DASHWOOD, edmund alexander
, year twelve
|edmund alexander dashwood
Group: Year 12
Member No.: 2
Joined: 18-December 10
--- edmund alexander dashwood ---
you don't think about it you don't do without it because you're beautiful
|N I C K N A M E
||A G E
||Y E A R
||T Y P E
O R I E N T A T I O N
F A M I L Y
mother and father:
josephine and roger dashwood
aunt mildred's seven children
O R I G I N S
English through and through, Edmund was born in London. For several years, he lived in Cornwall with his aunt and cousins, but his parents have always lived in London.
B I R T H D A Y
H E A L T H
nope! he's healthy as a horse!
• to make a name for himself in the world of business (which shouldn't be hard considering the name 'dashwood' is already very well respected)
• to be the best at pretty much everything. it's a legitimate goal, though somewhat unobtainable. it does keep him busy though
P U P P E T E E R
hey all! I'm GROUNDERS. I'm 19 and living in the PHILIPPINES, which is a very irritating timezone to be in considering most people seem to be in Europe or the US. anyway, if you wanna reach me, you can always PM me, or if you wanna have a chat, my SKYPE AND MSN ARE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST. Cheers!
R P S A M P L E
It was now almost a week since Gerard had left London, and his first trip out of the U.K. was not going too well. He'd come in search of a girl, and hadn't seen hide nor hair of her since he'd gotten there. Deep down he knew he wasn't likely to find her any time soon, though he'd fully expected to be back on a plane and headed to Heathrow airport by now with bird in hand so they could all get on with their lives. Things were not looking too good, and he was begining to wonder if maybe he'd made a gigantic mistake. His father had told him countless times: "Pongo, you really must learn to think about what you're doing before you do it!" For the umpteenth time in his life, Pongo chastised himself for not listening, and for doing something so silly purely on a whim. But, he was here and there was nothing to do for it but carry on.
What had really shocked him was the letter he'd gotten earlier that morning. He hadn’t told a soul where he was staying, not even his father…not that he knew anyone here anyway so he really couldn’t guess what this was all about. When the man behind the front desk had called him over after breakfast and handed him the letter, Pongo had stared at it with a sense of dread, wondering if maybe his father had figured out where he’d gone (he had taken the Colonel’s credit card, so it was only a matter of time before they hunted him down) and was sending him a rather scathing letter. But it wasn’t from Colonel O’Toole at all; he didn’t know who it was from, but that mouse silhouette looked annoyingly familiar. Despite his better judgement, Pongo had ripped open the envelope and devored it’s contents as soon as he had gotten back to his room, wondering if perhaps his lost love had heard somehow that he was here, and maybe she was working with the Disney Corporation. Perhaps she’d landed that acting job after all! But no, it wasn’t from her. It was from… well, that wasn’t too important. It was what it told him to do that was.
So now he was here, in the middle of Disneyland in LA, looking for one girl among thousands, and wandering through some apparently exclusive hall. The masquerade hall. He’d never heard of it before, but that didn’t stop him from marvelling at how wonderful it seemed. Especially now that he was staying in it. Or was going to be at least, if he could find the rooms. At the moment, he just wandered around with his one pack slung over his shoulder, taking in the brilliance of it all.
Pongo had travelled quite regularly with his father, but only around the U.K. and mostly for camping trips and hikes. If he ever stayed at a hotel, it was likely a bed and breakfast, or some large chain of inns; it was certainly never any place like this. And they had a library!
He didn’t hesitate a moment before pushing open the great, heavy doors that sealed it off from the rest of the world. He did so love to read, though never for too long for he wasn’t very good at sitting still. The room seemed mostly empty, save for a stern looking librarian with her hands folded on top of a desk, looking quite bored, and a couple of other people around his age. He hefted his bag up onto his shoulder, grinning widely, and chose a shelf. As he browsed through the titles all too quickly, skimming his index finger along a great many leather, cloth and card spines, he heard a loud crash.
He jumped from the shock of it; it wasn’t usual one heard noises quite like that in a library. Quickly, he pulled himself back together and peered around the edge of the shelves into the row just beyond. There was a girl there, crouched down and gathering up a few dozen scattered books, talking quietly to herself. What sort of gentleman would Pongo be if he let her do it all on her own? Plus she was fit, and he would very much like to meet her. This proved the perfect opportunity.
He crouched down and picked up a title, then another and another. “Hope you don’t mind the help,” he said from behind her, not entirely sure whether she had noticed him or not, “It’s not exactly right for a woman to be down on her knees picking up books of all things.” There was nothing wrong with books, not to him, but many people his age found no pleasure in them, and it was always considered far more ‘cool’ to have a sort of disdain towards them. What Pongo didn’t really piece together was the fact that she too was in a library, so why in heaven’s name else would she be there if she didn’t have a fondness for them?
A P P E A R A N C E
HAIR COLOUR: dark brown
EYE COLOUR: light blue
COMPLEXION: Edmund's skin is pale and smooth; miraculously, he never really had a problem with acne, which he's thankful for every day of his life because he likely would have died of embarrassment... or refused to leave his house.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: When people see Edmund for the first time (and every time after than, usually), the first thing they notice are his icy blue eyes. He's very proud of them, especially when they get him attention for a pretty girl.
HEIGHT: 5'9, so he's pretty average in height
WEIGHT: 138 pounds
BUILD: Edmund is slight for the most part, but not at all scrawny and lanky. He's filled out and muscular; he looks good and he knows it. He's very confident and considers himself to be physically flawless, which many people see, but that's where the perfection ends.
CLOTHING STYLE: He dresses well and never buys anything that's not got some famous brand attached to it. His favourites are Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein and Burberry, and his closet overflows with them; he's just about as bad as a woman. He doesn't own a track suit, and he owns one pair of jeans, but never wears them. He's never in his life dressed for comfort (his mother taught him to always dress to impress) so you'll often see him wondering around campus dressed as though he were going... somewhere that's not school. When he's out of his uniform, of course.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
For the most part, Edmund fancies hanging around with other people. He likes to go out to parties and do all that ‘teenager’ stuff – football matches with mates, rugby on the television, hanging out at the pub, sneaking into the girl’s locker room… so long as he’s with his friends, he’s up for anything. He has no trouble walking up to random strangers and starting a conversation, but if he gets on your nerves, be warned: he’s not good at reading between the lines. If you don’t like him, tell him so and he’ll back off… sometimes. Subtle hints and clues are not an option with this guy. For all he can get along with practically anyone, he’s quite judgemental of people (it’s the way he was brought up after all) and does keep social class in mind; the Dashwoods are one of the richest families in the country after all, and ‘fraternizing with the help’ is not an option. So, when he considers you of lower standard than himself, he’ll likely not go out of his way to make friends with you, though he will in no way be mean in snippy –- he’s had too many shoes to the back of his head to treat anyone so foully.
Competitive and Hard Working
though he's never been one to get into an actual fist fight (he depends more on his flowery words and sharp wit to get him out of tight situations), edmund is a very competitive young man. he sees everything as a competition that needs to be won, which, though it sounds extreme and rather pathetic, has helped him out a lot in life. because of his competitiveness and his need to be better than anyone else, Edmund is an A student, learns quickly, and takes orders well considering he's learned that the fastest way to the top is to do what you're told. he always goes above and beyond the call of duty, whether it be in sports or academics, and so manages to keep himself at the top of the pile. If not for this need for competition, he never would have gotten far in life; by nature, he's not a very academically minded boy, and would rather play video games or ride his horse than spend hours and hours studying his biology lessons. unfortunately, though he spends a great deal of his time buried in his books, he can't seem to surpass his sister, who apparently was born to study; i can assure you that this fact irks him to no end.
the way edmund sees it, he lives a rather stressful life, and i suppose being in constant competition with everyone around you does make life somewhat more difficult. so naturally, he needs something to help him escape the trials and tribulations of everyday life. It used to be that this escape took the form of comic books and video games, novels and riding. Many times, it still does, but comic books are quick reads, video games stay the same no matter how many times you play them, novels have endings and sometimes it rains, which tosses horseback riding out the window. so what does he do? he makes small mischief around campus. His pranks are never big for despite it all he is a clever boy, and a big disastrous prank would draw attention to him. so instead he sets up a few different ones, sits back and watches them unfold in all their glorious turmoil upon unsuspecting victims. he's very careful never to get caught of course; he hates getting into trouble, and avoids it as best he can.
Edmund is the type of boy who is very easily bored, and he hates dull life with the passion of a hundred woebegone lovers. so naturally, he does anything he can to keep himself entertained, which means if you can suggest it, he's up for it. no matter what you want to do, edmund will always do it with you, simply because he hasn't got anything better to fill his time. he'll take long hikes with you, go pub hopping, clubbing, book store shopping, even dress shopping if you ask him to, so long as it gets him out of his cramped little room for a couple of hours. nothing scares him (this is a lie; a very many things scare him, but he makes it seem to other people as though nothing in the world does) and so he'll gladly go bungee jumping with you or just wander around the woods with you.
Because of the time he's spent with Aunt Mildred, he's been very well trained. following orders has become practically instinctual to this young man, considering every time he disobeys them he winds up mucking out stables for two weeks or having a belt drawn across his backside. at first, he followed orders grudgingly, and still does at times, but he's learned the benefits of being obedient; he pays very good attention, which means he sky-rockets ahead of others in classes and it's not easy to distract him from a task. When he's asked to do something, he never dallies or procrastinates, and instead gets to it at once (again more a force of habit to avoid the belt than actual consideration for other people). This makes him very popular with the school staff, and many times he winds up becoming the teacher's pet simply because he does what they tell him to. This obedience can sometimes be misinterpreted by his school mates as being a way to get the teacher's attention and to suck up, which it certainly isn't but gets some of his peers to disliking him anyway.
Being brought up (most of his life) in the lap of luxury, Edmund's bound to have some of that posh nonsense crammed into his head. Naturally, he grew up and adapted to his surroundings, which moulded him into being very much self involved. It used to be that he would stare at himself in the mirror for hours getting everything just so, and he more often than not yelled and screamed when his nanny picked out an outfit he didn't like. He bragged about how everyone told him he was a handsome boy with the most beautiful blue eyes they'd ever seen. And then he went to live with Aunt Mildred. The vanity and lust for perfection he had towards his appearance vanished during those years, which would have happened whether he liked it or not considering he spent a good deal of that time crouched down in horse manure. But, as he was brought back into high society London, he began to once more become involved in himself... only this time around, he doesn't do it on purpose. In fact, he doesn't really notice he's doing it. In the middle of a conversation he may stop and say, 'don't I look marvellous in this top?' and move on just as quickly as it came about. He'll often stop when he comes to a mirror to check his hair and his collar, but he doesn't spend ages before it oogeling himself. Most people don't realize he's doing this without any bad intentions, and they feel he is stuck up and conceited, caring only for his appearance; and when they tell him so, he can't figure out for the life of him why they think the way they do!
Edmund's never had the patience to be cryptic and mysterious. His thoughts tend to be unfiltered, and whatever pops into his brain tends to pop out of his mouth... which can get awkward to say the least. He's much better at controlling this now (with years of experience) than he was when he was younger, but that isn't saying much. If you ask him, yes, he's gonna tell you that your bum looks huge in those jeans, but only if it's true because contrary to popular belief, Edmund isn't a bad guy. He just tends to come across as an ass. In all honestly, he doesn't mean to be hurtful to you (usually; you can definitely tell when he is trying though) it just sometimes happens that way. Never tell him any sort of secret; he's really not very good at keeping them. The moment he hears 'don't tell anyone,' you can bet he's gonna tell someone, usually by mistake because again: the boy doesn't think before he speaks.
Proud and Stubborn
Perhaps the only thing Edmund hates more than loosing is being wrong. Never tell him outright that he's wrong, because there's no way in hell he's ever going to admit it... especially if someone else tells him he is. Once in a while he'll admit he's wrong under his breath so only you can hear, though that doesn't happen all that often. Mostly you get the 'sorry' look. If you openly tell him 'you're wrong, I'm right,' you will get neither the 'sorry' look nor the rare moment of satisfaction from hearing him repent. Instead, he'll come at you full force. Even if he knows he's wrong, if you tell him so, he'll persist and persist, saying there's no way he could be wrong, bringing up facts and debates to back himself up (he's surprisingly good at finding evidence to prove his point, even if his point is wrong). But it's not just there that he's stubborn nor prideful. Edmund will never run away, and he'll never say sorry (unless it benefits him in some way). Instead, he'll use his carefully chosen words and phrases to talk you down and eventually make you apologise for something he did wrong, so don't let your guard down!
Despite all his shortcomings, Edmund is a good kid. Or he is now. He wasn't before, but he's learned from his mistakes. Usually, he sets out with the best intentions, though he sometimes has a habit of messing things up, and he hardly ever does anything to purposefully harm those around him (he's a teenager, so it's gonna happen sometimes, but its not usual). He's a good friend if you make one out of him and loyal to the end of his days. He'll laugh with you, comfort you, and anything else you need to be done. He's very reliable when push comes to shove, and likes to know that he's there for his friends and family when they need him. He doesn't panic in a pinch, and is a level headed young man, which allows him to see reason (sometimes) when others don't and tell the difference between accidents and harmful intentions. He'll always go out of his way to make his friends happy, though he can't help it if sometimes he gets distracted by things that make him happy. Nobody's perfect, after all.
H I S T O R Y
Edmund was born seven minutes after his ‘elder’ sister. They were Josephine and Roger Dashwood’s first children, and the young couple was completely ecstatic at the thought of finally having someone to bring home with them after Josephine’s two miscarriages. In truth, the pair had been certain that Josephine wouldn’t be able to have children at all, and that these two babies would be born as still as the first two. When that wasn’t the case, you can imagine their utter enjoyment.
Three days later, after the children were released from the hospital alongside their mother, the couple went back to their large, sprawling mansion in Chelsea (a wedding gift from Roger’s parents nearly seven years ago) and preparations began. The nursery which had been dank and cold after so many years was cleaned up and polished for the two children, and Roger made it a point to call everyone he knew (again) to tell them about the two children. A baby shower was arranged, and both sets of grandparents came down from the country to meet the babies, and life carried on just as it should have.
The Dashwood twins were the apple of everyone’s eye: their parents adored them, their grandparents fawned over them, and the staff did everything they could to please them, lest one or the other go crying to their parents. And so Edmund grew up a very spoilt and vain little child, with everyone always telling him he was perfect, and a ‘miracle’ brought upon the family, not to mention ‘a blessing from Heaven.’ He was a disagreeable child, overprotected by his parents and so always looking for a way to break free. He was mischievous and always getting himself (and others) into trouble, and never once getting scolded for it. Children at school hated him, and parents did so as well as they heard all the stories their little ones told them. Edmund was rude, selfish, demanding, and the list went on. Nobody liked him, and oddly enough, he didn’t realize it. He often wondered why he was never invited to birthday parties or outings with the other children.
This troubled him for a long while, for many years actually, but other than being friendless and something of a twit, he grew up perfectly happy. He had an easy life, and everything he could have ever dreamed of was handed to him on a silver platter. He had horses and dogs and cats and rats and rabbits and chickens and ducks and anything else his black little heart could have desired. Cake for breakfast, no set bed time, never got scolded or chastised; life was far too easy and he was a competitive boy from the start. He took to battling everything out with his sister; what she had he wanted, and not just something like it, but precisely that one. If she wanted it, he wanted it first, even though he had had no interest in at to begin with. He threw a fit when she got something and he didn’t, and he strived to be better than her at everything she did.
By the time he was eight, he was a nightmare, and even his doting parents, who refused to see any faults in either of their children, knew that something had to be done. So on the twelfth of March, they packed him up (‘on a vacation,’ they had said) and headed to Cornwall. When they arrived, it was to Aunt Mildred’s house, Roger’s eldest sister. Mildred had raised and turned out into the world four children, and still had three boys living at home with her: one in his last year of secondary school, one in the ninth year, and the last just entering his sixth. Edmund knew them all, for his family had stayed at Aunt Mildred’s before, and likewise she and all her children had come to vacation with them many a time. And every time they met, Edmund liked her less and less. She was hard and strict, and ran her home as though it were Buckingham palace with everything in just the right place and if a thing were out of order, not only would you get a talking to, but you’d get a belt across your back as well. Her children all did exactly as they were told, and Edmund had often thought of them as robots, and not real children at all. So you can imagine his dismay when he woke up the next morning to find his parents had stolen away back to London in the middle of the night.
No. Dismay is not the right word for it. He was furious. He screamed and yelled and broke vases and plates and anything else he could get his hands on. Aunt Mildred watched him all the while with a calm, hard face, not making so much as a movement towards him nor giving him so much of a calming word. She knew him well, for she had spent summers and Christmases with the wretched boy, and had seen his temper before and how everyone in the house had rushed to calm him. Now, he was in her house, and she would do nothing of the sort. His tantrums would not be met with presents or pity, but with punishment, for that was the way she did things.
He was extremely upset with the thought that no one was coming to consol him, which only made him scream and pound harder, and when he was all cried out, sitting on a heap on the floor, he was utterly astonished by the fact that his tantrum had gotten him quite the opposite of what he wanted: he was confined to his room for the rest of the day, with nothing to eat till the next morning; and he’d have to pay back for all the things he’d broken, so he would be on stable duty for the next three weeks. Edmund had heard of stable duty; Mildred’s eldest son Charles had told him of it quite often. Edmund would have to wake at sunrise to feed the horses; then he’d groom them and muck out their stalls. He’d tack them for the other children and clean out the riding ring for them before they began, as everyone watched. It was humiliating.
Days continued and stable duty was every bit as awful as Charles had told him it was. But, Edmund picked up his duties quickly for he was a very fast learner and an intelligent child. He also learned quickly that his usual tantrums would get him no where, for he had thrown several since then and all they had gotten him was several days confined to his room with only one meal a day, and three more weeks of stable duty; at one point when he snapped back to his aunt, she set him up with window duty for a week, which Edmund didn’t think would be so awful. He didn’t take into account that there were one hundred and twenty three windows in the old house.
Edmund stayed with his cousins and Aunt Mildred until he was twelve years old, with visits from his parents every so often during Christmas and long breaks, though he was never allowed to go back to London until (as Mildred had said) they had ‘beaten the resistance out of him.’ He went to school in Cornwall, and gradually saw less and less of stable duty as he figured out that lashing would get him nothing but penalty. It took four years, but through hard work (and the fact that he was no longer the only boy in the house) Aunt Mildred managed to make a model citizen out of the young rebel. Edmund hadn’t had a fist-pounding tantrum since he was nine-and-a-half, which Aunt Mildred considered a victory in and of itself, and from months and months of stable duty, he had learned the value of hard work. He didn’t get anything he wanted save for on his birthday or Christmas. Shoes were worn until they fell off of one’s feet (not because the family had no money, for they were extremely well off, but because of principle). Aunt Mildred’s boys didn’t allow themselves to be ordered around, and quite to the contrary, would order Edmund around. By the time he was free to go back to London and live with his parents, all the fight had been beaten out of him (quite literally, for three elder boys did like to pound on each other on occasion) and he was as docile and well brought up as one of Mildred’s own children.
When he got back to London, he no longer expected to get what he wanted, for he no longer asked. He never spoke back and was always smiling and pleasant, keeping his problems to himself and his temper even, lest he be met with some sort of unpleasant punishment. His parents, who had seen the change throughout the years he had lived with Mildred on only holidays and vacation, were delighted. Living with him was pleasant for once, and the fact that he never picked on his sister was an added bonus.
After coming back from Aunt Mildred’s, life seemed infinitely easier, and he wasn’t sure he liked that. He had no boys to bat around with and wrestle, and no chores to do to keep him fit; no one ever asked him to do anything, and certainly not stable duty. But he was happy to be back home, for all that he did actually miss Aunt Mildred’s house (he couldn’t believe it, but he did). His routine in London was dull and monotonous: get up in the morning, go to school, finish school, hang around doing nothing in particular with some mates, go back home, do homework, go to bed, and repeat. He kept it to himself for a while (Aunt Mildred never condoned complaining, and always said he should be grateful for what he had) and though he continued to live his life as it was, he began to try and find ways to make it more interesting… which meant he started making a little mischief here and there. He was bored; what else could he do? He was never caught, and his mischief was very small and not at all noteworthy… until his tenth year, when he and a mate rigged the trap door in the stage during a school production.
After a chat with the principle, his parents were terrified that being in London was influencing him to turn back to his old ways of mayhem and tantrum (which was utter nonsense, considering he’d been back for years by this point) and pulled him out of school immediately and sent him away to a small but very highly thought of all boys school in St. Davids called Kenwood Grammar, in hopes that keeping him away would keep him pleasant.