Post by Elia Amundsen on Aug 14, 2010 12:07:40 GMT -5
Application Form
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picture of the character[/img][/center]
General
Name: Elia Amundsen
Age: 17
Nationality: Norwegian
Date of birth: May 17th, [1932]
Function: Student
Likes: fish, cute things, Iceland, mythology/magic, sweets/candies,
Dislikes: being bothered, Germans, nosy/loud/annoying people, crowds
IC
Personality
Norway is a quiet and reclusive teen who always keeps to himself and is secretive about nearly anything and everything. This makes him quite mysterious to everyone around him. He is usually quick to retaliate on any direct remarks spoken about him, no matter if he is wrong and the other person is right, and that is something he greatly dislikes: Being wrong.
He can falsely lead some people to believe that he is as soft as he appears to look, but don’t underestimate anything about him. His outward emotions are greatly lacking (as well as most things about him) however, deep inside both his mind and his heart are troubling thoughts and emotions which he dares to try and not express through voice or action.
Also, he is not one to be quite easily broken down because of the stone walls he has built up around him, and he only does this to protect what remaining sanity he has left in him. Easily irritated, he considers everything to be somewhat of an annoyance, and no matter how pokerfaced he is, his aggravation is absolutely heard through how lifeless and/or how harsh his words are whenever he speaks. However, he also speaks with a certain “grace” at the best of times to get what he wants when he is feeling… bold.
Also, there are some exceptions with how he acts and towards whom, but that is few in between. With his (somewhat creepy) aura that he carries around him wherever he goes, it makes him quite unapproachable, even though his appearance contradicts that for some.
Background Story
Growing up, he practically had “the perfect life”. His family weren’t rich, nor were they poor, but compared to most families around them, he and his family were looked up to. His father was a violinist; strict and stubborn, but never lacking in his love for his son. And his mother, well, she was your typical housewife; she cleaned, cooked, and took care of them. She also babied him quite a lot, and it got to a point where, in these times, made everyone frown at him because, unlike most other boys his age, there was just something different about him.
The day his father came home from work early, and caught him wearing one of his mother’s dresses and her makeup, things got a little a different between them.
His father began giving him less attention. Instead, it was being replaced with words of shame towards him, which only got worse as he got older. He didn’t understand why he was being called such degrading things; it wasn’t his fault for being the way that he was. His parents began fighting more and more ever since that one day, and as the year of 1940 rolled along, in the month of early April, his father wasn’t around as much anymore; The Kingdom of Norway was being invaded and his father was called away to help in the resistance of being taken over.
Eventually, sometime late in the year of 1943, he never did see his father again, and the final words he got from him the last time he came home were nothing close to loving. No. He didn’t know who or what to hate most, but it went without saying that he still held hate for the Germans that killed his father, and yet, he was thankful for it. After learning what the words his father called him meant, he was sure glad he wasn’t around anymore, and he didn’t feel entirely bad for thinking that, too. How could anybody have any sliver of sorry for a father whose last words before departing to resist the Nazi occupation were nothing short of cruel?
Then again, it’s because of his father that he blames the reasons for his actions on and to him, it’s a justifiable reason that he does what he does out of sheer spite.
Or so he thinks, anyway.
Not too long after getting the note that his father had passed, and after days of comforting his mother following it, he decided he needed a break from all that. It was about late afternoon, hitting evening for sure, when he saw him. He wasn’t sure why, but something had clicked. A feeling he couldn’t express and… he wanted him. It was in that moment where he took his way of life to a whole new level.
He was glad that his home was close by and as he ran there, hoping that the boy he saw outside would still be there, he rushed into his bedroom and pulled out a long wig he bought to piss off his father. It was an expensive thing and looked so very real, and that was all that mattered. He had taken one of his mothers nicest dresses too and her best make-up, and as he dressed himself up, he thought up a new name…
“Tomine.”
Since his introduction to the boy as a “she“, they hung out. A lot more, too. It eventually led to them being together, as boyfriend and girlfriend. He was never happier than being with the bright-eyed boy from Denmark. They held hands, hugged, snuck kisses here and there (and by Thor’s hammer, did it ever feel so good) and on the rare occasion he got to cope a feel now and then. However, there was one thing he denied the Dane from ever doing…
Months passed, and it wasn’t until the day where (Denmark) mentioned something about joining the Danish Resistance where he got so mad about never seeing him again, that, before he knew what he was doing, he pushed the other down a set of stairs. Funnily enough, their relationship remained intact after the incident and he may have felt bad for injuring the Dane bad enough that he couldn’t walk, but atleast now he couldn’t get away to be part of the war. He still had him by his side, and vice versa.
However, all good things must come to an end.
The night (Denmark) was fully healed and well, Elia found himself pinned between the wall and him. (Denmark) wanted to thank him. The Norwegian was pleased about the way the other decided to show his gratitude. They had been kissing, and well into it too that he forgot everything else. Everything he wanted to remain hidden. He had felt a hand move down his side, felt that same hand travelling lower and up under his dress (that belong to his mother) and it wasn’t until his eyes shot open, meeting eyes that were just as wide as his, that everything went straight to hell; the one thing he never wanted (Denmark) to do, he had done.
To say he was heartbroken was saying the least. To say he left (Denmark) with a few bruises was also not admitting much. All he remembered was that he grabbed the chair that was by his side and smashed it against the Dane. Once… twice.. A third time. He left the home with an unconscious Dane behind him.
Only to return to his own home to the questioning looks of his mother. He told her he was dressed that way because he was bullied into it; which helped explain why he was crying. A day later, his mother had found out the truth from a raging mother, yelling about how sick of a child he was. After that, Elia’s mother didn’t know what to do for him (in other words, didn’t want to deal with him) then to send him away to be “cured” and it wasn’t long until those people sent him to a boarding school in France.
A student of Fond de l'Etang, he is one trying to forget a relationship, a person he loved, and attempting to erase old habits. However, old habits aren’t easy to break.
Extras
- Like many others, he has a mysterious curl of hair, that when touched, ignites a certain reaction that would be best be kept away from the public eyes.
- He wears a hairpin that holds significant importance, so beware from ever stealing it.
- He has a pet, that he says he sees and it follows him around everywhere.
PS. Any other extras will be any “twists” that weren’t mentioned directly
RP sample
“…ISLAND!”
Everything happened so fast. Denmark had come bursting through the front door, immediately seeking out a fight with Sweden. He, in that split moment, booked it upstairs, so swiftly, to demand his son to remain where he was. “Don’t come downstairs! Whatever you do! Please don’t come downstairs!” This must be it. That bad feeling he had all day. Something screamed to him that it was. Rushing back down, almost tripping on the stairs as he did so, he slid back into the room and came in too late. It was always too late…
As he slipped downwards onto the ground, he broke down, having witnessing this once too many. This was it… this was it... this was it. It was a mantra he kept repeating because he knew it. He just knew this was the last straw. He could see it written across Sweden’s face as he was lifted high into the air. He saw something snap within the Swede and that was when he couldn’t watch the fight anymore so he bent his head down, holding it tightly, fingers grasping his hair as he shook it vigorously. Why.. why did things have to end up this way…
He saw Tino be lifted up by Denmark and he couldn’t move at all to help him. He was frozen in his place and his lips was sealed shut. He was so weak and he knew no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t do much at all. He was frail, still recovering from his illness, with the only strength being what he got from Denmark. He didn’t notice it at first but his cheeks began to feel wet and as he saw Sweden hit the ground what seemed like the umpteenth time, well, this time he knew; Sweden was down. He lost. His legs moved then, thinking it was because he was getting up to help him but it was quite the opposite.
---
Hours fleeted by, slowly, one by one. He couldn’t sleep at all and how Denmark could was beyond him. Then again, it made sense. He was above them all and so what did he have to fear? Not too much apparently. As he observed the Dane’s beaten face his train of thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a door opening, cool wind blowing in, and then closing. He knew what just happened. Willing himself to move he crawled out from Denmark’s arms and off the bed and limped his way over to the window. This took longer than it should have. Supporting himself on the windowsill he looked out, watching the figures of both Sweden and Finland run away.
He was envious.
OoC
ways to contact you outside of the RP! It's not necessary though.
MSN: fjord.faerie@hotmail.com
AIM: Tesuramarii
Email: cult.clueless@hotmail.com
Skype: faerienorge
Application Form
General
Name: Elia Amundsen
Age: 17
Nationality: Norwegian
Date of birth: May 17th, [1932]
Function: Student
Likes: fish, cute things, Iceland, mythology/magic, sweets/candies,
Dislikes: being bothered, Germans, nosy/loud/annoying people, crowds
IC
Personality
Norway is a quiet and reclusive teen who always keeps to himself and is secretive about nearly anything and everything. This makes him quite mysterious to everyone around him. He is usually quick to retaliate on any direct remarks spoken about him, no matter if he is wrong and the other person is right, and that is something he greatly dislikes: Being wrong.
He can falsely lead some people to believe that he is as soft as he appears to look, but don’t underestimate anything about him. His outward emotions are greatly lacking (as well as most things about him) however, deep inside both his mind and his heart are troubling thoughts and emotions which he dares to try and not express through voice or action.
Also, he is not one to be quite easily broken down because of the stone walls he has built up around him, and he only does this to protect what remaining sanity he has left in him. Easily irritated, he considers everything to be somewhat of an annoyance, and no matter how pokerfaced he is, his aggravation is absolutely heard through how lifeless and/or how harsh his words are whenever he speaks. However, he also speaks with a certain “grace” at the best of times to get what he wants when he is feeling… bold.
Also, there are some exceptions with how he acts and towards whom, but that is few in between. With his (somewhat creepy) aura that he carries around him wherever he goes, it makes him quite unapproachable, even though his appearance contradicts that for some.
Background Story
Growing up, he practically had “the perfect life”. His family weren’t rich, nor were they poor, but compared to most families around them, he and his family were looked up to. His father was a violinist; strict and stubborn, but never lacking in his love for his son. And his mother, well, she was your typical housewife; she cleaned, cooked, and took care of them. She also babied him quite a lot, and it got to a point where, in these times, made everyone frown at him because, unlike most other boys his age, there was just something different about him.
The day his father came home from work early, and caught him wearing one of his mother’s dresses and her makeup, things got a little a different between them.
His father began giving him less attention. Instead, it was being replaced with words of shame towards him, which only got worse as he got older. He didn’t understand why he was being called such degrading things; it wasn’t his fault for being the way that he was. His parents began fighting more and more ever since that one day, and as the year of 1940 rolled along, in the month of early April, his father wasn’t around as much anymore; The Kingdom of Norway was being invaded and his father was called away to help in the resistance of being taken over.
Eventually, sometime late in the year of 1943, he never did see his father again, and the final words he got from him the last time he came home were nothing close to loving. No. He didn’t know who or what to hate most, but it went without saying that he still held hate for the Germans that killed his father, and yet, he was thankful for it. After learning what the words his father called him meant, he was sure glad he wasn’t around anymore, and he didn’t feel entirely bad for thinking that, too. How could anybody have any sliver of sorry for a father whose last words before departing to resist the Nazi occupation were nothing short of cruel?
Then again, it’s because of his father that he blames the reasons for his actions on and to him, it’s a justifiable reason that he does what he does out of sheer spite.
Or so he thinks, anyway.
Not too long after getting the note that his father had passed, and after days of comforting his mother following it, he decided he needed a break from all that. It was about late afternoon, hitting evening for sure, when he saw him. He wasn’t sure why, but something had clicked. A feeling he couldn’t express and… he wanted him. It was in that moment where he took his way of life to a whole new level.
He was glad that his home was close by and as he ran there, hoping that the boy he saw outside would still be there, he rushed into his bedroom and pulled out a long wig he bought to piss off his father. It was an expensive thing and looked so very real, and that was all that mattered. He had taken one of his mothers nicest dresses too and her best make-up, and as he dressed himself up, he thought up a new name…
“Tomine.”
Since his introduction to the boy as a “she“, they hung out. A lot more, too. It eventually led to them being together, as boyfriend and girlfriend. He was never happier than being with the bright-eyed boy from Denmark. They held hands, hugged, snuck kisses here and there (and by Thor’s hammer, did it ever feel so good) and on the rare occasion he got to cope a feel now and then. However, there was one thing he denied the Dane from ever doing…
Months passed, and it wasn’t until the day where (Denmark) mentioned something about joining the Danish Resistance where he got so mad about never seeing him again, that, before he knew what he was doing, he pushed the other down a set of stairs. Funnily enough, their relationship remained intact after the incident and he may have felt bad for injuring the Dane bad enough that he couldn’t walk, but atleast now he couldn’t get away to be part of the war. He still had him by his side, and vice versa.
However, all good things must come to an end.
The night (Denmark) was fully healed and well, Elia found himself pinned between the wall and him. (Denmark) wanted to thank him. The Norwegian was pleased about the way the other decided to show his gratitude. They had been kissing, and well into it too that he forgot everything else. Everything he wanted to remain hidden. He had felt a hand move down his side, felt that same hand travelling lower and up under his dress (that belong to his mother) and it wasn’t until his eyes shot open, meeting eyes that were just as wide as his, that everything went straight to hell; the one thing he never wanted (Denmark) to do, he had done.
To say he was heartbroken was saying the least. To say he left (Denmark) with a few bruises was also not admitting much. All he remembered was that he grabbed the chair that was by his side and smashed it against the Dane. Once… twice.. A third time. He left the home with an unconscious Dane behind him.
Only to return to his own home to the questioning looks of his mother. He told her he was dressed that way because he was bullied into it; which helped explain why he was crying. A day later, his mother had found out the truth from a raging mother, yelling about how sick of a child he was. After that, Elia’s mother didn’t know what to do for him (in other words, didn’t want to deal with him) then to send him away to be “cured” and it wasn’t long until those people sent him to a boarding school in France.
A student of Fond de l'Etang, he is one trying to forget a relationship, a person he loved, and attempting to erase old habits. However, old habits aren’t easy to break.
Extras
- Like many others, he has a mysterious curl of hair, that when touched, ignites a certain reaction that would be best be kept away from the public eyes.
- He wears a hairpin that holds significant importance, so beware from ever stealing it.
- He has a pet, that he says he sees and it follows him around everywhere.
PS. Any other extras will be any “twists” that weren’t mentioned directly
RP sample
“…ISLAND!”
Everything happened so fast. Denmark had come bursting through the front door, immediately seeking out a fight with Sweden. He, in that split moment, booked it upstairs, so swiftly, to demand his son to remain where he was. “Don’t come downstairs! Whatever you do! Please don’t come downstairs!” This must be it. That bad feeling he had all day. Something screamed to him that it was. Rushing back down, almost tripping on the stairs as he did so, he slid back into the room and came in too late. It was always too late…
As he slipped downwards onto the ground, he broke down, having witnessing this once too many. This was it… this was it... this was it. It was a mantra he kept repeating because he knew it. He just knew this was the last straw. He could see it written across Sweden’s face as he was lifted high into the air. He saw something snap within the Swede and that was when he couldn’t watch the fight anymore so he bent his head down, holding it tightly, fingers grasping his hair as he shook it vigorously. Why.. why did things have to end up this way…
He saw Tino be lifted up by Denmark and he couldn’t move at all to help him. He was frozen in his place and his lips was sealed shut. He was so weak and he knew no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t do much at all. He was frail, still recovering from his illness, with the only strength being what he got from Denmark. He didn’t notice it at first but his cheeks began to feel wet and as he saw Sweden hit the ground what seemed like the umpteenth time, well, this time he knew; Sweden was down. He lost. His legs moved then, thinking it was because he was getting up to help him but it was quite the opposite.
---
Hours fleeted by, slowly, one by one. He couldn’t sleep at all and how Denmark could was beyond him. Then again, it made sense. He was above them all and so what did he have to fear? Not too much apparently. As he observed the Dane’s beaten face his train of thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a door opening, cool wind blowing in, and then closing. He knew what just happened. Willing himself to move he crawled out from Denmark’s arms and off the bed and limped his way over to the window. This took longer than it should have. Supporting himself on the windowsill he looked out, watching the figures of both Sweden and Finland run away.
He was envious.
OoC
ways to contact you outside of the RP! It's not necessary though.
MSN: fjord.faerie@hotmail.com
AIM: Tesuramarii
Email: cult.clueless@hotmail.com
Skype: faerienorge
