Post by MuschiPuppe on Sept 21, 2007 0:23:12 GMT
THE ACTOR
[/size][/b]Name: Muschi, or whatever else you want so long as I know you're talking to me. xD
Age: young
Means of Contact: email
Role playing Experience: couple years, like, 3 or 4, maybe 5
Your Activity Level: pretty active, I guess an 8?
Other Characters: a whole ton
THE PART
[/center][/b]Full Name: Sandy Glücklich
Nickname
Gender: male
Age: 24
Date of Birth: May 29
Mother: Elena
Father: Kris
Siblings: (older sisters) Fria, Yusa, Gynada, (younger sis) Kiffany
Sexuality: not sure
ON THE OUTSIDE
[/center]Appearance: Sitting on his bed, knees drawn up halfway towards his chest, was the form of a young man. He was about 5'9" in height, not too short, but he was so scrawny. He never ate much here, being locked up wasn't exactly good for your appetite. One hand was set behind him, which he was using to lean on for balence. The other hand he was using to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He didn't know what time it was, it didn't really matter anyway. Not that he had to be at work, or anyplace else.
He was a bit of a sick-looking person, with his pale skin and gaunt face. The drab uniform he wore hung loosely off his body. Bleach-blonde hair, the natural brown color showing slightly at the roots and underneath, was cut erratically, choppily, at about chin-length. No doubt a cut he'd done for himself. It came down over his ears, which were marked with holes, but he wore no earrings. Not in this place.
Sandy blinked open his sleepy eyes, exposing them to be a pale yellow-green color, and almond-shaped. Not the stereotypical European round. He gave a light shake of his head, shaking some of the strands of hair from his face. That feminine face, with peach-fuzz as pale as his bleached hair for stubble. Not that he would be easily mistaken for a woman, but there was something, maybe in the pink of his mouth, that gave him a woman's quality.
A dirty woman. He was always a messy thing. On his arms were scars left from burns, a funny but common contrast to his plastic asylum bracelet. The same sort of marks were on his back, but those weren't visible. Not usually anyway.
Image:
Celebrity Portrayal: Not a celeb, just me dressed up. lol.
ON THE INSIDE
[/size][/center]Personality: Likes? Dislikes? Well, there was one thing certain from the start. Sandy does not like this place. He hates being treated like this, like an animal and a baby all in one. Kept in a small locked room, probed and bothered and having people try and make him talk. That's another thing he doesn't like. Talking. Not that he would never do it, he could carry a conversation if he trusted the other person, but these so-called doctors, they aren't the type you could trust.
But as for likes, that's a little more mysterious. He loves music. Not every type, but certain songs just hypnotize him. Surf music, electronic dance, 80s hits, and German folk songs, they can put him at ease like not much else can. He likes birds and cats, and thinking of people painting. But he can not isolate himself all the time. At times he becomes bored and watches other people, or even goes to initiate a meeting. He's typically more comfortable speaking with people younger than himself, or who look younger anyway, and a lot of the time he can speak calmly, like he just wants a friend.
On the other hand, if Sandy was completley innocent, he wouldn't have come here. He can be very manipulative, and it's hard to tell when he's speaking out of loneliness or because he wants to get something. Sometimes he thinks of plans, over the course of days, and then goes to try and carry them out, most of the time using other patients as props.
He has few habits, other than scratching at his hair and looking out windows. A lot of the time he just acts introverted. He has a morbid fear of epileptics and, of course, will fight against being medicated, unless he's having an off day where he just can't care about much.
IN THE PAST
History: As a kid, from the ages of 7 to 12, he had an obsession for water. Well, that's what his family took it for anyway. He would slink into the bathroom and turn on the sink, stop up the drain, and just watch until it filled up the bowl and spilled out onto his clothes and the floor. At 14, his family moved to Ohio from Germany, and he found the opposite obsession, with fire. The burns on his hands were accidents at first, but after a while they were more of an experiment. By the time his family started to worry about him, he was 18 and out of the house. He went from job to job, apartment to apartment, and girl to girl. Not a bad life but definitley never settled. His interest in fire dimmed but he became more withdrawn, sometimes dissapearing for days at a time. A few days after turning 23 he broke into his ex-girlfriend's apartment, took her handgun, and climbed up onto the flat roof of the apartment to try and shoot passerby on the sidewalk. He didn't hit anyone, but was almost killed by a police bullet when someone called 911. It barely missed him, he wasn't hurt. After that he was taken to an insane asylum and released a few months after. He was supposed to check back but never did, he blended back into society, creeping off to live in a different state. He wasn't found until his roomate caught him trying to overdose on sleeping pills, and that's how he wound up here.
Relationships with Parents: He doesn't know where they are, but is fairly certain they don't want anything to do with him.
Relationships with siblings: His two oldest sisters are angry with him and haven't spoken with him since he left Ohio. His other older sister (Gynada) isn't sure what to think. She calls him now and then, or sends a letter, but mostly sides with her older sisters. Kiffany has always sided with Sandy, and tried to offer him protection from police, but since he's been brought to this place she is afraid to make contact with him.
BACK TO THE PRESENT
Role play Sample:
((An intro I used to use.
))They were out in the graveyard tonight, but not to pray or remember. Not these changelings. They chased eachother back and forth, blurs of fur, charged with energy. They dashed through the tombstones, marking the smooth dirt with paw prints, until one of them stopped and the other one banged into him from behind. They both fell down on the ground, quiet other than the panting from their hot mouths.
If a person were close by they would see the scrawny figures of a pair of coyotes, one sandy-colored and one ink-black, with their tongues hanging from their pointed muzzles. A second later, though, the sound of laughter appeared, and instead of coyotes laying on the dirt there were a pair of young men.
It was easy to see the similarities between their human and canine shapes. They were still scrawny, with messy and matted shoulder-length hair which matched the colors of the coyotes' fur. Their dirty clothes were stained with faint, old blood and fresh mud, and their fair skin looked dusty with streaks of dirt.
The blonde, almost cleanshaven, had wide light-blue eyes. He was dressed in a white t-shirt, torn bluejeans, black tennis shoes on slim feet. The black-haired one had dark brown eyes, and there was more stubble around his mouth. He was dressed more or less the same as his friend, but had on a dark blue shirt as opposed to a white one. The blonde sort of stood out in the darkness, but he didn't. He blended in better.
Given an even closer look, they were slightly torn-up. Recent cuts bled into the sleeves and sides of their shirts, making little dark spots. Animal bites that they had given eachother. After a few moments of resting, the blonde shifted and crept over to his friend. He gave him a playful nip, in the shallow wound at his shoulder, and the black-haired man gave a quiet cry which turned into a laugh.
"Please Case, that hurts..."
The blonde grinned back at him. "What's the matter?" he teased, his voice scratchy, "Too sharp for you?"
The magic phrase: What it says in the banner, with the crying person, on the southeast side.
