Post by Ichabod Anthony Yule on Jun 25, 2009 22:30:13 GMT -5
ICHABOD ANTHONY YULE
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&&--You, who shall pull the strings
[/size][/center]Name: Anni
Age: 16
Roleplaying Experience: Nearly five years
How you found the site: ..can’t remember anymore
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&&--The character cheat sheet
[/size][/center]Name: Ichabod “Ichy” Anthony Yule
Gender: Male
Age: Eighteen
Hair Color: Auburn
Eye Color: Bright blue
Skin Tone: Pale
Height: 5’3’’
Weight: 110 lbs.
Wealth: Poverty
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Why they are in La Campana: He saw an opening for a music teacher and snatched at the opportunity.[/size]
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&&--What makes the clock tick
[/size][/center]Likes:
- Horror movies
- Running
- Guns
- Playing any instrument
- Play-fighting
- Rock-climbing
- Archery
- Riding horses
- Soccer
- Rabbits, Foxes, Wolves, Horses, and Dogs… Cats, too
- Confusing people
- Reading
- Sketching
- Games
- Singing
- Music, particularly classical or Punk-rock
Dislikes:
- Giraffs
- American Football
- Zoos
- Cows
- Salads
- Breasts
- Money
- Ribbons
- Frills
- Pro-wrestling
- Operas
- Soap Operas
- Liver
- Prejudice
- Idiots
- Manicures/Pedicures
Turn Ons:
- Humor
- Biting on his neck
- Playing with his hair
- Confusing personalities
- Soft fabric
- Cuddling
- Honesty
- Egotistic
- Someone earning control
- Pain
Turn Offs:
- Blowing in his ear
- Those who think he’ll take control
- Pet-names
- Sweet-nothings…they make him laugh
- Rough fabric
- One-night stands
- Humility
- Shyness
- Bad hygiene
Nervous Habits:
- Mumbles
- Pokes his index fingers together
- Gnashes his teeth
- Taps his fingers
- Hums
- Flicks his wrists
- Neck twitches
Fears:
- Spiders
- Loneliness
- Rejection
- Horror movies
- Ghosts
- Fire
- Water/drowning
- Living on the streets
Goals/Aspirations:
- Move to a big city
- Travel the world
- Become a famous musician
- Get a motorcycle
- Find a boyfriend
Appearance: Ichy is not particularly masculine in appearance, though he’s not feminine by all accounts. His shoulders are broader than a woman’s, but his stomach curves more than a man’s. His arms are not thick and menacing, nor small and twig-like. His hips are sharp, legs thin and straight. His hands are wide, his fingers thin, and his skin is a pale peach. His nose, cheeks, and arms tend to freckle in the sun, perhaps the off-spring of his undeniably auburn hair, short and wavy. He generally has to push it out of his eyes constantly and he isn’t impartial to complain, but he refuses to cut it any shorter. His eyes are a bright, crystalline blue, spikes of silver in the mix, always emotive and honest. He dresses simply, though his clothing is always a bit worn and not at all expensive or flashy. He always keeps himself bundled up and warm, even if it’s ninety or even one-hundred degrees outside.
Personality: You know those maniacal geniuses you hear so much about? ...Yes? No? Maybe? Well, Ichy is exactly one of them. He’ll be the first one to finish a difficult assignment, then completely go the other way and try and convince you that brains are really just mushrooms named Harold that just want to be understood and loved and a thousand other things that don’t even make the slightest amount of sense, to either him or you. He’ll waste time reading fantasy or romance novels instead of studying or working on anything in particular, and still get a 100 on the test or homework, even if he does it the day or even class period before it’s due. He’s not a hard-worker in the least, not unless he particularly wishes to make a point by achieving something, or just wants something, and even then he tends to be a little lazy. He much prefers sitting there munching on Fruit snacks than grading the last few tests, and sometimes goes as far as enlisting help from others, particularly students, so he can be even more lazy than usual.
He’s the kid with his head in the clouds 24/7, dreaming up a possibly awkward scenario about anything and anyone, just so he can write music to it later. He always has a dreamy expression, always says the strangest of things, and tends to think faster than he speaks, perhaps sounding a little ‘out-of-the-blue’ to anyone listening in. Of course, he tends to be a little on the quiet side, so confusing others with his words generally isn’t a problem. This is, of course, until he gets excited or particularly joyous or hyper, in which case he can talk a mile a minute and not care a bit about if the other is even paying attention. Some might find him a bit childish in such a way, and he agrees. In his opinion, being childish is one of the best pastimes in the history of ever and growing up is simply a term people use for losing the ability to have any sort of fun that didn’t include alcohol, sex, drugs, or watching golf on Saturdays. Telling him to act his age only worsens his childishness and you might just find yourself being poked repeatedly until you snap.
Ichy is a very optimistic person. He’ll be the first to comfort someone with white lies or faulty promises, or just try and make them laugh and forget about their problems, at least for a little while. He believes whole-heartedly that there is good in anyone and everyone and he usually makes a point to see it, even going as far as making a list, just to prove, either to the person himself or to another, that there is some good, and he can prove it! This generally amuses him greatly, though one must ignore the fact that he’s entirely too easily amused even from the smallest of things. The meaner and more seemingly evil someone is, the longer the length he’ll go just to prove they aren’t as bad as people think. Dangerous? Possibly. Annoying? Probable. However, he really does mean good with his possibly irritating advances and theories, as he enjoys making friends with everyone, especially those who don’t seem to have friends elsewhere.
Childishness aside, as well as his constant habit of making jokes, Ichy can be serious if he sets his mind to it, and sometimes when he doesn’t even mean to be. Particularly around the sore subject of money, he has a tendency to get a little depressive, and far quieter than he normally is. If left alone for a certain amount of time, his mind tends to wander over such subjects, memories that he prefers not to bring up. Of course, once someone takes actual notice of his solemn mood, he’s quick to forget all about it and be quite perky again. He doesn’t stay bitter or depressive, or even angry, for very long, preferring childish contentedness, his ability to ignore the bad easing him into a possibly false sense of security.[/font]
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&&--A glimpse of the past
[/size][/center]Father:
Mother:
Sibling/s:
Other important relatives:
Pets: --
History: Ichabod was one of the unplanned children in the Yule household, nested in the green country side of England. Dmitri and Samuel had both been welcome surprises, of course, Madison and Marcus the same. Georgia, Harvey, and Oliver were planned, though came a little earlier than had been expected. When they had started out, after all, James and Patricia had wanted only three or four children. They were a well-off couple, with few money concerns, but by the time Ichabod came along, they already had seven, and their bank accounts were beginning to feel the strain. While Patricia was an orphan from a young age, James’ parents were both very wealthy, if divorced, and they helped when the couple allowed them to, though that wasn’t very often. Patricia did not work, as per James’ decision, as he found it his own duty as the man of the house to provide for his family. The strain Ichabod set in, however, forced the man to reconsider his options and, soon enough, the kids were in day-care whilst Patricia worked as hard as possible, teaching at the schools or working shifts in the local library. They were a prideful couple, never accepting help from the community, friends, or family, but the fact was, was they were in a bad situation. The house was small, only two bedrooms, and food was hard to come by. Toys were something of the past, and the children had to rely on imagination for games and entertainment.
When Bartholomew, nicknamed Barrie, came along, things only got worse. They lost their house within a couple of months and were forced to move in with James’ parents, who, though more than happy to help, began to feel a little strained as well. Nine children were not easily taken care of, after all. The family continued to live together in the grandparents’ home until Ichabod was four years old. At this time, James and Patricia had saved up enough money to move into a moderately nice house just outside of Oxford. They swore to repay the hospitality they had received, though they never truly got the chance they needed to do just that. Money was still strained, but the children were much better off than they had been before, certainly, though the parents still worked and the children still went to day-care. Ichabod was seven when his grandparents died. They left everything they had to James and his family, including a piano. It wasn’t anything exciting at first, of course, and generally just sat against the wall in the living room, collecting dust. It wasn’t for a few months until Ichabod started to mess around on it. His parents labeled him a virtuoso, though not a prodigy. He could play in months what prodigies could in days, and what normal children could in years. His teachers, however, disagreed with the notion, quite convinced that, even though he wasn’t a musical master-mind, he certainly had a better than normal mind on him. He excelled in classes far faster than his classmates. He was quick on his feet, if a little aloof, and soon, instead of entering the normal third grade, he was moved to fifth, from fifth to eighth, and from eighth to tenth.
He graduated high school at thirteen, much to the slight chagrin and pride of his siblings, and utmost happiness of his parents. Whilst he wasn’t particularly shabby or displeasured by any particular subject, neither was he excited by any particulars expect for one—that of music. He received enough scholarship money to pay for a good portion of his university path, his professor helping him as much as possible, perhaps more so than any other student, to follow his dream of learning perhaps every instrument in existence. He excelled in piano, his first instrument, as well as strings and woodwinds, though he found it particularly difficult to work brass, especially the larger ones such as the tuba. He graduated university, unsurprisingly, earlier than most—the four year path, a major in Music and minor in Education, took no longer than two and a half. He found himself moving out of his home and into his own at sixteen, completely legally, even. He received special permission for a drivers license and, after a couple of months teaching at a local private school, had saved enough money to buy a moped. Perhaps it wasn’t the best choice for a first vehicle, given the difficulty of getting groceries from the store to his apartment, but it was simple, and much cheaper than most used cars he found. He came out to his parents when he was seventeen, just before moving to London to further his musical career. They were a little disappointed, obviously, but they accepted him without much hassle.
Living in London wasn’t the best choice he’d had, not by a long shot. Ichy soon found it incredibly difficult to be found out by anyone, and playing on the streets didn’t give him a lot of money. His bank ran dry within two months, and the selling of his moped didn’t give help much. He was living on the streets or in shelters, with more instruments in his lone suitcase than clothes. He refused to tell his family about his issues, however, as he was fully aware they could hardly spare any money for him. He continued to play on the streets for as much food or money as he could until he started to look for other options—namely, teaching once more. He gave a personal swear that he would still work on his career as a musician, but he wanted, at least, to be financially stable. He started offering private lessons around neighborhoods, charging perhaps a little lower than he should have. He continued this for months until he spotted something on a library computer—a job opening. The school sounded a little strange. Reformation for orientations, meaning, but it was a boarding school, and Ichy reasoned that boarding schools generally paid more than public, even private, schools, and especially more than lessons. He signed up as soon as possible.
Roleplaying Sample: ((Apologies for the suck ;-; ))
Marcus had his eyebrow cocked and his hands on his hips. Normally, this would be a rather feminine posture and thus be made fun of, but this was obviously much different. The family was all gathered together, including the in-laws, and they all had that same ‘what the bloody hell?’ expression on their faces. Ichabod wasn’t quite sure if he was exactly pleased with these reactions, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed his decision, after all, and nothing could dampen that! He was still grinning like a fool with his hands clasped together in front of him like some Opera singer ready to scream her next piece and call it music. Jesus Christ, the only time that shit didn’t make his ears bleed was if it was done well, like Nightwish or Within Temptation had sorted it all out. Oh, drat, his mind was going off again, wasn’t it? No worries! He could completely get back on subject! …What was he speaking of again? Oh! Right… their reactions. Several moments had passed before anyone did anything, but, surprisingly, it was Harvey who spoke first.
“…You’re goin’ whe’e now?”
“To Spain!”
“…An’ why?”
“To teach!”
Someone growled, most likely Dmitri, and several others gave long, exasperated sighs. Ichabod was still very pleased, however, with his announcement, and he still had his smile, his position, and his bright disposition all in place. No doubt, someone was wanting to wring his neck right now. “We know that, Ichy. We heard that the first time!” Dmitri was ever the snappish one, wasn’t he? Finally, Ichy frowned, and he let his hands burry into his pockets instead of cupping in front of him. “No need ‘o get rude, ‘Mitri, I ‘as onlay ‘avin’ a ‘itt’e bit o’ fun, I was, “ he paused and hummed. “La Campana boardin’ school, ‘twas colled, and ‘ou’ll do well to ‘ememba tha’! I wan’ you be sendin’ me le’ers!” He grinned and winked. There was groaning again, from Madison it sounded like. Well! Everyone was being quite the rude little pessimist, weren’t they! They weren’t even going to congratulate him or anything! He nearly pouted with dissatisfaction, if only to poke some fun and get a little pity out of the lot of them.
“Ichy, you rea’ize you’re gay, goin’ to teach a’ a school ‘or reformin’ gay kids, ‘eah?”
“Course I do, sillay! But i’s not like ‘m gonna be teachin’ agains’ et! ‘m jus’ teachin’ music, I am, and ‘ey can’ do nothin’ abou’ tha’! I ‘ould wri’e a ‘ole gay orchestra piece and they wouldn’ know a bloody damn thing abou’ et!”
“Tha’s not the poin’, Ichabod! Why you go’a go all the way ‘o Spain, anyways?”
Ichy paused a moment. If he wasn’t mistaken, Oliver nearly sounded disappointed… He never seemed to care much before, did he? He was glaring, like always. He was always the one with the chip on his shoulder and a bad attitude, after all, and Ichy never expected he’d care so much he was gone. After all, they argued constantly… For a moment more, the short boy just stood there, not really sure what to say or do that would consol the other, before he gave a little smile and tilt of his head to the side. “’ey, Olivah, it ain’t gonna be forevah, ‘eah? I’ll be back ‘fore you know et, and ‘en we ‘an be mates again, ‘eah?” Oliver didn’t answer—the others looked out of place, shuffling their feet or twiddling their thumbs, fiddling with their sleeves. After a moment or two, the man simply huffed and walked out of the room. Ichy grinned.
Aha! Victory!
...Totally…
