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Topics - blue

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Roleplaying / Private Tutoring [Beau x Zac]
« on: June 10, 2019, 10:40:21 PM »
Quote from: Ende
He glanced at his schedule, - Tutoring, Introduction to Philosophy, and sighed shaking his head. Some freshmen probably, who didn’t pay attention to a damned thing, and now he’d have to try and beat it into their heads.
He flipped out his notes on the intro classes and set them on the desk, setting up a new document in his cheep-end, if somewhat abused laptop so he could set up notes on the parts they weren’t getting, though lord only knew that if it was anything like his last session it would be ‘all of it.’

He super needed a coffee, or an energy drink or…  just something. He was too damned tired. At least this was his last scheduled tutoring for the day; he could get something to wake him up before he picked up a shift at his other job.
Quote from: blue
They were well into the semester: by this point, students were either sinking or swimming. This *particular* student wasn't some dumb freshman but instead looked in his mid twenties. Zac would maybe recognize him: he'd come to class once or twice, at most, and in the past he'd been there in expensive clothes, with perfect hair.

Today was different. As he rolled into his tutoring section a good half an hour later, it looked like Beau was still in his pajamas, even down to the slippers. His hair was lank and loose around his face, and his eyes looked a little bit sunken, tired. His attention raked around the room instead of settling right onto Zac.
Quote from: Ende
He did a double take at the Pajamas, his face a grim line as he looked down to find slippers to boot, and sighed.
Not a freshmen, but clearly, lacking in any kind of give a damn. This was going to be ‘great’.

He sighed, not even trying to hide the vague level of consternation.
“… Intro to Philosophy tutoring?” He offered, so many were ‘unsure’ if they were in the right room, or had ‘lost’ the room number and so on, and so forth.

He leaned back and rubbed at his eyes, at least he was less worried now that he probably looked like he hadn’t slept recently. Hell, he probably looked more like a freshman because of that.

“Have a seat.” He waved to the chair across from him trying not to let the idea of ‘how nice pajamas’ would be just at the moment sink in enough to trigger a yawn.
Quote from: blue
A couple days since he shaved, too; he scratched at his jaw as he sad down opposite Zac and finally really looked at him. His voice went wry, maybe a bit mocking. "Who'd you piss off to land this?"
Quote from: Ende
"... I get paid to do this, I didn't piss off anyone." He shook his head, making a small face at the idea that he'd pissed someone off. "So... what is it that isn't making sense in class?"  He swapped directly to the more 'comfortable' subject of class work. Class work was much more structured than people, in so far as the information went at least. Presenting it so that the professors approved was sometimes the trick that had to be battled but that was all.
Quote from: blue
He blew a breath out through his nose and his attention wandered around the room again. Idly, Beau scratched at the inside of one wrist, where ink curled out from the hem of his shirt. "It's not that it doesn't make sense so much as it's really boring."
Quote from: Ende
A small, croaking sound escaped the tired tutor. "....I... w... you're here to be tutored, because, it's boring?" He asked half strangled.
Quote from: blue
"I'm here to be tutored because they told me I had to have a tutor." He stretched his legs out into Zac's space, and hiked his shoulders up a little. And then he went assessing. "How much are they paying you?"
Quote from: Ende
*he rubbed at the side of his nose* "In this moment? Not enough..." He quipped without checking himself, and then looked abashed to have said it at all. "I...mean..."
Quote from: blue
"I had a hunch." His eyes raked over Zac's clothes again, assessing, before rising back to his face. "I can probably pay better."
Quote from: Ende
That earned not only a suspicious glance but a look down at his own clothing and back, wondering what kind of judgement he had just received. "To...do what, and besides you don't know how much they pay."
Quote from: blue
"Uh huh. To write all the papers and shit." He gestured, vaguely, still lounging where he was. "Put my name on them. Get this over with."
Quote from: Ende
"no." The answer was curt. "That's...that's not the point of -being- here. It's... just no! Is this, is someone recording this? This is a joke, right?"
Quote from: blue
He looked around, as if maybe someone would come out -- but no one did. Instead he refocused on Zac. "I have a lot of money."
Quote from: Ende
"T-that's not the point either!" He said flustered. "The point is to learn the... I mean why would you pay to not do a class you're going to have it on your record that you did?"
Quote from: blue
"It'll be on my record that I did it." He said it smoothly, gesturing at Zac. "That's the part that matters."
Quote from: Ende
"No! No that isn't the point at all! You're supposed to learn, learning is the point!"
Quote from: blue
"This is a filler class to complete my degree." He dug a thumb into his eye like talking to Zac was painful. "The point is to have taken it."
Quote from: Ende
"But they give you filler for a /reason/ It's to broaden your horizons, it... it's the whole principle of exploring things that...and besides the fact that I'd be fired, and that would go on my record and your record...and"
Quote from: blue
"I'm very good at broadening my own horizons." There was that dry tone again, teasing. "And only if you got caught."
Quote from: Ende
"Noooo..." He said shaking his head slowly from side to side. "No, just...no, I will help tutor you but...just no..." Clearly the idea was somewhere along the same lines of palatability as suggesting that he superglue his nostrils shut or some equally ridiculous suggestion.
Quote from: blue
And the returned look was completely uncomprehending. "It'd probably be less work, though. Plus I'd pay you."
Quote from: Ende
"It's not about less work, it's about learning it though, doing it, I mean you can't... I mean you can but you shouldn't take credit for something you didn't do! It's the responsibility of it... "
Quote from: blue
"So you think the point of this is to make everyone's life harder for the sake of some lesson learned." He made it sound -- dumb, the way he said it. Fighting back a yawn.
Quote from: Ende
"Life isn't easy is a lesson you learn because life is harder sometimes." He sputtered. "W-why wouldn't you want to -learn- something? You might find something interesting, just because it seems boring now dosen't mean there isn;t anything of value."

Profiles / Cooper Cole
« on: June 05, 2019, 04:00:51 PM »
Name: Cooper Cole
Nickname: There are no nicknames. It's all or nothing. He goes by "Cooper Cole". Nothing else is sufficient.
Apparent Age: Thirty, maybe thirty three.
Occupation: Actor and well-known playboy.

Faceclaim: Sebastian Stan

He looks the perfect, eccentric beauty of a character actor: high cheekbones, lean frame, fine skin. He is tall, but not towering, under 6'. His smile is white, easy, well-rehearsed; his eyes are blue-green and lined faintly with lashes. His hair is a carefully, deliberately messy tumble of dark golden girls, kept cropped short enough to keep out of his face.

Depending on how he's dressed, he can seem angelic or demonic, but certainly has an otherworldly quality that appeals to the masses.

Mostly, he wears designer clothing, simple pieces that photograph well and make him stand out in a crowd. Everything is conspicuously expensive, because he likes it that way. It's all tailored to fit exactly.

His preference is, of course, somewhat eccentric -- old fashioned, gaslight, victorian without the steam, tending toward pocket watches and top hats -- and the media simply eats it up.

Cooper Cole's life is a public one: after starring in numerous action films, many of them Sci Fi, and several  moderately successful wanders into a period piece romance, he has an extensive fan following that ventures also into his more private affairs.

His home, a billion-dollar townhouse in the oldest part of the city, has been on numerous television shows. He's friends with several fashion designers, funding many of their projects, including collaborating several times. He dines out, almost every day, gracing only the best -- or most interesting -- restaurants with his presence.

He's also openly gay. The kids love him. The teens love him. The parents hate him.

One on one, he tends to be cocky, domineering, but carelessly so. He's spent so long in the spotlight that he just assumes it will always be on him. he assumes people will know who he is, and will be impressed by it. He has a lot pride, easily prickled.

He gives off a lot of heat, both literal and metaphoric. He'd make panties drop if he were into ladies.

Profiles / Lukas Kaufmann
« on: June 05, 2019, 03:56:28 PM »
Name: Lukas Kaufmann
Nickname: Lukas, ALIAS:  Robert Wallenda
Apparent Age: Mid 30s
Occupation: Ex Cat Burglar

Faceclaim: Michael Fassbender

Lukas is an acrobat and it shows -- in the lean, strong lines of his body, in his relatively short height, in the easy way he moves. He is not tall, nor exceptionally strong, but compact and quick and completely comfortable in his body in a way that makes him a dangerous opponent, when he choses to be. His hair is auburn and cropped short, with just a faint curl to it; his eyes are a cool, muted blue-green. Stubble lines his squared jaw because, no matter how often he shaves, it never seems to be enough.  His nose is a bit too strong, perhaps, his eyebrows too heavy, and his smile [when he smiles] is shark-like.

Beneath his right ear, along the side of his neck, is a neatly calligraphied German phrase: "Es ist noch kein Meister vom Himmel gefallen."

His style is dark colors and close cuts. He tends toward a military vibe, when he can.

Lukas's generally policy is to live for himself and no one else -- which, thus far, hasn't served him exceptionally well, but that hasn't changed his heart.

His eyes are closed off and serious all the time, but whatever he's thinking is hidden behind that too-sharp smile and a quip that slides past friendly teasing and into the realm of the mean, even if it's only a little bit. He frequently makes up for this, as best he can, with a pat on he shoulder and a wink that doesn't entirely take the sting out of his words.

Instead of being quiet and introspective, he fills social occasions with talk that isn't exactly meaningless, but isn't exactly productive or important, either. He is private by dwelling on non-consequentials, not by shutting his mouth. Silence is only greeted by questions. Chatter is greeted with a desire for silence.

Lukas can tell if someone is lying -- any lie -- to an uncanny degree. He also does lie an awful lot himself, and sometimes it's hard to tell what's the truth.

Plots / blue's characters & plots
« on: June 05, 2019, 09:46:38 AM »
Abbot "Beau" Eastoft - Rich boy from an old family, prone to partying. A few months ago, he took over a warehouse and caused a major incident by throwing a HUGE week-long party where magic was tossed around carelessly in front of mundanes. There were also three drug overdose, eight people had to have their stomach pumped for alcohol, and there were numerous issues of consent of all kinds. He got in a lot of trouble with SWBP. He might still be on probation. He'd probably be in jail if not for his family name.

Baird Hackett - Strange, non-human artist who builds robots and mechanical things. He also keeps books for a drug organization. Could use some plots!

CJ Williams - Totally human PI. Ready for trouble.

Cooper Cole - Famous playboy actor. Usually, he has a thing for small time artists and socially awkward twenty-somethings, but he'll mess around with just about anything male.

Corbin - Fae healer. Works with Beanna.

Cortland Yver - Definitely inhuman. Currently bodyguard/security for Zafir. He enjoys drinking, pool, sports -- he's social but currently between friend groups.

Eli Greene - SWBP Guard with a penchant for metals. Currently babysitting Sid. Investigating strange problems.

Ever Ambrodiel - Vampire with an alcohol and attitude problem. Likely to be anywhere. He wanders.

Ferris - Rowan's bodyguard and chauffeur.

Jed Cohen - SWBP Guard, formerly paired with Eli Greene, currently MIA. He has an affinity for the dead.

Juniper -  younger brother to Rowan and Pine, he causes trouble without care for who has to clean it up.

Lukas Kaufmann - Ex cat burglar and con artist, has spent some time in prison. At the moment, not sure what I want to do with him, but I'm down for connections!

Naurus - Definitely not human. Sells drugs. Bee?

Pine - Rowan's...brother? Well, that seems weird, but it's true.

Quinlan Boyd - a rich playboy whose stocks are about to plummet, he's going to be desperately looking for a job.

Rabi Mahar - Art teacher at the local University. What's his deal?

Rider Verone - Wizard extraordinaire, with an expertise in finding and acquiring magical (or maybe even not magical) items.

Rowan - Very rich, clearly and obviously fae, he has a tendency to dabble in interesting projects. And maybe to manipulate people around him.

Ty Garrett - Student runaway. Currently being taken care of by Mason.

Profiles / Abbott (Beau) Eastoft
« on: June 01, 2019, 11:42:44 PM »
Name: Abbott Eastoft
Nickname: Beau
Apparent Age: 24
Occupation: Layabout? Unemployed?

Faceclaim: Hale Appleman

Beau looks the entitled rich kid he is, with all the privilege that comes with it. Tall and slim (but not particularly fit), he’s a little under six feet – but seems taller, due to the confidence he carries himself with. He’s attractive in an effortless way that actually takes hours to achieve. His hair is shoulder length, a deep and muted brown, tousled and careless; he sports a careful amount of five o-clock shadow along a chiseled jaw; light brown eyes are lined by long lashes; his skin is clear and perfect in a way most men don’t bother with.

Add to this his flashy clothing style, fine fabrics in designer styles, often mix and mashed so that they look vintage or grungy or like second hand shop finds. He wears vests and slacks mixed wit wild scarfs and heavy jewelry. He wears suspenders and long coats and pink satin. He wears shirts with the buttons undone almost to his navel, when he’s going out, and the way he dresses would get him in trouble – except that he has a way of avoiding trouble, of flashing a big cocky grin and getting out of the worst of it. Or winking and flirting. Or, maybe, of coming out of a fight without too much damage to self.

There are fine thorn/chain link tattoos around both of his wrists -- not that they often show, beyond hints and glimpses.

On the surface, Beau comes across as flighty, shallow, self-centered – and all of these things are probably entirely true. He is the center of his own universe, and assumes everyone else would agree. Maybe they would: in this particular case, thinking can make things so.

He has confidence, that’s for sure. He’s the kind of guy who walks into a room like he owns it, introduces himself to strangers, and then promptly forgets everyone’s name. Or pretends to, at least. He only remembers the important things.

He’s never wanted for anything, and it shows. But he also does have an entertaining sense of humor, if sometimes a bit unkind. He knows how to have a good time, and how to show others one as well. He mixes amazing drinks.

He's biting and self-centered, but maybe underneath is something fragile. His family name (Eastoft) is a very old, very famous magical family that might be recognized. Magic doesn't seem to work on him -- no magic at all.

Roleplaying / Out of Place [Ever x Aud]
« on: June 01, 2019, 07:31:50 PM »
It was painfully obvious that this was not a place that Ever *belonged in*: not in his grungy, battered jeans, not with his home done haircut, not with the battered messenger bag thrown over one shoulder. Especially not since he looked eighteen or nineteen if you were being generous. His ID was good -- it was very good -- and it said that he was twenty two. Its quality was probably the only reason he hadn't yet been kicked aggressively to the curb.

Instead he was arguing just inside the door with someone on staff, fingers wrapped around the strap of his bag and chin thrust out in challenge. It looked petulant as opposed to strong, Ever too skinny and awkward -- and pale, honestly -- to really be intimidating.

"I just want one drink and to talk to some people, is that really going to kill you?"


Profiles / Baird Hackett
« on: May 31, 2019, 04:51:26 PM »
Name: Baird Hackett
Apparent Age: 19-20
Occupation: Bookkeeper

Faceclaim: Miles Heizer.

Slender and a bit awkward, with close-cropped fair hair just long enough to cover the slightly-pointed tips of his ears and a permanent pout, Baird looks in many ways like the basement-dweller he is: slightly dirty, in clothes that are ragged and often covered with aggressive images or messages. In some ways, though, he seems something else entirely. Impossibly fair skin is touched with a flush of health no matter how little time he spends in the sun; a youthful blush that makes him look years younger than he’d like.

His eyes are a washed out blue-grey, but are often narrowed and dark and hostile.

Filled with teen angst and cynicism, Baird hates everyone and everything – starting with his family, branching out to his friends and the people he works for and even that little old lady on the street. His nature is contrary, meaning that when you tell him to do something, he’ll do the exact opposite, every chance he gets. Fundamentally he’s striving for independence while fighting back the allure of friends.

Friends are only worth it if they’re good ones.

He's a tinkerer, drawn to all kinds of small machines, but he does seem to avoid iron. He doesn't meet peoples' eyes.

Profiles / Naurus
« on: May 31, 2019, 04:47:15 PM »
Name: Naurus
Nickname: Naurus
Apparent Age: late twenties, early 30s

Flashiness is a choice, and Naurus leans into it hard. At a first glance, most likely people will be distracted by the impossibly tight leather pants, the clunk of heavy boots, thin t-shirts that hang wide at the neck to show off a flash of sharp collarbones and a stack of necklaces, the rattle of more jewelry around his wrists and hands. His skin is brown and smooth and even; his hair is long and dark and shiny and often bound back into a braid down his spine. His eyes -- well, it's hard to say since he's always wearing a pair of oversized reflective sunglasses. Always.

All of it is meant to keep people from looking too hard at the rest of him, which is sharp-edged and attractive in an androgynous kind of way. His nose is pointed, his mouth is pouty and full, his jaw line maybe a bit narrower than people would call ideal. And he's small, only about five foot five with skinny limbs and a long neck, but somehow his style manages to make up for his lack of height.

Loud as his style is, that's the rest of Naurus as well. He's self-centered and confident and it's hard to tell if his confidence is real -- bulletproof -- or if it's a facade over a fragile ego. He's aggressively flirtatious with just about everyone he meets, and this also is hard to read, but it seems like it's flirtatious with intent. He's up for just about anything, anything, but he seems especially interested in dancing, in fashion, in swimming, motorcycles, cars. He likes things that are loud.

He absolutely never takes the sunglasses off. Despite his small size, he can seem heavy. Magic doesn't seem to settle on him right; instead it gets swallowed and disappears.

Roleplaying / Dead Talk [Ever x Varek] - FINISHED
« on: May 31, 2019, 10:31:24 AM »
Quote from: Ende
He didn’t want to be here. There were too many people he didn’t know, a few of them half haunted by half forgot ‘spirits’ too far gone to be more than a nuisance. He waves at them like he was whisking away the vape clouds that were being puffed out despite signs saying no to both that and more traditional smoking. It smelled of weed and things like candy floss and captain crunch. His friends whom had been the ones to drive him here, were already occupied, and had the keys, including the ones to his damn flat because Adam was an ass. At least he had his wallet, he edged his way to the bar and ordered the first drink that looked strong and tasty hand in hand, it’s likely girly presentation could be damned if it made the night even a little more tolerable.

Quote from: blue
It was loud, too, just to make it that much worse, perha pounding beat around the edges of things that blurred conversations together and turned the people around him into mumbles and buzzes. He could sit at the bar for a bit and consider the monstrosity of a tiki drink he'd ordered -- but just for a bit, before someone thudded down next to him, empty glass clinking against the counte. Fair-haired and distracted and maybe already a bit gone, he cocked his head, not quite looking at Varek.

Quote from: Ende
The feel of 'dead' prickled over his skin, but a very strange kind of it. He glanced sideways at the fair haired interloper, hesitant at first to acknowledge that he even noticed. Fresh ghosts, they tended to become desperate, and problematic when they realized someone could see them 'at last'. But 'new dead' wasn't the right feeling either. it was...thicker somehow, and more than that, he wasn't the only person noticing him.

He turned to give a proper look, arching an eyebrow, waiting for something to be said as he gave a quick glance over the well abused clothes and generally drunken demeanor. He glanced at the empty glass and then back up before taking a deliberate drink of his own.

"I'll bite...what do you want?" His own drink thumping against the bar as he set it back down.

Quote from: blue
"That smells atrocious." He lookd young; too young to be here, certainly, maybe even too young to be out on his own -- but he rattled the glass against the bar with an expertise of familiarity, trying to get the bartender's attention, and he smelled strongly of cigarettes. "A crime against alcohol."

Quote from: Ende
"So do you, I don't see that stopping you though." He pulled a face and took another deliberate sip. "What do you want." he repeated more firmly. Normally the dead were all too happy to divulge some scrap of desire that kept them clinging to the world, hoping someone would hear them, Then again, most of them didn't drink... or smoke.

He clicked his rings against the edge of the bar, the clunk of them satisfying against the scared wood.

Quote from: blue
"Christ, that's a question, isn't it?" He was pale, tall -- standing up on the ring of the stool to wave at the bartender, and to get ignored again. With a little huffing sound, he fished out a couple of bills from his pocket, and fanned them out toward Varek. "Which of these is a twenty?"

Quote from: Ende
The smoke smell, and the vape clouds were irritating his contacts, and he wanted to rub at them but he refused to risk dislodging the ridiculous red lenses he'd chosen to wear today. He arched an eyebrow at the bills being waved in his face before reaching out to delicately 'pinch' the twenty a bit higher than the others.

Quote from: blue
It got a little nod; he pried that one out and half-turned again, to wave it at the bartender -- and *finally* caught the guy's attention, to draw him over. It made him smile, quick and sharp, leaning in over the bar to order a vodka tonic. It also showed that other people could atually *see* him, the bill traded for the drink easily.

Quote from: Ende
The fact that the bar tender responded, made him lean away slightly, frowning and now uncertain. He took a deeper drink after a moment of his 'tiki' beverage and grimaced as the flavor of it really hit home. "Mmm... what um." He hesitated, tapping his ring against the bar. "...what the hell?" He said at last.

Quote from: blue
"That's almost as complicated a question as *what do you want*." He sounded casual, though, settling back to sip at his drink, legs tangled around the barstools. He still hadn't fully turned to look at Varek. "But I agree. You smell off too."

Quote from: Ende
He clicked his tongue and shook his head, swirling the drink in it's glass and lifting it, hesitating before he drank. "Maybe... but at least I'm not dead." He said and took a mouthful of his drink.

Quote from: blue
"I can see that much." It came with a flicker of a smile that was more teasing than anything else, one of his shoulders raised in a crooked shrug. "But you're sure something."

Quote from: Ende
"I could say the same, besides drunk and dead I mean." He said, the latter more of a mutter into his cup.

Quote from: blue
That got a half a laugh into his drink, head half-turned again to consider Varek. "Why are you here?"

Quote from: Ende
"A very literal case of being strong armed into being 'social', and you?"

Quote from: blue
"I'm trying to get laid." That came with a little toast, a tip of the glass -- and he downed it, with just a bit of a grimace.

Quote from: Ende
That earned a pause and a half stifled laugh. "... drunk, dead.... and looking to get laid. Great night you're having. Do you need me to find another twenty?"

Quote from: blue
"You don't seem that cheap to me." It was faintly bemused, definitely teasing. And despite the fact he didn't quite look at Varek, he still seemed like he was watching.

Quote from: Ende
"You hitting on me?" He asked, amusement in his voice. "That's ...new." He admitted.

Quote from: blue
"Because of your face?" He widened his eyes a bit, obviously mocking now. "I wouldn't hold that against you."


Roleplaying / Mixed Media (Rabi x Tucker)
« on: May 30, 2019, 04:42:06 PM »
It's a first level class, designed to keep artists from falling into old habits, to make them think outside of the box -- and it's what Rabi himself is best at. It means that each class is playing with different materials, sometimes a mix of multiple materials, rarely anything flat or one-dimensional. It's about putting emotions on a page, or into a sculpture, or paper mache'd to the outside of a pair of shoes.

There's no wrong way to do it, theoretically. But Rabi isn't a traditional teacher and he's not always nice about his critique. Not that there's anything specific that someone could put a finger on. It's in look, and tone.

The students who don't try get almost no attention, aside from try harder. The students who try too hard get almost no attention. It's the in betweens, the ones who show real skill or real emotion, that catch his attention. For better or worse.

Profiles / SWBP: Jed Cohen
« on: May 27, 2019, 06:04:36 PM »
Name: Joseph Cohen
Nickname: Jed, Cohen
Apparent Age: It's hard to tell. Somewhere between thirty-five and sixty.
Occupation: SWBP


Faceclaim: Daniel Radcliff

Jed looks, most of the time, on the verge of collapse: long and lean of face to start out, with dark, deep-set eyes and heavy brows, a half-starved sunken-ness makes him look that much worse. His skin is sun-worn but paled, his hair a dark, curling mess that he usually manhandles halfway back into a snub ponytail at the back of his head. His frame is gawky, 5'10" 1/2 and fragile-looking under surprisingly poorly fitted suits, shades of grey-brown with running shoes that make him look like he stole them.

Along his jaw, on the left side, is the freckling of a very old scar: long ago healed to a dark texture against his skin, but still ugly enough to freak out small children.

Jed is quiet and serious and nervous; he doesn't talk much, and has a tendency to avoid peoples' eyes. It's largely social anxiety, a discomfort interacting with strangers and even more uneasy with people who make an effort to get to know him. It's hard to tell if he's secretive or just not prone to talking about himself, if he's trying to hide something or if he's just not big on opening up. He's almost painfully serious, quiet and apparently without a sense of humor, stony-faced and hard to read.

Jed  moves slowly, ponderously, carefully, like each little step is an exercise or like it hurts, and sometimes like he doesn't have complete control of his body around him. It seems an obvious sign of some terrible illness, especially combined with the sickly complexion, the sunken eyes, clammy hands. The dead (whether they be undead, spirits, or something between) are often drawn to him, fascinated by him.

Profiles / Ever
« on: May 26, 2019, 04:06:59 PM »
Nickname: Ever
Apparent Age: He looks over 18. Maybe. He definitely has an ID that says he's 21.
Occupation: Mooch

His features are sharp and hawkish, his nose about a size and a half too large for his face, with a bend in the bridge from where it was broken once and never properly set. His eyes are somewhat narrow, almond-shaped, and dark enough to be nearly black. His mouth is slightly too-big for his mouth and usually pulled into a grin. Around his face floats a mess of snowy white hair, in a home-done haircut that is short to his head, wild and spiky. His hair is very fine.

His clothing is second-hand and worn out, in a variety of styles, but usually black and white with very little color mixed in. His boots are an ancient pair of black Doc Martins that, at this point, are largely held together with duct tape. He always wears a slim silver lightning bolt pendant on a long, black, ratty cord around his neck, though it might be tucked into his shirt.

Ever's nose -- the bend in the bridge, the way he tips his head slightly to look down it -- says a lot about him in one single glance. Combined with the sliding-sideways mockery of his pinched smile, the deep shadows under his eyes, his inability to just keep his mouth shut when he should keep his mouth shut, the overall effect is that of someone who most people want to punch.

And a lot of people have.

It's the look of a home-schooled Christian boy who went from raising goats in the back property of his parents' Montana home to finding his own way on the streets of a big city with no money and no sense of self. The attitude of a small-town kid trying to act like he's bigger than he is, and knows more than he does.

In general, it works: people remember him for his big mouth and his apparent inability to take anything seriously. They remember him for short-lived relationships, a week spent on someone's couch, for drinking too much and being an asshole that one time at a friend's party, and then spouting Sartre [inappropriately] at the top of his lungs. None of it is flattering, but at the very least it's a way for him to shape his own image to those around him.

The surface motives are remarkably simple. It's what's underneath that becomes more complex. A desire to be noticed and accepted fuels his often-too-loud personality [he's impossible to ignore]. Fear of commitment is the true cause for his inappropriate outbursts [the perfect way to drive people away again, before they can hurt him]. And, in the end, his efforts to manipulate the people around him stem from one basic, fatal flaw -- which is just how easy it is to manipulate Ever.

His skin is too cold, and his heartbeat hard to find. His eyes never quite seem to focus on anything properly. Despite his slim frame, his handshake packs a surprising strength.

Profiles / Ty Garrett
« on: May 25, 2019, 08:33:07 PM »
Name: Tyler David Garrett
Nickname: Ty
Apparent Age: 21; October 21st, 1998
Occupation: Student

Face Claim: Linus Wordemann

Ty is young, and he looks even younger: fair-skinned and smooth-faced with big green eyes hidden behind heavy tortoiseshell glasses, a slightly upturned nose, a smattering of freckles across his nose. Beyond the youth, however, is something almost aristocratic. His cheekbones are high and sharp, his mouth is small and full, his posture quiet and serious. His look is a bit fae, almost too fine for this world, small and fragile and pale, with fine auburn hair swept up off his brow.

Ty is known to be a quiet and serious, obedient and straightforward young man. But there’s something guarded behind his expression, something fragile about his movements. He speaks quietly and doesn’t quite meet peoples’ eyes, with a tendency to fidget.

Fragile; fluttering with emotion; people nearby might get the sense of emotions that aren't their own, fluttering around the edges.

Profiles / Cortland Yver
« on: May 25, 2019, 08:28:56 PM »
Name: Cortland Yver
Nickname: Cort
Apparent Age: Late 30s
Occupation: Personal Security

FACECLAIM: Stephen Huszar

Cortland is a giant: six-foot-five and broad shouldered, he cuts an intimidating figure based on his size alone. Add in the mane of thick silver hair (usually pulled back into a tangle of braids to his shoulders), the wide smile (which seems to have slightly too many teeth, canines a bit sharpened), and the icy pale blue of his eyes (which don’t quite seem to match the smile) and he takes on the edge of something obviously not quite human, though it may be difficult to put a finger on why. He is too much, attractive and bold, in dark clothing that makes his hair and skin all the fairer.

Brash, a bit impulsive, one might say bro-y – Cort loves food, drink, fighting, games, gambling, physical activity. He’s a big jock, and his favorite sport is soccer. Very few things make him afraid – small spaces, sometimes, and he’s not nuts for spiders – and in a way he’s an unstoppable force. If he wants something, he goes for it, for better or worse. If he likes something he says so, and loudly. If he’s bored, he leaves.

There's a feeling that he's bigger than his skin, sometimes, and the air around him might seem a bit cold. His canines are sharper than the average human's.

Profiles / SWBP: Eli Greene
« on: May 25, 2019, 08:16:57 PM »
Name: Elisha Greene
Nickname: Eli
Apparent Age: 39
Occupation: SWBP

Eli is slightly shorter than average at around 5'5", with an average build. As a cop, he had to keep in shape, and he still mostly does so -- strengthening fat to muscle while still retaining a softness around the edges. He is not cut, he is just fit.

His face is sharp, with a pointed chin and a long nose. His mouth is wry, with a narrow upper lip that leaves him looking somewhat cynical. His eyes are somewhat narrow, darkly lashed and surprisingly feminine in the strength of the rest of his face, and are a muted grey that might seem blue or green depending on the clothing he wears, and his mood. There is a faint but distinct line from his temple down one cheekbone to his jaw, jagged and light, that likely came from hitting his head.

Even in his late thirties, his once-black hair is speckled here and there with white strands, and it's much worse if he tries to grow a beard. That will generally come out mostly-grey, sparse, and unattractive. So he doesn't. He generally crops his hair around the ears, just long enough that he can tuck it back out of his face if needs be.

He always tends toward collared shirts and black slacks. Off the job, he might wear jeans, but generally does not; he'd rather something comfortable and a little wider in the leg. His shoes of choice look like loafers and feel like sneakers, in brown or black.

Something about Eli seems perpetually tired, worn out, stressed out, tense. However, despite the sunken-eyed and somewhat-lonely expression on his face, he struggles for humor. His mouth is frequently turned up into a black smile, amusement warring with desperation in the back of grey eyes, jokes and jabs coming too-quickly to his tongue. His men both love and hate him for this. He cuts them down, but it's because he knows them, cares about them, and takes the time to bother.

To strangers, however, he is all business, expression closed down and serious, a little bit too intense in a way that's intimidating, despite his small size.

He smells like metal, and something about his expression seems shuttered and dangerous. He gives high fae a prickly sensation, the way cold iron might.

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