[hider=Brodie (Is it real?)][b]Name:[/b] Malcolm Brodie [b]Age: [/b]Twenty-six [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Sex:[/b] Male [b]Sexuality:[/b] Bisexual / sapiosexual [b]Hair Colour:[/b] Blonde [b]Eye Colour:[/b] Blue-gray [b]Height:[/b] 1.76 metres [b]General Appearance:[/b] Malcolm is not, at first glance, a particularly odd specimen to behold; he is not unsightly but not regarded with awe either. Just plain, and a little dishevelled. His eyes are suspended in greying sockets, a few rings hanging underneath his tortoise shell glasses, and pale skin covers the rest of him, flecked with small freckles. These continue down his face and neck. Long, blonde hair reaches down his back, stopping loose and unmanaged at the end of his shoulder-blades. Split ends end off the locks. A small, circular dent blemishes his slightly wrinkled forehead, a little blood still caked underneath. The shape comes in a couple of hair-widths. He wears a short, scraggly beard and his chapped lips hide a slightly crooked smile. A man rarely concerning himself with exercise, sport or indeed any great feats of physical activity, it is a wonder that the man has virtually no body fat. His ribs and collar bone protrude against his skin and his hands are boney. His fingernails, for the most part, tend to be clean, with paint sitting in their harder to reach corners. His outfit consists of (or consisted of, more accurately) a tight, brilliant white vest top and black skinny jeans - both items carrying some dust and detritus - and a large, over-hanging steel blue cardigan. The final item was homemade and knitted with large blocky patterns. The sleeves carry down to his knuckles, also carrying a lot of dried and flaky paint. A pair of weathered, brown hobnail boots protect his feet. [b]Personality:[/b] Brodie is best described as withdrawn. Living a moderate form of hermitage, when he does venture out from his apartment he converses with fewer words than needed, often muddled by his shyness. This is not to say that he is unintelligent, or even emotionally distant. Quite the opposite, infact. He simply finds the simple act of conversation a tad tedious. He however, up until recently, held substantial and meaningful relationships (platonic and otherwise) showing at least a capability. In the privacy of his own home, however, he comes into his own. A poet, a reader, a painter and a dreamer, the man has many outlets for whatever he has building up. Many unprofitable outlets. Brodie is an agnostic, mostly due to his lack of feeling towards societies like religions and partly because he doesn't care what goes on once he off and pops. A part of him hopes that he would simply fade away, his life-force extinguishing at his final breath. No eternity. God forbid. While holding up a humorous façade with trusted acquaintances, Brodie is not a happy man. In the days leading up to the start of the roleplay he had been especially low. [b]Likes:[/b] • Painting (and the viewing and admiring of others paintings), • The clarity that comes with silence, • Slow, alternative music, • Language, • Not much else, to his knowledge [b]Dislikes:[/b] • People, • Politics, • Meat (and animal cruelty in general), • The state of popular music, • The Carpenters, • Salespeople, • Conflict or discourse, • Slow dancing, • War, • Ties / suits, • His family, • Anything else that can sufficiently rile him up [b]History:[/b] There's not much to tell. Growing up in Glasgow, Scotland, he was a creative child. This carried through into his adulthood. He moved to Plymouth in the south of England to pursue his studies at the age of eighteen (taking fine art) and emerged a few years later, as employable as he had been upon entry and just as strapped for cash. Taking on small jobs to make ends meet, his next few years were peppered with both happiness and sadness. The feelings culminated near the end of April, this year, as he attempted to bore a hole through his temples with a power drill. There are a number of details missing from this account; these details may be added to as interactions with others gleam them from him. Suffice to say, he survived and ended up embroiled in [i]this[/i] mess. [/hider] [b]Edit:[/b] Pretty terrible, in all fairness. It should do though.