Newbie
Group: Student
Posts: 3
Member No.: 7
Joined: 16-February 08
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STUDENT APPLICATION!
OOC info:
Your name:Avery
Age:19
How'd you find us?Rpg-D
Other characters:None
The Basics
Full name:James Atticus Townsend
Age: 16
Sexuality: Homosexual
Appearance: James is tall and skinny, his awkward frame accented with pointy joints, calling to mind a stork. His skin is pale due to his aversion of spending any great amount of time outdoors. His lips are thin as is his long nose. His hair is dark brown and is most often impeccably groomed by his mother’s request. When left to his own devices, his hair tends to get messy due to his habit of running his fingers through it when he’s thinking. His eyes are dark brown, too, and are surrounded by a fringe of thick lashes that would be more at home on a girl’s face. If truth be told, James is plain. He can blend into the background quite easily.
As for his clothing, his wears whatever his mother or stepfather give him since fashion is one of the last things he wastes time thinking about. So from appearance alone, James appears to be the epitome of the proper young gentlemen. Most of the time, at least. There are times when the boy’s more than a little disheveled and his mother demanded just what in the world he had been doing.
Digging deeper...
Personality: James is fiercely intelligent. It’s what those he doesn’t pander to first note about him. He’s also very curious and determined, and not to mention more than a little fearless, which is a dangerous combination in today’s world. He refuses to just accept that his curiosity should be ignored and that the things he so dearly wants to learn about were immoral. Immoral, how he hates the word. To James it’s just a well-used excuse they threw over everything they didn’t want to deal with.
To most adults James knows and a large amount of his peers he sees as good little sheep who fall in line without a complaint, James is unfailingly polite and all around well mannered if a bit quiet. A proper son anyone could be proud of. Or at least, that’s what they believe since his parents keep his little bouts of “acting out” to themselves. It would be a horrible embarrassment to the family if word got out.
James figured out his sexual orientation a while ago. He just pretty much ignores it. He’s fine with being prosecuted for being too interested in technology and science and even one day disappearing. After creating an amazing piece of “immoral” technology, of course. He doesn’t want the government’s shadowy eye on him just because his hormones decided he was attracted to boys. He won’t accept many things in his society, being looked down upon for something he didn’t choose and can’t change is one of them.
History: James was born into a nice little law abiding, and fairly content family made of his father and mother. They owned a little general store and were ecstatic over the arrival of their son. Things didn’t stay happy for long, though. They never do.
At the age of five, James’ father caught pneumonia one winter and died a few months later. It was just the first of many changes the family would have to endure and adjust to. Though his mother grieved, she married again soon after as was proper. She couldn’t work while she had a child to tend to.
The man she married, a man who owned nearly half the town, was rumored to have chosen James’ mother because she had a child and he had been unable to conceive a child with his last wife. So James grew up a bit spoiled and pampers and very aware that his job was to take his stepfather’s place one day.
As he grew older, this idea did not appeal to James at all. He had no intention of running several stores. Business held no interest for him despite his love of playing with numbers and figures. The only thing that really could hold his attention were the brief, scattered mentions of the technology of long ago. The immoral technology that had certainly helped in the downfall of the civilized world. The technology that had been banned to keep their new society safe. James had never believed such, machines, technology, and science weren’t inherently evil. It was how people used them. The boy strongly believed that learning and advancement should never be stunted out of fear. And they were afraid.
James wasn’t. His brain would think for hours on the pictures and the ragged and most often incomplete blue prints and manuals (often gotten from people of ill repute for large sums of money) of wondrous machines and things he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around. This was what he wanted. He wanted to know, he craved the knowledge that had been lost or hidden.
His curiosity led him to his most definitely illegal tampering and tinkering with existing limited technology as he tried to improve it or create something else all together. This went on for years in secret (well, mostly in secret since his mother knew he was up to something when he would come home with his clothes filthy and stained with grease and oil)until someone he had thought was truth worthy went and informed his stepfather of his doings.
His stepfather was furious, which James had expected. His mother, though, she had been quiet and her eyes had been full of disappointment. That hurt James the most. He realized that his mother didn’t understand, that his secret hope that she wasn’t as docile and obedient as every other housewife in town, had been proven false.
Within a few week of being caught, James was sent to the Enlightened School.
Ruminations:
What do you think of The Enlightened School? It is nothing more than an attempt to force more etiquette training on us, as if we can be distracted from our suffocating way of life by being concerned with what utensil is used when and for what. It’s ridiculous.
What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses? My greatest strength would undoubtedly be my intelligence even though everyone around me and my parents disagree. My weakness would be in the realm of human interaction. I can identify who has nothing but what they want you to think rolling about in their otherwise empty head, but that’s about it. I just don’t understand people, I guess. They confuse me. I’d rather be playing around with gears and levers anyway.
What do you fear the most?My parents finding out the other reason of why I’m socially unacceptable. It isn’t as though I could change it. I doubt that logical argument would win anything with them. Unfortunately.
What do you want the most? To go somewhere where it’s perfectly acceptable to be who I am. Is that too much to ask? Sometimes, I feel as though it might be.
And finally...
Writing sample: Sage stopped short at the shout, leaving him standing on the threshold of his room. “What?” The disgruntled Sidhe demanded even though he had plainly heard the order. That “what” more accurately meant something in the vein of “who the hell do you think you are?” Not caring to translate that little bit of Sage-ese, he continued on his way into the room, shoes still on.
He was in no mood to play nice (was he ever?). After classes he had once again made a trip to the gardens, they were so huge that he hadn’t walked the entire thing the day before. That wasn’t what had gotten his panties in a twist. It was the giant red orange and yellow flower with it’s long stem twined about his left hand, it’s exposed roots dropping small clumps of dirt as he moved. The flower had been a bit too affectionate to say the least. As he struggled to release his arm from it’s grip a group of giggling girls passing through had pointed and laughed as he fought with his power. He had told them to…well it was very rude, and his angry had transferred to the flower causing the thing to painfully squeeze him like an anaconda. Which in turned caused Sage to jerk away ripping the flower from the ground in the process. The flower had strongly refused his efforts to get it back in the ground, and not cold hearted enough (to plants anyway) to let it die for something that was his fault. And that was the tale of the clingy flower.
So here he was, angry and embarrassed, and in no mood to deal with roommates. The flower gave him a light squeeze like a friendly hug. Reminded of the blasted thing, he gave the pixie a glare, then went on his knees in front of his bed to grab one of the small plant pots there. Yeah, most teenaged boys had nudie magazines stashed under their beds. Sage had gardening tools.
Getting up, he threw the pot onto his covers…which were miraculously straight and ordered. Sage didn’t make his bed. Never had, never would. “Did you touch my bed?” He demanded, anger resurfacing as he spun to glare at the pixie once again.
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James Townsend
