Prosper Darcy
Aug 24, 2010 17:00:57 GMT -5
Post by Prosper Darcy on Aug 24, 2010 17:00:57 GMT -5
[/i][/size][/right]The Basics
Name: Prosper Mikhail Darcy
[pros-per mick-hail dar-see]
Nicknames: ‘‘Pros,’’ ‘‘Darcy’’
Age: Twenty Five
Orientation: Heterosexual
Desired Rank/Job: Photography Teacher
Powers: Telekinesis
Play By: Zachary Quinto
The Details
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Chocolate
Any Piercings? No
Any Tattoos? Moon Phases - Spine ; Bar Code - Underside of Right Forearm
Any Scars? Evidence of electric stimulation on his upper torso, and the sides of his neck, as well as other moderate marks of mutilation.
General Appearance:
PHYSICALITY: When it comes to stature, Mr. Darcy certainly lives up to the meaning of his first name. Prosper stands around six feet even, adding a meaningless few inches; and, weighing in at 140 pounds, he boasts ample build. Although marginally (but not sickly) thin for his heighth, it is safe to say that he can contend with the taller of his brethren.
Upon closer inspection - that is, an observation of finer details - our subject in question has a pallid complexion, contrasted by dark points of pigmentation. On his torso and the sides of his neck is evidence of torture - darkened pinpoints of skin suggesting the use of an electric rod by some assailant. Otherwise, he possesses fairly unique and symbolic inflictions - the tattoo of the lunar phases going down his spine, as well as the bar code from his captive days, on his right arm. Despite the fact that he is only twenty five, his black hair is riddled with strands of ‘‘salt and pepper.’’ He has a set of observant, often half-lidded chocolate eyes that, in the right lighting (rather, lack of) assume the illusion of abysmal ebony, blending with his pupil.
WARDROBE: More often than not, Prosper prefers to adorn himself in semi-casual / semi-formal clothing. A mixture of dark, fit jeans and a nice button up, for example, serve as his generic outfit items. He loves things like military boots and coats, as well, and possesses an affinity for darker fabrics.
Personality:
FRANK: Prosper is terribly blunt when it comes to any sort of information, whether it be educational / factual, or just his opinion. However, unlike most, his sort of frankness is not borne of impulse, or malice - he just appreciates being heard when he feels there is something important to be conveyed. Often, he can be perceived as offensive, when he intends no hard feelings. He does not blurt his thoughts for the sake of giving someone a complex - he does so to bring the facts, or his perception, to one's attention - in the hopes of improving them, or even himself.
ALOOF: This is a branch of his frankness, and is perhaps the pinpoint aspect of his personality that makes him seem so unapproachable. Even in his most casual, affable of moods, Prosper can still be quite the tight-walker - unpredictable, or either higher above or below everyone else on a social scale. His resigned, just-here-to-observe-and-exist attitude will bluntly walk him away from a potential conversationalist without the decency of a ‘‘nice to meet you,’’ even if he himself was the one who initiated the interaction in the first place. Usually it is out of discomfort of lack of interest - not a intentional wish to harm anyone's feelings. Still, on such occasions, undertaking any interest in him as a conversational partner may be fruitless and disappointing.
INTOLERANT: There is a small threshold in the way of offensive interactions that Mr. Darcy can put up with, primarily due to the rough deck he's been handed in life up until now. Although generally laid-back when those around him are reasonable, Prosper has been known to drop his good opinion of individuals rather eagerly, and flare vocally. It is actually rare for him to physically display his distaste through violence - his method lay dormant within his mentality and eloquence.
FRAGILE: Oddly enough - despite his otherwise frank nature, and fairly immense mental strength - in his anger, despair, self-negativities, et cetera, Prosper tends to brood instead of vent, prompting bouts of depression, stress, paranoia, and even short spurts of self-infliction. He is also insecure and possessive (afraid to lose someone, or himself).
ADAMANT: To put it simply, Prosper is stubborn. Once his mind is made up - unless great amends are made to change it - there is no flexibility. He is terribly driven, and even obsessive.
NURTURING: In the event that some individual or another ascends the ladder from acquaintanceship to friend, Prosper is a in-deterrable guardian. In such cases, even his own well-being means little in comparison. For his characteristic determination, it is no surprise that, given the circumstance, he would fight to the death for a loved one. If a companion has been hurt, or is going through a rough time, it is not uncommon for him to drop (or put aside temporarily) what he is doing in order to assist them through it, to the best of his ability.
AFFECTIONATE: Apart from his determination, loyalty, and protectiveness, Prosper is a romantic. He bonds closely and strongly, when given the chance. He has a tendency to be extremely tender and loving. Despite not being fond of physical contact, in a relationship - whether with close friends (with which he is also affectionate, to an extent) or a significant other - this peeve is understandably less potent.
PASSIVE: Under ‘‘normal’’ circumstances, by nature, Prosper is laid-back and affable enough. He is not afraid to engage in friendly and casual conversation, humor, et cetera. Really, beyond his ease of irritation, discomfort and other symptoms of trauma, Darcy can be quite composed.
[ Of course, he is not limited to these personality traits. Some may fade, some may arise. However, these listed to tend to be his distinguishing features. ]
Your Vices
[/b][/color][/size][/right]
Likes:
× Photography
× Creative Writing
× Traveling
× Walking
× Reading
× Old Films
× Coffee
× Vintage
× Rock & Classical Music
× Alcohol
Dislikes:
× Physical Contact
× Therapists
× Illiteracy
× Laziness / Complacency
× Hip-Hop
× Television
× Politics / Gov't
× Junk Food (with the exception of brownies)
× Magazines
× Stereotypes / Boundaries
Strengths:
× Creativity
× Writing
× Composure
× Eloquence
× Guarding
Weaknesses:
× Pain Threshold
× Night Terrors
× Intolerant
× Paranoia
× Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Fears:
× Torture
× Loss of Will & Individuality
× Insanity
Secret: Murder.
Family Ties
Father: Michael Darcy (Disowned)
Mother: Kristina Van Fossen {Darcy} (Disowned)
Siblings: Angela Darcy (Sister)
Any Other Important People: Drama, the Borzoi (Russian Wolfhound)
History
Prosper Mikhail Darcy was born on December 24, 1984, in Paris, France. He had a fairly normal upbringing, sharing a suburban home with his parents, Kristina and Michael Darcy, and his younger sister (by five years), Angela Darcy. Due to the occupations of both parents (with fields in the state department), the family remained in various parts of France over the course of his childhood.
His abilities did not begin to manifest until he was twelve; and he kept them a fair secret until he was thirteen, when the telekinesis was uncontrollable. Horrified, his parents, ignorant of the danger they were putting him in, immediately called their physician. A few days later - screaming, kicking, biting and flailing - an enraged and distressed young Darcy was dragged out of bed in the early morning. To date, he has not seen his family since. Whether or not his younger sister developed any anomalies is unknown to him, and for her sake, he hopes to God that she did not.
Unfortunately for Prosper, the Hammel Institute was out of the question for him, his region being out of their jurisdiction. He was taken to a ward where he, while attempting to hone his abilities on his own, was subject to questionable and inhumane ‘‘studies.’’ For nine years he bore the abuse and agony; however, saying that he put up with it is entirely false. Certainly, he survived it - but he is not innocent of crimes against those who tampered with him so brutally. Finally, under civilian pressure, the ward's integrity collapsed, and all patients were released under US and UN discretion.
Then, twenty two and disturbed, Prosper eventually made it back to the United States where, fleeing to the only safe haven he could discern, he ventured to the area around the Hammel Institute. It is here that he continues to hone his skills, and attempts to recover from a lifetime (up until now) of horrors.
[ History is vague, I know. I, however, prefer to let the details and such unravel through roleplay. For the time being, and under the circumstance (the little bit being required), this should suffice. ]
Roleplay Example
Shamys remained so callously indifferent on his stoop that the mere passerby usually not dare disturb him - to the bystander who'd been there long enough to observe, this was the young man's third cigarette in around twenty minutes. The air was thick with smoke around him, but his exterior as bright as the healthiest individual ever put on god's green earth. They couldn't understand it. And Shamys regarded them with as much interested humanity as a dull old livestock animal, or some beast with his own itinerary. It wasn't until some girl came along and wrecked his silence with her nagging that he actually paid any mind to anyone on the street. She'd come a little too close for his liking, but Shamys merely welcomed the adamant female with a wide, closed grin, his eyes squinting ever so lightly, the liner around them smudging faintly together at the creases of his lids. The male was amused more than anything, even annoyance didn't plague him when she was merely a breath away - to him, at least, for all of his senses were so magnified that he could almost taste what she'd indulged in around an hour ago. Often he loathed this aspect of his physicality, the acute sensory, because most people had god-awful taste in food and drink.
But his gifts were both those, and curses, depending upon the angle in which one looked. Shifting himself to the side, Shamys regarded the women from her tipsy-toes all the way up to a little flyaway hair popping up on her head, his arms now crossed over his torso. "Well, nosiness slayed the ninny, and you can't kill what's already dead, anyway," was his snide, entertained response to her distaste. "You don't oblige yourself to live or work here," he remarked, gesturing toward the macabre, old-fashioned theatre sign reading the name of the place in spindly letters, "and we're outside, love. Go 'way, if it bothers you that much." Shamys realized that she really hadn't been belligerent, but he was intuitive enough to pick up on how disgusting she found his habit. Good Londonese-delivered logic, in a smartass tone, was all it boiled down to be.
He watched her in silence for the time being, although when she began to move, so did he. Instead of really following her though, he began crossing the street at a slow, ineffective diagonal direction, so that it seemed to take him forever to get to the other side. It was there that he paused on the stoop to Distortion again and twisted to regard her. "I like you. Then again, I am prone to liking everyone, whether or not the feeling is mutual." This was true. Shamys liked people because they sustained him, were both his food source and an object of envy, obsession, and fulfilling interaction. He always outlived them, though, these humans. Never before did he recall having a true or potent attachment to one; he simple liked them. "And you, too, are entertaining. It isn't often I get a nice swipe to the chest by a woman.. unless of course there are certain reasons why I'm in the presence of a woman who does such..." Smiling devilishly, he popped out a second cigarette and, without lighting it up, stuck it between his teeth and chewed, to keep his constant urge to devour at bay. "I'm sorry to tell you such news - I am who I am. A lover," he said, with measured amounts of sarcasm and seriousness in his voice.
What About You?
[/blockquote]
Name: Noelle
Age: 17
Experience: Six Years, give or take.
How Did You Find Us? RPG-D
Ready To Play? JaJa. :]
