Post by frumpyandgrumpy on Jul 20, 2016 16:15:04 GMT
A War for the Heart of Our System has Begun
Character: The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (England, specifically)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Occupation: Acting pilot officer in the Maritian Air Force
Home Planet: Bellona, Mars
Sexuality: (Biromantic) Bisexual
Relationship Status: Engaged
Appearance
With a slouched bearing and a lanky, ectomorphic build – there's justification in saying that Arthur's appearance isn't necessarily the most commanding. Standing at a modest 175.26 cm, he is neither the shortest nor tallest of men, and is instead nestled within a safe median like so many others of his ilk.
Yet even the aging eye will notice that height isn't a defining physical element when it comes to distinguishing Arthur from the common crowd. Instead, his defining elements are found within his diamond shaped face. His unruly yellow hair and unkempt brows offer the world something of a hedgehog-esque countenance. While he certainly doesn't tread the waters of being conventionally attractive, there is a certain rugged masculinity to his face that is delicately bundled together by his more byzantine facial hair.
As far as attire goes, he dresses to impress. His military uniform is always tightly pressed and spotless except following strenuous excursions. He tends to get fussy if stains permeate his suit and is the first to pick up a detergent pen at the pick up market in preparation for these infuriating incidents.
When not on duty, Arthur dons a style that can be defined as "preppy casual." Even in casual settings he places emphasis on appearing groomed and presentable. There are days, however, when he longs for the days of not-so-distant youth. When under the influence of these spells, he slips into the unorthodox garb of his reckless adolescence and reminisces on those carefree days within the safety of his home.
Personality
What sets your character apart from the common rabble? What do people remember about them long after they've parted ways? An infectious laugh, a stern disapproval, their tendency to pick their nose? Tell us anything you find important about who your character is in at least 3 paragraphs!
Likes
~
~
~
Dislikes
~
~
~
Backstory
All too often it easy to find oneself lost in the sea, the soft sensation of blue hitting against your sides as you lie helpless, silently praying for a safe journey. Wherever it may end. Perhaps finding paradise in purgatory, a land where riches and succulent coconut juice spring to fruition. Or, just maybe, your soul will be carried away to the harbors of hell. A desolate landscape decorated in impurity and neglect.
Arthur James Kirkland was born in the heart of the solar system to Herbert G. Kirkland and his wife Jeanette (née Munro) Kirkland. It only took the pair a couple of minutes before they realized that Arthur was...average. Beyond a pair of bushes that served as eyebrows, he lacked a certain energy that had been present in his siblings before him. He was underweight as a youth and was seemingly never satisfied with whatever gem that came his way, often exploding into fit of rage that deprived his occupied parents of well-deserved rest.
Herbert, an air vice-marshal for the Martian Air Force, ultimately decided to place the rest of his energy into raising his older boys for life in the military. Jeanette, an prolific writer and social commentator, took care of the growing Arthur. A woman of impressive dexterity, the only weapon that rivaled Jeanette's sharp tongue was her agile mind. She schooled Arthur intensively in many areas before carting him off to one of the local boys' schools (which, in fact, carried the title of being one of the most prestigious and academically rigorous facilities on the planet). It was there that the boy found his métier as a young scholar, excelling in various subjects, and serving as a testament to his mother's teaching abilities and genetics.
While he was found of most academia, he especially took a liking to literature and writing. Frequently he would verbally duel with his instructors concerning subjective opinion and pen tart essays that heavily contradicted common opinion. Even his peers, equally eloquent students, believed his opinions were to "saucy" for the classroom setting.
Still, Arthur wasn't one for easy compromises. He continued to express disdain over the rigidity of his courses, belittling some of the literature selections he was forced to sit through via written medium. It wasn't until Jeanette had slipped him a finely folded note and a cup of tea that he was roused from his ignorant slumber.
"Take it or leave it, Arthur. Clearly, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make that mind of yours budge."
Begrudgingly, the boy complied. However, with his psyche approaching the cusps of adolescence, he found the idea of obedience to be an appalling beast – one that threatened to strangle and stomp on his roaring soul. He began to do some soul-searching, allowing his feral gut to take control as he experimented with various vices. Drinking, experimenting with various drugs (to this day he remains fond of hallucinogens), and stirring the pot whenever he saw the opportunity to do so.
Having traded his suit and tie for leather jackets and scarves, he began to tap into his creative side– finding security and flowing hearts while enrolled in mandatory art courses. And with this sudden discovery of freedom came a slew of new companions. Of course, no one could overlook their indifference towards the institution that engulfed them. The common idea, one upheld by various instructors and staff, was that these students would corrode at Arthur's work ethic and unblemished reputation as an upstanding student.
RP Sample
"Oh, for the love of--"
Brilliant optics were fixated on the blood smeared Earth as he folded his arms across his chest, observing the damage as Joseph tended to the mare's shoulder. Perhaps he should have heeded the warning the Sheriff's warning; the one concerning the extra measures that needed to be taken in order to ensure the safety of local livestock. In truth, he mainly kept his animals around as a means of status. Like the cock strutting its brilliant feathers, Arthur felt compelled to strut his wealth and claim over the town through the adoption of unnecessary possession.
A hen scurried past him as he allowed his hand to run through his untamed crop, attempting to decide his next course of action. Of course, he could continue to feed the narcissistic beast that nuzzled the chambers of his breast. A voracious devil that sustained the man's psyche with every breath and action he instigated. The voice that beckoned him every so often.
Alternatively, he could cage the beast and head off to to town to find the sheriff. If he wasn't hiding behind the bottle again. Lazy piss-artist.
After a prolonged moment of contemplation, he finally sent Twila do to his bidding and fetch an officer. Once she was out of sight, her portly frame suffocating his precious gelding, he went inside to finish breakfast – a sufficient helping of hot bread, and omelet, and fried potatoes. When he was finished his in the process of licking his chops bare before the stomping of hooves echoed through the air. The thumping not one, but two beasts as they danced in harmony throughout the dusty dance floor. "What! She's back already?" he hissed, voice flushed in panic before he sprung off to finish his dress, donning his usual banking attire before racing down the stairs and onto the porch, his form languid as he rested his hip against the railing of the porch, expression implying boredom as he glanced over to Twila, and the young gentleman she had arrived with.
Clearing his throat, he walked down the steps with a composed gait as he approached the pair. "Thank you Twila, that will be all for now." He dismissed the servant before looking at the young man, having failed to shake off a countenance that suggested apathy. "Thank you for coming here, my good sir. I'm sure Twila has filled in some of the details so far concerning my situation, Mister....?" he ended his sentence with a prying question, the other blonde's name having slipped off his memory since their last and brief encounter.
Brilliant optics were fixated on the blood smeared Earth as he folded his arms across his chest, observing the damage as Joseph tended to the mare's shoulder. Perhaps he should have heeded the warning the Sheriff's warning; the one concerning the extra measures that needed to be taken in order to ensure the safety of local livestock. In truth, he mainly kept his animals around as a means of status. Like the cock strutting its brilliant feathers, Arthur felt compelled to strut his wealth and claim over the town through the adoption of unnecessary possession.
A hen scurried past him as he allowed his hand to run through his untamed crop, attempting to decide his next course of action. Of course, he could continue to feed the narcissistic beast that nuzzled the chambers of his breast. A voracious devil that sustained the man's psyche with every breath and action he instigated. The voice that beckoned him every so often.
Alternatively, he could cage the beast and head off to to town to find the sheriff. If he wasn't hiding behind the bottle again. Lazy piss-artist.
After a prolonged moment of contemplation, he finally sent Twila do to his bidding and fetch an officer. Once she was out of sight, her portly frame suffocating his precious gelding, he went inside to finish breakfast – a sufficient helping of hot bread, and omelet, and fried potatoes. When he was finished his in the process of licking his chops bare before the stomping of hooves echoed through the air. The thumping not one, but two beasts as they danced in harmony throughout the dusty dance floor. "What! She's back already?" he hissed, voice flushed in panic before he sprung off to finish his dress, donning his usual banking attire before racing down the stairs and onto the porch, his form languid as he rested his hip against the railing of the porch, expression implying boredom as he glanced over to Twila, and the young gentleman she had arrived with.
Clearing his throat, he walked down the steps with a composed gait as he approached the pair. "Thank you Twila, that will be all for now." He dismissed the servant before looking at the young man, having failed to shake off a countenance that suggested apathy. "Thank you for coming here, my good sir. I'm sure Twila has filled in some of the details so far concerning my situation, Mister....?" he ended his sentence with a prying question, the other blonde's name having slipped off his memory since their last and brief encounter.
Misc.
~Will be updated accordingly. uvu