Post by Ryland Abbott on Jul 26, 2007 22:52:34 GMT -5
Personal:
Name: Jeffrey
Years of Roleplaying: Few
Any Other Characters on this Site? Peter Thomson
x•x Picture x•x
Character Basics:
Name: Ryland Memphis Abbott
Nickname(s): Memphis, Ry, Abby, Abbott
Age: 17 (turning 18)
Grade: Senior
Gender: Male
Weight: 179
Height: 6'0"
Eye Color: Bright blue, more oceanic blue than ice.
Hair Color: Dark Brown with the appearance of being black-- but not jet black
Tattoos/Piercings: None, he doesn't believe in it.
Scars/Birth Marks: Ryland has a scar on his left arm that's approximately three inches in length, which extends from his elbow and travels up the back of his forearm. There's another scar on the right palm of his hand, which originates from a slight fishing accident. Mix up is the term he likes to use. It was his first time fishing, and the hook got caught in his hand.
Physical Appearance:
Sexual Orientation: Straight, though he enjoys pretending to play for the other team.
Marital Status: Single-- but it's complicated
Character Academics:
Classes:
- Calculus
- Senior Health and Physical Education
- Japanese IIII
- Physics
- Honors English 12
- Advanced Art
- Media and Film
- Photography
Sports:
-Bowling
Activities:
- Jazz Band
- The Offence (pro environment)
Clique: Bohemian
About your Character:
Personality:
Likes:
+Photography
+Sculpture
+Jewelry design
+Nature
+Tea
+Hugs
+Cuddling
+Holding hands
+Mission Trips
+Relief Efforts
+Culture
+When people smile
+The woods
+Unique things
+Animals
+Kids
+Praise
+Art
+Acting
+Movies in general
+Guitar
+Drums
+Basement shows
+Debating
+Old School video games
+Hiking
+Fishing
+Camping
+The City
+Going to shows
+Making people laugh
+Spanglish (meaning the hybrid language of English with Spanish descent, not the movie)
+Cult films
+Independent film
+Independent music
+Hemp
+Protest
+Anti-establishment movements
Dislikes:
-Cruelty
-Injustice
-The Bush Administration
-Republican perspective
-Conservatives
-Losing
-Technology
-Synthetics
-Additives in foods
-Red dye
-Pollution
-NAFTA
-When there's nothing he can do
-Having nothing to do
-Bias based on beauty
-Trend
-Those who follow
-Placating the people he hates
-The uneducated
-More so the willingly ignorant
-Even more when people have knowledge, but act otherwise
-When someone doesn't flush the toilet
Strengths:
+Humor
+Dependable
+Patience
+Outgoing
+Understanding
Weaknesses:
-Stubborn
-A good verbal exchange
-Vanilla
-His Mom
-Knowledge
Hobbies:
.painting
.sketching
.guitar
.drums
.any instrument
.making/watching ocumentaries
.making Films
.photography
.writing
.philosophy
.t-shirt design
.diy
.going to shows
.skanking.. not really
.dancing like a fool
.pranks
.making a point
.holding shows in his basement
.hiking
.biking
.skateboarding
.planting trees
.learning
.reading
.writing
.cooking
Family:
Judy Abbott:
Mother
37
A free spirited woman who's style and personality is reminiscent of the 60's, Judy always let her kid do whatever he wanted (within a reasonable degree, of course). Once, he ran around at the age of three in his birthday suit at a small get together between her and her friends. They were smoking pot and hanging out fireside-- not that he was old enough to understand.
History:
Character Extras:
Celebrity: Grenier, Adrian
Canon or Original Original
Finishing Up:
Sample Post:
Quote: Admin. Edit
Name: Jeffrey
Years of Roleplaying: Few
Any Other Characters on this Site? Peter Thomson
x•x Picture x•x
Character Basics:
Name: Ryland Memphis Abbott
Nickname(s): Memphis, Ry, Abby, Abbott
Age: 17 (turning 18)
Grade: Senior
Gender: Male
Weight: 179
Height: 6'0"
Eye Color: Bright blue, more oceanic blue than ice.
Hair Color: Dark Brown with the appearance of being black-- but not jet black
Tattoos/Piercings: None, he doesn't believe in it.
Scars/Birth Marks: Ryland has a scar on his left arm that's approximately three inches in length, which extends from his elbow and travels up the back of his forearm. There's another scar on the right palm of his hand, which originates from a slight fishing accident. Mix up is the term he likes to use. It was his first time fishing, and the hook got caught in his hand.
Physical Appearance:
A mismatched compilation of both class and clutter, Ryland has a way with tying in both a more elegant style of dress, with that of more casual, messy, every day attire. No matter the significance of an occasion, his wardrobe and that which he chooses to adorn is always off by just a little, though he somehow manages to pull it together. He's the kind of guy that would wear a zip up hoodie beneath a nice jacket, coupled with some dirty jeans and a pair of pumas. His laid back persona seems to get the best of him, no matter which circumstance he finds himself plastered within. Formal is not a term that resigns with him, nor does he allow this small wardrobe defect hinder his experience- actually it's what drives his reputation as the nice guy. Somehow his boyish nature never drifts far from the bright indie band shirts he keeps partially covered with either a zip up hoodie, jacket, or an irish knit sweater. It isn't beneath him to adorn a holiday sweater, way beyond it's expiration. Whatever is comfortable and in range of reach- he will wear.
His T-shirts are often short sleeved and dingy, the print worn by the fact that it's old, or overused. The material of his shirts wrap kindly around his torso and chest, though they aren't so tight that it leaves absolutely nothing a secret. He prefers the term fitted. On occasion a tight sweater (once again, not too extremely tight) can be found sleeping kindly against his figure. They often descend from the hand of his own mother, who enjoys knitting and making him sweaters on her spare time. Ryland celebrates this by wearing all of the sweaters she has created, he rarely ever shops around at a mall or any sort of popular outlet for his clothing. In fact, his strict beliefs and activism prevent him from ever making such a rash decision. In short, he is quite proud of his affiliations, and isn't afraid to display the things he loves across his chest, or on his sleeve. Actually, he's probably the kind of guy that would wear tourist travel shirts, without the fear of looking like a complete dork. Outside of the more prominent sweater collection, he does dress himself in dark colored button up shirts ( a tendency developed from his more broody nature).
Ryland's pants are quite a different story, though they ultimately share the same love for his interests. Dirtied by his playful nature and artistic indulgences, he also decorates the sleeves of his pants with random bouts of poetic references, quotes, or anything that comes to mind. If he ever happens to be out of paper, the lyrics to the songs he writes almost always end up along the pant of his thigh, or somewhere around there. Clasping his often dark blue jeans to his waist, is almost always a brown or black leather belt. There have been a few times where he has substituted a more unconventional type of belt, such as a tie or something- but beyond that he is pretty ordinary. The cuffs of his pants are sometimes rolled, though always the ends meet his shoes. A pet peeve of his centers around when jeans pull up from around someone's ankles, there's really no rational reasoning for it. Ryland just firmly believes that pants shouldn't end at the very bottom of a person's calf.
Despite his generous smiling, Ryland's eyes give him a very gloomy or broody appeal. Most would say that his eyes are often where he wears the bulk of his expressions, and for the most part it's relatively true. In poor lighting and winter, his eyes have a habit of taking on a darker color, though in contrast to this change- they are for the most part a blue color. His eyes radiate beyond a dull, greyish blue, which is often typical within people who have bright colored eyes- instead, they literally almost glow. In most cases his eyes question more than his mouth, the stares he offers are often suspicious when he truly believes that someone is lying to him. Ryland has a mastery of saying 'Are you fucking kidding me?' with just one glance, among other things.
Another facial feature which sticks out more so than the rest, are his lips. His smiles are that which remained untamed by adulthood, harboring a boyish charm that has been lost on most. As untamed as his smile may be, it is the one thing that almost always persuades people into doing things both parties know they shouldn't. Some might venture to say that Ry doesn't know how to give a half hearted smile, they're almost always over the top. Not afraid to bear some straight teeth, Ryland does so every chance he gets. Whether he is thoroughly enjoying himself, or enjoying someone else's happiness- he's almost always grinning wildly. His face has a tendency to brighten up whenever he smiles, as does his attitude. Surrounding that infamous smile is the even more infamous rough stubble that he absolutely refuses to shave off. Once in a while, at the command of either his mother or his on again off again girlfriend, he will- outside of that? Absolutely not
His T-shirts are often short sleeved and dingy, the print worn by the fact that it's old, or overused. The material of his shirts wrap kindly around his torso and chest, though they aren't so tight that it leaves absolutely nothing a secret. He prefers the term fitted. On occasion a tight sweater (once again, not too extremely tight) can be found sleeping kindly against his figure. They often descend from the hand of his own mother, who enjoys knitting and making him sweaters on her spare time. Ryland celebrates this by wearing all of the sweaters she has created, he rarely ever shops around at a mall or any sort of popular outlet for his clothing. In fact, his strict beliefs and activism prevent him from ever making such a rash decision. In short, he is quite proud of his affiliations, and isn't afraid to display the things he loves across his chest, or on his sleeve. Actually, he's probably the kind of guy that would wear tourist travel shirts, without the fear of looking like a complete dork. Outside of the more prominent sweater collection, he does dress himself in dark colored button up shirts ( a tendency developed from his more broody nature).
Ryland's pants are quite a different story, though they ultimately share the same love for his interests. Dirtied by his playful nature and artistic indulgences, he also decorates the sleeves of his pants with random bouts of poetic references, quotes, or anything that comes to mind. If he ever happens to be out of paper, the lyrics to the songs he writes almost always end up along the pant of his thigh, or somewhere around there. Clasping his often dark blue jeans to his waist, is almost always a brown or black leather belt. There have been a few times where he has substituted a more unconventional type of belt, such as a tie or something- but beyond that he is pretty ordinary. The cuffs of his pants are sometimes rolled, though always the ends meet his shoes. A pet peeve of his centers around when jeans pull up from around someone's ankles, there's really no rational reasoning for it. Ryland just firmly believes that pants shouldn't end at the very bottom of a person's calf.
Despite his generous smiling, Ryland's eyes give him a very gloomy or broody appeal. Most would say that his eyes are often where he wears the bulk of his expressions, and for the most part it's relatively true. In poor lighting and winter, his eyes have a habit of taking on a darker color, though in contrast to this change- they are for the most part a blue color. His eyes radiate beyond a dull, greyish blue, which is often typical within people who have bright colored eyes- instead, they literally almost glow. In most cases his eyes question more than his mouth, the stares he offers are often suspicious when he truly believes that someone is lying to him. Ryland has a mastery of saying 'Are you fucking kidding me?' with just one glance, among other things.
Another facial feature which sticks out more so than the rest, are his lips. His smiles are that which remained untamed by adulthood, harboring a boyish charm that has been lost on most. As untamed as his smile may be, it is the one thing that almost always persuades people into doing things both parties know they shouldn't. Some might venture to say that Ry doesn't know how to give a half hearted smile, they're almost always over the top. Not afraid to bear some straight teeth, Ryland does so every chance he gets. Whether he is thoroughly enjoying himself, or enjoying someone else's happiness- he's almost always grinning wildly. His face has a tendency to brighten up whenever he smiles, as does his attitude. Surrounding that infamous smile is the even more infamous rough stubble that he absolutely refuses to shave off. Once in a while, at the command of either his mother or his on again off again girlfriend, he will- outside of that? Absolutely not
Sexual Orientation: Straight, though he enjoys pretending to play for the other team.
Marital Status: Single-- but it's complicated
Character Academics:
Classes:
- Calculus
- Senior Health and Physical Education
- Japanese IIII
- Physics
- Honors English 12
- Advanced Art
- Media and Film
- Photography
Sports:
-Bowling
Activities:
- Jazz Band
- The Offence (pro environment)
Clique: Bohemian
About your Character:
Personality:
Charismatic and charming aren't exactly the words which describe Ryland, but they're definitely among the first that come to mind. As a general, subconscious rule, he has a tendency to go above and beyond for people he hardly even knows, just at the sight of a frown. One thing he cannot stand is knowing another person faces discomfort, so makes attempt to placate everyone, to the best of his ability. Though he may not have the wit of a valley kid, his humor is very smart in a way that's easy for most to get. Granted, he has his moments where his subtle jokes take a minute or so to sink, but that has never taken away from the value of his humor. Ryland avoids rash or vulgar judgments in his humor, one thing he cannot stand is a joke at another person's expense. If he catches someone around him making such a move, regardless of their popularity, he will always do what he knows is right, and stand up for the 'little man.' Hierarchy is something he loathes, and anyone who even begins to pretend they're above anyone, is immediately (in his eyes) an enemy.
In contrast to this generous nature, to those whom he dubs cruel, he will act equally unkind. Though he rarely ever takes it to the extremes most do, he will make his dislike obvious to whomever he hates. Whether it be through neglecting their presence entirely, or humiliating them through a good exchange of words- he's always up for the challenge of bringing someone down from their pedestal. Often he uses cases such as cliques or popularity to his advantage in order to make a statement, with the pranks he pulls. Though he's a relatively smart kid, he's definitely not afraid to challenge the faculty, or the rules that have been set out for him to follow. Above all else, he gets off on proving someone else wrong, or winning.
Among his numerous flaws, he has managed to sustain his hunger toward a good debate. At times he argues for the sake of arguing, even when he doesn't believe in the side he fights for. He's the kind of guy who will take anyone on in a debate about the color of the sky-- and win, even when he's not rooting for blue. While this is a good trait to carry when standing for his beliefs, it's also a weakness, as he will never allow himself to lose; thus arguments usually last until the other person gives in. Unfortunately he's terrible at accepting defeat, and won't rest until the other person has lost. If he does, on an off chance, lose a fight, he often grovels about it and displays his anger against someone by becoming incredibly short-- sometimes not speaking at all.
The fact that he's hubris and incredibly stubborn, only fuels the fire. Ryland's pride is something he is not willing to put aside for anything, unless of course someone's life is on the line. When he is by chance, wrong, he is very reluctant to admit the fact that he is mistaken. Apologies are not something he hands out like candy, only when he decides that the mishap is insignificant, or when he has no other choice but to apologize. Actually, it's not too hard for him to apologize to people he's close with, such as those he loves, friends, and anyone he deems an idol or someone to be recognized. Anyone outside of this circle, particularly someone he hates-- they won't receive any apologies from him, unless he's forced.
Out of friendship he only asks for loyalty and individuality. Chances are, someone who follows rather than leads will not be on good terms with him-- particularly if they're the trendy toxic waste of the high school's corridors. Ryland is really the kind of guy who would go out of his way for his friends, and give them anything they want. Sharing isn't too hard for him to do, nor is giving something away. If he knows for a fact that someone will enjoy something he has more than he already does, he will give it away to that person the first chance he gets. Ryland is very content with his life, his philosophy a hybrid breed between minimalism, carpe diem, and optimism. Now, he isn't absurdly optimistic, but he does believe that energy put out there is energy returned. Some call it karma.
Ryland is extremely outgoing, making clear his intentions almost always, and standing for everything he believes in with a very vocal approach. He's been the organizer of protests, the guy who will literally stand up on a cafeteria table during lunch, and announce something to everyone in the cafe. Consequences are not something he runs from in the wake of his rash actions, because he stands by his cause. He's not one to announce something, or do something that might be against the rules just to make a point, and then run when authority comes knocking. Debating the principal has become a weekly routine, if not daily at some points during the school year. In his mind rules do not exist, only morals, and what a man can, and can't do. Ryland is definitely, in no way shy. That doesn't mean he isn't respectful, he won't go around and make disgusting comments toward women, or anyone else for that matter.
Some of his lower grades, do not at all reflect his intelligence. The more liberal courses understand his unique nature, such as History, English, and the Arts. Classes that revolve around numbers and facts he doesn't take too seriously, because it's just not his thing. Ever since he was young, that stuff just never caught his fancy. In his mind, as long as he can count to three while driving, he's okay. There have been several cases, particularly in English and History, that he's corrected some of the younger teachers as they confused some of their facts, or completely bullshitted some. Though he is rebellious, he has a profound respect for knowledge, after all.. knowledge is the key to knowing what he needs to be against. Despite the fact that he's an amazing artist, probably top of the school-- he always just barely passes art. The idea that art should be judged by a numerical grade completely infuriates him, thus he never hands any of his projects in. Oh, he does them.. but hardly anyone ever gets to see them.
On top of all this, he is more than willing to give people an ego booster, or due credit where it is not being given. He's not so proud that he can't compliment someone else's work. Secretly he is quite confident and arrogant about his work, no one really has to tell him he's good-- he fucking knows it. Ryland spends a lot of time hanging around the art wing with the teachers, who let him in on secret showings and places to submit his work. They know he's good, too.
In contrast to this generous nature, to those whom he dubs cruel, he will act equally unkind. Though he rarely ever takes it to the extremes most do, he will make his dislike obvious to whomever he hates. Whether it be through neglecting their presence entirely, or humiliating them through a good exchange of words- he's always up for the challenge of bringing someone down from their pedestal. Often he uses cases such as cliques or popularity to his advantage in order to make a statement, with the pranks he pulls. Though he's a relatively smart kid, he's definitely not afraid to challenge the faculty, or the rules that have been set out for him to follow. Above all else, he gets off on proving someone else wrong, or winning.
Among his numerous flaws, he has managed to sustain his hunger toward a good debate. At times he argues for the sake of arguing, even when he doesn't believe in the side he fights for. He's the kind of guy who will take anyone on in a debate about the color of the sky-- and win, even when he's not rooting for blue. While this is a good trait to carry when standing for his beliefs, it's also a weakness, as he will never allow himself to lose; thus arguments usually last until the other person gives in. Unfortunately he's terrible at accepting defeat, and won't rest until the other person has lost. If he does, on an off chance, lose a fight, he often grovels about it and displays his anger against someone by becoming incredibly short-- sometimes not speaking at all.
The fact that he's hubris and incredibly stubborn, only fuels the fire. Ryland's pride is something he is not willing to put aside for anything, unless of course someone's life is on the line. When he is by chance, wrong, he is very reluctant to admit the fact that he is mistaken. Apologies are not something he hands out like candy, only when he decides that the mishap is insignificant, or when he has no other choice but to apologize. Actually, it's not too hard for him to apologize to people he's close with, such as those he loves, friends, and anyone he deems an idol or someone to be recognized. Anyone outside of this circle, particularly someone he hates-- they won't receive any apologies from him, unless he's forced.
Out of friendship he only asks for loyalty and individuality. Chances are, someone who follows rather than leads will not be on good terms with him-- particularly if they're the trendy toxic waste of the high school's corridors. Ryland is really the kind of guy who would go out of his way for his friends, and give them anything they want. Sharing isn't too hard for him to do, nor is giving something away. If he knows for a fact that someone will enjoy something he has more than he already does, he will give it away to that person the first chance he gets. Ryland is very content with his life, his philosophy a hybrid breed between minimalism, carpe diem, and optimism. Now, he isn't absurdly optimistic, but he does believe that energy put out there is energy returned. Some call it karma.
Ryland is extremely outgoing, making clear his intentions almost always, and standing for everything he believes in with a very vocal approach. He's been the organizer of protests, the guy who will literally stand up on a cafeteria table during lunch, and announce something to everyone in the cafe. Consequences are not something he runs from in the wake of his rash actions, because he stands by his cause. He's not one to announce something, or do something that might be against the rules just to make a point, and then run when authority comes knocking. Debating the principal has become a weekly routine, if not daily at some points during the school year. In his mind rules do not exist, only morals, and what a man can, and can't do. Ryland is definitely, in no way shy. That doesn't mean he isn't respectful, he won't go around and make disgusting comments toward women, or anyone else for that matter.
Some of his lower grades, do not at all reflect his intelligence. The more liberal courses understand his unique nature, such as History, English, and the Arts. Classes that revolve around numbers and facts he doesn't take too seriously, because it's just not his thing. Ever since he was young, that stuff just never caught his fancy. In his mind, as long as he can count to three while driving, he's okay. There have been several cases, particularly in English and History, that he's corrected some of the younger teachers as they confused some of their facts, or completely bullshitted some. Though he is rebellious, he has a profound respect for knowledge, after all.. knowledge is the key to knowing what he needs to be against. Despite the fact that he's an amazing artist, probably top of the school-- he always just barely passes art. The idea that art should be judged by a numerical grade completely infuriates him, thus he never hands any of his projects in. Oh, he does them.. but hardly anyone ever gets to see them.
On top of all this, he is more than willing to give people an ego booster, or due credit where it is not being given. He's not so proud that he can't compliment someone else's work. Secretly he is quite confident and arrogant about his work, no one really has to tell him he's good-- he fucking knows it. Ryland spends a lot of time hanging around the art wing with the teachers, who let him in on secret showings and places to submit his work. They know he's good, too.
Likes:
+Photography
+Sculpture
+Jewelry design
+Nature
+Tea
+Hugs
+Cuddling
+Holding hands
+Mission Trips
+Relief Efforts
+Culture
+When people smile
+The woods
+Unique things
+Animals
+Kids
+Praise
+Art
+Acting
+Movies in general
+Guitar
+Drums
+Basement shows
+Debating
+Old School video games
+Hiking
+Fishing
+Camping
+The City
+Going to shows
+Making people laugh
+Spanglish (meaning the hybrid language of English with Spanish descent, not the movie)
+Cult films
+Independent film
+Independent music
+Hemp
+Protest
+Anti-establishment movements
Dislikes:
-Cruelty
-Injustice
-The Bush Administration
-Republican perspective
-Conservatives
-Losing
-Technology
-Synthetics
-Additives in foods
-Red dye
-Pollution
-NAFTA
-When there's nothing he can do
-Having nothing to do
-Bias based on beauty
-Trend
-Those who follow
-Placating the people he hates
-The uneducated
-More so the willingly ignorant
-Even more when people have knowledge, but act otherwise
-When someone doesn't flush the toilet
Strengths:
+Humor
+Dependable
+Patience
+Outgoing
+Understanding
Weaknesses:
-Stubborn
-A good verbal exchange
-Vanilla
-His Mom
-Knowledge
Hobbies:
.painting
.sketching
.guitar
.drums
.any instrument
.making/watching ocumentaries
.making Films
.photography
.writing
.philosophy
.t-shirt design
.diy
.going to shows
.skanking.. not really
.dancing like a fool
.pranks
.making a point
.holding shows in his basement
.hiking
.biking
.skateboarding
.planting trees
.learning
.reading
.writing
.cooking
Family:
Judy Abbott:
Mother
37
A free spirited woman who's style and personality is reminiscent of the 60's, Judy always let her kid do whatever he wanted (within a reasonable degree, of course). Once, he ran around at the age of three in his birthday suit at a small get together between her and her friends. They were smoking pot and hanging out fireside-- not that he was old enough to understand.
History:
Judy Abbott had always been a free spirit, a woman trapped within the morals and freedom of a Woodstock concert. Even as she learned of her pregnancy, the idea of having a baby as a single mom didn't strike her as off. Not even in the least. In fact, she had begun to praise the idea a few months in, her independent and stubborn nature almost aiding this provocative liking. At the time women were just barely coming out of their shells, a movement that had been legally allowed ages ago- though socially it hadn't quite yet become accepted. Never once had she felt shame over carrying her first son; not in the promiscuous ways which birthed him, nor in the way she raised him. The boy she gave birth to, on the 15th of March, didn't see shame in it either.
Ryland Memphis Abbott was brought into the world as a liberal boy, someone who had always been taught to express himself through any means necessary, by any means he wished. Above all else, he had quickly adapted to the idea that who he was as an individual, was far more important than a group notion. Up until the age of five, he had spent his childhood traveling around the country attending riots and protests with his mother. At the time he obviously had no idea what was going on, the only thing he can really remember of those trips are playing with a girl in a small sun dress around the van, upon makeshift slip-n-slides made out of grass. Nature, very early in his life, had out ruled synthetic means of satisfaction.
Once he'd reached five, his mother (despite her avid belief in doing what one wanted) believed it would be best to put her child in school. It was around that time Ryland and Judy moved to Legend Falls. It didn't take him long to make friends and become king of the monkey bars within that group. Since he was little, he never cared for the kids who had it all, the ones that (even at the age of five or six) acted like snobs.
This fire he carried with him throughout his entire life. It was during the last years of middle school that he really developed into who he was, planning hikes and maintaining exceptional health. On weekends he'd take a group of friends on a 20 mile hike, just for the hell of it. Camping, nature, art, and counter culture had become the epicenter of his life. By High school he'd become a vegan, expressing care beyond his race and toward animals. He'd involved himself in numerous causes, and even created some of his own.
Currently he resides in a home with his mother, that isn't so aesthetically pleasing to the eye. It has never bothered him that he doesn't have the goods all the rich kids do, nor has he ever been jealous over their belongings. He and his mother have always been considered borderline poor throughout his childhood, though they are now fairing at lower middle class. Somehow, despite the typical stigma attached to being 'less fortunate,' he has managed to sustain a suitable reputation.
Ryland Memphis Abbott was brought into the world as a liberal boy, someone who had always been taught to express himself through any means necessary, by any means he wished. Above all else, he had quickly adapted to the idea that who he was as an individual, was far more important than a group notion. Up until the age of five, he had spent his childhood traveling around the country attending riots and protests with his mother. At the time he obviously had no idea what was going on, the only thing he can really remember of those trips are playing with a girl in a small sun dress around the van, upon makeshift slip-n-slides made out of grass. Nature, very early in his life, had out ruled synthetic means of satisfaction.
Once he'd reached five, his mother (despite her avid belief in doing what one wanted) believed it would be best to put her child in school. It was around that time Ryland and Judy moved to Legend Falls. It didn't take him long to make friends and become king of the monkey bars within that group. Since he was little, he never cared for the kids who had it all, the ones that (even at the age of five or six) acted like snobs.
This fire he carried with him throughout his entire life. It was during the last years of middle school that he really developed into who he was, planning hikes and maintaining exceptional health. On weekends he'd take a group of friends on a 20 mile hike, just for the hell of it. Camping, nature, art, and counter culture had become the epicenter of his life. By High school he'd become a vegan, expressing care beyond his race and toward animals. He'd involved himself in numerous causes, and even created some of his own.
Currently he resides in a home with his mother, that isn't so aesthetically pleasing to the eye. It has never bothered him that he doesn't have the goods all the rich kids do, nor has he ever been jealous over their belongings. He and his mother have always been considered borderline poor throughout his childhood, though they are now fairing at lower middle class. Somehow, despite the typical stigma attached to being 'less fortunate,' he has managed to sustain a suitable reputation.
Character Extras:
Celebrity: Grenier, Adrian
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..
Quote: Admin. Edit
