Post by Chris Evans on Dec 1, 2006 12:12:33 GMT -5
About Me//
Name: Nessa
Age: Nineteen. Yeah, I’m old. Deal with it…
Gender: Female
How many hours do you spend online daily? I’m online all day. Yup, I have no life.
Your Character//
Name: Christian Liam Evans
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Look-a-Like: Ian Somerhalder
Appearance: Mysterious; that’s the one word that comes to mind upon first sighting Chris. This look transcends into his personality as well, and being unreadable is something he prefers. Piercing hazel green eyes can be unnerving at times, and even though it seems as if he’s reading your soul, he’s really just looking right through the person. Not many people capture his attention and can keep it, and he doesn’t make the effort to find anything to like. Dark brown hair is just long enough to tickle the base of his neck, and he doesn’t allow it to grow any longer so as not to slip into a feminine-like appearance. Thick and just short of messy, it flops unto his forehead, just creeping over his eyebrows.
Somewhat tanned, naturally so with his ancestry, he only gets slightly pale during the winter times. Although he has facial hair, he keeps it at that five o’ clock shadow level, not wanting to be /too/ scruffy. Standing at 6’2”, the overall ‘tall, dark, and handsome’, phrase comes to mind, but he doesn’t appreciate being liked or judged for his appearance alone. After all, he’s much more than the surface.
And he pretty much wears anything, according to how he’s feeling on a particular day. Let’s just say reading him isn’t exactly easy. He likes it that way though. After all, being predictable makes one a pretty boring individual – at least in his eyes.
Personality: As aforementioned, Chris is a rather mysterious person. He’d rather keep to himself and his own thoughts, than enjoy the company of another. It’s not from a dislike of others, but more from him liking to observe other people than full out talking to him. And if you /do/ get the opportunity to have a conversation with him, it would be best to not bore him. He gets distracted easily…so maybe he just has an attention disorder; whatever.
Not one to just like person because it is expected, probably does make Chris a hard person to love. It’s just that he’d rather be his own individual than following the crowd and trying to fit into a group. So obviously he doesn’t kiss ass, and isn’t about to start either. If he doesn’t like a person, he’ll make it own, not one to put up false pretenses and have people around him when he’d rather them just leaving him alone.
Very much arrogant and conceited, Cole finds it hard to admit that his ideas are wrong. He has that certain need to be right, and would either argue his point until the other person gives up, or he’d just walk away feeling that the other person was full of crap. This coupled with his stubbornness, makes it difficult for him to make friends with people who don’t see or won’t accept his point.
Rather liking his own beliefs, he finds it hard to accept those of other people. With a lack of empathy, he won’t feel sorry for whatever bad happened in someone’s life. It just isn’t his way. Their problem, they deal with it. Case closed. He doesn’t like other people delving into his personal life, and definitely won’t take kindly to rumors that include him. He’s an arrogant dick and trying to defame his character is unacceptable.
Background: Born and raised in New York, Chris could as well be considered a ‘Yankee’. He isn’t from the richest of backgrounds, living modestly and working for a living. He wasn’t raised in the ghetto, but he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth either. There’s something about him that prefers not living off of someone else though, and feeling accomplished to be dressed in something he didn’t work for, or showered in diamonds he didn’t earn save crying to daddy.
Coming from a rather large family, he has this undying love for them and anyone else who manages to get close to him for that matter. They helped mold him in a sense, and although them moving to another state hurt him somewhat, he felt the need to stay in New York and be his own individual. Maybe someday he’d move to where they’re located, but for now he could only just content himself with e-mails and daily phone calls.
There’s nothing else that can really be mentioned about Chris, without destroying his image as a mystery.
Sample of Role Playing: “Still wrong?” he asked himself, a look of pure confusion creasing his features. The pencil fell from the now loose grip of his thin fingers, crashing with a silent thud against the hardwood of the writing desk. “How can it still be wrong?” he questioned the empty room, as if expecting the solid, inanimate walls to supply him with an answer. As quickly as the question was posed though, a hand reached out and shoved the papers off the table, frustration-filled grey-blue eyes watching their descent to the floor.
For weeks, Cole had been trying to find the solution to the new program, and it was starting to take its toll on him. Deep, dark circles tinged the skin beneath his eyes, giving him an almost zombie look – lack of sleep tended to do that to a person. It was easy for an outsider to see that he was stressed out, and that only meant one thing. Colby Hill had gotten himself stuck between a rock and a hard place once again, and this time daddy wasn’t around to bail him out.
His eyes drifted to the clock, absently watching the minutes until his impending deadline, disappear. Every time the hands moved, the ticking sound was amplified, turning him into a nervous wreck. He jumped upon feeling a vibration against his right leg, but closed his eyes, as he realized that it was only his cell phone. “You’ve got to get a damn grip man,” he muttered, giving himself a little pep talk as he reached into the pocket of his black slacks and removed his cell. Taking a deep breath, he checked the caller i.d., and immediately tensed up, noting that the call was from an unknown source. Should he answer it? He better, for if it was Mr. Granville, he’d end up having to deal with someone off the phone as well, and that was a meeting he’d rather not have. “Hello?” he spoke into the phone, trying to sound his usually calm, collected self.
“Mr. Hill,” the caller’s voice floated through the phone, the tone deep and raspy with a slight deadliness laced through it, enough to send chills down anyone’s spine. “Serenity’s Club on the Strip. One hour.”
Before Colby could reply, the line went dead, so he removed the phone from by his ear and expelled a ragged breath. He couldn’t inform Mr. Granville that he was having troubles with the program, so once again he’d have to lie and ask for more time. Closing his eyes, he ran an agitated hand through his short dark blonde locks, messing the hair up. On any other day, he would have been somewhat good-looking; his light blue button-down shirt having two buttons undone, and dark loafers were situated on his feet. Today wasn’t any other day however, and he sighed, knowing he’d need to get the new virus created, or Mr. Granville may never leave him be.
Pushing his hands against the sides of the chair, he stood to his full 5’11 height with some difficulty. It wasn’t that his frame was too great for him to handle, but rather the weight of his emotions were grand and making him both physically and mentally exhausted. The world wasn’t about to see this side of him though, so he trudged to his adjoining bathroom with a mission, one to clean himself up.
Cool water flowed from the faucet as he turned it on, using his hands to cup the liquid in his palms before splashing it unto his face. Using the hand-towel on the rack next to the sink, he wiped the water from his sun-kissed skin, taking a look in the mirror. The person he saw reflected from the glass wasn’t the usual Colby, but it was as close to his usual self as he was about to get. Dragging a comb through his hair, he nodded to his reflection, deeming his appearance worthy of presentation.
Exiting the bathroom, he grasped his keys with his right hand, squeezing gently as if the metal could give him some re-assurance that everything was going to be alright. It didn’t though, and he strolled through the front door, plastering that signature smirk unto his face that his family, friends and acquaintances had come to known so well. No matter how he was feeling inside, outsiders were never to know what was wrong. They’d end up using it against him for sure, and Colby Hill /was not/ one to have anyone walk over him or his emotions.
[/center]Name: Nessa
Age: Nineteen. Yeah, I’m old. Deal with it…
Gender: Female
How many hours do you spend online daily? I’m online all day. Yup, I have no life.
Your Character//
Name: Christian Liam Evans
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Look-a-Like: Ian Somerhalder
Appearance: Mysterious; that’s the one word that comes to mind upon first sighting Chris. This look transcends into his personality as well, and being unreadable is something he prefers. Piercing hazel green eyes can be unnerving at times, and even though it seems as if he’s reading your soul, he’s really just looking right through the person. Not many people capture his attention and can keep it, and he doesn’t make the effort to find anything to like. Dark brown hair is just long enough to tickle the base of his neck, and he doesn’t allow it to grow any longer so as not to slip into a feminine-like appearance. Thick and just short of messy, it flops unto his forehead, just creeping over his eyebrows.
Somewhat tanned, naturally so with his ancestry, he only gets slightly pale during the winter times. Although he has facial hair, he keeps it at that five o’ clock shadow level, not wanting to be /too/ scruffy. Standing at 6’2”, the overall ‘tall, dark, and handsome’, phrase comes to mind, but he doesn’t appreciate being liked or judged for his appearance alone. After all, he’s much more than the surface.
And he pretty much wears anything, according to how he’s feeling on a particular day. Let’s just say reading him isn’t exactly easy. He likes it that way though. After all, being predictable makes one a pretty boring individual – at least in his eyes.
Personality: As aforementioned, Chris is a rather mysterious person. He’d rather keep to himself and his own thoughts, than enjoy the company of another. It’s not from a dislike of others, but more from him liking to observe other people than full out talking to him. And if you /do/ get the opportunity to have a conversation with him, it would be best to not bore him. He gets distracted easily…so maybe he just has an attention disorder; whatever.
Not one to just like person because it is expected, probably does make Chris a hard person to love. It’s just that he’d rather be his own individual than following the crowd and trying to fit into a group. So obviously he doesn’t kiss ass, and isn’t about to start either. If he doesn’t like a person, he’ll make it own, not one to put up false pretenses and have people around him when he’d rather them just leaving him alone.
Very much arrogant and conceited, Cole finds it hard to admit that his ideas are wrong. He has that certain need to be right, and would either argue his point until the other person gives up, or he’d just walk away feeling that the other person was full of crap. This coupled with his stubbornness, makes it difficult for him to make friends with people who don’t see or won’t accept his point.
Rather liking his own beliefs, he finds it hard to accept those of other people. With a lack of empathy, he won’t feel sorry for whatever bad happened in someone’s life. It just isn’t his way. Their problem, they deal with it. Case closed. He doesn’t like other people delving into his personal life, and definitely won’t take kindly to rumors that include him. He’s an arrogant dick and trying to defame his character is unacceptable.
Background: Born and raised in New York, Chris could as well be considered a ‘Yankee’. He isn’t from the richest of backgrounds, living modestly and working for a living. He wasn’t raised in the ghetto, but he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth either. There’s something about him that prefers not living off of someone else though, and feeling accomplished to be dressed in something he didn’t work for, or showered in diamonds he didn’t earn save crying to daddy.
Coming from a rather large family, he has this undying love for them and anyone else who manages to get close to him for that matter. They helped mold him in a sense, and although them moving to another state hurt him somewhat, he felt the need to stay in New York and be his own individual. Maybe someday he’d move to where they’re located, but for now he could only just content himself with e-mails and daily phone calls.
There’s nothing else that can really be mentioned about Chris, without destroying his image as a mystery.
Sample of Role Playing: “Still wrong?” he asked himself, a look of pure confusion creasing his features. The pencil fell from the now loose grip of his thin fingers, crashing with a silent thud against the hardwood of the writing desk. “How can it still be wrong?” he questioned the empty room, as if expecting the solid, inanimate walls to supply him with an answer. As quickly as the question was posed though, a hand reached out and shoved the papers off the table, frustration-filled grey-blue eyes watching their descent to the floor.
For weeks, Cole had been trying to find the solution to the new program, and it was starting to take its toll on him. Deep, dark circles tinged the skin beneath his eyes, giving him an almost zombie look – lack of sleep tended to do that to a person. It was easy for an outsider to see that he was stressed out, and that only meant one thing. Colby Hill had gotten himself stuck between a rock and a hard place once again, and this time daddy wasn’t around to bail him out.
His eyes drifted to the clock, absently watching the minutes until his impending deadline, disappear. Every time the hands moved, the ticking sound was amplified, turning him into a nervous wreck. He jumped upon feeling a vibration against his right leg, but closed his eyes, as he realized that it was only his cell phone. “You’ve got to get a damn grip man,” he muttered, giving himself a little pep talk as he reached into the pocket of his black slacks and removed his cell. Taking a deep breath, he checked the caller i.d., and immediately tensed up, noting that the call was from an unknown source. Should he answer it? He better, for if it was Mr. Granville, he’d end up having to deal with someone off the phone as well, and that was a meeting he’d rather not have. “Hello?” he spoke into the phone, trying to sound his usually calm, collected self.
“Mr. Hill,” the caller’s voice floated through the phone, the tone deep and raspy with a slight deadliness laced through it, enough to send chills down anyone’s spine. “Serenity’s Club on the Strip. One hour.”
Before Colby could reply, the line went dead, so he removed the phone from by his ear and expelled a ragged breath. He couldn’t inform Mr. Granville that he was having troubles with the program, so once again he’d have to lie and ask for more time. Closing his eyes, he ran an agitated hand through his short dark blonde locks, messing the hair up. On any other day, he would have been somewhat good-looking; his light blue button-down shirt having two buttons undone, and dark loafers were situated on his feet. Today wasn’t any other day however, and he sighed, knowing he’d need to get the new virus created, or Mr. Granville may never leave him be.
Pushing his hands against the sides of the chair, he stood to his full 5’11 height with some difficulty. It wasn’t that his frame was too great for him to handle, but rather the weight of his emotions were grand and making him both physically and mentally exhausted. The world wasn’t about to see this side of him though, so he trudged to his adjoining bathroom with a mission, one to clean himself up.
Cool water flowed from the faucet as he turned it on, using his hands to cup the liquid in his palms before splashing it unto his face. Using the hand-towel on the rack next to the sink, he wiped the water from his sun-kissed skin, taking a look in the mirror. The person he saw reflected from the glass wasn’t the usual Colby, but it was as close to his usual self as he was about to get. Dragging a comb through his hair, he nodded to his reflection, deeming his appearance worthy of presentation.
Exiting the bathroom, he grasped his keys with his right hand, squeezing gently as if the metal could give him some re-assurance that everything was going to be alright. It didn’t though, and he strolled through the front door, plastering that signature smirk unto his face that his family, friends and acquaintances had come to known so well. No matter how he was feeling inside, outsiders were never to know what was wrong. They’d end up using it against him for sure, and Colby Hill /was not/ one to have anyone walk over him or his emotions.
