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Post by auguste landry. on Feb 4, 2009 20:08:03 GMT -5
Full Name: marcel auguste landry
Nickname: he prefers the nickname 'noir' [new-or]
Age: sixteen
Date of Birth: october 21
Gender: boy
Ethnicity: caucasion
Hair Color: light brown
Eye Color: brown
Full Description: Noir Landry possesses the physical charm of every other French man, retrieved from almost untraceable roots in Montpellier. First thing a person will notice about him is his stumpy height 5’6, which is, of course, below average for you American teenage boys who are usually shooting up at sixteen. The second most noticeable thing about his body is the natural definition, prominently in his arms and legs. Although he is clearly a thin boy, there is plenty of meat on his strong bones.
Moving on from his trim frame, Noir’s face is indisputably handsome, in yet somewhat indifferent, his jaw line is boldly pronounced and his fine cheek bones support large, striking eyes. The inner eye is a rusty brown, encompassed in dark and somehow always an open window to his feelings. The boy’s nose is straight, but in certain light its substantial size is more noticeable, especially from the side. His lips are also fairly long, though thin, pursed, pink, and at its peak, slightly feminine. His hair is quite the story of the year as well. In school his teachers used to tease him, that if he spent enough time on his hair as he did on his homework, he would be head of the class. Noir has a very meticulous way of arranging it along with a medley of products to help him, a straightener among them because he finds curls to be unflattering on him.
As for taste in clothing, it is Noir’s deepest conviction if you throw a little glitz, class, or skin-tight pants to your wardrobe you can pull nearly anything off. Personally, the worst thing someone could do in fashion is relinquish their sense of individuality. Despite most of his apparel being whats considered ‘quirky’, and sometimes too mature for his age, Noir is happy to retain his own self image. In term Noir has a lot of ribbed, button-up sweaters, numerous scarves, hats, goggles (?), gloves, coats, blazers, moccasins, slippers, ect. Most of the time all Noir has to do when picking out his clothes is stumble into the closet, don the nearest item, pair it with something opposite its size, then he’s good to go.
He’s more fashion conscience than the kids in hoodies or carpenter jeans. He knows what sucks. Fortunately, his love of old fashion stuff is not completely rejected by society- or at least by the people who matter. People can tell, outfit choice aside, he is a sweet, good-natured young man, nothing like the attention-whore or snob his clothes might translate him as.
[d e e p e r]
Ability: the ability to freeze things on contact
Likes:
Dislikes:
Characteristics: Noir was born into the lives of two heartless people, and raised in the arms of a naïve, but affectionate, farmer. Despite the emotional struggle of knowing his real parents abandoned him, the orphan boy grew to be a man of powerful family values. He even became somewhat of a glue between the relationships of his family.
Noir is a very sweet, caring person. Somehow, he has always managed to have a very agreeable, non-confrontational disposition. He finds a way to get along with most people, although he is by no means a saint; he has people he doesn’t like, just like anyone else. But with effort, Noir tries to make it work.
However, on the inside Noir is a bitter, jaded soul. He could never forgive his parents for what they did to him as an enfant. Leaving him to die, for pete’s sake! There are many things in Noir’s life he simply refuses to let slide. He lacks peace of mind with his sister’s death, his parents, broken promises, lies, ect. The people around him, exes especially, he scrutinizes to their very core. Some people he is just unable to cope with.
Even if generally he is good-natured fellow, it would be a mistake to think him a particularly mild spirit. Yes, he is fairly laid-back, lacking the intensity of a domineering face in the crowd. This does not mean that he is naïve, or a pushover, or anything of the sort. Noir is painfully aware of the world around him and of how people work. He doesn’t believe he can dissect personalities all that well at first, but he does see a few things, good or bad [mostly bad], automatically. He is a pessimist, and it serves him well to scout out the ones who are going to screw him over in the end.
As far as feelings go, he has never been able to hide his. When he’s upset, everyone around him will know it whether he wants them to or not. It’s the way he looks, the energy he gives out which supposedly unmasks the feelings within him. As hard as he may try to disguise his anger, sadness, or what have you, he cannot.
In school, he certaintly wasn’t the most intelligent. He could not think fast on his feet, and while concepts came easier to other children, there was a blockade in Noir’s learning experience he always had to clear when introduced to something new. Math and science were not his strong suit. He enjoyed reading about history, and he had an uncanny ability with grammar and english; but what he soared in was the creative tasks.
Noir’s loyalty is sworn with devotion. At this point, protecting and supporting the people worth it, his friends, are what he lives for. Some might even say he’s ‘fatherly’. When it comes to choosing friends, he is very particular. He doesn’t want to be around a needy, self-conscience girl, or someone who climbs to the top of the mountain and battles everyone in their way to have their opinion heard. He surrounds himself with people who are actually a lot like him.
[d a e m o n]
Name: corinne
Form: bat
Description: Charming and affectionate, those who come in contact with Corinne never suffer a dull moment. For a bat, the little creature goes outside the public image of a bat- showing the side of this animal beyond the possible rabies. She is small, and most of the time found on Noir’s person in a shirt pocket or his backpack, as she prefers tight, dark places. Noir’s dorm is modeled to suit her; shades, and heavy curtains cover the window, blocking any light from coming in. He also makes it so it is very cool. When Noir is around others, Corinne strives to be a part of the group by attaching herself to people. Keep an open mind and you’re sure not to be afraid of the tiny animal.
[f i n i s h i n g;t o u c h e s]
History: Growing up Noir never knew his real parents, nor did he wish to. At age three he was abandoned by them on the godforsaken country property of a vegetable farmer, and luckily discovered among the many acres by the family dogs before the cold or starvation sunk in his fragile body. The dog pack raised him as one of their own… Nah, just kidding. It would be cool, though, wouldn’t it? Anyways, the vegetable farmer, André Landry, gladly became the father in Noir’s childhood memories. André was but eighteen at the time, but he was a spiritual man, knowing Noir was sent to him for a reason. With the half-haphzard assistance from distant relatives riddled across the untame country of France, Noir matured as perfectly as would any other boy.
Noir lived with a few others in the two bedroom home; André’s best friend, Damien, a bum of the sorts, Damien’s girlfriend, Clarisse, a run-of-the-mill addict, and then André’s younger sister, Tonya, who arrived a year after Noir’s sixth birthday. Tonya was two years older than Noir, and because the little ones’company was limited to each other or ‘the drinking circle’on weekends, they quickly grew close to one another. As kids, they spent their free days exploring the land, searching for anything interesting. On weekdays, they walked the dirt road mile to school. Early on in his education, Noir showed raw, creative talent, but his appraisal in extra curricular activities said nothing for his learning in main subjects. It bored him; it lost its attention so much teachers often had to stop their proceedings to wake the young boy up from a reverie, or take away his drawing paper. His grades were average, for he rarely listened and what he did gather from a lecture or a couple of notes was faint knowledge.
Socially, up until eighth grade, Noir kept to himself and a select, persistent few that would not accept him not talking to them. People did not think he was sad or the kind of person who enjoyed solitude- most, if not all, of the kids in school had grown up with him and knew he was quite capable of carrying out a conversation. They also realized he did not hate company either. He was quiet not because of shyness, but because he did not have a lot to say. Most conversations took part in his own mind, but one such as Noir does not feel the need to express every thought. ‘Quiet’ was not even the right word to describe him, hearing these facts. He was more reserved, if anything. What changed his reclusive personality, however, was the heady torrent of emotions adolescence so humbly bestows upon blossoming young adults. Steeping outside his shell really began to reap unimaginable benefits.
You know how you hate walking somewhere in school alone? Well, becoming a regular socialite could swiftly change that! The first day of middle school Noir adapted to these cult-like ‘cliques’ which began to form in particular areas of the lunch room. Change reeked the air, a change that could possibly cast him into loneliness, a more daunting prospect than ever before in this new environment. He got a head-start on the groups. In fact, the first day, he made his own. To be frank, we know this group as ‘the jackasses’ or ‘the pranksters’, the ones with no regard for respect and appetite for causing trouble. He was rude to all of his teachers. He provided immature, comical relief for his class with inhumane caricatures of others. He dared to cross over into girl cliques, manned by a gathering of his own. In all honesty, he lost himself in the mix of things. Being a dumb boy was just an impulse he could not, or would not, ignore. Surely enough, it got him the popularity he desired. Instead of avoiding the spotlight like he used to, he reveled in it.
To think he was once a sweet little kid, picking flowers in front of the house and calling out “je t’aime” to all the cars that passed by was almost impossible. His sister, Tonya, was not too fond of these alterations in her little brother’s personality either, but while he was testing the grounds of middle school, Tonya found herself ushered into the next big thing; highschool. Freshman year is probably the hardest. It hit Tonya straight-on. A few mere weeks into school she buckled under the pressure and fell into the wrong crowd due to low self-esteem. It was a steady downfall, one which Noir desperately wished he could have seen before the crash happened. Whatever shit she was taking hits off of, seemed to have an ever-lasting, depressive after-effect. It started with her piercing everything she could, then never getting any sleep, then just looking…sad. Generally, Noir was too wrapped up in his personal life to notice anything until it was too late.
Tonya planned on comitting suicide May 2, in a place only Noir knew of because they had found it on one of their adventures as children. André, Noir’s father, had somewhat of an intuitive sense, and that night he asked Noir if he knew where Tonya went. When Noir shook his head, André immediately told him to go find her- in the most non-urgent way possible. Noir decided to use the rest of the daylight to search the land before calling around to see if she spent the night at a friends house. He specifically came to ‘their’place first, a cozy hollow on the back of a hill, where they dug deep holes, used as pretend army bases when they’d fling dirt clogs at one another. She was sitting there in the hollow with a gun in her hand, sobbing hysterically. When she heard him coming, she pulled the trigger, right in plain view of him. Everything inside Noir curdled into a seering acid at the sight of his sister. He fell to his knees, clutching the blades of grass in his hands as tears fell like harsh winter rain. The grass got colder and colder all around him. White frost appeared where the last of dew was supposed to be.
Noir changed back. Perhaps for good. This time, he promised himself he would not speak at all. Tonya’s suicide devastated his worn family, and it appeared its already weak edges and tattered seams would not hold out for much longer. Other than the funeral, they disregarded the tragic event- burying their sorrow underneath their prority to society. You see, André had become more successful over the years in his crops. In their small town, everyone knew to purchase from his good old stand. André believed he could not get a moments rest to greive for his lost sister, for society demanded his labor, as well as their meager estate. Even André’s friends contributed in whatever way they could. Everyone could sense everything in the Landry family hanging by a delicate thread. Life as they knew it teetered on the edge of a blade, waiting, just waiting, for something to tip the scale. Noir did not want to be the one to thrust his family off a cliff, although his newfound ability just might do that. It was his greatest secret.
Time passed. Seasons changed. But Noir did not. Stalwartly, he strayed from the popular crowd, avoiding casual conversations and more. Again, people did not blame him. They all sympathized for Tonya’s death, but there was no one yet close enough to him to penetrate his behavior. Noir set a time aside to speak of things at the end of the day. Twilight, in his beloved hill hollow. He spoke on spontaneous matters, but with immeasurable care, as if she was right there, listening to him. He practiced his power, too. A sheet of ice covered the hollow during the night, but melted safely away by morning light. No one would ever find out. Would they? One night he was taken from his bed, bagged like a criminal, an animal. As he grew limp and helpless in the arms of his captor, a familiar voice spoke, but one Noir could not put a name on. “I followed you home, Marcel Auguste Landry. I knew there was something up with you. I can’t…I must not let you go on like this. Your family knows. Your family knows. We’re taking you to the mountains. Better us find you than them.
Roleplay Sample:
Password: collide
Other: haiiii.
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