Post by BRECKIN CALEB TURNER on Jun 30, 2010 22:41:08 GMT -5
UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN
I'M GONNA SOAK UP THE SUN
[/color]character basics -------------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] breckin caleb turner
FULL NAME ,
NICKNAMES ,[/color] he mainly goes by caleb.
AGE ,[/color] 22
GRADE ,[/color] --
OCCUPATION ,[/color] mechanical engineer
SEXUALITY ,[/color] heterosexual
MEMBER GROUP ,[/color] tourist
PLAY-BY ,[/color] chris pine
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I'M GONNA TELL EVERYONE TO LIGHTEN UP
[/color]character personality ---------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] not necessarily a secret, but Caleb is a man of great riches - he hardly speaks of his finances. Experienced same-sex relations as a freshman in college.
SECRETS ,
FEARS ,[/color] not being a success, too much change, royally screwing up, bees, tripping while holding a knife.
DREAMS ,[/color] he's not a hopeless romantic, but as any other person on the world's surface, he wants to find someone to love and perhaps create baby calebs with.
LIKES ,[/color] math, strawberry fantas, daily 10, chelsea lately, the outdoors, cars, painting rooms in his house, prime time television, just going out for rides (though gas prices have cut this down tremendously) traveling, hair products, mathematics, hanging around, waking up late, orange juice, kids, the lake, schedules.
DISLIKES ,[/color] apple juice, grapes, gas prices, most music, having to get up at the crack of dawn, the subject of english and any other language for that matter, animals, the color purple, being late, packed days, crowded spaces, doing the laundry, having nothing to watch, myspace.
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AND I'VE GOT NO ONE TO BLAME
[/color]character history -------------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] CAITLIN SHAREA-TURNER - 45 - works with statistics (mother)
MOTHER ,
FATHER ,[/color] JACOLBY TURNER - 45 - Accountant (father)
SIBLINGS ,[/color]
MAHOGANEY GALE TURNER - 25 (sister)
KAYLEIGH LIZ TURNER - 20 (sister)
PETS ,[/color] Simba the Rough Collie
OTHER FAMILY ,[/color]
WEALTH CLASS ,[/color] upper-class
HOMETOWN ,[/color] boston, mass.
OVERALL HISTORY ,[/color]
- has always spent the summers in italy with his father - since the age of six until this year
- his parents divorced when he was eighteen, yet they are still close in contact, however that's when his father decided to move from boston to italy permanently.
- three months ago, in the beginning of the summer, caleb's father passed of heart disease at such a young age. he flew to boston with the body and casket to hold the services close to the rest of the family. they buried him beside his mother.
- a month ago, caleb returned to tuscany to pack the remainder of his father's things and decided to spend the remainder of the summer here.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
EVERY TIME I FEEL LAME, I'M LOOKING UP
[/color]about the roleplayer ----------------- *[/i][/size][/center]
[/color] mac
NAME/ALIAS ,
EXPERIENCE ,[/color] 5 or so years
OTHER CHARACTERS,[/color]
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE ,[/color]
Bruce took a moment, debating on whether or not he'd dignify her curiosity with a true response. He admired her open curiosity, but, moreover, felt that there was a difference between his public life and his private one and felt as though this teenaged girl had yet to cross the border into both, despite the fact that she'd sawm past his moat and made it to the house. He was a man of several defenses. In fact, he was more than willing to bet his entire fortune on the ideal that it was his lack of trust for mankind as a whole that had gotten him thus far. Nothing against the girl, her spunk or her age - though all of her attributes did play key roles - Bruce just wasn't a man of trust. Likewise, he wasn't the type to spill unnecessary information. He chuckled lightly at her question, stepping down several stairs as he spoke, "Occasionally,," humor danced with his chocolate hues as he continued, "but only to sleep, eat and well, handle other activities that will keep me going from day to day.." It was true, Bruce Wayne wasn't a comic, but he did possess a sense of humor.
The thought of Alfred recieving help amused him to extent. So far indeed that he actually laughed aloud at the idea. Caught off guard by his own reaction, Bruce subsided into chuckles and lingered in his step, a quarter of the way down the staircase. If anyone understood the term independent, aside from himself, it was his current foster father and long time friend, Alfred. It was actually the butler that Bruce had stolen the trait from, though his characteristics were also attributed to the the collection of terrors in his past. Even when his parents had been alive, Alfred had played a key role in Bruce's life, preparing him and taming him at an early age for the scrutiny of the world. The man liked for things to be done a certain way and knew that if he did whatever task awaited, it would be done right; helping hands took up too much space and got in his way and Bruce could only respect that. "Alfred is hardly a man that will recieve help, Charlotte and there is nothing around this house to hold you entertained while you wait for Tim to show up again." Why a loner and his butler would possess any kind of game was beyond him. He couldn't possibly imagine what she expected to do to past time. A nap was the only option however, with the girl before him, it just didn't seem reasonable.
He followed her into the kitchen, rolling his long sleeves into quarter-lengths as he shadowed her. His actions hiccuped once she mentioned her mother and quickly dropped the subject. In that time, he froze, caught a glimpse of her expression and went back to what he was doing, not wanting to be the one to pass the critical eye of judgement. He'd recieved it much himself when he was younger, even now, and oddly, found Charlotte relatable in that brief moment of time. It was then that Bruce realized he knew nothing of her; it wasn't like him in the slightest to let someone into his household without milking his sources for their personal information. Age shouldn't have beat down his defense like that - he would readily blame the solution of passion and sorrow in her eyes. She was much like Tim in that way - in those eyes. It wouldn't have been a surprise if somewhere down the line the two discovered that they were of the same blood.
"Alright, Charlie," unfamiliar on his lips, the name was sour. Her confession - if it could even be considered that - caught Bruce on his toes. Though he wasn't ungrateful, he couldn't penetrate how to respond without sending the wrong message. He'd offered her a meal, not a period of sharing and bonding. As sweet as Miss Radcliffe was, Bruce hadn't signed up for personal confessions. Bruce nodded, a notable smile scrawled across his features. "I'm going on a limb here, but you are welcome to to come by anytime you need something: a place to stay, something to eat. You've yet to get in the way, so I see no problem with it; however, on your visits, I'd prefer that you didn't go poking around. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm a private man." With that, he leaned into the fridge and withdrew a hand of sandwich meat, the other with cheese. "I'm going to invest in cell phones for the two of you," He turned to the counter - before he had time to grab a plate, Alfred appeared from his quarters and began preparing the sandwiches. Obviously, he'd been disturbed by the little noise they were making. "That way this doesn't happen again," Bruce wasn't a babysitter and perhaps a notification could have prevented him from feeling like one.
The thought of Alfred recieving help amused him to extent. So far indeed that he actually laughed aloud at the idea. Caught off guard by his own reaction, Bruce subsided into chuckles and lingered in his step, a quarter of the way down the staircase. If anyone understood the term independent, aside from himself, it was his current foster father and long time friend, Alfred. It was actually the butler that Bruce had stolen the trait from, though his characteristics were also attributed to the the collection of terrors in his past. Even when his parents had been alive, Alfred had played a key role in Bruce's life, preparing him and taming him at an early age for the scrutiny of the world. The man liked for things to be done a certain way and knew that if he did whatever task awaited, it would be done right; helping hands took up too much space and got in his way and Bruce could only respect that. "Alfred is hardly a man that will recieve help, Charlotte and there is nothing around this house to hold you entertained while you wait for Tim to show up again." Why a loner and his butler would possess any kind of game was beyond him. He couldn't possibly imagine what she expected to do to past time. A nap was the only option however, with the girl before him, it just didn't seem reasonable.
He followed her into the kitchen, rolling his long sleeves into quarter-lengths as he shadowed her. His actions hiccuped once she mentioned her mother and quickly dropped the subject. In that time, he froze, caught a glimpse of her expression and went back to what he was doing, not wanting to be the one to pass the critical eye of judgement. He'd recieved it much himself when he was younger, even now, and oddly, found Charlotte relatable in that brief moment of time. It was then that Bruce realized he knew nothing of her; it wasn't like him in the slightest to let someone into his household without milking his sources for their personal information. Age shouldn't have beat down his defense like that - he would readily blame the solution of passion and sorrow in her eyes. She was much like Tim in that way - in those eyes. It wouldn't have been a surprise if somewhere down the line the two discovered that they were of the same blood.
"Alright, Charlie," unfamiliar on his lips, the name was sour. Her confession - if it could even be considered that - caught Bruce on his toes. Though he wasn't ungrateful, he couldn't penetrate how to respond without sending the wrong message. He'd offered her a meal, not a period of sharing and bonding. As sweet as Miss Radcliffe was, Bruce hadn't signed up for personal confessions. Bruce nodded, a notable smile scrawled across his features. "I'm going on a limb here, but you are welcome to to come by anytime you need something: a place to stay, something to eat. You've yet to get in the way, so I see no problem with it; however, on your visits, I'd prefer that you didn't go poking around. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm a private man." With that, he leaned into the fridge and withdrew a hand of sandwich meat, the other with cheese. "I'm going to invest in cell phones for the two of you," He turned to the counter - before he had time to grab a plate, Alfred appeared from his quarters and began preparing the sandwiches. Obviously, he'd been disturbed by the little noise they were making. "That way this doesn't happen again," Bruce wasn't a babysitter and perhaps a notification could have prevented him from feeling like one.
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