Post by lukecolburn on Sept 6, 2009 12:42:04 GMT -7
† Luke - C. - Colburn †
[/b][/size][/font][/center]† General Information †
Full Name: Colburn, Luke C.
Nicknames: None
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 26
Orientation: Heterosexual
Health Problems: Mild allergies to dust
† Personality †
Basic Personality: Luke Colburn is your average guy. He does not have any magical powers or any eccentrically unique talents. Luke is a down to earth person with loyalty only to the scientific and the fact. He is a skeptic that believes nothing but what he can see, hear, or touch. He is an atheist and a critic of anything and everything. While Luke’s skepticism and doubtful nature makes him very much a pessimist, Luke is not a bad person to be around. He is independent and focused, a natural leader, and holds the ability to remain calm in tough situations. He does not bother setting difficult goals for himself. His focus remains on survival. His independence makes him somewhat impatient when dealing with others. Luke does not have the best humor in the world, nor is he the most talkative. However, when dealing with the current nature of London, Luke Colburn is very fit to survive and is one to keep around.
Likes:
† Peace and Quiet
† Weaponry
† Leading
† Winter
† Blue
Hates:
† Open spaces
† Exploring abandoned buildings or places
† Sentimental emotions
† Caffeine
† Sleeping
Talents:
† Survival
† Making makeshift tools
† Strong intuition
† Physical strength
† Intelligence
Habits:
† Luke does not sleep often. He usually gets about 3 hours of sleep a night.
† He locks doors, windows, and anything lockable around him at all times.
† He always makes eye contact regardless of who is standing in front of him.
† He almost always looks unhappy regardless of his real mood.
† He turns the lights off after himself.
† Appearance †
Skin Color: Caucasian - light
Hair Color: Lighter Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Build: 5’10” and average build. Not too muscular, but not skinny
Piercings/Scars/Tattoos: None
Choice of Clothing: Jeans and a tshirt. Anything comfortable and easy to move around in, and anything that covers up the majority of his skin.
† History †
History: Luke Colburn was born an only child to James and Isabelle Colburn. Mr. and Mrs. Colburn were both devout Anglican church goers, and so they raised Luke to be the same. Through his childhood, he attended services weekly and was heavily involved in volunteer work. He saw the world as something beautiful. He had a beautiful life, wonderful friends, and his parents assured him that he was well on his way to salvation. Through his teenage years, however, Luke began to change. His parents finally trusted him to leave the house on his own, something he never questioned before until he hit the age of 13, and what he saw without his parents standing beside him was horrifying. He saw death and destruction. He saw vampires and werewolves, something his parents assured him were only stories to get children like him to behave. The nightmares he had been told were all real, and they were all right before his eyes.
Luke lost his faith. His parents were saddened by this happening, but they continued to support their son. He went through a series of difficult and negative changes. He was no longer the chipper child of eight years old, but instead, he was a growing young man who realized exactly what the world truly is. He managed to stay clear of crime. He never drank or did drugs, but instead became a recluse. Luke had no friends, but he liked it that way. He felt he could protect himself more easily if he only had to take care of himself.
On the night of his 21st birthday, his parents took him out for his first drink. They had fun at the bar, and on returning home, they all laughed together on the patio in the backyard. Over time, Luke began to get a headache and decided to retire to his bed for the night. His parents stayed outside and continued in their merriment.
That was the last time Luke saw his parents.
When he woke up, he could not find them. He went outside to the patio and saw blood. Not a lot, but enough to know there was a definite struggle. There were torn clothes and the wine glasses were broken. Luke returned to the indoors, and from then on his life changed. The next few years dragged on as crime and death rates climbed. A few years ago, Luke welcomed his neighbor Serenity into his home so they could survive easier in London. The rest is no longer history, but instead a bleak future.
Mother/Father: Isabelle Colburn/James Colburn. Both deceased.
Siblings: None
Offspring: None
† RP example †
Home. The meaning of that very word seemed distant and intangible. Like a whisper in the wind, or a forgotten memory, home was only an idea. A place to rest and feel secure, a group of individuals always waiting for your return. Home was meant to be a calming pause in life, an escape to worldly troubles, and a balm on worries and fears. But, what was home to a nomad? That familiar whisper in the wind may be a remembrance of the past. That neglected memory might uproot friendships that came and went with the tides. Evensong no longer knew what home was. Many years ago, he would tell stories of a great and terrible tribe, of a genetic pool of wolves so mysteriously perfect that none could match their grace and strength. He would whisper about those he knew, those he disliked, and those he adored. Those were many years ago indeed. Home now was merely a boundary of land with some emotional meaning. He recognized home by the pattern of the bark on the trees, not by the warming feeling he should have felt when returning. Home was a political idea, and nothing more than that.
Why he returned to these lands, he would not be able to answer. Perhaps he came simply on happenstance. His legs carried him around the parameters of these lands without so much as a backward glance. He faded in and out of reality and situations like the very air he breathed and controlled. Recently, his solitude had become much more welcome and fiercely upheld than ever before. These past few moons and suns, he stalked the earth with a foreboding aura about him. He had made a pact with himself to disappear entirely, and so far not a single soul had even glanced upon him without realizing it. Evensong lay hidden among the shadows. Perhaps he returned to these land crawling on his belly, defeated by his own doing, and simply had nowhere else to turn. Regardless, he stood here now, a statue against the darkening evening, an existence well hidden to anyone who passed him by.
At the moment, he stood quietly in his wolf form, brooding in the shadows near the enormous willow tree that marked the border between the Air and the Fire. Every once in a while he would rise from his hunched sit and pace back and forth, his head held low in angst, but his eyes left completely expressionless. Evensong glowed against the growing darkness, his fur shimmering and fading all at once. The only fault to his pallor was a dark, jagged scar that crossed over his right eye that kept it shut for the rest of time. Looking upon him at a quick glance, one may assume he was quite the normal person. However, he was far from regular. His pacing figure bore no shadow, and the glow against his fur was inhuman. His appearance entirely was not quite opaque, and if you were to stare at him long enough, you could see the faint outlines of what his figure should be blocking. Evensong was, in all actuality, a ghost. He walked among the living, acted among the living, and led the living, but he was not quite so. His soul remained transfixed between life and death, a mistake made by his brethren that would curse him for the rest of eternity.
However, I digress. Evensong found himself seated in front of the willow tree once more, carefully following the gnarly twists and turns of the bark with his lavender eye. Time had become perpetual, and he had no idea how long he had been sitting there. His trance could have remained there for centuries, if it had not been for the sudden scent of someone else nearby. He tensed very suddenly and rose to all fours, glanced about himself for only a moment, and then disappeared instantaneously. He reappeared some twenty paces farther and peered between the shadows to see a pale wolf morph into her human form. By her scent, she could not be identified. She was a strange mixture of everything, and he assumed she was a scout because of it. Evensong did not know many of the people of his tribe by appearance. The way they worked, they collaborated when needed and dispersed instantly afterwards. Home was not a tangible aspect for any of them.
She gave the enormous willow tree a friendly hug, and Evensong sat back on his haunches again. He inspected her for some time. He knew by simple analysis that she belonged to his people, or else she would not have wandered in here to give their sacred tree a hug. He could not remember the last time he spoke to anyone of air, and although he desperately wanted his solitude restored, he took his alpha responsibilities very seriously. With an inward sigh he backed up a step and morphed as well, becoming a lanky, tall figure. His hair was long and as white as his fur had been, reaching to his elbows and pulled back in a loosely done ponytail. He wore a long, white cloak over his equally bright shirt and pants. If she had not noticed his illuminated figure in the shadows before, he was quite hard to miss now. Evensong stepped forward, tense and mechanical, and made a quiet whisper sound. A sound only identifiable by those of the air, and what would be mistaken for wind by anyone else. He stared down at her expressionlessly and then quietly addressed her in a smooth, whimsical tone.
“Good eve.”
† Let's talk about you †
Name: Fuzzy
Other Characters: None
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