ɴeveʀ ʟeт ɢｏ

[my Lalia]

(oopps sorry I can remove the forum if you like?)

[passion.]

Can I reserve a female earth?

[111misc]

{Save me a female spot, please? Thank you for the invite!!}

[light.]

[ sure c h e s s, what power would you like? my lalia & forever, I'd like to know which slots are taking the people I invited first ]

[111misc]

{I would love to have Earth, but my second choice is Light. ^^ Thanks. I'll make my form with whatever one you say, so PM me if one's better then the other.}

[111misc]

[ Bobbie] - [ Female ] - [ Seventeen ] - [ Tough ]

at first sight →

[ n a m e ] Barbara Leanne Wycliffe
[ n i c k n a m e ] Bobbie/Bobby/Bobbi, the spelling doesn't really matter...
[ a g e ] Young and sweet, only seventeen, oh yeaaa....
[ b i r t h ] October thirteenth, nineteen ninety five, and she was born in Jacksonville Wyoming.
[ g e n d e r ] Female
[ o r i g i n ] Her family originates from England, her grandfather came over, and she was born here; she's white.

you're beautiful →

[ p h y s i c a l ][ a p p e a r a n c e ] Bobby had a lot of potential when she was smaller, to be, well, anything. She had paths laid out open for her to choose. And one of those paths was beauty. As a girl, she was cute and lovely, and as she grew, she became more and more stunning until she could have really been called beautiful. But, that was not the choice she made, and throughout her life, as if trying to disentangle herself from a chain or fetter tying her down, Bobby has tried to escape from the way she looks. Tall and sleek, lithe and thin, her body is, in itself, not something she hates. It's actually pretty nice. She's not stick thin, nor bony, but from excersize and a bout of deadly love-sickness a few months ago where she could hardly eat anything at all, Bobbie is thin and flat stomached. Her chest is ample, in proportion to her body, and the girl is naturally long limbed. Blond from birth, with dark blue eyes like storms, and tanned from countless hours in the sun; you could say Bobbie has a type of reckless beauty. It's certainly not something she flaunts or works to her advantage. She wears baggy clothing, keeps her hair up in pony tails, doesn't shower (obviously eventually she does, but she prefers the lovely smells of dirt and mud when she can help it) and spends her days in the stables were dirt and grime are permenantly under her short fingernails.
[ e y e ][ c o l o r ] A very dark blue, they are rimmed with even darker, almost black color, they're deep and though interesting, once you know, can seem rather flat.
[ h a i r ][ c o l o r ] She has icy blonde hair, like sunlight, highlighted with whites and even darker goldens; it's wavy and long.
[ e t h n i c i t y ] Bobbie's white, but she's rather tan...
[ h e i g h t ] five feet and eleven inches, converted to meters and all, that's one point five something meters, and twenty-seven point nine four centimeters.
[ w e i g h ] One hundred and thirty five pounds, converts into sixty-one point two three four nine kilograms
[ m o d i f i c a t i o n s ] None.

under your skin →

[ p e r s o n a l i t y ] Bobbie's always been the type of girl you didn't want to mess with. She's not extremely kind, or selfless, or even sweet, when you first meet her. She's harsh-tongued, and clever, with hard eyes and a judgemental mindset. Bobbie's worst qualities are her pride and her selfishness. She doesn't, per say, think she's better than every else. It's not that type of pride, but she believes herself above a lot of things. She won't stoop to get what she wants, and she won't beg. It's below her dignity, in her mind. Bobbie is the girl who keeps her head high, even when she feels like crying; she's the girl who doesn't let her facade down for even a moment, she wouldn't dare. Her pride has caused the dark haired girl to do a lot of pretty idiotic things, but she never see's it until it's too late. Anne's proud is a dignified sort, not the type of pride that causes arrogance; just the type that hinders certain endeavors, and can ruin a friendship, or relationship, pretty easily.

Selfishness is more pronounced in Bobbie's personality. She can come off quite self centered, and for the most part it is because she is. Quite so. Anne thinks, for the majority of the time, only for herself. This quality branches off into smaller, more finite traits, like ambition and vanity, but they all grow from the tree of selfishness. She's good at not showing all her cards, this girl, and in the process, it might not be to obvious how, all the time, she thinks about herself. Her issues, her problems, her misery she goes through. Her adventures, her lessons, her homework, her everything. It's hard to be a good person when you can't think about other people, so sometimes it is a struggle to remain a decent human being. However, Bobbie's selfishness is cause for something good. When she finds someone she really cares about, someone who she trusts and loves and feels overbearing joy with when around, her selfishness evaporates, for that person, as if they have become a part of her, a piece of her heart, and this girl, normally so closed off, can become the best of friends to have.

But also the best of enemies. Bobbie's quality, which is not quite dominant, but can fire to the surface in no time at all, is her vengeance. The pale, thin girl, with dark hair and large eyes, doesn't look to frightening to most people. Why should she? She's just a child. But her mind is Bobbie's greatest weapon, and by far the most deadly, in her opinion. It was clear to the kids in her grade back at the muggle school she went to not to mess with Bobbie. She'd get her revenge. Once there was a boy, Carl, who kept poking her with sticks when they were in line for the water fountain, and one day she'd just had enough of it. Anne had demanded--not asked, but demanded, she was too proud to ask--he stop multiple times, but it had not succeeded, so she went to more drastic measures. Throughout that entire week Bobbie had collected ants and bugs she'd found on the ground and on the trees, in a jar, where she'd put some honey in to feed them and a few holes at the top to breathe. It was almost cake to get out of class--with the excuse of using the bathroom--and find his lunchbox. The rest is history.

Bobbie is not blind to her faults. Nor is she an idiot--quite the contrary. She's a clever girl, if there ever was one. She has a fantastic memory, and a patience that is not popular amongst people her own age very often. She's cunning, too, but that's just another form of cleverness, more directly aimed at ambition and slightly darker subjects. But anyway, back to her vision. She's not blind. And she knows who she is; she can see very clearly she is selfish, and proud, and cruel to some people who she thinks deserve it. Perhaps it's worse that she can see all her faults, and yet she does nothing to correct them, than being blind to them, in the first place. Either way, Bobbie's one of those girls with, like I said, a judgement issue. She judges other people harshly, from first introductions to the way they smile to how they eat their porridge. But she also judges herself. She finds the faults within her, and berates herself for them, and really, the girl does try to fix them, but in the end she gives up. It makes her feel terrible, because she does have a heart, contrary to popular belief, but she can't do anything about it. Sometimes she wishes she were blind to her faults. At least she wouldn't feel like a bad person all the time, then.

But everyone has bad qualities; foibles, faults. And Bobbie is not entirely made up of horrible personality traits, no one is. And though she has some overbearing ones, she has lovely things about her, as well. She laughs easily, finds jokes and humor in a world that seldom carries it, and she enjoys living life to it's fullest. Bobbie would rather spend a day outside, weather rain or shine, than in a dark room playing video games like some children she was aquanted with. Besides her curiosity and thirst for life, Bobbie has always been a girl to turn to with a problem. She's not very good at giving help without being asked for it, but she understands that sometimes helping others can help her, too. And she has a tendency, sometimes, to put herself in another's shoes. She looks at their problems, as if they were hers, and wants to help. This is her main reason for helping others; it's not real kindness, just pity, and a backwards way of helping. But either way, it's better to do the right thing for the wrong reasons than the wrong thing for the right reasons.

A second (or is it third...?) great quality of Bobbie's is her calmed aura. She has the feeling of being an easy-going girl most of the time. Her eyes are casual, and it's rare she ever looks incredibly stressed or tense. She's just not that type of girl, on the outside. Yes, Bobbie's a person just like everyone else, and gets stressed out and P/Oed, but she has grown quite the facade over time, and she has learned to keep certain feelings, and including if not for the most part, like agitation, on the inside. Serenity, weather in the form of laughter or sighs, becomes her, and she indulges in it. Bobbie's a good girl to look at in a crisis, she can give sound advice, as if nothing ever phases her. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe she really does have nerves of steel.

Loyalty. Something rarely given out from this girl, it defines a friendship with her. Friendship without loyalty is like a composer who can only make noise, not music. When she does find a friend, an unlikely occurance in itself, she binds herself to that person. It's easy to say she's a bit clingy, but it's because she really cares. Bobbie will never trust a stranger unless it's a life or death choice, and she will die if she does not. But in any normal circumstance, she wouldn't let you in on her mind, and her dark eyes would swim with emotions you could never guess at they were too deep inside, buried under a glaze of cruelty and distrust. But once she does trust you, secrets pore out. Like her history, and it's toils, and her feelings towards everyone, and her opinions, and her pet peeves. She becomes a normal girl when she has friends, when she has trust. She becomes a good person--if not a great person--willing to sacrifice even herself for them. Trust, to Anne, means caring. Means love. Weather familial, romantic, or through friendships, trust is love.

That's why breaking Bobbie's trust, which is so frugally given, is probably the worst idea you could ever think of. It brings in her worst qualities, but on a whole new level. On a leval of hatred and fury no one would wish upon themselves. Bobbie hates being decieved, and by someone she cared for, and trusted, it's like a piece of her world shatters. There's just something about breaking her trust, which simaltaneously breaks her heart.

Well, that's Bobbie, for you anyways. In a nutshell, a quite, vivacious young girl, proud and selfish, slightly cold and closed off to those she doesn't know, but open and loving to her friends. She's just another child, in a world of millions--but Bobbie's her own individual. Her own person. She has her spark.
[ h i s t o r y ] Bobbie grew up, lived her life, normal. She made her home in a normal house, with normal parents, and a normal brother, though slightly annoying, with normal friends and normal bullies and normal teachers and normal...everything. But it never became her. Here's her history, as she sees it, though there are a few secrets that she doesn't know...

Thirty five years ago, a baby girl was born. She has huge blue eyes that seemed to dominate her angelic face, and she grew up beautiful. Wealthy and loved and happy. This girl had the world at her fingertips, her parents adored her, though they were strict, and she went to the best schools, had the best fortunes, a real life ahead of her. And she enjoyed it that way. Kind of prissy and slightly arrogant, this girl, with bright blonde hair, named Karen, went through life a queen. That is, until the fateful day, twenty one years ago, when she was at college, and met the boy who she would find a true love, but also a true regret, in. His name was William, and he was handsome, charming, sweet, and deep. They dated, and a year passed, and he met her parents, who, though it didn't surprise her, disagreed with her choice. He was poor, and garbage. No manners, no breeding, as her parents called it. Like they were dogs in a show. Horses being picked for a race. He had no breeding, and if they really were horses, he'd have gone off to slaughter, or been a child's pony.

But Karen had grown into more of an individual since leaving her homestead. She'd developed new qualities, like bravery, and pride, and stubbornness, and it made a path for bitterness and hatred to fill in her heart. She started challenging the parents who'd given everything to her. She knew she was right, they had no right, after all, to decide who she saw, or who she loved. But in another light, didn't they? Didn't they pay for college, for dance lessons, for food and clothes, love her and cherish her for as long as they could before she left them to become her own person? Did they have no weight in her choices, no place more in her heart? Both parties felt hurt, betrayed, and both were too proud to bend.

Karen and William were married that next year. They eloped, but it was probably better that way. Since Karen's parents wouldn't have payed for a wedding, or even showed up, anyways. But they were happy, besides that. And they were really in love. William was an orphan, but he was so happy, all the time: it was like a whole new world for a girl who'd been kept so confined as a girl, so conservative. He was liberal in his actions and words, laughing and callous. He was her freedom, her respite from who she was. A vacation from who she'd grown up to be, from who she was expected to be, and it felt like heaven. To William, Karen was that girl who was everything. She was perfect, beautiful, sweet, lovely and deep, kind and funny: she was his everything. His eyes, a light green, saw only her, and her's only him. He had dark brown hair, thick and straight, longer, slightly, than normal, and a hard, square jaw. They were both beautiful, inside and out.

But vacations end. And dreams fade as you wake up, and forget. And eventually, everything looses their luster. Bobbie was born, along with her younger twin brother, Henry. Karen found being estranged, for years, from her parents, who she genuinly loved, was harder then she thought. It took a toll on her parents, too. They'd grown grey and old, with a constant frown on their faces, as their only child forgot about them, dissapeared and left them without even a goodbye. But Karen was starting to see faults in this perfect man she'd been so in love with. He couldn't hold a fork correctly, he always chewed with his mouth open, he came home drunk, he always wore dirty shirts, he liked to smoke, he was terrible at doing the taxes, he couldn't go anywhere on time...small things that started to itch. She didn't see just him, anymore. And this consummate of man she'd found, this beautiful creature who gave her respite from herself, was suddenly holding her back from herself. She wanted to be Karen again. The Karen she'd grown up with, the girl she knew, not some hippie, poor and scatterbrained, with a loafer for a husband and two small children who didn't know their own grandparents. She missed the wealth, and the love, and the family. She missed her old friends, her old life. Karen found herself regreting ever even meeting William, but it was a quiet regret, never spoken.

That's why it was sudden, and heart braking for the man, when she was gone. There was a note, telling him she'd taken the children, because he couldn't support them on his own, with just a construction job, and gone back to her parents. That in her eyes, they were no long married, and she didn't want to hear from him again. Karen never saw William again, and so she was innocent to the knowledge of how hard he cried, of the sobs that wracked the small trailer they'd lived in. Of the pain in his face that never quite left from that day on, the lines in his skin that created a permanent scowl. William was always in love with her. He saw no one but her. Even now, fifteen, sixteen years later, light green eyes can never focus like they used to on a beautiful woman. They always see blond hair and dark, large eyes. They always see Karen.

Karen was back, though. She reunited with her parents, and all was forgiven, on both sides. The feud of theirs had gone on long enough; and Bobbie and Henry were introduced to their family. From then on, Karen was herself, again. Weather that was a good thing, or bad, it's hard to say, but she wore designer clothes, got a great job, loved her children and her family, gotten a sweet, high class boyfriend, a man who didn't know her history, but was too afraid of comitment to propose, which was just fine by her. Bobbie and Henry grew up in the world of the upper class, the world of the lucky. Cared for and loved. Bobbie never missed her dad; she'd known him only for the first year of her life, and she couldn't remember even his eyes. There were no pictures of him. But she had his hair, and his jaw, strong and pronounced. Henry had his eyes, green and flat, while Bobbie had her mother's. And they were happy. Bobbie always felt restless, like she had to go run somewhere, just to shake the feeling off, like she wanted to find something, or explore, or do something. The girl always felt like she never did anything. It was a strange feeling, considering that she went horsebackriding, played soccer, and did everything a little girl could want to. And the thing was, Bobbie could never put her finger on it; but it was something. Something always felt missing; slightly off.

As far as Bobbie knew, Henry never felt that way, he always looked happy, grand, smiling and care free; easy. He wasn't like his sister, closed off and small in other's eyes, but most of what she is now came later. Bobbie never got the chance to ask her brother, her best friend, if he felt like her, if he was like her. They were eight when he died. It happened in what should have been a normal day. They were playing at school, challenging each other to do strange things, like normal, on the playground. Henry had just dared Bobbie and one of her friends to hand by their knees from the monkey bars. It was his turn. Bobbie dared him to climb up the slide, the one with a roof, on the outside. It was a common enough dare, but she didn't know what else to do. He was halfway up, above the base of it, when he fell. His head--there was a sound Bobbie will remember her entire life. It was the sound of crushing, the sound of something important being jostled and broken. His head hit the wooden base, and she could hear him scream to. He screamed for a moment, before it cut off sharply. Bobbie had been too stunned, for a minute, to do anything. She just stood there as the other kids around her ran off screaming and crying, to go get a teacher, staring at the limp form, covered in strange crimson, of her brother. She took in a sharp breath, and ran off after her friends, without saying anything, without a last look at him. No tears sprang into her eyes, no sound escaped her lips. Nothing on the surface. It was the first moment of her life when she didn't show anything at all. And it became a habit. But if anyone thought she was callous, they were wrong. She felt it. She felt a part of her soul break off and shatter for a moment, dropped from the slide along with Henry, broken by his side and bleeding.

Bobbie killed her own brother. That fact was something she could never get over. Never. Karen and her parents comforted her, told her it wasn't her fault, and they all grieved. But no one blamed her. Except herself. She read a Shakespeare play once, Macbeth. Bobbie hadn't understood any of it, except for a few experts. The one's about Lady Macbeth and Macbeth, right before and after they murdered the king. "Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appalls me? What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red." She felt too, that the blood on her hands, figuratively, could never,and would never, wash off. Not in a hundred years.

After that ordeal, life went back to as normal as it could for Bobbie. She grew up. And then the strange things started to happen, green tinged her vision during the dawn and dusks, she felt hot and sweated profusely when she wore normal clothing and shoes, and she became less and less social. More wild, if you will. Strange, how people change, and Bobbie was no exception.
[ l o v e s ] Nature, obviously, the color brown, shy boys, people she doesn't feel intimidated talking to, people she can play fight with, or have a good go at, that won't take it personally (aka a friend), feeling free, laughter, wild animals, the way old people smile like they have a secret and they've seen it all before; their look of omnipotence has some sort of striking effect on her. ...She also loves pizza. With a burning passion.
[ h a t e s ] Loud children, adults and their cocky way of losing their beliefs in innocence and beauty, industrialization and that type of modernistic attitude, the feelings of rage she can get sometimes, people who are selfish, ironically, for she is, callous people, charming girls (she has to admit it, she can feel out of place around that type of stuff) and tame, pet like animals, which she thinks are pathetic.
[ f a m i l y ] Her mother, Karen, her father, William, and her late brother, Henry.

skip a heartbeat →

[ c r u s h ] None yet, silly.
[ o r i e n t a t i o n ] She's straight, but has hardly ever been interested in anyone. Most boys she knows seem very shallow to her, which is her least favorite quality in a person.
[ s t a t u s ] Like I said above, she goes more stag, these days.

what lies unawaken →

[ p o w e r ] Earth
[ s t r e n g t h s ] Hand-eye-coordination, making sock puppets, reading things quickly, fighting (she's had her experiences, and she's not afraid to play dirty, either), eating things quickly, going long periods of time without talking, balancing.
[ w e a k n e s s e s ] She has little stamina for running, not very graceful, she's not artistic, she can't sing, either, she's too serious, and intense, sometimes, she kind of has a weird disgust for small children, and she can't go for long without eating. She's always hungry. Also, she's not extremely fast, or strong, despite the fact she uses very clever tactics when he needs to.
[ u s e s ] There are a few things she can do. It's a tough power, Earth, because it's one of the strongest, most concrete elements. The goddess of it could be hard and cruel, like stone, or kind and gentle, like the flowers in the breeze. As far as Bobbie knows now, she only has one thing she can do with her power, but there is another, she has yet to learn about. What she can do is control the very earth we walk on. She can do this by talking to it, a sort of strange hum or melody, not singing, but something more ancient sounding. When she sings to it, she can mold it, like dough. By putting her hands out in front of her, she can raise the earth in waves, and crash the rocks and dirt around people, crushing them, or swallowing them, eating up plants and houses in massive earthquakes that roll through the air like the tides at her bidding. It's a violent gift, but one of true power and one that becomes the goddess of the earth. The second is one she probably won't find for a long, long time. It only appears when her personality allows it, which won't happen often; it is one of true sadness and betrayal. People have betrayed the earth and mother nature, they cut down her trees and stole her life, eating her fruit and grains, spitting smoke into her roots and stepping on her flowers. When Bobbie feels betrayed enough, sad enough, or desperate enough, to really cry, if she wipes her tears (and they must be real tears*) on a tree, or spot of grass, she can steal the energy and life from that thing and area, like humans have done, and use it heal. Because, after all, nature heals. The earth never dies out because trees grow back, and the world keeps spinning. When the worst of times is upon her, her real tears can steal the energy and give it to something else, like a bee pollinating. So if a friend is dying, she can rejuvinate them, if even only for a moment, or if she is betrayed, she can bottle it, and keep it for vengeance. Bobbie, with this hidden power she possesses of true gentleness, can give life, and take it away.

* real tears, though she's never had any, I think I'll make them extremely special, and easy to recognize, so I think they'll be green, like the earth she represents.

[light.]

[[ accepted, done with girls. we need two more males. if you forever or lalia want to take them, it's alright with me ]]

[{{ f i a s c o }}]

We don't loose, we might bruise,
But we'll rain fire on you 'till you're playing all of your cards.

[ James David Strider] - [ Male ] - [ 18 ] - [ The pretentious-unpretentious smartass ]

at first sight →

[ n a m e ] James David Strider
[ n i c k n a m e ] James, Dave. Strider for his enemies.
[ a g e ] 18
[ b i r t h ] 4·4·1994
[ g e n d e r ] Male
[ o r i g i n ] Spain

you're beautiful →

[ p h y s i c a l ][ a p p e a r a n c e ] A lithe, well-muscled body disguises this strange-mannered teen; strong, defined arms cloak thin bones and a well-kept 'pack lies on his stomach. He has bony hands, wherein one may note the tendons wriggling under the skin and veins pulsating meekly, and an - almost - lanky frame exposed by not overly wide shoulders, jutting bones and the beggining of definiton muscle-wise.

His face could be described simply as jaunt, not plain, angular, alike the rest of his features. His semblant is usually composed, although his facial expressions vary from moment to moment, becoming the bubbling laughter in an akward situation or the ice-cold personality in a warm moment. He has thin, defined lips, and high, full chekbones, gaining a dimple to his right side when smiling. He has straight, white teeth, and a nerve-inspiring smile; his eyes usually reflecting his thoughts on the situation - ie. he may seem composed yet maintain sparkling eyes or smile warmly with nothing but hatred in them - in their unnerving, misguiding way. He has long blonde eyelashes with similar, un-crowded yet unkempt eyebrows that frame his strange eyes; a pair of dim, unnequal gems coloured in turqoise and cloudy-sky blue. However, this difference is minimal from afar and can only be noticed from three or four - at most - metres away.

His stance is complicated in the way that he carries himself in a nochalant manner most of the time with a hint of cockyness and strength, which makes him stand out as he seems to look bored but usually isn't, planning some sort of strife or raid, whatnot. However, he can become rigid in a manner of seconds, neat, poised, elegant, but still keep his hands in his pockets and smile silkily to his opponnent. This boy is a two-face, and he isn't that afraid to hide it, rather displaying it subtly as to confuse others on his direction in thought by raising his tone while remaining calm or making his posture aggressive while smiling inocently.

His voice is like silver; solid and spiked when dangerous, silky and flowingly liquid when deceptive and basically non-existant, gaseous, when stunned for words, which is not often. His voice might be considered irritating by some, but it is actually quite attractive and unusual in the way that it changes state more often than not. It is usually found profaning jibes, especially when fighting an enemy, but can learn to be silent when needed. He just finds it fun to make people angry; it makes them more prone to make mistakes. .
[ e y e ][ c o l o r ] An unnerving two-toned pair of irises; one turqoise blue, similar to still Caribbean waters, the other a grey-ice tone seen in cloudy winter skies.
[ h a i r ][ c o l o r ] A thick, wavy blonde that lightens as it nears the tips. He flicks it often, creating the effect of a slight 'fringe' that curtain his eyes ever so slightly.
[ e t h n i c i t y ] Caucasian white, but tans easily due to his spanish inheritance
[ h e i g h t ] 1.69m || 5.5 foot
[ w e i g h ] 60kg || 133lbs
[ m o d i f i c a t i o n s ] An ear pierce on his left ear, though it rarely - if ever - is filled out by an earring.

under your skin →

[ p e r s o n a l i t y ] James can easily be described as the two-sided coin gilded in gold or wrought in iron. He lives close to bipolar, but is not psychotic enough to achieve that level. One moment, he can be the nicest guy you met, the next, he might be taunting you or mocking in some sort of way or another, but he subtly manages these changes of humour so they progress slowly and are not jumps so sudden that people are taken aback so strongly.

James has a strong yet sly personality; he sticks to his beliefs but enshrouds them in a web of slick and occasional lies or dismissal of facts, making him the rather complex character when it comes to dealing with, as it is hard to imagine what one might expect of him one moment or another. He enjoys the use of wit, sarcasm and humour, usually to the expense of others but never his own, and acts nochalant when accused, which is most of the time. He is strangely sociable, yet others usually shy from his prescence as he is mocking and, at times, injust. However, he is rather the interesting character, and he knows so himself, making him hold an air of cockyness usually despised by so many. He doesn't mind spending time alone, yet he prefers human company, as he is usually exiled into solace because of his strange social antics. Nevertheless, you wouldn't know any of this as James passes as a humble, quiet guy, always in a hammock, reading or thinking.

His power over Knowledge allows him access to any and all information known to the world at the precise moment he is living through, making him rather uninteresting to maintain a conversation with if you are trying to make fun of him or tell him something; he knows how to get back to you - either the personal or the harsh way - and, well, knows what you are going to tell him. This makes him a perfect companion for exploration, tactics and whatnot, as he has all world maps and strategies committed to memory, and a memorable, virtually unbeatable debate companion.

Furthermore, James has photographic memory. He can and will remember what happened behind the closet with his ex-girlfriend and that now-deceased guy five years, three days and four hours and twelve minutes ago.

However, all this knowledge haunts him intesely; James detests the fact he will never learn anything new because he already knows everything. He tries to act nochalant, tries to act surprised when receiving news, tries to be unpretentious, but he never manages it, always chipping in with some historical, literate quote, or a scientific formula, corrections to those he is speaking with... Furthermore, all this knowing has developed a full sleeping disorder; James has not slept since five years, and will probably never know the embrace of alluring sleep again.

All this spare time has allowed James to hone his combat skill; James enjoys fighting, one on one combat and close combat, the late in which he excells. He handles most weapons in an excellent manner due to the amount of time on his hands allowing him to give everything a go, but he is fastous at long range. However, since James can basically predict what movements his opponent will execute - his extensive access to anatomy has helped him greatly with this - he is fair and abstains from any friendly quarrels with friends as he knows that he most probably wouldn't give them a chance.

Usually, James battles with words and can even reach the point of bribing someone with revealing some sort of secret or informing another on someone as to not be harmed in some way or another. It could be described as 'partial self-interest' but James would put it as 'being on the winning side of the war'. However, he is usually fair and just. His power has it's limits though; James cannot predict the future or attempt to guess at that which is still not decided. This is it's wholeform flaw; if something is feigned and planned to be taken away, James looses all information on the matter.

Romantically, James is confusing. He will try to warm up to that special person, but probably just repel them further.
[ h i s t o r y ] again the 2oo words minimum, and the possibility of the paragraphs.
[ l o v e s ] Tactics, reading. Midnight, sunrise. Being alone. The flavour of peaches. Sleeping. Darkness. War. Peace. Mist.
[ h a t e s ] Himself. His endless source of knowledge. His ability to know everything. His insomnia. Not being able to fight.
[ f a m i l y ] All deceased - Rose Callignium and Dirk Strider.

skip a heartbeat →

[ c r u s h ] Stay tuned
[ o r i e n t a t i o n ] Bisexual, although he prefers females. He is always open to new ideas. He would never openly admit it though, so he passes as a heterosexual until he confides in someone enough to tell them.
[ s t a t u s ] Single. He probably is too weird to be able to find anyone at any point; he acknowledges it and isn't too thoroughly hurt by the fact, although he wished he could find that special someone.

what lies unawaken →

[ p o w e r ] Knowledge
[ s t r e n g t h s ] Being a smart-ass. Fighting. Knowing. Guiding. Helping. Memorising.
[ w e a k n e s s e s ] Acting. Helping. Socializing.
[ u s e s ] Knowledge grants James the ability to understand and have access to any of the information in existance at that precise moment - he uses it to create witty retorts, improve his fighting and degrading his social skills. However, his knowledge is limited to what is known in the past or present, and never in the future. He can guess - with great accuracy - at outcomes, but never 100 percent sure. Furthermore, it relies heavily on certain outcomes; if the fact is still in suspens or willing to change, James has no power over it.

Knowledge is a dangerous power. It can get you into the deepest if problems when you know too much - as James knows already - so, therefore, he abstains from petty fights where he could seriously inflict some damage on his opponent. His power is not physical, mainly psychological; if you're looking for someone that can do 'windy things', 'fireballs' and random 'water jets', James is not that person. He can, however, be the most usefull tactician and spy if convinced to.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream

Finished ;P

[light.]

[[ accepted promise. reserved the air slot for artesian, but still need a male for water ]]

[herondale.]

{ can i reserve the male slot for water? }