Post by Dear John on Apr 13, 2010 22:19:07 GMT -5
Canon/OC Character Application
Character name: Dear John
Age: Twenty
Gender: Male
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 153 lb.
Appearance:
Anty is quite the unique character. His hair, unlike most of the others, is a silver color with a bluish tint to it. Sometimes it can even appear with a more violet tone to it. This added along with his fairly fairly light skin offer a chilling appearance. It would seem fitting for Anty, especially with the light jackets and large boots he often wears even during the coldest of days. Only when it is hot (60 and up) can he be found stripping down to his bare essentials. Beneath all this clothing Anty's body is slim and slender in build, but firm to the touch.
Perhaps one could compare him to Prussia in appearance even slightly, both of them wielding those brilliantly red eyes and the oddly light-colored hair. Their bodies are different, though, as described earlier with Anty being more slender.
The way he carries himself is also extremely different from the others. He walks in a graceful, fluid movement, but the movement itself looks much like a creeper stalking through the halls. He could even, under extreme circumstances, be related to a ghost of some sort. He is often seen creeping around and spying on others. Possibly his greatest giveaway other than his white appearance: his flashing red eyes. This would also be why some could relate him to a frightening ghost if they could not catch a clear glimpse of him.
Personality:
As you may already know, Anty is a bit unstable. He very much dislikes all nations, whether they have anything to do with him or not, due to the fact that his founders decided to share him as a research item. He hates the idea of being used and thus is extremely hostile towards others, but rarely does he ever show it. Rather, he acts playfully around everyone at first. Anty can be best related to a child in the way he acts, even down to the teasing he does. Most things about him are childish from the way he acts to the way he thinks. He doesn't even like alcohol.
One noticeable thing about him is his bullying habits. Anyone smaller in size he tends to be subject to his nonstop teasing.
One of the more frightening things about Anty is his moments of less child-like acts. Anty can be known to harass those smaller than him on more adult terms, seemingly mimicking less-appreciated actions he has seen others perform. Anything to make others feel awkward, but hopefully helpless. He normally only goes this far if he is left alone with someone else. Typically with more than one other in the room he will keep his hands to himself. Even two small Hawaiian islands would be enough for him to leave them alone in that matter, not that he wouldn't still tease them in other ways such as name-calling, making fun of their size or situations, etc.
An angry Anty tends to be extremely violent. Like the harsh winters of the land, Anty holds long grudges and is relentless in them. He is like a child throwing a fit, kicking his feet and waving his arms wildly. He would likely go to extreme lengths for his own revenge, but this is partially due to the fact that he is not familiar with the rules of the game. He certainly hasn't been brought up by anyone well enough to know the difference between too little and too much.
A sad Anty isn't much different. But rather than the flaring tears, Anty prefers to go somewhere by himself and cry. He also doesn't understand that men shouldn't cry, so don't be surprised if he starts sniffling and tearing up in public, but if he can he usually holes himself up in the smallest space he can fit into and cries there. He doesn't like people bothering him during this time, either. Though instead of reacting violently, he would likely only end up crying more and burying his face in the nearest thing he can find. Another childish act, but at least he leaves others alone during this time... Unless, that is, the places he holes himself up in is someone's room, closet, car, etc.
Class: Ranger
Likes:
& causing mischief
& trying new things
& teasing others
& childish/immature things
& using others
& snow[/ul]
Dislikes:
& all these “manners”
& all others regardless
& the same old thing
& alcohol
& being near bigger people[/ul]
Strengths:
& manipulation
& stalking
& cooking
& planning[/ul]
Weaknesses:
& hatred for others
& paranoia
& manners
& sophistication[/ul]
History:
Anty's past is something that typically should never be brought up. He is very sensitive about the fact that he was more or less abandoned, whether it was because his parents froze to death out in the Arctic tundra or eaten by some other creature. It was only apparent to him that they never returned, but he was young. Anty wouldn't remember their faces had those who found him the very next day hadn't brought along all the memories of those brilliant alchemists with them. He didn't bother listening to the boasts about those who were no longer alive. Frankly, in his eyes, it was pointless.
Dear John was named such by the alchemists themselves, based off of the letters left at home for loved ones telling them that they would be leaving for the frozen north for a very, very long time. In a sense, this was what the boy was to them. The child left alone was a message that they would obviously not be returning home any time soon, and Dear John grew a very cold attitude toward the alchemists who viewed him as nothing more than an object left by people they admired.
There isn't much to state on Anty's past other than he grew up in the cold weather of Antarctica, not knowing much else. He was very distant from everyone around him, which wasn't much of a surprise: some of them would disappear for months before returning. He was passed along from person to person as a sort of "Dear John" letter.
The only good that came of this lifestyle was his ability to handle treacherous weather and be prepared for anything bad to come. He was also able to adapt fairly well from person to person, despite seeming like he didn't pay much attention to them. Being left alone for long periods of time also helped him develop a sort of independence, which he took the time to play with weapons brought by alchemists from other excavations around the world. Weapons from Africa, Japan, North America, Egypt, and so on and such forth. Knives, bows, short swords... Anty couldn't handle the larger weapons, so he took quick preference to smaller ones that were easier to handle or hide.
The first chance he got, he hopped on a boat out of Antarctica, more than ready to leave it behind. He most certainly had a lot more to discover.
Sample Post:
no, no, go not to lethe, neither twist
WOLF'S-BANE, TIGHT-ROOTED, FOR ITS POISONOUS WINE;
Ode on Melancholy
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
WOLF'S-BANE, TIGHT-ROOTED, FOR ITS POISONOUS WINE;
Ode on Melancholy
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
To answer a question most recent asked: yes, and not much. How to tarnish a soul is written in many languages, many religions, and dealt with among many of those who take the time to sit and think of how this world truly is. This world, based on the idealist view, is so close to obtaining peace. Only a few more meetings, a pinch more faith, and a dash of dreams. Oh, how wonderful a world as such would be. If only there truly were a recipe for such, rather than those created for disaster. It seemed so simple, but perhaps the complexity of the human mind is incapable of something as such? To gather the countries, states and continents together in order to fulfill this idealism seemed farfetched and only another stew of war, pain, and hunger. So many faces familiar to one another, and yet somehow fate saw fit, as fickle as she is, to invite the one place who didn't belong.
It would be rude not to accept such an offer. To finally be recognized, was this such a bad thing? To say that his opinion counted despite not being a true country all his own? No, he did not accept for this reason, anyway. He didn't care to be heard, for who would listen? He had no language to speak in of his own, people to speak for him, and no currency to even pay someone to sit down and listen to his woes, for he was Antarctica. He was a large landmass of ice, uselessly frozen and incapable of anything fantastic save for knowledge of a history long gone. Like with every ring in a tree, he held many a millennium within him.
However, you see, he does not remember. Who is he to recall something so deeply embedded in himself when he had only recently become conscious of his own existence? So, instead, others have taken it upon themselves to both mentally and physically tear him apart out of their own curiosity of this world. They didn't care enough for him, why would they care about the entire world? It just seemed silly. A goal that isn't allowed to be reached. Had anyone thought of that? Surely he wasn't the only sour one here.
When he looked up again, the scenery had changed. The ground below had gone from a concrete footing to soft dirt. He had been watching the weight in his feet push apart the dirt as it made a footprint in the ground. Of course now he could look back. Now he realized he had footprints to look back on. How was it that everyone expected to find so much in him when he couldn't do it himself? And so forcefully, too!
The air smelled of something entirely unfamiliar... No, that was this entire island. The warm weather had shocked him. He hadn't realized there was such a thing as warmth, really. It had always been cold and colder. He had never even seen his breath before; he had always been that cold.
These things sprouting from the ground, too... What on earth were they? The only thing he has seen sprout up are icebergs or polar bears as they stuck their heads out from their paw-made caves. Perhaps even Russia, Britain and America's rise over the horizon as they came upon him that same year?
He sniffed, the strange smell burning his nose welcomingly. It wasn't that he hated nature. Actually, he had a very curious personality, himself. Nearly all of what was on the island was something he had never seen before. Naturally, he didn't travel much. It wasn't his thing to do. No one ever invited him or anything, either. He was a landmass, who cared? It was the nations he didn't like. No, not just them. Everyone. Everyone and their idealism. And, if they should happen to need only him to finish the deal, then he would decline. World peace would never happen as long as he was still alive. He would make everyone hate him, as long as it made them miserable, themselves.
"Misery loves company, after all." He finally piped up, pausing to look around at the scenery. He was in a field, a large area without buildings and simply covered in all sorts of strange colors. He felt out of place, and yet somehow warm. Was that supposed to be some cruel way of irony?
He blinked, catching the faint whisper caught by the wind. "How despicable..." spat the wind. He had never thought wind was capable of such a clear voice, but he quickly matched it to someone he knew. Someone he knew very well. A snarl then graced his lips momentarily as he looked onward toward the tall, yellow grasses. These were the ones he believed gave off a more distinct smell than anything else.
Sure enough, there he was. His hair seemed to match his surroundings, much more so than this other fellow's. No, this other fellow's didn't match at all. His white hair stood out, and against his pale skin his brilliantly red eyes were like fireballs in the snow. Snow that couldn't exist somewhere so warm. Snow that shouldn't exist, at least not at this time or place.
"I should be taking tea around this hour...not lounging around in the dirt." He sniffed again.
Antarctica approached England, as he figured the character standing around for no apparent reason was. The boy seemed to be snarling, but Antarctica just barely kept his anger hidden behind a disgusted frown.
Among all the countries, England was one of the three he hated most of all.
"You say that, and yet here you've sat on the filthy ground with visibly no intention of getting up," he paused, raising a brow before taking a seat nearby. "Normally I'd greet someone by telling them that they'll catch a cold with how less they're wearing, but now I'm the one who's actually overdressed." He let out a long sigh as if the idea really did bother him.
On the contrary, the thing that bothered him most was this feeling of displacement. He shouldn't be here. What did his opinion matter at this school? He wasn't his own country, anyway. Just a landmass.
And so on and such forth and-- BRITANNIA BEAM. DDD:<