus has little to no shame.
Delving deeper into Anty's personality, he's a naturally lonely person. Despite having been without much company, Anty is always rather needy when it comes to finding company. He may even go as far as to cause trouble simply to avoid being alone. This is likely to be the root of most of his problems, though he would never admit to it. He has had bad experiences claiming to be lonely, and thus sticks to getting punishment for being rowdy over attention for being nice, unless you have been nice.
Contrary to popular belief, this young boy can become very attached to those who have treated him with kindness especially after he's been mean. He never intentionally hurts others, but his roughness will usually make him seem like the violent type. His high tolerance for pain is also slightly alarming, though this is due to many bruises long since past. After a while, anyone would just become immune to most things.
Even though Anty is a Paritan, he sees little to no difference between any of the three kingdoms. He may be a Pawn, as well as loyal to his kingdom should they call on him, but he enjoys speaking to others and meeting new people. Anty has a lot of interest in things that he hasn't seen, before, as well as people he hasn't met. Because of this he is always running off and getting into even more trouble, becoming confused when hostility is shown toward him.
All in all, Anty is more like a child than anything... One that just wants a bit of attention.[/font]
History:[/font][/size][/b][/u] Dear John, born to a couple whom he doesn't care to remember, on a day he was never told of, in a place he wouldn't recognize, today, has not had a particularly normal life. Rather, this child has been raised by many different people, being passed on and on with no one taking a real interest in him. Perhaps it had been his albinism, or even his strange habits? Where he lived, he became known as something of a "Dear John" letter, being given to others that are being left behind. Some would even call the boy cursed, doomed to force apart any and all relationships.
Anty grew up with this sort of life. He mostly kept to himself, never going to school and instead teaching himself all that he knows. Cooking, cleaning, and reading are his "special" talents. It was only one person who actually taught him some of how to read before he was given away, again. This was the only thing he was taught, though it was very basic. He, himself, read things and learned much of what he knows after that.
Essentially, the boy grew up alone. His social skills deteriorated, his manners were rough and unrefined, and he had a tendency to appear hostile with the words he used... But, contrary to these facts, he has always sought out attention. Good or bad of the sort didn't matter. He can often be found wandering around in other kingdoms.[/font]
Additional Information:[/font][/size][/b][/u] • HIS NAME, just don't mention it. he dislikes it greatly and prefers to be called by anything other than that name.
• HIS "FAMILY", it is a subject he gets tense about, and possibly will become agitated easily if the topic persists. he has no concern for knowing who any of them were, but... he is jealous of the connection others have to their own families. it is something he will never get to experience.
• HIS NICKNAME, the name "anty" comes from a cuter version of "ant", as he was often referred to as a child who could easily be stepped on. he doesn't tell people about this unless they come to know his real name, claiming that it is better than his real name. he would rather be stepped upon than be a letter of misfortune.[/font]
Roleplay Sample:[/font][/size][/b][/u] [Antarctica meets up with England who is sitting around, moping]
To answer a question most recent asked: yes, and not much. How to tarnish a soul is written in many languages, many religions, and dealt with among many of those who take the time to sit and think of how this world truly is. This world, based on the idealist view, is so close to obtaining peace. Only a few more meetings, a pinch more faith, and a dash of dreams. Oh, how wonderful a world as such would be. If only there truly were a recipe for such, rather than those created for disaster. It seemed so simple, but perhaps the complexity of the human mind is incapable of something as such? To gather the countries, states and continents together in order to fulfill this idealism seemed farfetched and only another stew of war, pain, and hunger. So many faces familiar to one another, and yet somehow fate saw fit, as fickle as she is, to invite the one place who didn't belong.
It would be rude not to accept such an offer. To finally be recognized, was this such a bad thing? To say that his opinion counted despite not being a true country all his own? No, he did not accept for this reason, anyway. He didn't care to be heard, for who would listen? He had no language to speak in of his own, people to speak for him, and no currency to even pay someone to sit down and listen to his woes, for he was Antarctica. He was a large landmass of ice, uselessly frozen and incapable of anything fantastic save for knowledge of a history long gone. Like with every ring in a tree, he held many a millennium within him.
However, you see, he does not remember. Who is he to recall something so deeply embedded in himself when he had only recently become conscious of his own existence? So, instead, others have taken it upon themselves to both mentally and physically tear him apart out of their own curiosity of this world. They didn't care enough for him, why would they care about the entire world? It just seemed silly. A goal that isn't allowed to be reached. Had anyone thought of that? Surely he wasn't the only sour one here.
When he looked up again, the scenery had changed. The ground below had gone from a concrete footing to soft dirt. He had been watching the weight in his feet push apart the dirt as it made a footprint in the ground. Of course now he could look back. Now he realized he had footprints to look back on. How was it that everyone expected to find so much in him when he couldn't do it himself? And so forcefully, too!
The air smelled of something entirely unfamiliar... No, that was this entire island. The warm weather had shocked him. He hadn't realized there was such a thing as warmth, really. It had always been cold and colder. He had never even seen his breath before; he had always been that cold.
These things sprouting from the ground, too... What on earth were they? The only thing he has seen sprout up are icebergs or polar bears as they stuck their heads out from their paw-made caves. Perhaps even Russia, Britain and America's rise over the horizon as they came upon him that same year?
He sniffed, the strange smell burning his nose welcomingly. It wasn't that he hated nature. Actually, he had a very curious personality, himself. Nearly all of what was on the island was something he had never seen before. Naturally, he didn't travel much. It wasn't his thing to do. No one ever invited him or anything, either. He was a landmass, who cared? It was the nations he didn't like. No, not just them. Everyone. Everyone and their idealism. And, if they should happen to need only him to finish the deal, then he would decline. World peace would never happen as long as he was still alive. He would make everyone hate him, as long as it made them miserable, themselves.
"Misery loves company, after all." He finally piped up, pausing to look around at the scenery. He was in a field, a large area without buildings and simply covered in all sorts of strange colors. He felt out of place, and yet somehow warm. Was that supposed to be some cruel way of irony?
He blinked, catching the faint whisper caught by the wind. "How despicable..." spat the wind. He had never thought wind was capable of such a clear voice, but he quickly matched it to someone he knew. Someone he knew very well. A snarl then graced his lips momentarily as he looked onward toward the tall, yellow grasses. These were the ones he believed gave off a more distinct smell than anything else.
Sure enough, there he was. His hair seemed to match his surroundings, much more so than this other fellow's. No, this other fellow's didn't match at all. His white hair stood out, and against his pale skin his brilliantly red eyes were like fireballs in the snow. Snow that couldn't exist somewhere so warm. Snow that shouldn't exist, at least not at this time or place.
"I should be taking tea around this hour...not lounging around in the dirt." He sniffed again.
Antarctica approached England, as he figured the character standing around for no apparent reason was. The boy seemed to be snarling, but Antarctica just barely kept his anger hidden behind a disgusted frown.
Among all the countries, England was one of the three he hated most of all.
"You say that, and yet here you've sat on the filthy ground with visibly no intention of getting up," he paused, raising a brow before taking a seat nearby. "Normally I'd greet someone by telling them that they'll catch a cold with how less they're wearing, but now I'm the one who's actually overdressed." He let out a long sigh as if the idea really did bother him.
On the contrary, the thing that bothered him most was this feeling of displacement. He shouldn't be here. What did his opinion matter at this school? He wasn't his own country, anyway. Just a landmass.[/font]
Alias:[/font][/size][/b][/u] eli[/font]
Age:[/font][/size][/b][/u] too old[/font]
Experience:[/font][/size][/b][/u] i need a life[/font]
Additional Information:[/font][/size][/b][/u] i'm sexy and i know it.[/font]
Credits:
[/font]Application Code made by B and C. Lyrics by Temposhark, song “Don’t Mess With Me”[/font][/center]