Post by gabriel sean knight on Jun 30, 2010 13:25:44 GMT -5
UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN
I'M GONNA SOAK UP THE SUN
[/color]character basics -------------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] Gabriel Sean Knight
FULL NAME ,
NICKNAMES ,[/color] Gabe
AGE ,[/color] 22
GRADE ,[/color] college senior- communications major & PE minor
OCCUPATION ,[/color] gymnastics coach
SEXUALITY ,[/color] straight
MEMBER GROUP ,[/color] university student
PLAY-BY ,[/color] Cody Longo
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
I'M GONNA TELL EVERYONE TO LIGHTEN UP
[/color]character personality ---------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] He's afraid of the parallel bars and even more afraid that he'll never get back on them. Wants a girlfriend but doesn't think he can handle commitment.
SECRETS ,
FEARS ,[/color] Letting his students down; getting back on the parallel bars.
DREAMS ,[/color] To get back to gymnastics on a more personal level.
LIKES ,[/color] Women, Indie rock bands, reading, his dog, being complimented on his Britishness.
DISLIKES ,[/color] Being complimented (on things other than his Britishness), people who are too loud, feeling unable, being cold, being alone.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
AND I'VE GOT NO ONE TO BLAME
[/color]character history -------------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] Victoria Knight; fifty; photographer
MOTHER ,
FATHER ,[/color] Daniel Knight; fifty-three; representative for the British embassy
SIBLINGS ,[/color] Elizabeth Knight; eighteen; freshman at University of Maryland
PETS ,[/color] Rodger; border collie
OTHER FAMILY ,[/color] N/A
WEALTH CLASS ,[/color] upper middle
HOMETOWN ,[/color] Winchester, England
OVERALL HISTORY ,[/color] Both of Gabriel's are from rural Great Britain, but he grew up with his sister in Chicago. Shortly after her birth, his fatehr was transferred to America to be a constant representative of the British embassy, so they frequently took trips to New York City but chose to live in Chicago instead. He started gymnastics, however, in England, along with soccer - though, around the age of eight, he realized that he didn't like soccer and devoted all of his remaining time to the former. When he moved to Chicago, they chose a house right down the street from a gym where he could practice for hours at a time any day of the week.
Because of this intense dedication, he was homeschooled, allowing him to work at his own academic pace. By the time he was eleven, he was looking at easily being qualified for the olympics, which were looking for younger and younger people to compete. His parents got him a new coach for the sole purpose of preparing him, and he worked until he was thirteen on perfecting his routine and skills. He realized before he entered, however, that it was too stressful and turning his favorite sport into more of a job than a passion. He pulled out with his parents' support, but he continued to compete at a regional (and then national) level.
When he was seventeen, he received an offer for a full scholarship to Goldengrate University if he agreed to compete in their gymnastics team. Unfortunately, a month or so before he left for college, he suffered a fall through the parallel bars and tore the ligaments in his left knee. He lost his scholarship but still decided to attend, not willing to let the injury ruin any other aspect of his life. Despite the injury, he continues to have a positive outlook on life, and therefore coaches gymnastics at a local gym and continues to take physical education classes for his minor.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
EVERY TIME I FEEL LAME, I'M LOOKING UP
[/color]about the roleplayer ----------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] Riah
NAME/ALIAS ,
EXPERIENCE ,[/color] 5 years roleplaying/6 years writing
OTHER CHARACTERS,[/color] not yet
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE ,[/color]
My days had become monotonous. Something to be endured. They had become the time I had to wait, until that moment where I could see him again. As I scurried down the hall to my locker, I was suddenly in that moment, as i glimpsed him from the corner of my eye. I turned to look at him, my heart faltering, my bones melting and I found myself unable to look away.
He was perfect. Absolutely, uncomprehendingly, beautifully perfect. He was surrounded by a group of his friends, as he so often was, but it was like a ray of light shone down on him and made everything around him obsolete. I tried to catalog this image of him in my mind, sear him into that space behind my eyelids, so that he would always be there when I closed my eyes.
I started with his eyes, my favorite part of him. They were the brightest, most emerald green, and staring into them made my knees go weak. When he smiled, his eyes lit up like what you were telling him was the most joyous thing he could possibly hear. My gaze traveled down his face, passing his straight, aristocratic nose and his full lips, the corner quirked up in an impish smile.
My gaze finally reached his hands and I considered that maybe his eyes weren't my favorite feature, after all. His hands were something of a masterpiece, something that must have been created by one of the greatest artists of all time. They were sure and steady, with long elegant fingers; the kind of fingers that were used to create masterpieces themselves - piano concertos, maybe, I mused, my mind already filling with the beautiful music of the composition he had created for me.
He laughed then, a sudden sound that made me lurch and blush furiously. He had this way of tipping his head back when he laughed that caused his hair to fall into his eyes and he would reach up; brushing his long fingers across his forehead to push the hair away. I studied the movement, wishing more than anything that those were my fingers rather than his.
The bell rang just then, a long jarring sound that brought me back to the unwanted reality of school, stress, and being away from him. He headed off to class with his friends and I reluctantly headed in the opposite direction, already counting the seconds until the next day, the next moment that I would get my next glimpse of him.
He was perfect. Absolutely, uncomprehendingly, beautifully perfect. He was surrounded by a group of his friends, as he so often was, but it was like a ray of light shone down on him and made everything around him obsolete. I tried to catalog this image of him in my mind, sear him into that space behind my eyelids, so that he would always be there when I closed my eyes.
I started with his eyes, my favorite part of him. They were the brightest, most emerald green, and staring into them made my knees go weak. When he smiled, his eyes lit up like what you were telling him was the most joyous thing he could possibly hear. My gaze traveled down his face, passing his straight, aristocratic nose and his full lips, the corner quirked up in an impish smile.
My gaze finally reached his hands and I considered that maybe his eyes weren't my favorite feature, after all. His hands were something of a masterpiece, something that must have been created by one of the greatest artists of all time. They were sure and steady, with long elegant fingers; the kind of fingers that were used to create masterpieces themselves - piano concertos, maybe, I mused, my mind already filling with the beautiful music of the composition he had created for me.
He laughed then, a sudden sound that made me lurch and blush furiously. He had this way of tipping his head back when he laughed that caused his hair to fall into his eyes and he would reach up; brushing his long fingers across his forehead to push the hair away. I studied the movement, wishing more than anything that those were my fingers rather than his.
The bell rang just then, a long jarring sound that brought me back to the unwanted reality of school, stress, and being away from him. He headed off to class with his friends and I reluctantly headed in the opposite direction, already counting the seconds until the next day, the next moment that I would get my next glimpse of him.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
