Post by Feliciano Vargas on Mar 12, 2010 16:58:26 GMT -5
Canon Character Application
Character name: Feliciano Vargas
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Height: 5’5
Weight: 115 ½ lbs
Appearance:
Personality: Feliciano has a very delicate personality. He’s insanely; if not unconditionally sweet to everyone- including his enemies. He’s recognized as being a very spineless and carefree person, never seeming to care about anything more than his art, pasta, and women. No one really bothers to know more about him than that. Upon further inspection, the spineless nature seems to evaporate into a strong-will and resilience to help anyone that’s close to him in any situation. Most people love him just because of his cute face and enticing personality, and also because of his cooking. Although to some, he’s the most annoying twit in the world.
Class: Adventure-er!
Likes:
Pasta
Pretty girls (and occasionally boys that look like girls)
Wine
Art
Travel
Cooking
Siestas
Dislikes:
Hard work
Thinking too hard
When people touch his ahoge
English cooking
Not being able to eat pasta
Going a day without a siesta
Strengths:
-Insanely faithful to people close to him
-Very caring and affectionate to those who need it
-Being able to survive in tough situations—despite being cowardly
Weaknesses:
-Gives up on anything that’s too hard
-He’s useless for just about everything
-cowardly in demanding situations
History: Everyone agreed that Feliciano Vargas lived in a fairytale. His childhood was amazing and rich, his father a merchant; his mother a striking socialite with virtues that most of their class lacked. He always liked to remember the old days- hiding under the ebony table with elaborate swirls and designs engraved in the legs, sneaking in after bedtime to hear stories his father told about his latest adventures with his crew. He listened about China, India, and the fantastic place otherwise known as America. He used to imagine going there; he imagined the strange smells, the strange people and cultures that perplexed him. From his fifth birthday on, Feliciano had a fondness for the arts; whether it be music, (he was paticularly talented with the piano) sketching, painting-- the works. Mostly he enjoyed working with oils, painting landscapes to pass time between wooing girls and his studdies. As he grew older, Feliciano's parents seemed to take opposite sides on his growing interest in painting. His mother always fancied an artsy-type of man, and encouraged him to keep going. Whereas his father sought to make a businessman out of him, rather than an adorible airhead. The three of them had conflicts from the first time he picked up a paintbrush.
Then the unthinkable happened. Feliciano had gone out for the day on his horse, armed with his imagination, paper, and a horse—prepared to paint his way to the perfect anniversary present. That was the day everything changed. He rode up to the charred remains of a stately manor rather than the gleaming brick palace he had once lived in. It took hours to filter through the remains, gathering everything he could to remember his family. At the age of 12 he was an orphan, and alas too young to take over the business. Instead he was sent to the house of relative after relative, eventually when the family got tired of him- he went to an orphanage, where he spent the remaining time of his adolescence scrubbing, mending, and cleaning. All the while his father’s stories stayed with him, and at the markets things would trigger his memory, causing his heart to go through discomforts he would have rather avoided, but that made him more willing to set out and see the world once he turned 18.
That was exactly what he did. After being set free from the orphanage, he took his memories and few possessions: consisting of a set of oil paints, and the clothes on his back onto the nearest ship, eager to see everything his father had once voiced long ago for his own eyes. It excited him that finally, his dreams would come true. Three years into this "exciting" journey, turned out to be not so exciting. Three years of working on ships, stowing away, and learning to cook. In the three years he had spent on ships, the cooks took him under their wing- most noticed right off the bat that he wasn't suited for work on the above-decks. Artsy types like him belonged in the kitchen, and that's exactly where he stayed, perfecting none other than the art of making the perfect pasta.
Sample Post:
Feliciano smiled up at the steel roof encasing he and Ludwig in the little car on the ferris wheel. A stiff; uncomfortable silence fell between them that felt thick as ice. For the time being, it felt as if they were untouchable, as if they were safe from the outside world. As they rose up above the city, Feliciano seemed to be glued to the window.
"Ve~! Ludwig! It's so pretty! It reminds me of a painting I did..."
He stared down at the sparkling lights of the city- the illumination from the millions of bulbs reflected in his eyes, catching Ludwig's attention. Feliciano smiled and looked over at the German mischeviously, his eyes still aglow from the city's reflection, but mixed within his own joy. Joy for the moment; for the fact that he could spend time with his beloved. Feliciano's wine from dinner now seemed to be flooding into effect in his system. He sauntered over to Ludwig daringly. It was one of those moments when your body moved before your brain registered what was happening.
"Don't you think it's pretty?"
Feliciano sat next to the German on the cold bench, leaning over him slightly to still see through the plexi-glass window. They were beginning to descend, and it made Feliciano's heart sink a bit. He had enjoyed his twenty minutes of being higher than everyone, being able to be taller than any being in the city for a few minutes. He wanted to stay there with Ludwig forever.
But alas, the ride was coming to an end, and as the pair scuttled out of the ferris-car, Feliciano wondered if he'd ever get a moment like that again. A moment where he could be closer to Ludwig than ever, close enough to smell the pasta on his breath. (not like he was paticularly smelling his pasta-breath of anything)
Feliciano clutched to the German's arm, afraid to loose him in the swarm of people around the ferris wheel. Moments like this made the usually outgoing and preppy brunette turn inverted and clingy. It was almost like he was holding onto him for dear life, because Ludwig grunted in discomfort.
Vee~ England and his "brittania beam" are scawwy!! D<