Quinn Mitrofan Aug 20, 2010 20:16:47 GMT -4
Post by Quinn Mitrofan on Aug 20, 2010 20:16:47 GMT -4
Quinton Anders Mitrofan
Your Name: Eve
Where did you find us?: RPG-Directory
How long have you been roleplaying?:Like 3 or 4 years
Password: [admin edit!]
...basic character information
Birth Name: Quinton Anders Mitrofan
Birth date: June 24th
Program: Bachelor Of Engineering
Major: Computer Engineering
Major Explanation: (please note : I actually work at a zoo, with Ball Pythons, so this is their personality based on my experience) Quinn chose Computer Engineering because Ball Pythons tend to be withdrawn and studious of their prey. By working with computers, Quinn is typically left alone by people and can analyze situations thoroughly in his own time.
Animal Identity: Ball Python (pythons were listed on the accepted animal list, so I‘m just being specific, but you can change this if you‘d like).
Likes:(at least 10)
- Fresh Air
- Warm, Dry Weather
- Jazz Music
- Curling Up On The Couch
- Tinkering With Things
- Funny Movies
- The Dark
Dislikes: (at least 10)
- Obnoxious People
- Loud, Screaming Music
- Roller Coasters
- Meeting New People
- Abstract Thought
- Art / any other creative outlet.
- Small children (and parents who don’t control them)
- People touching his hair (though he doesn’t mind when a significant other is given permission)
- Video Games
Fears: (At least 3)
- Large Crowds
- Roller coasters
- Freezing To Death
Strengths: (At least 3)
- Very Analytical mind
- Long Attention Span
- Loyal (once you break him and let him know you / know him)
Weaknesses: (At least 3)
- Only Understand Facts, Not Concepts
Overall: [400 words minimum]
Personality wise, if you weren’t being handed this information, you most likely would never get it. Quinn tends to be incredibly reserved and shy. When he is forced to meet new people, it makes his stomach lurch and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. More often than not, he is alone, and he prefers this. When he is forced to meet new people, he sort of curls up inside himself, as his snake form would curl into a tight ball when threatened. He says very little, and his eyes seem to take on a very distant look, as though he is somewhere else completely. Within himself, he is trying to be somewhere else. He often does long algebraic equations in his head to keep him mind off of all of the people around him.
When alone, Quinn is terribly laid back and calm. He mostly reads or works on computers in his free time. Loud noises freak him out, just because of the sudden shock to his system. He quite enjoys jazz because he finds it relaxing. He is a sucker for a cup of green tea and a cinnamon stick when he can find it. He also enjoys people watching from cafes and such.
Once Quinn does get to know you, he is one of the most affectionate people in the world. He loves hugs and is always willing to listen to anything that you may have to say. He just loves his friends. It takes a brave soul to reach him, but once you do, you will never regret it. He has a very lively personality, though he is somewhat clingy, which varies as a good or bad thing. He always has something to say, rarely gets angry, and tells some pretty funny jokes. He’s also very romantic, and constantly craves the acceptance being in a relationship will bring him. He fall in love very quickly and easily, and has had his heart broken. He’s a very considerate boyfriend though, constantly paying compliments to whomever he’s with (he fancies both genders). He loves cuddling and treats girls like princesses and boys like kings.
However, Quinn does have a dark side. When someone really crosses the line with him, he can become violent. Though he’s very sweet and all, he often fantasizes about killing people. Very few people know this, of course, because the secret embarrasses him. He carries a pocket knife at all times. However, he is very slow to anger and this side of him is hardly ever seen by anyone.
Celebrity Play By: Francisco Lachowski
Appearance: [400 words minimum]
Quinn isn’t rather extraordinarily attractive. His appearance, like his personality, seem to be very minimal. His eyes are a deep shade of Sepia, to a point where the pupil all but blends in with the iris. They always seem very intense and focused. These eyes are framed by a pair of oversized wire glasses, which were originally a dark maroon, though have since chipped quite a bit to reveal the silvery metal beneath. Occasionally, he will wear contacts (at these times he looks deviously attractive) though he usually sticks to the spectacles. The frames rest on a pair of small-ish ears, no piercing or anything of that nature.
Above the eyes are a pair of heavy, dark brown eyebrows, often messy and sticking up in many places. His hair, however, is consistently neat. The thick heap of hair is always neatly parted at the center, and free of any and all cowlicks by the use of gel. This routine takes 20 minutes out of his morning, though he conceders the act worthwhile and stimulating to his appearance. His smile is perfectly straight (thanks to 4 ½ years of serious orthodontics, which he still takes crap for. (Teenagers just can’t wear headgear without anyone saying mean things, can they?)
His body is tall and awkward. His shoulders are slightly hunched, due to long hours hovering over computer keyboards. His skin is a ghostly white, and long, frail fingers extend from his flimsy arms. The nails are pinkish and always cut finely, never bitten. The legs are chicken-like, with thin dark hair coating them. At the bottom rest oblong feet that are terribly ugly, even as feet go. The toes are slender and grotesque, the second one protruding far further than the rest, giving it an off balance look. He, knowing how disgusting they are, always keeps shoes on.
Finally is his style of dress. Generally, Quinn looks incredibly neat and polished. He tends to wear crisp, well ironed dress shirts, occasionally indulging in a sweater vest with some ridiculously stereotypical argyle pattern or another. He tends to be very cold most of the time, so he tends to wear sweaters, as well. His pants are also dress pants, as in khakis or slacks. They, as well, are ironed, with a neat crease on each side. His shoes are old brown loafers, which he shines and keeps in shape.
In his animal form, Quinn is an absolutely gorgeous snake. He is about 5 ½ feet long, with a small, elliptical head. The eyes are set on the sides of the head, in the same deep shade of brown they typically are. His teeth are long and pointed fangs, his tongue a long, slitted pink. His body is one long, lean muscle, which remains at a decent width until coming to the tail, at which point it narrows. His skin is a clear, dark brown, with grassy yellow, cloud-like designs climbing up the sides. His underbelly is a clean white, smooth so that he can move about easily.
Parents: Janet Mitrofan (nee White) and John Mitrofan
Siblings: Allyson Mitrofan
[400 words minimum]
Family is a beautiful, though sometimes devastating thing. They can love you or hurt you, make you feel important, or like absolutely nothing. Quinn’s family did a little bit of both. He was his parents’ first born child, followed three years later by Allyson. He was always the smart one, she was the friendly one.
At a young age, Quinn’s great aunt Carlin moved into the house with them. Carlin was a loud, boisterous woman who brought her Boston accent and large appetite into the small, middle-class family’s home. She intimidated him slightly with her heaps of curly hair and bright red lips. She often cooked for them, and it was her food that made Quinn love her.
The two, after some years of their living together, had become great, inseparable friends, when his Aunt sat him down, asking to please speak to him for a moment. Her voice was not high and bright as it usually was, and Quinn was full of worry. They sat themselves in the “formal living room”, where they kept cabinets to show case the china and a pair of love seats that had been his great grandmothers some time before. “Quinn,” she began, her face creased with seriousness, “ you’re 12th birthday is coming up soon, and there is something I must tell you. A secret, of sorts. About why I was sent to live here.”
Quinn squirmed, his fingers gripping the dark wood accent on the white-and-blue couch. His heart was in his throat, his stomach threatening to expel each bit of food it held. He looked at her through a heavy prescription, his headgear squeaking and swaying slightly. “Quinn, you’re a shifter.”
Carlin went through the process of explaining this whole ordeal to the boy, even shifting into her animal, a silvery cheeked gibbon, so that he could see what would happen. All at once it seemed the world was collapsing around his young self, that everything was upside down. He asked no questions, instead both silently and abruptly clearing out of the room, and deciding to never have another non-necessary conversation with that lying witch of an aunt.
His parents, meanwhile, did what they always did; they worried. Throughout their lives, Ally and Quinn had lived under their parents’ discriminating eye, while the Mr. and Mrs. Mitrofan worried behind closed doors about their children’s welfare. Once it was known that Quinn would be a shifter (somehow, Carlin had known. “Sensed it”, she claimed.), they had been stricken with overwhelming panic about his normality.
On the night he first shifted, everything was very normal in the house. The family was sitting at the table, enjoying a pleasant dinner of chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. Carlin was staring at the plate, frowning at the mushy, fake-looking food. It was warm; sometime in the midst of summer, and all of the windows had been thrown open.
As Quinn pushed around the last limp piece of chicken, he suddenly began to feel an odd sensation. His skin suddenly seemed far too tight, and his hair seemed to be receding into the follicles. He felt his limbs beginning to disintegrate, then closed his eyes, absorbing the various amounts of pain as they came and went. Finally, it seemed, he could feel again, though not as he had before. He suddenly realized his eyes were no longer closed, and could not be. He felt a harsh thud as he fell onto the ground from the dining chair, his long body cascading onto the clean wood floors. Carlin walked over calmly, bending down to look at her great nephew’s face. With sudden, animalistic rage, Quinn curled into a “s” shape, hissing loudly. Carlin said something loudly, her face contorting into a laugh. He could hardly see, though he knew the people were there by their heat, which he suddenly felt. He hissed again, though Carlin made no move, Finally, he struck, grabbing her fatty ankle with his long fangs and refusing to let go. She pulled him off, after much effort, and snarled at him, throwing him to the floor. “Little…” she mumbled, storming out. “I WARNED HIM!” were her last remarks to him. She moved out the next day.
The academy was a great place for Quinn. Large enough to be anonymous, yet small enough to keep one circle of friends. True, he was very timid, and easily frightened. He’d never had really any friends even growing up. However, he came to the academy, which is now the present, four years later.
...connecting human to animal
[One Paragraph Minimum (Can be point form)]
- bad eye sight
- shy at first, very warm and friendly once they get to know you
- hide as a form of defense
- slow to anger, but vicious when they are
- appearance (brown eyes, brownish blonde hair & brown eyes and brown body with golden brown markings)
- Intuitive and annalyiticalFAQ's.
-Must be in the 3rd person point of view and in past tense
-REMEMBER we are an intermediate-advanced literacy site. Please keep that in mind.
-Must be at least 3 paragraphs
-Our minimum word count is 400 words!
The day began as all others in Ignotus White’s history, more or less. The scream of an alarm at 5:14 a.m. , a moment taken for deep stretches and back-breaking groans, and a lusterless roll from beneath his blankets. His feet hit the floor softly, and his mild gait reached the door in a short time. Ignotus sniffed, ran the back of his hand over his irritated nose, cleared his throat gruffly, and stumbled to the bathroom. Here, for the first time in the day, he gazed at his reflection. Here was where the days stop melting together, stop solidifying themselves from fluid, milky moments into solid, moldy chunks of unfaltering time. Here is where he took his first step toward making a day meaningful or useless.
Ignotus White’s reflection was his definition. Some days, he awoke, went to the mirror, and found a pleasant face, dusted with thin, course lines of stubble, black hair tussled playfully from sleep. Other days, there was a monster in the mirror, with hateful, scrutinizing brown eyes and cross, chalky lips. That day, he saw nothing in particular. Nothing good nor bad. Simply simplicity. A virtue in the sea of complication that seemed to constantly nip at his heels.
Coffee dripped on the burner, splattering comfortably into the glass pot. The refrigerator was pulled open slowly, purposely so Ignotus could watch the light turn on when the door was at a precise 18 degree angle. A half-gone bottle of skim milk and a stick of butter were in their proper spots on the door, occupying their given places with almost a regal prestige, standing full at attention. A blinding, white Styrofoam box sat on the top glass shelf, containing the remains of yesterday’s Chinese food, his lunch of teriyaki steak and noodles long since passed. On the shelf below lay a bunch of green grapes, a few deflated, their creases browned, while others remained sitting sweetly, begging for a mouth to take them in. Along side were two crisp red tomatoes, frighteningly aware of their own control over the refrigerator. Finally, a bottom shelf,which contained carton of brown eggs and a swirling bowl of cherry jell-o. Ignotus took the skim milk and pushed the door closed gently, not disturbing the rest of the refrigerator’s contents, as he well may have. He then turned to a clean glass cupboard, all of his dishes and glassware exposed to the viewing public.The handles were slim black rectangles, and Ignotus’s long fingers easily curled around them and dragged the door toward him, crowing on its silver hinges. Without a glance, generic cereal was taken and dropped onto the contemporary black table, followed by a glass bowl, adorned with a slim blue ring toward the ridge.
Breakfast was quickly concocted and consumed as Ignotus proceeded, showering, dressing in neat black dress pants with a hard-made crease and a crisp with shirt, a navy blue tie hanging from his rosy neck. The sun dazzled his reflection as he pushed his hair back, slick and wet, still reeking of shampoo. His teeth were brushed with steadfast tendencies, each tooth receiving individual attention, a swish of water, and a run of floss.
He descended the stairs, black dress shoes gently scuffing as he bounds. He checked his gold Rolex, an ornament that has not been removed since his father passed years ago. He was left this object the his will; the only piece of his father he was rewarded. 6:31. Good timing, he thought, waving to the desk manager as he passed out the glass push door.
Snow has begun to fall, though lightly for now, in small, inconsistent flakes. The sidewalk was slightly iced, enough to leave footprints as Ignotus walks completely alone. The streets of San Maria were hardly populated at this early of an hour, most people just awaking, serving each other omelets and marmalade. They laughed and smiled, warm and secure within their futile grouping. Loving, sharing, kissing, joking. The scene played out in Ignotus’s mind, rolling back and forth across the corners of his brain. It made him scowl, his thick eyebrows crunching slightly in a complete action of disapproval. He pushed his hands into his pockets, still thinking, head down. A cloud of snow was pushed up by the toe of his shoe, his feet hardly leaving the ground as he shuffle shuffle shuffled along to work.
He passed several grimacing faces on his journey, observing the peculiar man as he scuffs toward his place of employment. The sound of his shoes created a rhythmic melody, and Ignotus was tempted to dance, only momentarily, before control overcame the flash of whimsical desires. This is not like me, he thought, shaking his head. I must be off today.[/size]