Post by abel on Mar 10, 2010 20:06:08 GMT -5
ABEL EVERETT SELKIRK
Name: Abel Everett Selkirk
Nicknames: Abe, Abey, that one guy.
Age: Twenty-one
Date of Birth: 09/02/89
Grade: Junior
Orientation: Homosexual. But he's ever so discreet about anything to do with this.
Nationality: ½ Scottish - ½ English
Home Town: Ottawa, Ontario. Canada.
Degree: Creative Writing
- Minor: Poetry[/ul]
Play by: Ben Barnes[/blockquote][/blockquote]
--- RESILIENT: Abel, although subtle as he is, is actually very persistent. Once he's committed to something or someone it takes massive amount of suffering or obstacles for him to quit on it, he doesn't give up on his projects, dreams and absolutely never on people. He knows it's one of his strengths, even if he's just hanging on by tooth and nail, he's always confident he won't fall. That being said, it takes a lot to push Abel away or to make him hate you, in a sense, he's a tad thick-skinned to jerks and their ways, and is usually very understanding of those who are brash and abrasive, if anything he admires that trait in others. He's definitely not to the type to be offended easily, even though his sometimes quiet demeanour may speak differently, Abel likes to believe that he's understanding of people enough to accept their ways, no matter how different from his own. However, if there comes a time where he is offended or hurt (which, of course like all people, has happened) he can bounce back rather quickly, not instantly, time is always needed, but moping around about something that happened a month ago is not a moral fibre that exists within his mind, although sometimes the 'moving on' process is sometimes more of a 'bury it under the carpet' sort of thing.
--- GOOD-NATURED: There's no two ways about it, Abel is considered one of the 'good guys', he doesn't have any hateful grudges and doesn't throw sarcastic comments or judgments around like confetti at a party. Abel is what you'd call 'quaint', oft soft-spoken but always polite and courteous, he was raised and taught to be a gentleman and to put others before him, to an extent, thusly this sort of quiet compassion is quintessential to Abel's persona, and is probably the most prominent thing about him. However, to no one's true dismay, being as reserved as he can be he's often looked over and rarely noticed by others, not that he minds, honestly, he understands how the loud and playful ones garner attention and how others just have a natural charisma to them that attracts friends and cheerful smiles. Hence, his admiration for the outgoing and loud. Even he himself realizes that he's naturally attracted to the more talkative and open, while he takes the role of second-fiddle, the listener rather, which suits him just fine.
--- PROTECTIVE: Sensible and perhaps too classy, being protective is just another natural faucet to Abel's personality, he's fiercely protective over the things and people he cares about, whether it'd be a belief or a friend, and even though he can be labelled as the 'quiet one' if one were to talk bad about such things he cares for than the quiet shell of his quickly dissolves and he will actually show some anger, which is very rare for Abel. It really doesn't matter who you are or why you were to say such a thing, but cross Abel about it and he won't let you off with a slap on the wrist, make enemy with his friends and you are his enemy by default. This trait of his coincides with his rather loyal and thick moral beliefs, which can leave him overly serious about most things, but, point being is, Abel protects the things he loves, if not with everything he is, and whether you like it or not.
--- MATURE: Unfortunately, Abel can be overly mature at most times, as said before, this was just how he was raised. He has trouble 'loosen up' and having fun, sometimes even jokes themselves are lost on Abel, it's not that he doesn't want to have fun or wants to kill the fun in anyway, he just has trouble comprehending a lot of it. A sheltered childhood may be the reason for this, and has left Abel's 'silly side' rather dented and left with no room to flourish. On this note, because of his confused perspective upon jovial fun behaviour, Abel finds that the sillier the person the more amusing they are, he may not be able to join in completely, but he certainly loves the infectious happiness and energy and can't get over how different those sort of people are from what he's used to. Just another trait he admires in people, and greatly enjoys.
LIKES: peanut butter, cheesy puns, blue-inked pens, neat handwriting, having a good radio station on, obnoxious references, Dr. Seuss, plot twists, collective writing, libraries, sunrises, anything to do with fantasy.
DISLIKES: writer's block, the overly serious, cynicism, physical violence, vain girls, stupid boys, large bodies of water, realism, vapid purposes, facades, cliché tragedies, Shakespeare hype.
Abel himself would probably say very little about his history, his back story, not due to any secretive personal trauma or unfortunate deaths, or even dishonourable actions, but rather because he finds it lacklustre and not something worth being told. Not that it's like an average Joe's foretelling, but it still lacks the 'oomph' to make for a good story, or writing material even, Abel's mused with the idea of an autobiography, but, he figures, unless something mind-blowing happens in the future it would be one sleepy autobiography.
In Ottawa, Ontario, the grand capital of that cold, happy country known as Canada, Charles and Lyra met in the tall, prestigious buildings of Parliament. Okay, not exactly, but it went something like that.
Charles Selkirk had been raised to be a politician from such a young age, his father was, and he naturally followed the foot steps laid out before him, no matter how winding. And Lyra Barlow had lived in Ottawa her whole life, stark in the city, looming in the shadows of the Parliament building, where the successful go to reign and what really matters happens. Both of them dreamt big, and imagined themselves making a difference with their lives. Shoot for the moon, and you'll be guaranteed to at least fall amongst the stars.
Like most dreams, however, their's didn't go exactly as planned. Charles became a conservative politician, but was never influential enough to truly be known, and all Lyra could amount to in Parliament was secretarial work and book-keeping, definitely not stardom, but certainly not insignificant either. Although, they have moped about their dashed hopes, they truly never let up in what they did, and it wasn't too long before they encountered each other, shared their common belief in shooting high, perfectionism and what have you.
So, as nature would have it, they wed, and they bore child. Only one, so they could lavish and culture and that child would be Abel Selkirk. The boy that they could implement their dreams upon, there would certainly be no dashed dreams for their baby boy, they wouldn't have it. And they did everything in their power to make that so. For as soon as Abel came of comprehensive age, the bombardment of lessons and classes came washing in like an torrential waterfall; etiquette classes, speech classes, from chess to extra French lessons, whatever their parents deemed important they gave to their child. Who, in time, learned not to become overwhelmed, and was more than used to a hectic schedule.
No time for choice, no time for a social life, surely. Busy was more than a word, or an oft chore, basically a life style.
It wasn't until Abel hit the age of seventeen or so that he took an interest in writing, when one of his teachers saw a little more than average ability for someone his age and opted for him to try out a couple local contests. Local turned, city-wide, turned provincial-wide, it was a systematic growth that spurred his love for writing; a perfect outlet to another world, the world of emotions, he could have his own freedom there. He was no dull boy, he knew freedom with his parents was no option. They had set his dreams, his course for life and everything he had to do (they wanted him to do) was placed in front of him, so nothing could go wrong. Heaven forbid he reveal his sexuality to him.
The move to Philadelphia was a bit of a shock to the whole Selkirk family, Charles has finally made something of a name for himself and was told to become a Canadian representative for a legislature. Something of important Abel didn't really care to learn about, because it didn't matter what he or Lyra said, once the offered was made the decision was firmly absolute. It was in the move that Abel became even more reclusive, different country, different people. And it was far too late in his life to foster close friendship that only came with years of time. Thusly, he focused on his writing, in secret from his parents.
The rest is almost history, graduation and application to Emerson, although, as you may have guessed, his parents would certainly not approve of such a thing. However, with gracious lying, twisting of the truth and skilled enough word manipulation, Emerson became a school for 'privileged kids' to Abel's parents, and hopefully they'll never learn differently.
Why Emerson?
If not only for the artistic experience of it all, going out of his way and looking above and beyond in real every day life is not something normal in Abel's books, so to mirror his writing which he constantly tries to expand, going to a gregarious school such as Emerson is also an expansion of his character. He feels he will grow here, and in turn, his writing.
The distance between the UK and Canada was an estimate of 5728 kilometres, or 3559 miles for you non-metric users. But to Bowen, it seemed like a whole other world, light years away. The fact that Bowen had lived his entire life stuck in one place made the outside world an unknown and fascinating place, the only world he knew outside of Ontario had been the world that was reflected off a computer monitor, nothing else. Sheltered, is one way to put it. The few outlet trips to Canada's beloved T-dot only managed to satisfy Bowen's curiosity for short intervals.
So, not to much surprise, when the opportunity to travel to London arose Bowen was nearly floored with excitement. The week of preparation for the trip was nearly too much for him to handle and he had been more giddy than a child during Christmas morn'. His walk turning into skipping with a joyful bounce, and the trip being the only topic that left his mouth. If anything, his family was most likely relieved to rid of him; the goodbyes were not bittersweet, yet quite supportive and cheery. Whether it was his family putting on a facade for him was unknown to Bowen, he was far too oblivious to realize otherwise. If the week beforehand wasn't enough excitement for his blood, the simple aeroplane flight was equally filled with child-like vigour. He had never been on a plane before, so just the experience sent curiosity shooting through his veins, leaving a bewildered sparkle in his eyes. However, the elderly lady that had the unfortunate luck of sitting beside Bowen had to endure hours of endless, excited chatter. Bless her poor soul.
The rest can be easily assumed, touching down in London gave Bowen that look on his face that resembled a kid entering Disney Land for the first time; utter joy. He had ran around, looking and peering at everything he could find, not to mention becoming easily amused by all the accented voices being spoken to him. Nearly getting lost in his enthralled state, Bowen came close to forgetting why he was there in the first place. In all honesty, the consulting with the client could've dampened his mood for several reasons; his accent was so thick with slang that Bowen had become confused multiple of times, there was massive creative differences, and the bad news came with the fact that a place for him to live could not have been set up. Despite all the work-related issues, Bowen's enthusiasm could not be choked, how could it have been? This is Bowen we're talking about after all.
And just when the initial excitement started to fade away Saffron Montgomery showed up with a cheerful smile. It was true that Bowen was just tourist and didn't know anyone in London, but when he had ran into Saffy it was nearly impossible not to like her and foster a close friendship with her. She was so bouncy, so outgoing, it would certainly befuddle Bowen if there was anyone on this green earth that didn't like Saffron. So when Saffron had called him over to help decorate (even though he pretended to resist, using work as an excuse just to listen to her nag cutely for him to come over) he gladly set aside any plans to do so. Technically, this would be his first Christmas not in Canada, and why not make it a merry one with some decorating? Even if it wasn't his place that was being decorated.
Fiddling with the sash on his black peacoat, Bowen huddled against the cold as he made his way to Saffron's flat, he may have been from Canada, a place that was the butt of winter jokes, but London could sure boast about winter all on it's own. God damn it was cold. Shaking the snow out of his dirty blond hair, messing it up even moreso than usual, the time between the knocks on the door and Saffron appearing was alarmingly small. Perfect, they could both be excited little bunnies together. As Saffron spoke a grin slid upon Bowen's face, her excited tone was quite contagious, along with her cheery disposition. Stepping inside, away from the cold, as she moved to let him in, he opened his mouth to speak but caught his voice as the face of a feline was flaunted in front of him. "Well hello there, Shmoo." Bowen cooed to the blue eyed kit, hand reaching out to scratch behind Shmoo's ear, he had to admit, that was one adorable little kitty. "Have you been keeping this beautiful lady company in my absence?" He grinned playfully, taking a moment to adjust to the temperature difference. "Holy cow, Saffy, it's hot in here. Did you turn up the heat this much hoping I would strip down to my bare nothings?" Bowen couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his own amusings.
[/size][/center][/justify]Hi, I'm VAUGHN and I'm NINETEEN YEARS old. I'm BALLING. This is my FIRST application. I found Failure's Not Flattering from SOME ADVERT.
