Post by Kid on Feb 2, 2008 20:09:13 GMT -5
Preliminary Paper Work _+
Online Name _+
Keagan
C-Box Name _+
Keagan{Kid}
Age _+
For me to know and you to never
RPer Level _+
Intermediate to Advanced
kid richerdson &&
Full Name &&
Jonathon ‘Kid’ Irro Richerdson
Nickname &&
Kid
Age &&
18 years young
Species &&
Human
In the Mirror . . . Appearance &&
Kid is tall and cute. Not handsome, not hott, just cute. His face seems to escape him as it remains childish, slightly chubby cheeks that crease when he smiles. His smile is snowy white and not a blemish rests on his skin. His hair is a crisp shade of golden yellow and comes down to about his ears. His torso is long and slender complete with abs. However, they are simple and plain not overly muscular nor flabby and disgusting. His biceps are similar, neither overly muscular nor flabby. In all he is pretty plain but something about him sparkles and calls to you. Maybe it’s his eyes. They sparkle golden even in the darkest of places, just beckoning people to him.
As for clothing, he generally wears baggy jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes he’ll throw a hat on, if he does so it is one from the seventies, those grayish ones that fold over the brim in the front. His shoes are basic black work boots. He hates wearing his lab outfit and is generally content with just wearing safety goggles, no matter how much of a fuss Mentor makes.
Celebrity
Ryan Gosling
What I Hold Within . . . Personality &&
Calm and collected, at first glimpse that is what he appears to be. If you scrape away at the surface you reveal his true nature, at least a little bit. In the face of his elders he is generally considerate, polite, and quiet. When with Mentor he generally holds the manner of blindly obeying and shys away from his movements. But when he is with Marcou he is cheerful and will even argue with the old guy. He and Marcou have known each other for years so Kid teases, bugs, smiles with, and all other sorts that go with friendship. Although he is not quiet at that point with Cassandra, he still will push his limits. As for people his own age, he looks down upon them. If they prove themselves imbeciles and not worth his time he despises them but once they prove themselves and earn respect from Marcou or Cassandra he looks up to them almost as an idol. Kid is happy and likes to have fun but for the most part is shunned by the higher ups in the community, as they know it was his fault that their in this whole mess. So he constantly is trying to earn their trust back. After all, he is the youngest most trusted scientist in their community if not the world.
With that comes a certain heir of ‘look-down-upon’, he’s known many people who hate and dispise the less intelligent. But Kid favors them over anyone else, they seem to actually be the smartest of all. Frequently you’ll see him with others, mostly they are all less intelligent than him.
He loves to hang out and have fun as well as go shopping. It’s a rare thing, but he actually loves to shop at malls. Frequently you’ll find him out with his dog, Beast, and Cassandra.
He hates liars, cheaters, and promise breakers. He also dislikes Dr. Mentor a great deal, he never leaves him alone about what he does and does not do. He’s also somewhat abusive towards Kid.
What I Left Behind . . . History &&
Born into a large family, Kid was never lonely but the attention was never focused on him. His mother, Storm, and his father, BiDog, had been together for years and were only twenty when they had Kid. He was the third child. His parent’s real names are Susan and Seth but they refuse to answer by them, therefore the reason of Jonathan being called Kid. Kid has two elder sisters named Veronica and Viki, the are twins. Since they were the first children brought into the world by ‘Storm’ and ‘BiDog’, they got the most attention. They were put into the best schools, best kindigarten programs, anything you could imagine. Kid didn’t mind, even as an infant he liked living on his own, secluded from his strange parents.
It was a cold September day and BiDog said he had to go to the store. He left but no one noticed the large bags he was taking with him to the store instead of from it. After he left the twins found their mother crying and Kid searched their room. All of his stuff was gone. So BiDog left, just like that. Storm was heartbroken and nearly died. She was saved by none other than Marx. Marx is a tall man, handsome, and funny. But he dislikes kids. He moved in and Kid was banished to his room for most of the day, well not really banished. But he went into his room to avoid Marx. Together, Storm and Marx had triplet boys, twin boy and girl, and a 4-set of two boys and two girls. Kid was in charge of taking care of the little ones seeing as his elder sisters had moved away, or ran away, no one cares or knows.
Throughout his life Kid was clumsy and a procrastinator. No one really trusted his word not because he lied but because he would truly forget or accidentally break it. A curse, he believes it to be a curse.
…minimum of 1,000 words…
Tip: babyhood, childhood, tweenhood, teenhood, young adulthood, adulthood…etc.
RP Example &&
Note: This was taken from another site.
It had been a tough day, he thought as his milky eyes gazed blankly into the coffee cup. Coffee was actually quiet amazing if you ever took the time to watch it. The steps of brown swirling and curling in on each other, it all reminded him of an elegant and elaborate ballet. Or some other form of dance, he didn’t think ballet was the answer but was to tired to continue thinking about it. His fingers were laced around the cup, his feet crossed and on his desktop. With a slow, sleepy motion he brought the cup to his lips. Beside him, on the desk, was an array of scattered papers. Some were crinkled and messy, others were neat and orderly, and others were orderly but scattered about the bulk of the desk. Next to his elbow was a large, brownish and splotchy ring. It was the mark of many years of coffee. He refocused his gaze on it, that stain. He tried to recall a memory of some sort, feeling he had to do something about that stain. But nothing came, he was just too exhausted. Finally sleep took over, his head gently resting against the back of his black swivel chair.
His mother had always compared life to a Gryphon. As a boy he never understood it, and truthfully he still didn’t. But she compared the two anyway, saying to him constantly that life was no good if the Gryphon couldn’t fly. Or something like that. He could picture her face, kind and caring, the soft chocolate eyes and the tanned skin…He could picture her, almost touch her, but he knew it was a dream. She had been dead for a couple of years now. Hadn’t she? The Gryphon does not die, Baby Keag. He merely leaves you until he’s needed again. It was oddly clear, he hadn’t heard those words in years, maybe even decades. And that name, no one called him that. They were words from his mother, she spoke them about the time his father ‘left’.
He continued to dream about various things, all however associated themselves with either his mother or the mystical Gryphon she talked about so frequently. An eyelid fluttered open as the loose floorboard creaked, the signal of someone entering his working room. The room itself wasn’t all that big. A few bean bag chairs, a rug, a fouton couch, and some dog beds plus his desk and chair. The walls were a creamy tan with bright but not excruciatingly bright lights hanging from the ceiling. He came here when nothing else presented itself to be done or when he decided to teach his class in here for a more relaxed day or tests. The person who entered continued their way into the room and towards Keagan, the young teacher. Hmmm he mumbled and groaned in a combined sound, he was stretching as he did so. The person was a student, one whom was dear to him. Her name escaped him at the moment, odd that it should do that it was so similar to his mother’s. He looked at her, her face was bruised and cut, her eyes swollen and bloody. The sight startled him and, shamefully, a little repulsed. She was crying softly as she spoke, it was more of a blurred mumbling. Merya, what’s wrong? The question escaped him before he realized. It was dumb, but everyone asked the simple, helpless question. What happened? Who did this? Again he felt a little ashamed, bombarding the poor child with questions.
No it is two years later and Keagan still feels ashamed as he sits at his desk, feet up and hands entwined around his coffee cup. Beside still remains that stain, but now instead of a murky brown it is mixed with a hint of burnt maroon. Those years ago, when poor Merya came to him, he tried to help her…but nothing could, nothing at all. After the doctors pronounced her dead he came back her and broke down. He would never ask stupid questions again, not when the answers are obvious. Not when they paste themselves to one’s face . . .