Post by lawrencelismore on Aug 21, 2010 5:06:38 GMT -7
Lawrence Alisander Lismore
"Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I AM BEYOND GOD
[/font]I AM HUMAN
[/center][/size][/font]
Full Name: Lawrence Alisander Lismore
Nickname(s): Lorry
Gender: Male
Age: Seventeen
Birthdate: December Second, Nineteen Ninety Three
Sexuality: Bisexual
Reincarnate: Yes
I am: Isabella "Soujourner Truth" Baumfree
Played By: Corbin Bleu
Grade: Junior
Boarding: Yes
[/blockquote] [/font][/size]
OUR SHINING FUTURE
[/font]IN REVOLT
[/center][/size][/font]
[/blockquote]
Height: Six feet and six inches
Weight: Two Hundred and Fifteen Pounds
Eye Color: Dark brown
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Build: Heavily muscled, but covered with a soft layer of fat.
Scars: A very deep gouge near his right shin, two inches long and nearly half and inch wide. A thin raised line across his left palm.
Piercings/Tattoos: A small round nostril stud.
Personal Style: Lawrence avoids the tight, clingy, or even reasonable in favor of loose shirts, billowy pants, and just enough belts- or, in the opinions of saner men, far too many- to keep such overly wide items from sliding off his hips. Whenever possible, he loves to accessorize. He has a wide array of bracelets and heavy necklaces to accessorize with, and refuses to call them anything but necklaces and bracelets- forgoing more masculine terms like chains and braces. Indeed, alot of his clothing has a suspiciously feminine bent, but he brushes off comments about that with the same ease as anything else. If he finds himself in black, it is always embroidered in vivid threads. However, for the most part he wears bright solids, avoiding patterns, pastels and dull colors with equal passion.
Appearance: Tall as he is, Lawrence ought to look rather intimidating. But, the constant grins and bright colors often detract from that image. The way his clothes fall- and he chooses them for this reason- make him look smaller and less intimidating. Almost feminine, at times.
His skin is a pleasant caramel tone, and his most striking feature is without a doubt his bouyant near-black hair. The banana curls that cloud around him are often the envy of girls outside his family- who know as well as he does just how truly hasslesome they are. But, he maintains the shoulder length locks with a fanatical obsessiveness, refusing to let himself look anything less than fully presentable at any moment. Likewise, he insists on shaving twice daily, and has concocted a salve of various moisturizers and oils to keep himself from getting the wretched razor burns that plague his father.
He has deep set, dark brown eyes framed by girlishly long lashes surrounding a broad, strong nose. Rather, he calls it strong. Most would call it large, but it balances against a wide mouth readily enough, and overall he is neither attractive nor ugly. Perhaps slightly below average, but then, everyone knows that the clothes make the man, not his face.
HOPE AND HORROR
[/font]MIXED IN BLOOD[/size][/center]
Likes:
* Raccoons
* Eye searing colors like magenta and cyan.
* Particularly cyan
* Hamburgers
* The entire concept of fast food
* Mathematics
* Singing
* "I Stand All Amazed"
* Meeting new people
* Discussing the arbitrary mistakes that history has made in depth
* Grocery shopping
* Cooking, though he often gets distracted and burns things.
Dislikes:
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
Dreams:
Fears:
*
*
*
Habits/Hobbies:
* Cooking
* Sewing
* Choir Practice
*
Secret(s): He has an awful lot of women's clothing in his room. Of course, he claims to be using it as sewing practice, since men's clothes are far too simple in design. But, you have to wonder...
Personality:
PLAYFUL - At first glance, Lawrence seems to have a total inability to take anything seriously, insults included. His usual response to someone calling him a clumsy idiot, for example, is to laugh loudly and give an off handed remark about seeing things that other people miss from the floor. When he inevitably runs out of things to do in a day, usually around dinner time, he begins either hunting out someone to play tag with (hoping not to twist an ankle), or begins making a new doll to either give to a child.
OBSESSIVE - When he has work, though, Lawrence can easily push aside all other factors of his life. He will do nothing, until his assignment is done. There can be no hope of him getting a chance to lead a successful life is he insists on ruining everything in school, he often says. It helps that he has never had a chance to be an actual school before, and can appreciate the opportunities it presents.
FRIENDLY - Those unfamiliar iwth the gentle giant might find him intimidating, but Lawrence has spent large amounts of his time trying to create a reputation. One of charisma (little success there), kindness (rather more success) and joy (this is where he truly shines). He finds that people are much more willing to put up with him if he amuses them. Jokes, funny stories, tales of his past, Lawrence never runs out of things to say. If only he never ran out of people to say them to, he would be pleased.
SUPERFICIAL - His lack of ability to take things outside his schoolwork seriously can extend into more arenas than brushing off insults. He adores chattering nonsensically about the events of the day, but actually having to stop and think about his life and self is brutally uncomfortable, boring and nigh on impossible. It is only the desperate urge to see more beauty in the world that allows him to take his studies seriously. Anything beyond that had better be light and frivolous.
CLUMSY - Lawrence rarely goes a day without falling down something, over something else, and onto a third thing. For the lighter bruises, his burnished skintone blends them in well enough. But, there is little disguising the variety of black eyes, bandages and scrapes he obtains. The entire reason he insists on long pants even in the direst heat is because he can wear tightly wrapped fabric bandages on his ankles without looking like a cripple. Indeed that is the reason he wears high top shoes as well.
RELIGIOUS - While he lacks the bounding passion for the word of God that he knows he had once before, perhaps because his life has been so much kinder this time, he is still extremely devout. He attends services three times weekly, Wednesday nights, Sunday mornings and Sunday afternoons. Outside that, he has an innate ability to quote scripture with absurd accuracy, appearing to have memorized the bible in its entirety. He finds those who spread the word of god be preaching destruction and separationg to be distasteful and cruel, though, and believes his religion is devoted to increasing the beauty in the world, not detracting from it with ugly words.
PRETTY BOY, PRETTY GIRL
[/font]PRETTY INSANE[/size][/center]
Mother: Aislinne Anastasia Lismore nee Tolmer, 45, Housewife
Father: Percival James Lismore, 38, Lawyer (Jr Partner)
Siblings: Chastity Anne - 24, Philomena Grace - 20,Marilyn Belle - 19died at age 10, Edmund James - 13, Elizabeth Laura - 13.
Other: None
Pets: None, though the family has a Greyhound named Martin, and a German Shepard named Menace.
Hometown: Asheville, NC, USA
History: at least three good paragraphs
I AM WHO I AM
[/font]WHO AM I?[/size][/center]
Name/Alias: Vergess
Other Characters: None and Never
Age: 20
Time Zone: Eastern US Standard, GMT-5
Post Sample:
On days like this, when the farmcrafters and the too-young children and the lazier apprentices were all gathering outside, each planning trips with friends to go down to the shores and hunt for flitters or swim with the dolphins, Zafir regretted changing crafts. Perhaps, if he'd only stayed aboard ships, if he'd only paid more attention to the details, he could have walked the tables by now. Instead, he remained an apprentice, as he had been almost all his life, though at least it was in a new venture. Admittedly, it was much easier for him to remember the tiny details of dye-making and fibre-weaving than the weird ambiguities of currents and fish, but there was no denying that if he wanted to become a journeyman before he was four turns older than everyone else, it was going to take a level of commitment that was nearly beyond his comprehension. Still, at least it was enjoyable. Already, he was vastly better at stitches than his mother had ever been. Perhaps, before he got his first posting, he'd make his way back to their little cothold and show her a few of the tricks he'd learned. With as many sailors as there were in her home, Afris would undoubtedly be grateful.
Zafir let his hands continue stirring the rich orange paste, and focused his mind on the goings-on of South Boll outside his window. If only he could just take a few hours for himself, and go to the shore. Perhaps Calinse would be about. It had been weeks since he'd last seen anyone other than a Master or a fellow Apprentice. He was bound to go mad of the endless study soon.
Finally, when the dye was as smooth as he could hope to get it, Zafir covered it with a thin piece of fabric, cleaned his spoon, and resolved to skip the rest of his day's chores. It would be entirely worth it.
It took a bit of unfamiliar sneaking, and by the time he'd found pants in his room suitable for swimming his heart was racing faster than it had any right to do, but Zafir eventually found himself back in the familiar heat of the sun. It would be good for him, anyway. His skin was almost the color- he paused to think of the formulas and swatches he'd seen- of cotton fibre dipped in walnut dye, rather than the rich, deep tones of ovine fibre dipped in onion dye.
Yes, he'd certainly need at least a full afternoon of sunning to get back to the right color. He smiled to himself, as he set off for the shore. Besides, he had a reputation to protect- apparently- and how could he be considered one of South Boll's most shameless flirts if he spent his entire life carving spindles? He shook his head, as he changed from a purposeful stride to an unabashed sprint. How that rumour had started, he'd never know, but all of a sudden, the female apprentices kept making faces at him- and more than a few of the males as well. Apparently, his complimentary nature had been warped by gossip into something different.
And to think, he was probably the only one among them who hadn't yet shared his bed.
The shore was coming into view, and the water was a gorgeous shade of almost-green, something that visitors from other holds insisted was unique to the region. Well, to this, Southern, and Ista. All the other beaches of Pern were dismal grey stretches of rock and fog. It was terrible to think of, a beach that you couldn't waste clear, sunny days at baking yourself to a shade that would put even the loveliest of dinner rolls to utmost shame.
It was irrational to think he'd get as plush a position as one in Southern Hold when he became a journeyman, but Zafir still held hope that he would be so lucky. In a single move that he was pleased to know his muscles still remembered, he shucked his shirt and tunic, and half-flew into the water. He carefully ignored the sounds of a gaggle of young women on the shore snickering at him. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was so pale compared to the majority of South Boll natives at the moment, or if it was because they'd heard the stories about him, and he had no interest in finding out.
The salt stung his nose and eyes as he swam for the deeper waters, but already he could feel his old playful self re-emerging. It had been far too long since he'd let himself do anything that wasn't study. Even in the free hour he was granted every night before dinner in the crafthall, he was usually found pouring over records or practicing his stitches. He'd made enough tiny stuffed flitters, runnerbeasts and ovines to staff his own beasthold.
He burst out of the water, and imagined that if the girls were giggling because they recognized him, they were going to be treated to an true show. Weaving itself wasn't a labor intensive craft, nothing at all like seacrafting, and he'd lost much of his muscle mass, but there was enough running, stirring, and lifting that he was by no means a frail and fragile harper, either. And, from what he knew, girls did enjoy watching wet things. Perhaps he was only encouraging the rumours, but at least he had a reputation. That was more than many could say, and he would do what he could to protect it.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
application format by dante/dante in ze pot. lyrics from 'wreak havoc' by angelspit. nothing will chase you down if you remove the credits, but i'd rather you not. that is all.
