Post by kieran cooper sterling on Mar 3, 2011 19:50:24 GMT -5
The full name's kieran cooper sterling, but most people call me kier. In case you couldn't tell, I'm a dude. I came into this world kicking and screaming on october twenty-first, and eighteen years later, I still haven't stopped. Back then, I lived in chicago. I'm a(n) caucasian dealing with the stress of twelfth grade.
eye color :: blue
hair color :: ... also blue
height :: six feet. ... that's it.
weight :: one-hundred forty-seven pounds
body type :: slim/slender
likes :: mind games, sardonic glares (giving, not receiving), Bubblicious chewing gum, leather-bound notebooks, swords, fencing, knives (doesn't go anywhere without one), Heath Ledger's portrayal of the Joker, low-quality eighties and nineties movies most people haven't even heard of (Better Off Dead, anyone?), the Scott Pilgrim graphic novel series (the move was a'ight, but the books are better), standing out in a crowd, coloring his hair, wearing chains, creepy knick-knacks (e.g., a replica of the hand of glory from Harry Potter, skeleton keys, or anything else old, encrusted with obsidian, sharp, engraved with skulls, and covered in dust), dilapidated buildings (or parts of buildings, such as bomb shelters)
dislikes :: attending school, any and all subjects (excluding lunch), do-gooders who feel the need to "reach out" to him, guidance counselors, people writing off before they get to know him, Bibe-huggers, preps, jocks, ... pretty much all of his peers, limitations, curfews, law enforcers, speeding tickets, any literary work written by Shakespeare, the crazy teacher who keeps trying to recruit him for the drama club
habits :: running his tongue over his teeth, laughing at jokes he remembers from way too long ago, tuning people out, shutting people out, brushing people off, sardonically glaring at anyone he catches publicly making a fool of his or her self
flaws :: irascible, cynical, apathetic, reticent, standoffish, reckless
positive attributes :: witty, sensible, receptive, fast learner, loyal (mostly to his principles, but he might also find some people worth his time), brutally honest
secret(s) :: The biggest secret he has is that he never killed his sister. He likes to let people believe that he did, just to see the way they'll react to him because of it.
pet peeve(s) :: when dealers, goths, scene kids, or self-proclaimed "loners" try to hang with him because they think he's cut from the same cloth
personality :: It's not that Kieran tries to keep to himself. It just so happens that he shares nothing in common with the people who try to reach out him, and can therefore find no reason to befriend them. And the people he doesn't mind think he's a homicidal maniac and want nothing to do with him. As you can imagine, this leads to a fair amount of alone time for our boy. He prefers being enigmatic, so more of than not, he's "that kid with blue hair and a leather jacket who stands in the corner, staring off into the distance and leaves you wondering about his past". He speaks only when directly addressed, most often inflecting his words with heavy sarcasm, wry amusement, or flat-out blasé-ness. Because of this, he's lost many a participation point in class. Not that he cares, which transitions beautifully into my next point.
Kieran is physically incapable of caring for much of anything else that society as a whole cherishes. Current music? Doesn't care for it. Hip movies? The only exception being The Dark Night, he doesn't care for them. School? ... Actually, he cares enough to get a tutor and get good scores on his tests, but not enough to do his homework. Making friends? Seriously does not care.
All though he's antisocial, Kieran is prone to random, spastic actions. He'll often flick pencils at his teachers (or the backs of his classmates' heads), cross the street with his eyes closed (as much to hone his ninja skills as to freak people out), juggle knives, and jump stairs he knows he isn't capable of clearing (though nine times out of ten, he ends up clearing 'em anyway).
mother :: Jeanette Sterling, forty-nine, does a thing at a place
father :: Rainier Sterling, fifty, does a thing at a place
brother(s) :: none
sister(s) :: Brienne Sterling, was eleven when she died
step-relations: :: none
other relatives :: none
pets :: none (yeah, an emancipated teenager has the funds to care for a pet -- that's a good joke)
background check :: Kieran was a restless kid. He broke a lot of bones. He grew up on the original Winnie the Pooh cartoons. He liked to climb trees, create utopian societies of corn kernels and legos, and dig tunnels to the center of the earth. He was determined to meet a real Asian kid, not an Americanized one.
Up until Brienne's death, he was a sociable person. He would make sarcastic quips in class that elicited chuckles from his peers. People enjoyed his company. And then Brienne fell down the stares one day while Kieran was reenacting an interaction between Moody and Shelley from My Bodyguard. Brienne had been on the phone with a friend and unaware that her feet were dangerously close to the edge of the staircase. She landed on her head at the bottom. Hearing the bang, Kieran ran out of his bedroom. He was standing at the top of the stairs, looking like a deer in the headlights when his parents arrived on the scene. You can imagine what they thought happened.
Thought they swore up and down in their testimonies that they didn't pin the crime on Kieran, the way they averted their gaze whenever he walked into the room from then on proved they thought him guilty. Unable to deal with their judgement, Kieran gathered his stuff in a little knapsack and attempted to run away.
He made it exactly three blocks down the street when his father caught up with him and dragged him begrudgingly back to the house.
Three more years, Kieran had to deal with the suspicious glances. Everyone at school thought he pushed Brienne as well. His friends deserted him. On his sixteen birthday, Kieran decided he'd had enough.
He emancipated himself and spent all the allowance he'd saved on a loft downtown. He transfered schools, entering into Lumini. To keep up with his rent, he got a job at a mechanic at a local auto shop. He has every intention of getting into college and building a better future for himself, so he signed up for a tutor when his grades started slipping. When he's not studying or fixing cars, Kieran studies old pirate, ninja, and warrior films. He's taught himself to fence through use of various household objects, and managed to save up enough extra cash to purchase a set of broadswords he'll probably have no use for. They sure come in handy when he needs to cut a piece of string, though....
(My history started out better than this. Then the internet fucked up and I lost it. This is the result. I apologize if your brain melted out your ears because it failed so hard.)
role play sample ::Fifth period was drawing to a close. Brett's free period was almost upon him. In just a few more minutes, he could run rampage through the halls, giggling like a giddy school girl.
For the forty-five minutes that followed the bell, anyway.
At the moment, he was full of anxious energy. Which wasn't a good thing when matched against the current goings-on of his classroom. He should be attentive, focusing on his students' every move, to ensure the safety of the walls, cabinets, and artwork of his previous classes.
The fifth period freshman art students were armed and ready. They each carried balloons filled close to bursting with paint, and were throwing these at the far wall (which, thank goodness, Brett had thought to cover in sheets of drop cloth and canvas, along with the surrounding floor).
Alas, the siren call of free period was too distracting.
Brett hovered in the rear of the classroom, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Occasionally, he would call out a compliment, such as, "Nice splatter, Wallace!" or, "Henrietta, that is the most majestic blob of color I have ever seen." or even, "Is that a unibear I spot?"
Whoa. Wait.
A unibear?
"Hold up, hold up, hold up!" Brett spread his arms wide and moved to the front of the crowd. Immediately, the throwing of paint balloons ceased and heads turned. "Who is responsible -" he interrupted himself by striding over to the canvas wall and aiming a finger at a particular blob of red that looked suspiciously like a bear with a horn protruding from its forehead, "for this?"
Blank stares answered him. The students exchanged glances, blinking furiously.
Sighing, Brett traced his brow line with an index finger and thumb. Then he straightened up. "If no one's going to claim this, I'm taking it home and hanging it on my fridge."
Bell tolls interrupted him.
The effect was instantaneous.
Everywhere, students sprang into action, throwing smocks over their heads and dropping them in a pile on the line of desks Brett had pushed against the opposite wall. Then they mulled around the sink, hastily removing any evidence of the day's activities.
"Good work today, guys," Brett complimented. "Digging the energy. See you tomorrow."
That said, he bade them return to their hand-washing while he tromped over to his desk and fisted a pair of scissors. Using these, he proceeded to cut the unibear from the rest of the canvas.
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hey. my alias is robin (LOLevesowasn'tmylastcharacter), I'm sixteen years old, and I've been slashing for some odd years. I heard about you guys through your window, and let me say, TEAM ADMIN IS TOO COOL FOR YOU.
