Post by AimlessSpirit on Jul 10, 2012 3:34:37 GMT -5
Name: Oliver
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight?/Bi-curious
Rank: Vocaloid3
Appearance:
Oliver has light, blonde hair that is naturally messy. No matter how much you try to brush it, it will always flip up. He also has yellow eye color and of course, his most noticed feature of his face is that his left side of it is concealed in bandages. What is also bandaged is his right joint just above his knee, and left ankle. His blue coat is too big for his size, covering most of his hands and reaching down to his knees, his white, collared undershirt is loose, about the same size. Half of his undershirt is tucked into his tight, black shorts with yellow lining at the ends. A thin, yellow ribbon his wrapped around his collar, matching yellow collars is nearly bordering the sides of his blue sailor's coat, which also has a Dal Segno symbol and silver buttons on the left side. Another noticeable feature is his Boat Captain's hat, mostly white with black, blue and gold accents. Oliver is usually seen going around barefoot, and always has a certain yellow bird perched on him.
Personality:
Though he doesn't have much to be thankful for, Oliver is known to see his cup of life as half full than half empty. He enjoys putting a smile on someone's face, whether it is by complimenting them or starting a funny conversation, Oliver is usually one you can look for if you're lonely, or having just a full on bad day. He often says "Just because one eye is gone, doesn't mean my ears have to be, too!" It's tough to get rid of the boy when you become friends with him; Oliver is as loyal as a dog. He considers all friends as his family. He's not that shy either, not minding waving at random strangers looking at him in public is a good an example of this. He happens to be very wise for his age, giving good advice to others, as if he experienced the problem himself.
Truth be told, Oliver has a sad, dark past, revealing hardly any of it to even his closest friends. Due to his optimistic personality, you would not be able to guess he's hurting inside anyway, however. He always rejects help at first, not being used to having help at all and feeling awkward. Oliver becomes and sounds very emotional when singing due to him expressing most of his internal feelings. He usually just lets people walk all over him, never known to have stand up for himself, but he does however, stand up for others. Oliver is the type to get hit for the other's sake. He isn't exactly the best runner; some notice he tends to walk in a strange way.
He usually is found playing at the beach near the ocean, always seen with his best friend of a bird, James. He could write a book about how much he loves the sea. If not playing or dancing with his bird, his way of chilling is drawing, reading, drinking tea... Oliver loves loves LOVES his tea, especially with crumpets. He'll do a lot to get the two if someone is offering. And unlike other people, he actually likes the feeling of someone messing with his hair. People tend to find is young, British accent simply adorable.
Rp sample:
(I dunno if you would say this needs a violence warning, but here is one anyways... :3 Warning for violence...?)
"How long now?" a soft voice whispered aloud as two yellow hues glanced down at the picture of a boat captain on what looked like a cruise ship. The only reason the young boy knew that man's face was because of that gradually fading picture. His eyes sparked with both happiness and sadness; Mom's right: He looks just like him. Was that why she never smiles at him anymore? After his father left to sea, he never came back. "Yet." was what his mother always tacked on after. She was so in denial, having conversations with the chair he usually sat in as if he were there right then, spending her days waiting, staring at the door as if he would walk through it any second. He last saw that man when he was two; Oliver was twelve now.
He loved the smell in there, in his parent's rooms. It was... Fresh. Like lemons and limes fresh. Yellow hues wandered around the room until it looked outside. What was she doing..? Muttering something Oliver couldn't quite comprehend while his mom was tampering with the doors. Fixing it, he assumed. The house needed some home improvement, maybe. Oliver glanced at one of the closets curiously; one peek can't hurt, right? ...Right. The blonde paused for a moment to lightly drag his finger over the color-fading photo with extreme caution, treating the frame like fragile glass as he set it back down to the desk beside his parents' bed. He stepped toward the door quietly, for his mother still didn't know he was in her room in the first place. He opened the door.... Bloody hell, was that uniform beautiful.
The next thing Oliver knew was that he was inspecting himself in the mirror, trying on the navy blue Captain's coat, white hat and white shirt, his own black shorts being the only things that fit well. Everything else felt so loose, but he was only trying them on. He chuckled to himself, glancing over to the picture again. He really did look like him, now...
He loved the smell. It was smoky, like smoky wood or...
Wait, what?
Smoke. He swore it smelled like fresh lemons, before... Was his mother cooking something? He sniffed the air again. Before he knew it, the door slammed open, a familiar old, tired-looking woman smiling. Just smiling. Oliver has never seen her smile in so long, but this... Wasn't the kind of smile he was hoping for. Did she finally snap..?
"Mother?" the blonde croaked out with a quivering lip, a terrified look. No answer. "Mother, why are you smiling?" Nothing. "Are you cooking, mother? It smells like you're burning it..." The grin widened. "S-Stop it, mother. You're scaring me, ma'am..." With that statement, the smile immediately dropped; Oliver didn't know whether to be relieved or more terrified for that.
Stepping towards her was a bad move apparently, for the next thing he knew, his messy blonde hair was gripped onto tightly and smashed against the wall. She unplugged the lamp. She raised it. It was became dark.
The only reason he awoke was to put out that blistering pain on the left side of his face. Nothing was seen from that same side, the air was impossible to breath in from. Crying heavily, he didn't need his full vision to know that the house was on fire. Yeah, crazy bitch finally snapped.
"...No no no NO!" he screamed, coughed, and screamed again in agony, backing against the wall and pulling at his hair from the sight of it. That horrible image... Haunting. Menacing. While his father most likely drowned in the icy cool depths of the ocean, his mother was burned to a blazing crisp.
No time to grief: He needed to breathe. Oliver hacked and coughed as he attempted to run to the front door, only stopping halfway, able to see through the smoke that it was nailed shut. So much for home improvement. He rushed to the screen door next to the kitchen.... Same results. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, struggling to think of an exit, the windows were all shut as well, judging by the ones in the kitchen... But wait, there was light in his parents' room. That window wasn't blocked! ...But he couldn't open it like that. He needed to break it.
He didn't give another second to wait as he ran back to the room with the burning corpse of his mother waited, weakly hitting the glass window: time was running out, and he had no air left. Oliver fell to his knees, taking his last glimpse of the world before he died a slow painful death.... But then there it was. There /he/ was. A yellow bird, pecking at the window, as if wanting to help; it gave him strength.
He swiftly gave a roundhouse kick of the window with his left foot. ....Bloody hell, did that hurt. He whined out and cried, hardly able to stand on it. No time to inspect it, however. Crying through the scorching pain of his left ankle and the fast approaching flames, he used his right knee to kick through the crack already made on the glass, shattering it and freeing himself. But he wanted away, not just out. He didn't want an ambulance, police questioning, neighbors pitying... He ran.
-
Finally below the pier. He panted heavily, falling to the floor and staring at his soot-stained hand. He didn't even notice he was still wearing his father's clothes while he was crying loudly, hugging his legs and burying his dirty face into himself. What now?
/Chirp chirp/ Confused and curiously, Oliver looked up to see that familiar yellow bird perching on his left knee. He stopped his crying, only managing a snuffle as he stared atthe creature, eyes still damp when he choked out a "Thank you."
Another moment of silence until the bird hopped onto Oliver's shoulder, only making his tears well up more with happiness. "May I call you... James?" he asked in a hesitant voice, the bird making what seemed like a chirp of approval. "Great." he managed, his tone still emotionless until he asked like what seemed to be a plea. "HeyJames, Can you stay with me...?" A pause. "Forever, maybe? That would be nice." The bird nudged the boy's cheek.
Oliver has kept that cheerful smile since.
(...That was a whole lot longer than expected. Very sorry! ^ ^")
Code:
regurgitated lemon tuna tarts
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight?/Bi-curious
Rank: Vocaloid3
Appearance:
Oliver has light, blonde hair that is naturally messy. No matter how much you try to brush it, it will always flip up. He also has yellow eye color and of course, his most noticed feature of his face is that his left side of it is concealed in bandages. What is also bandaged is his right joint just above his knee, and left ankle. His blue coat is too big for his size, covering most of his hands and reaching down to his knees, his white, collared undershirt is loose, about the same size. Half of his undershirt is tucked into his tight, black shorts with yellow lining at the ends. A thin, yellow ribbon his wrapped around his collar, matching yellow collars is nearly bordering the sides of his blue sailor's coat, which also has a Dal Segno symbol and silver buttons on the left side. Another noticeable feature is his Boat Captain's hat, mostly white with black, blue and gold accents. Oliver is usually seen going around barefoot, and always has a certain yellow bird perched on him.
Personality:
Though he doesn't have much to be thankful for, Oliver is known to see his cup of life as half full than half empty. He enjoys putting a smile on someone's face, whether it is by complimenting them or starting a funny conversation, Oliver is usually one you can look for if you're lonely, or having just a full on bad day. He often says "Just because one eye is gone, doesn't mean my ears have to be, too!" It's tough to get rid of the boy when you become friends with him; Oliver is as loyal as a dog. He considers all friends as his family. He's not that shy either, not minding waving at random strangers looking at him in public is a good an example of this. He happens to be very wise for his age, giving good advice to others, as if he experienced the problem himself.
Truth be told, Oliver has a sad, dark past, revealing hardly any of it to even his closest friends. Due to his optimistic personality, you would not be able to guess he's hurting inside anyway, however. He always rejects help at first, not being used to having help at all and feeling awkward. Oliver becomes and sounds very emotional when singing due to him expressing most of his internal feelings. He usually just lets people walk all over him, never known to have stand up for himself, but he does however, stand up for others. Oliver is the type to get hit for the other's sake. He isn't exactly the best runner; some notice he tends to walk in a strange way.
He usually is found playing at the beach near the ocean, always seen with his best friend of a bird, James. He could write a book about how much he loves the sea. If not playing or dancing with his bird, his way of chilling is drawing, reading, drinking tea... Oliver loves loves LOVES his tea, especially with crumpets. He'll do a lot to get the two if someone is offering. And unlike other people, he actually likes the feeling of someone messing with his hair. People tend to find is young, British accent simply adorable.
Rp sample:
(I dunno if you would say this needs a violence warning, but here is one anyways... :3 Warning for violence...?)
"How long now?" a soft voice whispered aloud as two yellow hues glanced down at the picture of a boat captain on what looked like a cruise ship. The only reason the young boy knew that man's face was because of that gradually fading picture. His eyes sparked with both happiness and sadness; Mom's right: He looks just like him. Was that why she never smiles at him anymore? After his father left to sea, he never came back. "Yet." was what his mother always tacked on after. She was so in denial, having conversations with the chair he usually sat in as if he were there right then, spending her days waiting, staring at the door as if he would walk through it any second. He last saw that man when he was two; Oliver was twelve now.
He loved the smell in there, in his parent's rooms. It was... Fresh. Like lemons and limes fresh. Yellow hues wandered around the room until it looked outside. What was she doing..? Muttering something Oliver couldn't quite comprehend while his mom was tampering with the doors. Fixing it, he assumed. The house needed some home improvement, maybe. Oliver glanced at one of the closets curiously; one peek can't hurt, right? ...Right. The blonde paused for a moment to lightly drag his finger over the color-fading photo with extreme caution, treating the frame like fragile glass as he set it back down to the desk beside his parents' bed. He stepped toward the door quietly, for his mother still didn't know he was in her room in the first place. He opened the door.... Bloody hell, was that uniform beautiful.
The next thing Oliver knew was that he was inspecting himself in the mirror, trying on the navy blue Captain's coat, white hat and white shirt, his own black shorts being the only things that fit well. Everything else felt so loose, but he was only trying them on. He chuckled to himself, glancing over to the picture again. He really did look like him, now...
He loved the smell. It was smoky, like smoky wood or...
Wait, what?
Smoke. He swore it smelled like fresh lemons, before... Was his mother cooking something? He sniffed the air again. Before he knew it, the door slammed open, a familiar old, tired-looking woman smiling. Just smiling. Oliver has never seen her smile in so long, but this... Wasn't the kind of smile he was hoping for. Did she finally snap..?
"Mother?" the blonde croaked out with a quivering lip, a terrified look. No answer. "Mother, why are you smiling?" Nothing. "Are you cooking, mother? It smells like you're burning it..." The grin widened. "S-Stop it, mother. You're scaring me, ma'am..." With that statement, the smile immediately dropped; Oliver didn't know whether to be relieved or more terrified for that.
Stepping towards her was a bad move apparently, for the next thing he knew, his messy blonde hair was gripped onto tightly and smashed against the wall. She unplugged the lamp. She raised it. It was became dark.
The only reason he awoke was to put out that blistering pain on the left side of his face. Nothing was seen from that same side, the air was impossible to breath in from. Crying heavily, he didn't need his full vision to know that the house was on fire. Yeah, crazy bitch finally snapped.
"...No no no NO!" he screamed, coughed, and screamed again in agony, backing against the wall and pulling at his hair from the sight of it. That horrible image... Haunting. Menacing. While his father most likely drowned in the icy cool depths of the ocean, his mother was burned to a blazing crisp.
No time to grief: He needed to breathe. Oliver hacked and coughed as he attempted to run to the front door, only stopping halfway, able to see through the smoke that it was nailed shut. So much for home improvement. He rushed to the screen door next to the kitchen.... Same results. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, struggling to think of an exit, the windows were all shut as well, judging by the ones in the kitchen... But wait, there was light in his parents' room. That window wasn't blocked! ...But he couldn't open it like that. He needed to break it.
He didn't give another second to wait as he ran back to the room with the burning corpse of his mother waited, weakly hitting the glass window: time was running out, and he had no air left. Oliver fell to his knees, taking his last glimpse of the world before he died a slow painful death.... But then there it was. There /he/ was. A yellow bird, pecking at the window, as if wanting to help; it gave him strength.
He swiftly gave a roundhouse kick of the window with his left foot. ....Bloody hell, did that hurt. He whined out and cried, hardly able to stand on it. No time to inspect it, however. Crying through the scorching pain of his left ankle and the fast approaching flames, he used his right knee to kick through the crack already made on the glass, shattering it and freeing himself. But he wanted away, not just out. He didn't want an ambulance, police questioning, neighbors pitying... He ran.
-
Finally below the pier. He panted heavily, falling to the floor and staring at his soot-stained hand. He didn't even notice he was still wearing his father's clothes while he was crying loudly, hugging his legs and burying his dirty face into himself. What now?
/Chirp chirp/ Confused and curiously, Oliver looked up to see that familiar yellow bird perching on his left knee. He stopped his crying, only managing a snuffle as he stared atthe creature, eyes still damp when he choked out a "Thank you."
Another moment of silence until the bird hopped onto Oliver's shoulder, only making his tears well up more with happiness. "May I call you... James?" he asked in a hesitant voice, the bird making what seemed like a chirp of approval. "Great." he managed, his tone still emotionless until he asked like what seemed to be a plea. "HeyJames, Can you stay with me...?" A pause. "Forever, maybe? That would be nice." The bird nudged the boy's cheek.
Oliver has kept that cheerful smile since.
(...That was a whole lot longer than expected. Very sorry! ^ ^")
Code:
regurgitated lemon tuna tarts