Post by Seven on Jan 20, 2009 22:16:05 GMT -6
My apologies, I went back and revised/rewrote a lot of this. I was rushed when I initially applied and therefore a bit distracted.
Full Name: Uriel Thomas
Nicknames/Aliases: Seven
Species: Vampire
Allegiance: With the council
Job: Works backshift at a 24-7 coffee shop.
Family: Joseph and Brenda Thomas (parents). Nora Thomas (aunt).
Age: 18
Appearance:
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 129lbs
Eyes: Red
Hair: White
Hair Style: Messy, ear-length
Any distinguishing features: Being albino, Seven has milky pale skin. He's petite, and light on his feet. English is his second language, and thus he has an accent when he speaks, and sometimes his English is awkward.
Usual Clothing: Black from head to toe, form-fitting jeans, long, high collared black jacket that zips down the front and an mp3 player that's a permanent fixture in his wardrobe.
Preferred Weapon: N/A
Powers/Abilities:
Mind Vision
Small bursts of speed, jumping long/high distances
Weaknesses
Deathly allergic to garlic
Unusually low threshold for pain
Other skills and talents: Seven is a musician, although seems to be embarassed to perform in front of an audience, no matter how small. He keeps a guitar and clarinet in his apartment.
Personality: He's happiest at home, or wandering the streets with his mp3player companion. Seven doesn't try to make himself known in crowds, instead preferring to fade into the background.
Background/History:[/u]
Seven was born to Joseph and Brenda Thomas as Uriel Thomas in a small rural town in Norway in 1990. Here he lived the life of a wealthy, but only, child. At the age of thirteen, Uriel's mother contracted cancer and, unfortunately, died a year later. His father was heartbroken. So much that he made his sister the legal guardian of his son and sold their estate, willing a majority of the money to Uriel before disappearing from his life.
Two more years passed and Uriel fell into a bad crowd, staying out all night, experimenting with drugs and alcohol.
One particular night, when fifteen-year old Uriel had fallen upon his mother's gravesite in a drunken, depressed stupor, he was approached by a cloaked figure. Little did he know it was a vampire, and he was attacked. He woke up the next evening in a foster home of sorts for stray vampires in London. Uriel had no idea how he'd gotten there and he knew little english. The teen spent two years here, adjusting to his new lifestyle and learning the country's language.
A month ago, Seven (a nickname given to him by the innkeeper, Uriel liked it and it stuck) moved to Nex Iugum and began to live his new life on his own. He picked up a job at a coffee shop working overnight and with help from the money from his father, moved into and furnished a downtown apartment.
Sample RP:
Fear. A struggle. Blackness. He screamed, but no sound came from his throat.
Uriel's deep crimson eyes fluttered open. He was laying on the front stoop of a building he didn't recognize in a town he didn't know. He barely got a chance to sit up before his stomach whirled and he was on his hands and knees at once, emptying the contents of his stomach. White hair hung stringy and wet around his face. The clothes he was wearing... weren't his own. They were generic. A white t-shirt and black sweatpants.
He hadn't remembered getting dressed.
Who had time for that when you were being attacked in a graveyard?
Uriel groaned and retched again. Blood poured from his mouth at an alarming rate. His eyes widened as he looked down at the bloody-red and pus-yellow mess. And here comes the stomach acid. As Uriel continued to hurl, cough violently, and cry, the memories, though vague, from the night before drifted back to him. They seemed unreal. He was at his mother's gravesite... the smell of fresh flowers in the rain... and then, a man. A shadowy man.
Why the man attacked him, he was unsure. There were no cuts or bruises on his body anywhere, but he ached all over as if he'd been hit by a truck. The simple fact he was in a place he didn't recognize, in clothing not his own, was enough to send his head spinning and stomach reeling.
It was only after the puke began to subside did Uriel look up to find a short man, shorter than him even, standing over him with a smile on his face.
"Hei..." Uriel muttered, "jeg har gått meg bort..."
The man's smile twisted into a sympathetic look and he ushered the boy to his feet and in the doorway.
"You poor thing," The man spoke in a language Uriel had heard before but didn't know. "Come inside, we'll get you cleaned up. You have a lot to learn..."
Face Claim:
(does not actually have wings it's just a background, really. yes the art is mine)
Need a home or room? Nope
Anything else we need to know?: Not really.
Full Name: Uriel Thomas
Nicknames/Aliases: Seven
Species: Vampire
Allegiance: With the council
Job: Works backshift at a 24-7 coffee shop.
Family: Joseph and Brenda Thomas (parents). Nora Thomas (aunt).
Age: 18
Appearance:
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 129lbs
Eyes: Red
Hair: White
Hair Style: Messy, ear-length
Any distinguishing features: Being albino, Seven has milky pale skin. He's petite, and light on his feet. English is his second language, and thus he has an accent when he speaks, and sometimes his English is awkward.
Usual Clothing: Black from head to toe, form-fitting jeans, long, high collared black jacket that zips down the front and an mp3 player that's a permanent fixture in his wardrobe.
Preferred Weapon: N/A
Powers/Abilities:
Mind Vision
Small bursts of speed, jumping long/high distances
Weaknesses
Deathly allergic to garlic
Unusually low threshold for pain
Other skills and talents: Seven is a musician, although seems to be embarassed to perform in front of an audience, no matter how small. He keeps a guitar and clarinet in his apartment.
Personality: He's happiest at home, or wandering the streets with his mp3player companion. Seven doesn't try to make himself known in crowds, instead preferring to fade into the background.
Background/History:[/u]
Seven was born to Joseph and Brenda Thomas as Uriel Thomas in a small rural town in Norway in 1990. Here he lived the life of a wealthy, but only, child. At the age of thirteen, Uriel's mother contracted cancer and, unfortunately, died a year later. His father was heartbroken. So much that he made his sister the legal guardian of his son and sold their estate, willing a majority of the money to Uriel before disappearing from his life.
Two more years passed and Uriel fell into a bad crowd, staying out all night, experimenting with drugs and alcohol.
One particular night, when fifteen-year old Uriel had fallen upon his mother's gravesite in a drunken, depressed stupor, he was approached by a cloaked figure. Little did he know it was a vampire, and he was attacked. He woke up the next evening in a foster home of sorts for stray vampires in London. Uriel had no idea how he'd gotten there and he knew little english. The teen spent two years here, adjusting to his new lifestyle and learning the country's language.
A month ago, Seven (a nickname given to him by the innkeeper, Uriel liked it and it stuck) moved to Nex Iugum and began to live his new life on his own. He picked up a job at a coffee shop working overnight and with help from the money from his father, moved into and furnished a downtown apartment.
Sample RP:
Fear. A struggle. Blackness. He screamed, but no sound came from his throat.
Uriel's deep crimson eyes fluttered open. He was laying on the front stoop of a building he didn't recognize in a town he didn't know. He barely got a chance to sit up before his stomach whirled and he was on his hands and knees at once, emptying the contents of his stomach. White hair hung stringy and wet around his face. The clothes he was wearing... weren't his own. They were generic. A white t-shirt and black sweatpants.
He hadn't remembered getting dressed.
Who had time for that when you were being attacked in a graveyard?
Uriel groaned and retched again. Blood poured from his mouth at an alarming rate. His eyes widened as he looked down at the bloody-red and pus-yellow mess. And here comes the stomach acid. As Uriel continued to hurl, cough violently, and cry, the memories, though vague, from the night before drifted back to him. They seemed unreal. He was at his mother's gravesite... the smell of fresh flowers in the rain... and then, a man. A shadowy man.
Why the man attacked him, he was unsure. There were no cuts or bruises on his body anywhere, but he ached all over as if he'd been hit by a truck. The simple fact he was in a place he didn't recognize, in clothing not his own, was enough to send his head spinning and stomach reeling.
It was only after the puke began to subside did Uriel look up to find a short man, shorter than him even, standing over him with a smile on his face.
"Hei..." Uriel muttered, "jeg har gått meg bort..."
The man's smile twisted into a sympathetic look and he ushered the boy to his feet and in the doorway.
"You poor thing," The man spoke in a language Uriel had heard before but didn't know. "Come inside, we'll get you cleaned up. You have a lot to learn..."
Face Claim:
(does not actually have wings it's just a background, really. yes the art is mine)Need a home or room? Nope
Anything else we need to know?: Not really.
