Post by dacre fairchild on May 3, 2009 6:44:52 GMT -8
Dacre Blaze Fairchild
[/font]AFTER SEVENTEEN YEARS OF HIDING THE TRUTH,
THIS HUMAN CAN'T HELP THE GUILT[/color][/font]
straw becomes gold
and gold becomes stone
your size makes me small
you may be my punisher
----------------------------------------------------[/font]
LET'S TAKE THESE LINES[/b][/size]
AND DRAW OURSELVES OUT OF HERE
----------------------------------------------------
the basics[/center][/font]
FULL NAME[/b] Dacre Blaze Fairchild
NICKNAMES[/b] DB
AGE[/b] 17
BIRTHDAY[/b] 12th June
RACE[/b] Human
OCCUPATION[/b] Street Urchin
SEXUALITY[/b] Homosexual
[/size][/font]
----------------------------------------------------
[/font]THIS SHIPWRECK SET-SAIL [/b][/size]
TONIGHT THEY'LL HELP TO FIND A WAY
----------------------------------------------------
the appearance[/center][/font]
EYE DETAILS[/b] Green/grey
HAIR DETAILS[/b] Red/Black/Blonde
HEIGHT[/b] 5'6"
WEIGHT[/b] 62kg
BUILD[/b] Slim, lithe
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES[/b] Birthmark that looks vaguely like a dragon in flight on his inner right thigh
PLAY-BY[/b] Jayy Von Monroe
[/size][/font]
----------------------------------------------------
[/font]WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE[/b][/size]
WORDS CAN BREATHE MORE LIFE THAN DEATH
----------------------------------------------------
the personality[/center][/font]
POWERS[/b] He's a human, Guys. Do you seriously expect him to have powers?
STRENGTHS[/b]
+Strong immune system
+Fast metabolism
+Stomach of steel (so to speak)
+Very sneaky
+Street smart
WEAKNESSES[/b]
-Has a big mouth
-Cowardly
-Curiosity to put a cat to shame
-Couldn't fight to save his life
-Is easily bruised
OVERALL PERSONALITY[/b]
Living on his own for most of his life, Dacre has always been the independent guy, looking out for only himself and answering only to himself. Because of this, he tends to push people away, keeping them at arm's length. After all, by letting people get close to you, you're opening yourself up to allow your enemies to hurt you. Common sense, really.
Dacre doesn't like confrontation. In fact, he does his best avoid such things. "He who runs away lives to fight another day" or so the saying goes. The teen has a very passive nature, preferring to keep his nose out of other people's business. The less you know, the least likely someone will torture you. You can't tell someone something you don't know.
This existence has become a lonely one. Deep inside, Dacre hurts. After being abandoned by his parents, the boy buried the hurt and the hate, taking his fate into his own hands. However, this emotions come up from time to time to bite him in the ass. If you're very quiet and extremely lucky, one might find Dacre hiding from the world, crying his heart out. What's worse is that he blames himself for being lonely after choosing the lifestyle he leads.
[/size][/font]
----------------------------------------------------
[/font]THE INNER SENSE OF PEOPLE[/b][/size]
TOUCHING ON SECRETS, LETTING DOWN HAIR
----------------------------------------------------
the history[/center][/font]
PARENTS[/b]
-Tiesha Hedrich, 34, deceased
-Michael Fairchild, 37, MIA
SIBLINGS[/b]
N/A
CHILDREN[/b]
N/A
SIGNIFICANT OTHER[/b]
N/A
NATIONALITY[/b]
German/English
HOMETOWN[/b]
CURRENT RESIDENCE[/b] Hevanna University
OVERALL HISTORY[/b]
Born to a rat of a father and a hulk of a mother, Dacre was born into a life of a coward and a thief. Instead of being the son of slaves or the son of humans who lived underground, Dacre was the son of rogues. They moved about the city like rats, stealing here, searching the rubbish there. It was a pitiful life, to say the least.[/size][/font]
Not long after Dacre turned 10, his mother was killed by demons during the war when she tried to protect her family. His father was absolutely gutted. Unable to bare to see his son for resemblances, Michael up and left, leaving his young son to defend for himself. However, Dacre wasn't stupid. He had paid attention to how his parents had survived in the world and took up their habits to a fault. The first few weeks were hell. The boy was extremely paranoid, jumping even at the slightest sound. It saved his life a fair few times.
It was around the time Dacre turned 14 that he had his first real run in with a demon. He had been sitting on a rooftop, chewing on some old piece of meat he had found when out of nowhere, a demon took hold of the back of his neck and had him pinned to the roofing tiles. Dacre hadn't known what was happening at first. However, he soon found out very, very quickly. It was on that very spot that Dacre was brutally beaten, raped and left to die.
However, fate didn't want him to die. A kindly old mutant happened across him, taking the boy in and nursing him back to health. While at first Dacre was distant, he grew attached to the old woman. He came to see her as a mother figure. It was early this year that she passed on due to old age. So Dacre went out into the world again to fend for himself, keeping himself away from all other forms of life.
----------------------------------------------------
[/font]I SEE THEM ON YOUR FACE[/b][/size]
SO THIS IS WHERE THE PROMISE BREAKS
----------------------------------------------------
the out of character[/center][/font]
NAME / ALIAS[/b]Ramok
GENDER[/b] Oh come on, do I have to answer this?
CONTACT INFO[/b] My YIM is moredhel_06 o-o
HOW'D YOU FIND US?[/b] I was invited ^^
OTHER CHARACTERS[/b] None >>
ROLEPLAYING SAMPLE[/b]
Eyes flicked up at the male who had approached him. Who was this? After about 3 seconds or so, Art averted his eyes. A habit or something. It just didn't feel right to look at someone else for more than 3 seconds. "Human food is gross," he muttered, the back of his left hand coming up to wipe away whatever gross stickiness stuck to his face, which in turn was wiped on his pants. Gross some would say, but it was better than having it on his face. "Doesn't sit well with my stomach..." he muttered, looking down at the still unsteady part of his digestive tract.
Why was this guy here, anyway? He didn't look familiar at all. It looked like he was using the mess on the floor to hide his carrots. Art raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything on it. The last thing he needed was to start talking about puke and carrots. Gross. He may be a vampire, but he didn't have a strong stomach either way. God, what he wouldn't do to have some weed right now. Art's nostrils burned. Eh? Turning slightly, his eyes landed upon a woman - girl?- approaching. She smelled human. She smelled like fresh blood.
"F-fine," he muttered, turning away. He could feel his fangs lengthening at the mere smell of her. Damnit, he could hear her blood pumping around her body! Argh, why was she over here? Hadn't she seen how he had attacked the bag of blood? Imagine how hungry he was now, after puking the only meal he had had in a while. A hand casually grabbed at his fork, clenching around the handle. It sounded like steel grating against steel. "D-don't come near me," he said, turning to look her full in the face. His eyes had lost their mortal color. Now they were a deep red.
Waving the fork at her, Art hoped she got the idea. "I haven't eaten in a while and just expelled what food I had. Not a good idea for a human to approach me," he stated, his voice stern and cold. Yes, make her think he hated humans. Then she wouldn't come back again and he'd be free of temptation. To hell if he was getting in the shit because some clumsy human wanted to play goody-two-shoes. No, it wouldn't happen. Arthur Fairbairn was going to get out of the hellhole ASAP.
A harsh shudder ran up his spine. Hands came up to frame his face in a battle to keep self control. "I'm serious. Go away." Just like dangling candy in front of a preschooler who knew better.
