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Post by Avery Newfeld on Oct 2, 2011 23:45:35 GMT -5
Name: Avery Newfeld
Age: 15
DoB: April 23rd
Gender: Male
Grade: 10th Grade; Sophomore
Hair: Avery's hair is a pale, almost sandy brown, and slightly spiked at the tips. It also falls to right below his chin. His bangs occasionally cover his eyes.
Ears: Avery still has his ears and tail, and both of which are a sandy brown, like his hair, and dog-like.
Eye Color: Avery's eyes are a medium green color.
Skin Tone: Usually, the boy's skin is pale, showing a lack of sunlight.
Height: He stands at about 5'5"
Weight: The boy's small, at 115 pounds.
Description:
Having a rather average height, and being rather skinny, lacking muscle, and pale, not much stuck out about the boy at first glance. In truth, when it came down to it, he actually looked rather feminine.
Normally, the boy would be seen in a medium blue hoodie, jeans, and a back and white striped scarf, regardless of the weather. Being a zero, temperature meant nothing to him, not to say that this was the healthiest choice for his body which never sweat or shivered.
Avery seemed to have rather sharp features if one were to look closely at him, and this was most easily seen in his face. A sharp, small and almost pointed nose was on him, with an almost rather pointed chin. Green eyes easily contrasted against his normally pale skin.
Likes:- His Fighter
- The Idea of Feeling
- Candy
- Attention
- Winning
- Being Right
- Being Complimented
- Snow
- Fire
Dislikes:- Being Separated from His Fighter
- Being Argued With
- Being Yelled At
- Spiders
- Being Shunned
- Being Harassed
Personality:
Naive, and very child-like in nature, as well as absurdly perky, many commonly assume that he's dumb, when in reality, that's not quite the case. Though easily fooled, and rarely one to use big words, he still has a decent sense of what's going on around him, and has a rather easy time with school work.
Due to his childish mindset, he is very emotionally sensitive to himself, and those around him, and is one that very much so just wants everyone to get along, though that's not to say he's entirely innocent. During battle, he's quick to show his curiously sadistic nature that seems to accompany almost all zeros, and a decent amount of strategic planning.
Easily flustered, and quick to offend and become upset, the boy's not one that many think to be mature, and that is entirely correct. Most often, he comes off as rash in his decision making skills, and very immature when it comes to arguments.
The boy has a lot of trouble understanding the idea of pain, and as a result, is strangely obsessed with it, to the point where he's constantly sneaking pocket knives past teachers in an attempt to feel anything. Absurdly desperate, the boy's not exactly the most rational creature.
Upon separation from his fighter, he becomes extremely upset, and nervous, seeming to fear that he won't ever see him again; another view of his irrationality. Commonly, he's a nuisance in this state.
Towards his fighter, he's protective, defensive, and easily pet-like, quick to follow his fighter's every order, which is something rather strange, seeing as Avery is the sacrifice of the pairing.
History:
Both of Avery's parents are unknown to him, and being a zero, he was basically raised within a lab environment. Though his caretakers, both scientists who studied his genetic coding, cared for him, the boy seemed to feel nothing for them. His obedience was merely out of a lack of knowing anything more.
He went through schooling, much like a normal child, though went entirely through private schools. An expensive lab rat was not to mix with the absurdly common and mundane folk. It was painfully obvious that the boy was different, even during grade school, when it was seen that his sense of temperature was diminished to almost nothing, and when he were to feel nothing if injured, like when falling.
Upon entering middle school, and the Academy, Avery was introduced to his Fighter, Skylar, whom he seemed to become entirely infatuated with. Protective, loyal, and obedient to Skylar, Avery seemed to have entirely lost the concept of 'owning' Skylar, and instead seemed to have become his pet.
For the past four years, Avery has spent his time entirely devoted to his fighter, trying to spend as much time with him as physically possible.
OOC Name: I'm just going by Avery.
Years of RPing Experience: Oh, god...Nine?
Other Characters: Nope.
Roleplaying Example:
Smoke danced elegantly around her head, graceful pirouettes of lace, so beautiful that one would like nothing more hen to bottle them and watch them sway and twirl forever. The smoke was lightly colored, the kind of cartoon campfires and pleasant, happy infernos. It wasn't the kind that ate a house. It wasn't the kind that scared body or mind. Something had never informed it of that.
It whispered beautiful lullabies within Scarlett's ears, calling her forward, into the maul of the beast, don't worry lovely, it won't take a bite. The girl knew better than to move forward. She knew better then to be beckoned by the demon, and she tried to find a way out, to stay were she was, to run the other way, but the dancer always got the best of her. It only took a few pleasant words to drag her forward, almost curiously.
Red bit at wood and paint, it swirled aggressively and snarled possessively at the building, devouring it as Scarlett watched the horror she relived every night. The light was magnificent, a spectacular sight for those outside watching, debating between calling the fire department, or letting the house burn to the ground. It looked so much better before it was doused, wouldn't you say? The dancing of smoke to highlight the flames was just too good one would think.
The presence of a girl had caught it's attention. The thing seemed to turn and lash out, the building it mine, and it's jaws wrapped around her hand, burning flesh, and causing her to scream, though of course the smoke smothered her airways. It choked down her cry for help, and the girl fell backwards, trying to get away from the pain, from the fire, from the house, from the- just wake up, wake up, wake up!
Sweat bubbled on her forehead, resting there before rolling down her face. Eyes had opened, and she was where she always was after waking from this nightmare that plagued her every time her eyelids drooped down just a tad bit too far. The terror in it had never been of thinking she was awake, but instead of knowing of the slumber that controlled her, of knowing that the flames had her until the morning when she woke, that they controlled her body. She had no chance to escape.
Tearless sobs escaped the lips of the girl, as she crumpled on her bed. Escaping from this room seemed to be the only option at the moment. Get out, and with that, she did. She dressed quickly in whatever shirt her hands wrapped around first, a baggy white shirt with gray designs, and a pair of jean shorts, then fled the room. She had been held in it long enough in her mind, besides, being in there only reminded her of flames. Make up didn't seem worth it today. Was there truly anyone to impress within the building, and was staying in her room the extra few minutes worth it to coat her face in colorful powder? Her sketch pad and colored pencils were the only things she took with her from the room.
She made her way through the halls of the building in long strides, with nervous behavior and stance. She was pulled inward almost, a slouch that seemed to be almost protected. A slight shiver coursed through her, rocking the girl back and forth, terror clung to her back and breathed in her ear, hot breath on her neck only causing her worse fear.
The air outside was so close that she could taste it, and she increased speed, quickly fleeing to the garden to draw, and escape it all. Flowers, they were decent things to draw. They didn't move, or bitch when your sketch wasn't as good as you would have liked, or you were moving slowly. They were good models.
She sat quickly and quietly, then stared at the front page of her sketch book. Flames. She had drawn them blazing on the first page, and she forced herself to quickly turn past them. They hadn't quite captured the terror she felt. The fire felt lifeless when she tried to draw it. Useless.
she didn't notice the man sitting across from her, she was too busy trying to ignore everything, trying to fall into the world of colors and designs and patterns and movement. She was trying to lose herself in a drawing yet to be created. It seemed to be working well enough, seeing as she was able to avoid seeing a man in suit and tie with red hair and make-up, which, for the record, wasn't exactly something you'd see every day, now was it?
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