Post by Peter Thomson on Jul 23, 2007 14:47:10 GMT -5
Personal:
Name: Jeffrey
Years of Roleplaying: Few
Any Other Characters on this Site? Not as of yet
x•x Picture x•x
Character Basics:
Name: Peter Ackley Thomson
Nickname(s): Pete, Ackley, Thom
Age: 17
Grade: Junior
Gender: Male
Weight: 183
Height: 5'10"
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Light Brown
Tattoos/Piercings: None
Scars/Birth Marks: Other than a very small birth mark beneath his right eye, there's really no other mark to speak of. With the exception of a few scars on his elbows and knees from childhood, of course.
Physical Appearance:
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Marital Status: Single
Character Academics:
Classes:
Pre Calc
AP History
Junior Health and Physical Education
Latin III
AP Chemistry
Honors English 11
Psychology
Home Economics
Sports:
Activities:
Biology Club
Chess Club
Debate Team
S.A.D.D.
Yearbook Comittee
Student Council
Peer Pals
The Dragon Chronicles
Clique:
The Brains
About your Character:
Personality:
Likes:
+ JFK
+ Politics
+Changing the world for the better
+History
+Democracy
Dislikes:
-Getting screwed over
-Whenever anything doesn't go right
-Conservatives
-Inequality
-Pressure
Strengths:
+Intelligent
+Rational/Logic
+Articulate
+Responsible
+Listening
Weaknesses:
-Never taking risks
-Freaking out whenever anything goes wrong
-Being seduced (come on, what guy in their right mind would say that's not a weakness?)
-Girls that are the complete opposite of him
-School work
Hobbies:
+Reading
+Researching
+Running
+Piano
+Volunteer work
+Getting involved
+Organizing projects
Family:
Father:
48
James Earl Thomson
--James is a very generous and caring father, who he never really had any problems with. He owns a printing business, which is actually doing quite well. An upper middle class gentleman who wears bright colored shirts and dress pants, decorated with a pager and his cell phone almost always. He gives back to the community, and makes sure to pass this trait on to his son.
Mother:
42
Peggy Ann Thomson
--Once a full time nurse and recently demoted to a part time nurse, Peggy is the kind of mother that belongs at home near the kitchen. It's not even said because of the idea of gender roles, she just really enjoys baking and cooking. Her cooking is sometimes hit and miss, but her baking is always amazing. She's a bit clueless to what goes on around her, the term that suits this flaw is more commonly known as 'air-headed.'
History:
Character Extras:
Celebrity: Emile Hirsch
Canon or Original Original
Finishing Up:
Sample Post:
Quote: Admin. Edit
Name: Jeffrey
Years of Roleplaying: Few
Any Other Characters on this Site? Not as of yet
x•x Picture x•x
Character Basics:
Name: Peter Ackley Thomson
Nickname(s): Pete, Ackley, Thom
Age: 17
Grade: Junior
Gender: Male
Weight: 183
Height: 5'10"
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Light Brown
Tattoos/Piercings: None
Scars/Birth Marks: Other than a very small birth mark beneath his right eye, there's really no other mark to speak of. With the exception of a few scars on his elbows and knees from childhood, of course.
Physical Appearance:
Topping the figure of a 17 year old liberal is a very well groomed head of hair. In tradition with conservative republicans, he always combs through his hair in order to maintain a pristine image. His eyes alternate between a light brown, and a vibrant green that glows whenever he truly smiles. There's always a slight twinkle to them as his cheeks fold to accommodate his almost infectious smile, one with childlike charm. Dimples form as his lips part to reveal perfectly aligned teeth. A few years with braces helped in aiding this development, a dental aid which he shed before his Freshman year. His cheeks remain plagued with baby fat, and completely absent of any facial hair. In order to appear clean he makes sure to shave it off every few days or so. It's not even that he takes care of his looks for the sake of pleasing a trend, no.. he merely understands the importance of keeping up appearances.
In tradition with his pseudo chubby cheeks, his physique is a little more on the dough boy side; however, this isn't to say that he is in any way out of shape. Though he may not have the defined abs of a teen dream football player, or someone from the magazines girls swoon over, Peter has some form to his body. His muscles aren't well defined, but they're definitely present. While he doesn't have a six pack, his abs and chest are a little more softly defined (though, still defined). His schedule allots him time every morning to run, which he does in order to clear his mind, doubling for an activity which keeps him in shape. Peter isn't the most tan guy around, either. Conversely, he isn't so white it's nearly impossible to keep your eyes open around him on a sunny day. Of Irish, German, and English descent, with a few others tossed in that he never cares to mention.
Every morning he adorns an ironed, dark button up shirt, or a nicely fitting sweater-- sometimes even both. The buttons on his shirt are always done up, though on occasion he has been known to leave a couple undone in more casual situations. In the small chest pocket of his shirts (when they are present), he almost always carries with him a pen. As for the cuffs of his shirts, they are always done up, both in casual-- and in formal situations. He stops at adorning a tie or some sort of bow, fortunately he knows his boundaries, though he may not know much about style in general. The bottom of his shirt he tucks into a pair of jeans, or dark pants. Depending on whether or not he has a presentation that day. The pants he wears most often are that of khaki descent, a tan color that's safe. Safe being the most important aspect of his clothes. In tradition with his shirts, his pants are always clean, and free of any wrinkles what so ever. The sweaters he wears are normally cotton, American products, and very bland. Always only one color. When he isn't attending school, he can be found at home in a t-shirt or a long sleeved shirt. Both plain.
It is in his nature to be a very organized, practical, and tidy person. The same persona is reflected through the care he takes with his appearance. Indulging in a shower on a daily basis, he makes sure to remain squeaky clean. If there ever is any dirt found upon him, he immediately changes into another shirt, or finds some way of hiding the stain. It's not that he has any sort of mental disorder (for example, OCD), it's just that he understands fully that first impressions leave a big mark, and opportunity lies on the wings of first impressions. His hair is always cut short, his fingernails never out of control or unbearable to look at. He also makes sure to leave his body free of any sort of ink marking or piercing.
Anyone who has ever seen him would say with ease that he looks stressed or pensive most of the time, and they're right. Peter is always thinking, or nervous, or stressed about something-- and it shows in his face. Emotion is easily illustrated and displayed upon the features of his face, with a very innocent spin. At times he often carries a very deer-caught-int-the-headlights look in his eye, particularly when something in a project goes wrong, or just anything in general goes wrong. A very wide eyed boy in most scenarios, Peter becomes somewhat locked up and shaky whenever something goes wrong. Sweaty palms aren't entirely foreign to him, nor is the feeling or look of sweat on the back of his neck. Only when he is truly relaxed can he smile completely, otherwise he appears to be stricken with awe upon every waking hour.
In tradition with his pseudo chubby cheeks, his physique is a little more on the dough boy side; however, this isn't to say that he is in any way out of shape. Though he may not have the defined abs of a teen dream football player, or someone from the magazines girls swoon over, Peter has some form to his body. His muscles aren't well defined, but they're definitely present. While he doesn't have a six pack, his abs and chest are a little more softly defined (though, still defined). His schedule allots him time every morning to run, which he does in order to clear his mind, doubling for an activity which keeps him in shape. Peter isn't the most tan guy around, either. Conversely, he isn't so white it's nearly impossible to keep your eyes open around him on a sunny day. Of Irish, German, and English descent, with a few others tossed in that he never cares to mention.
Every morning he adorns an ironed, dark button up shirt, or a nicely fitting sweater-- sometimes even both. The buttons on his shirt are always done up, though on occasion he has been known to leave a couple undone in more casual situations. In the small chest pocket of his shirts (when they are present), he almost always carries with him a pen. As for the cuffs of his shirts, they are always done up, both in casual-- and in formal situations. He stops at adorning a tie or some sort of bow, fortunately he knows his boundaries, though he may not know much about style in general. The bottom of his shirt he tucks into a pair of jeans, or dark pants. Depending on whether or not he has a presentation that day. The pants he wears most often are that of khaki descent, a tan color that's safe. Safe being the most important aspect of his clothes. In tradition with his shirts, his pants are always clean, and free of any wrinkles what so ever. The sweaters he wears are normally cotton, American products, and very bland. Always only one color. When he isn't attending school, he can be found at home in a t-shirt or a long sleeved shirt. Both plain.
It is in his nature to be a very organized, practical, and tidy person. The same persona is reflected through the care he takes with his appearance. Indulging in a shower on a daily basis, he makes sure to remain squeaky clean. If there ever is any dirt found upon him, he immediately changes into another shirt, or finds some way of hiding the stain. It's not that he has any sort of mental disorder (for example, OCD), it's just that he understands fully that first impressions leave a big mark, and opportunity lies on the wings of first impressions. His hair is always cut short, his fingernails never out of control or unbearable to look at. He also makes sure to leave his body free of any sort of ink marking or piercing.
Anyone who has ever seen him would say with ease that he looks stressed or pensive most of the time, and they're right. Peter is always thinking, or nervous, or stressed about something-- and it shows in his face. Emotion is easily illustrated and displayed upon the features of his face, with a very innocent spin. At times he often carries a very deer-caught-int-the-headlights look in his eye, particularly when something in a project goes wrong, or just anything in general goes wrong. A very wide eyed boy in most scenarios, Peter becomes somewhat locked up and shaky whenever something goes wrong. Sweaty palms aren't entirely foreign to him, nor is the feeling or look of sweat on the back of his neck. Only when he is truly relaxed can he smile completely, otherwise he appears to be stricken with awe upon every waking hour.
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Marital Status: Single
Character Academics:
Classes:
Pre Calc
AP History
Junior Health and Physical Education
Latin III
AP Chemistry
Honors English 11
Psychology
Home Economics
Sports:
Activities:
Biology Club
Chess Club
Debate Team
S.A.D.D.
Yearbook Comittee
Student Council
Peer Pals
The Dragon Chronicles
Clique:
The Brains
About your Character:
Personality:
A play-it-safe nerd who dreams of being the next president, Peter has never been one to protest the rules. Motivated more so by fear than respect to stay within boundaries, Peter rarely ever acts upon spontaneity. Every move he makes is the product of a well thought out plan. It's safe, reliable, and always comes with a back up. His by the book morals often hinder his overall social experience, but his work ethic shadows this detail from his attention. At least, for the most part it does. On occasion he seeks more for his life than what he has previously been, hoping that one day he seeks the courage to betray the rules he so religiously follows. In the few cases he has dared to break a rule or two, he has consistently fallen short of his goal. Rather than successfully breaking any rules, he allows numerous casual and ridiculous 'What if' scenarios flood his attempt-- thus, he backs down.
Both a vice and a virtue, his ability to break down any situation logically and attack any problem rationally has equally earned him his due in scholarships and awards, as well as prohibit him from thinking with any common sense or passion. It's not that he's entirely emotionless; in fact he's quite sensitive, it's just that he doesn't understand how else to approach the problems in his life. If someone gives him a solution, or provides for him the correct way to act in a given situation, he will follow it, rather than act upon impulse or what he feels is right. Of course this only extends itself so far, he does after all have a general idea of the distinctions between right and wrong. Every aspiring president should, though they may not always act upon it.
The biggest dream he has for himself, beyond politics and changing the world, is to do something memorable. Rather than taking the risks, he's always waiting for that perfect moment to do something he will always remember. Unfortunately he doesn't exactly have the courage to do this by himself, despite how overwhelming the urge to do something great resides within him. Peter has been known to meet something that is dangerous or embarrassing halfway, then turn away from it. Scholastically he is extremely successful, tackling any problem, project, or situation that has been handed to him. Unknown to his conscious, all he really needs is someone to believe that he can do it, and push him towards doing something crazy or illogical. Something just for fun.
The slightest form of confidence put into him by anyone who truly believes in him gives him a large amount of confidence. The minute someone bestows a little faith on him, he finds it possible to believe that he can actually do the impossible (in his case, let loose and let go of all inhibitions being impossible). Going crazy isn't exactly part of his agenda, nor has it been a word used to describe his lifestyle. Improvisation is something he wouldn't do if not for someone pushing him, without that.. he simply falls back into the fore mentioned patterns of backing down.
Peter has always been someone who firmly believed those who did good, came out on top in the end. That the bad guys and the evil doers inevitably faced their gloomy fates, as those who are generally good rise from the depths they have been pushed down to. This firm belief in karma (so to speak) does not mean he bears any ill will toward the people who enjoy making other's lives hell. He has on occasion stuck up for what he believes is right, but beyond that he tends to stay out of the spotlight. One thing he doesn't comprehend at all is the division between who is 'cool' and who isn't. In his mind, such discrimination falls along the lines of any other prejudice throughout history. Personally he doesn't believe himself to be cool, but he's far too goal oriented to let it depress him. His mind is beyond high school, set on where he's going to be in ten or so years. Peter's ability to define what is a fruitless infatuation or trend from what is not, which has both helped to keep him from the drama of high school, and isolate him from his fellow peers.
Viewing the world through idealist's eyes, he's learned to give everything the benefit of a doubt. Though he's seen the evils of the world first hand, and read about them in numerous history books, he still has a tendency to believe everything will ultimately work out. Never one to be suspicious or pessimistic about the events which circulate around and encompass him, he can be a very calm guy. That is, until something goes terribly wrong. Very quickly he can develop an end-of-the-world mentality over the tiniest of mistakes. This doomsday view sometimes casts a shadow over what he's supposed to be doing, thus making him rush in the end-- and finally making him more stressed than he ever really needed to be in the first place.
Outside of everything explained thus far, he's an extremely responsible and loyal guy. When it comes to promises or something he has dedicated himself to, he sticks by it until he has seen it through, or finished it. In essence his aspirations to become politically involved in the United States has molded him into a very formal, reasonable, and responsible guy. Just like most kids though, he carries the curse of state fright. Peter has become good at hiding his nervousness in front of people, but behind the scenes he can get a little shaky or panicked. At the end of the day, even when everything is said and done, he will still worry over the smallest details that have gone wrong-- despite the fact that everything has worked out.
Both a vice and a virtue, his ability to break down any situation logically and attack any problem rationally has equally earned him his due in scholarships and awards, as well as prohibit him from thinking with any common sense or passion. It's not that he's entirely emotionless; in fact he's quite sensitive, it's just that he doesn't understand how else to approach the problems in his life. If someone gives him a solution, or provides for him the correct way to act in a given situation, he will follow it, rather than act upon impulse or what he feels is right. Of course this only extends itself so far, he does after all have a general idea of the distinctions between right and wrong. Every aspiring president should, though they may not always act upon it.
The biggest dream he has for himself, beyond politics and changing the world, is to do something memorable. Rather than taking the risks, he's always waiting for that perfect moment to do something he will always remember. Unfortunately he doesn't exactly have the courage to do this by himself, despite how overwhelming the urge to do something great resides within him. Peter has been known to meet something that is dangerous or embarrassing halfway, then turn away from it. Scholastically he is extremely successful, tackling any problem, project, or situation that has been handed to him. Unknown to his conscious, all he really needs is someone to believe that he can do it, and push him towards doing something crazy or illogical. Something just for fun.
The slightest form of confidence put into him by anyone who truly believes in him gives him a large amount of confidence. The minute someone bestows a little faith on him, he finds it possible to believe that he can actually do the impossible (in his case, let loose and let go of all inhibitions being impossible). Going crazy isn't exactly part of his agenda, nor has it been a word used to describe his lifestyle. Improvisation is something he wouldn't do if not for someone pushing him, without that.. he simply falls back into the fore mentioned patterns of backing down.
Peter has always been someone who firmly believed those who did good, came out on top in the end. That the bad guys and the evil doers inevitably faced their gloomy fates, as those who are generally good rise from the depths they have been pushed down to. This firm belief in karma (so to speak) does not mean he bears any ill will toward the people who enjoy making other's lives hell. He has on occasion stuck up for what he believes is right, but beyond that he tends to stay out of the spotlight. One thing he doesn't comprehend at all is the division between who is 'cool' and who isn't. In his mind, such discrimination falls along the lines of any other prejudice throughout history. Personally he doesn't believe himself to be cool, but he's far too goal oriented to let it depress him. His mind is beyond high school, set on where he's going to be in ten or so years. Peter's ability to define what is a fruitless infatuation or trend from what is not, which has both helped to keep him from the drama of high school, and isolate him from his fellow peers.
Viewing the world through idealist's eyes, he's learned to give everything the benefit of a doubt. Though he's seen the evils of the world first hand, and read about them in numerous history books, he still has a tendency to believe everything will ultimately work out. Never one to be suspicious or pessimistic about the events which circulate around and encompass him, he can be a very calm guy. That is, until something goes terribly wrong. Very quickly he can develop an end-of-the-world mentality over the tiniest of mistakes. This doomsday view sometimes casts a shadow over what he's supposed to be doing, thus making him rush in the end-- and finally making him more stressed than he ever really needed to be in the first place.
Outside of everything explained thus far, he's an extremely responsible and loyal guy. When it comes to promises or something he has dedicated himself to, he sticks by it until he has seen it through, or finished it. In essence his aspirations to become politically involved in the United States has molded him into a very formal, reasonable, and responsible guy. Just like most kids though, he carries the curse of state fright. Peter has become good at hiding his nervousness in front of people, but behind the scenes he can get a little shaky or panicked. At the end of the day, even when everything is said and done, he will still worry over the smallest details that have gone wrong-- despite the fact that everything has worked out.
Likes:
+ JFK
+ Politics
+Changing the world for the better
+History
+Democracy
Dislikes:
-Getting screwed over
-Whenever anything doesn't go right
-Conservatives
-Inequality
-Pressure
Strengths:
+Intelligent
+Rational/Logic
+Articulate
+Responsible
+Listening
Weaknesses:
-Never taking risks
-Freaking out whenever anything goes wrong
-Being seduced (come on, what guy in their right mind would say that's not a weakness?)
-Girls that are the complete opposite of him
-School work
Hobbies:
+Reading
+Researching
+Running
+Piano
+Volunteer work
+Getting involved
+Organizing projects
Family:
Father:
48
James Earl Thomson
--James is a very generous and caring father, who he never really had any problems with. He owns a printing business, which is actually doing quite well. An upper middle class gentleman who wears bright colored shirts and dress pants, decorated with a pager and his cell phone almost always. He gives back to the community, and makes sure to pass this trait on to his son.
Mother:
42
Peggy Ann Thomson
--Once a full time nurse and recently demoted to a part time nurse, Peggy is the kind of mother that belongs at home near the kitchen. It's not even said because of the idea of gender roles, she just really enjoys baking and cooking. Her cooking is sometimes hit and miss, but her baking is always amazing. She's a bit clueless to what goes on around her, the term that suits this flaw is more commonly known as 'air-headed.'
History:
A guy walks into a bar. He walked in for every guy who's first love was a hard love, an inescapable love. The waitress who serves him paints a smile on her lips, a smile he eagerly paints over with his own version of what she should look like for someone standing so close. Her. That girl-- no, the girl. The waitress shares concern with a glance and a bottle of free beer. She plays a song on the juke box and he gets around to returning a smile, dedicated solely to that waitress. The air hugging his body makes him drowsy, he credits the air for the burn in his eyes, rather than the tears he cried before. Nighttime is tired and wishes him to bed, but he's restless and he's scared. A bed without her nearing scent, without her body to steal the blankets, is a bed too close for comfort. He can tell by the look on every guy's face that's there, that they'd all agree. Heartbreak is for that guy at the corner table, sulking silently in his jacket. It leaves a trail of drunken hums by men too warped to sing. Singing isn't for the lonely, singing is for the grand absolutes of the breaking rose stems beneath arms, and candy in heart shaped boxes reminiscent of better days. After finishing his drink, the guy leaves. Returning only to assure he doesn't make a habit out of heartbreak.
What does this have to do anything? Nothing. That guy, isn't Peter. No matter how badly he wants to be. Imagine that, a kid just aching to get his heart broken, to risk everything and fall once, just to say he lived.
Legend Falls, Pennsylvania. That's where it all begins, and in order to understand everything.. or at least, the very little there is to understand, this story must start where every story was intended to start: the beginning. As fate would have it, the future political obsessor dubbed Peter Ackley Thomson, was born in the same month the great country of America was fought for, and won-- July. It was the thirteenth, a day marked with rain and the average hospital stay for his mother after birthing her first and only son. An average birth, to match a relatively average and normal life. There were no complications voiced on that day, and within several hours both parents (his father had accompanied his mother to the hospital, standing in the operation room as she gave birth to him-- again, the ideal, average birth).
Peter's childhood consisted of Power Rangers, transformers, and every other 90's related memorabilia that shows up on a pop culture quiz. Or ebay. He was always chubby as a child, but he wasn't socially dubbed fat. In summer time he ran through sprinklers in a pair of swim shorts-- his childlike potbelly hanging out without reserve. That carefree nature escaped him once he entered the world of scholastic advancement; Kindergarden. Ever since, he's been a very reserved kid, his goals transferred from waking early enough to watch X-men, to achieving the best grades he could. At the tender age of five, he had been given a taste of the rest of his life-- a life as an over achiever.
Nothing really spectacular happened within the years he spent in elementary and middle school, just what was to be expected-- the usual growth. Peter has only really ever had two good friends, best friends, everyone else he was either ignored by, or just on good terms. Ever since he was a kid, he's always wanted to be president. At one point he was sitting in the doctors office with his mother, and she asked him to name the five previous presidents. To her surprise, he did. He was always very smart.. unfortunately..
He doesn't really have too much common sense, not until he experiences something.
What does this have to do anything? Nothing. That guy, isn't Peter. No matter how badly he wants to be. Imagine that, a kid just aching to get his heart broken, to risk everything and fall once, just to say he lived.
Legend Falls, Pennsylvania. That's where it all begins, and in order to understand everything.. or at least, the very little there is to understand, this story must start where every story was intended to start: the beginning. As fate would have it, the future political obsessor dubbed Peter Ackley Thomson, was born in the same month the great country of America was fought for, and won-- July. It was the thirteenth, a day marked with rain and the average hospital stay for his mother after birthing her first and only son. An average birth, to match a relatively average and normal life. There were no complications voiced on that day, and within several hours both parents (his father had accompanied his mother to the hospital, standing in the operation room as she gave birth to him-- again, the ideal, average birth).
Peter's childhood consisted of Power Rangers, transformers, and every other 90's related memorabilia that shows up on a pop culture quiz. Or ebay. He was always chubby as a child, but he wasn't socially dubbed fat. In summer time he ran through sprinklers in a pair of swim shorts-- his childlike potbelly hanging out without reserve. That carefree nature escaped him once he entered the world of scholastic advancement; Kindergarden. Ever since, he's been a very reserved kid, his goals transferred from waking early enough to watch X-men, to achieving the best grades he could. At the tender age of five, he had been given a taste of the rest of his life-- a life as an over achiever.
Nothing really spectacular happened within the years he spent in elementary and middle school, just what was to be expected-- the usual growth. Peter has only really ever had two good friends, best friends, everyone else he was either ignored by, or just on good terms. Ever since he was a kid, he's always wanted to be president. At one point he was sitting in the doctors office with his mother, and she asked him to name the five previous presidents. To her surprise, he did. He was always very smart.. unfortunately..
He doesn't really have too much common sense, not until he experiences something.
Character Extras:
Celebrity: Emile Hirsch
Canon or Original Original
Finishing Up:
Sample Post:
Raccoon just wasn't the same. More and more people were disappearing with no word, and that cult the news always talked about was still hidden somewhere in the Arklay forest. He'd lost everyone, and he couldn't understand how. How had he managed to lose every single person he'd loved? His mother, his father, his sister, his girlfriend. Ryler had disappeared ever since that night they protested, the same night he shot his sister. Maybe she had heard, maybe she fled. The cops dismissed it as self defense, and he wasn't charged. There was a hell of a lot of questioning though, a lot of which he couldn't really remember. One of them shot his father, their own officer. He'd been in the same state his sister was when he approached them, that gaze in his eyes, that hunger..
It made him sick to think about it, the way half of his insides were literally hanging out of his neck and stomach.
His feet remained locked on the small bars which traveled around his small barstool's legs, connecting them so that they never part from one another. Perched silently on the stool, he stared downward at a shot glass he'd finished off only moments before, it seemed he couldn't keep himself from blanking or dazing off now and then. Actually, it was becoming more frequent. In the background he could hear the small corner television talk through static about how another little girl's body was found by the side of the road, chewed beyond identification. The city of Raccoon made a new curfew, all of it's citizens were to be in their houses by 11, rather than midnight. It sucked, but he figured it would help whatever was going on. He had to believe it, otherwise he'd go insane.
Reaching his hands up he gently rubbed his eyes, his exhaustion displayed almost perfectly by his tired features. He hadn't slept in days, which was usually the case. He'd go until he could no longer move, or until he passed out before he got any rest. Even though it was off limits, he frequently made trips to the Arklay forest with a couple guns, hunting the 'cult' on his own just to pass the time. He blamed them for what they did to his sister, them.. and Umbrella. When he was drunk enough, Umbrella and the cult became one person to him. All of his conspiracies made more sense when he was drunk, but they weren't something he was about to spout off because he so vehemently despised the company. Anyone who did that.. mysteriously disappeared. Go figure.
Honey, I'm gonna have to cut you off. He wasn't even of age, and the girl behind the bar knew that. She also knew what happened to him, so she let it slide. Nodding silently he exhaled, then as he leaned to the side he gently tugged his wallet from his back pocket. Pulling a few bills from the pocket he tossed them onto the bar, then stuffed the wallet back into his back pocket. She was always so nice to him, it was only fair that he return the favor through a big tip. She was a great bartender. Great, because she understood.
Stumbling outside into the open, Holden squinted as he planted his back hard against the cool brick of the bar. In the distance he could hear a soft, pained moan-- it didn't really phase him. Running one hand over his face he let his hand drag his lip down, before letting it fall entirely. He no longer lived in the suburban home he once had with his family, honestly he really couldn't bear the site of that house. The soft moan he heard only moments ago seemed to be growing louder as a girl with a lazy walk appeared. Apparently, she had a hell of a lot more to drink than he did, and he could only wonder about the kind of week she had. The city was unusually quiet, something he hadn't been able to notice until now.
"You look like you need a cab a hell of a lot more than me." A stuttered laugh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, his body wavering as he tugged a cell phone from the front pocket of his pants. Squinting harder at the small number pad, he began to press a few numbers in-- by now he had the number memorized. As he brought the phone to his ear he looked up once more, just in time to dodge a lunging, growling girl. "Jesus fucking christ! What the fuck are you doing?!" Whatever buzz he had, it evaporated the moment she lunged and he had to duck. Yeah, he felt a bit dizzy, but he sobered up real quick. She was just like his sister...
"Shit.. we need to get you hel-" As he tried to negotiate with the mindless, rabid girl, she had taken hold of his arm and moved closer. Quickly he pulled his arm away, but she was reluctant to remove her grip. Her mouth literally dove for the vulnerable skin of his forearm, which he was lucky enough to yank away before her teeth met with his flesh. Stumbling back slightly he stared at her with horror and curiosity, what was wrong with her? She needed help, but if worse came to worse..
It made him sick to think about it, the way half of his insides were literally hanging out of his neck and stomach.
His feet remained locked on the small bars which traveled around his small barstool's legs, connecting them so that they never part from one another. Perched silently on the stool, he stared downward at a shot glass he'd finished off only moments before, it seemed he couldn't keep himself from blanking or dazing off now and then. Actually, it was becoming more frequent. In the background he could hear the small corner television talk through static about how another little girl's body was found by the side of the road, chewed beyond identification. The city of Raccoon made a new curfew, all of it's citizens were to be in their houses by 11, rather than midnight. It sucked, but he figured it would help whatever was going on. He had to believe it, otherwise he'd go insane.
Reaching his hands up he gently rubbed his eyes, his exhaustion displayed almost perfectly by his tired features. He hadn't slept in days, which was usually the case. He'd go until he could no longer move, or until he passed out before he got any rest. Even though it was off limits, he frequently made trips to the Arklay forest with a couple guns, hunting the 'cult' on his own just to pass the time. He blamed them for what they did to his sister, them.. and Umbrella. When he was drunk enough, Umbrella and the cult became one person to him. All of his conspiracies made more sense when he was drunk, but they weren't something he was about to spout off because he so vehemently despised the company. Anyone who did that.. mysteriously disappeared. Go figure.
Honey, I'm gonna have to cut you off. He wasn't even of age, and the girl behind the bar knew that. She also knew what happened to him, so she let it slide. Nodding silently he exhaled, then as he leaned to the side he gently tugged his wallet from his back pocket. Pulling a few bills from the pocket he tossed them onto the bar, then stuffed the wallet back into his back pocket. She was always so nice to him, it was only fair that he return the favor through a big tip. She was a great bartender. Great, because she understood.
Stumbling outside into the open, Holden squinted as he planted his back hard against the cool brick of the bar. In the distance he could hear a soft, pained moan-- it didn't really phase him. Running one hand over his face he let his hand drag his lip down, before letting it fall entirely. He no longer lived in the suburban home he once had with his family, honestly he really couldn't bear the site of that house. The soft moan he heard only moments ago seemed to be growing louder as a girl with a lazy walk appeared. Apparently, she had a hell of a lot more to drink than he did, and he could only wonder about the kind of week she had. The city was unusually quiet, something he hadn't been able to notice until now.
"You look like you need a cab a hell of a lot more than me." A stuttered laugh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, his body wavering as he tugged a cell phone from the front pocket of his pants. Squinting harder at the small number pad, he began to press a few numbers in-- by now he had the number memorized. As he brought the phone to his ear he looked up once more, just in time to dodge a lunging, growling girl. "Jesus fucking christ! What the fuck are you doing?!" Whatever buzz he had, it evaporated the moment she lunged and he had to duck. Yeah, he felt a bit dizzy, but he sobered up real quick. She was just like his sister...
"Shit.. we need to get you hel-" As he tried to negotiate with the mindless, rabid girl, she had taken hold of his arm and moved closer. Quickly he pulled his arm away, but she was reluctant to remove her grip. Her mouth literally dove for the vulnerable skin of his forearm, which he was lucky enough to yank away before her teeth met with his flesh. Stumbling back slightly he stared at her with horror and curiosity, what was wrong with her? She needed help, but if worse came to worse..
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