[center][h1]This thread is for [color=39b54a]accepted[/color] characters only.[/h1] [h3]Please post all applications in the OOC thread.[/h3][/center] [hr] [u][b]PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016[/b][/u] [b]Student Name:[/b] [INDENT]Mason Thomas Crawford[/INDENT] [b]Gender:[/b] [INDENT]Male[/INDENT] [b]Nationality:[/b] [INDENT]British-German[/INDENT] [b]Age:[/b] [INDENT]19[/INDENT] [b]D.O.B.:[/b] [INDENT]20th June, 1995[/INDENT] [b][u]Appearance[/u][/b] [img]https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xap1/v/t1.0-9/10478688_296702177173584_4357194084601346234_n.jpg?oh=a5cf0fbf486dfead23a948f8fb57b441&oe=557217BE&__gda__=1437663842_220b91feeb59c20f6a02750390bbe295[/img] [b]Hair Color:[/b] [INDENT]Dark brown[/INDENT] [b]Eye Color:[/b] [INDENT]Dark brown[/INDENT] [b]Ethnicity:[/b] [INDENT]Caucasian[/INDENT] [b]Height:[/b] [INDENT]6ft[/INDENT] [b]Weight:[/b] [INDENT]139lbs[/INDENT] [b][u]Powers & Abilities[/u][/b] [b]Power Name:[/b] [INDENT]Speculomancy[/INDENT] [b]Power Description:[/b] [INDENT]My power allows me to travel between mirrors by passing through a localised pocket dimension.[/INDENT] [b]Abilities:[/b] [INDENT]• Able to 'enter' mirrors and traverse a pocket dimension that connects all mirrors in the world. • Can enter/exit the dimension via any mirror big enough for my body to fit through. • Effectively allows me to teleport between any two mirrors. • Can remote-view any location with a mirror, seeing it from the mirror's perspective. • I have an acute awareness of mirrors in the area; for example, I could sense a mirror nearby without seeing it. [/INDENT] [b]Drawbacks & Weaknesses:[/b] [INDENT]• Although the transportation seems instant, it actually takes time. Time moves different in the mirror world and I have sometimes been there for twenty minutes, only to return to the normal world and find no time had passed. • Being in the mirror world is tiring and gives me intense migraines after around twenty minutes. As I physically have to walk to the mirror I wish to exit through, this limits my transportation abilities to a radius of 20 minutes walking distance (further if I run.) • Cannot teleport or view anywhere that does not have a mirror. • I don't know what would happen if a mirror I was using broke, but I doubt it would be good. • When I remote-view a location, my perspective is fixed. (As I see the room from the mirror's point of view.) • I am only able to enter/exit through mirrors big enough for my body to fit through (though I can see through any mirror.)[/INDENT] [b][u]About You[/u][/b] [b]Family:[/b] [INDENT]• Thomas Crawford, estranged • Natasha Crawford, estranged • Otto "Helga Holla" Warmann, estranged • Anthony "Raja Fantaja" Bruce, estranged[/INDENT] [b]Personal Statement:[/b] [INDENT]I had a pretty comfortable upbringing. My father was a European businessman earning big money, and my mother stayed at home to care for me in my infancy. I did average at school, but I have never been particularly academic when it came to subjects like mathematics and science. But, I was top of the class when it came to art, English and foreign languages, so in my opinion it evened out. Everyone's good at different things, right? Apparently not, according to my parents. My father in particular seemed most concerned with moulding me in his image. If I was to get anywhere in life, he said, I had to be more like him. I had to stop reading Renaissance poetry and start reading the [i]Financial Times[/i]. I had to put down the paintbrush and pick up the football. It seemed that he felt the best way to accomplish this was to take me out of public education, and send me away to an all-boy's boarding school. "A real school", he would say - just like he went to. I was thirteen, and had little say in the matter. In retrospect, I remember being quite excited. I was never popular at school. Well, that's the understatement of the century; I was loathed at school, it seemed like my every moment spent there I was the subject of some form of abuse or disapproval. I remember, in my naïveté, thinking that this school might be better. It wasn't, it was worse. There was far too much testosterone in this environment for it to be a place I was welcomed in. I'd always been a bit fey growing up, and it was at boarding school that I was first called 'gay'. Of course, I had no idea what it meant at the time, and I denied it profusely based solely on the tone it was spat in. But as the years passed, I began to realise that bullies were not always wrong. Coming to terms with my sexuality was a relatively painful process. I knew my parents wouldn't take it well, and the more I dwelled upon it, the more isolated and alone I felt. If my father sending me here had hoped to pull me away from painting and literature, he had truly failed, because in my despair I only become more engrossed in the art world. At age 16, I was asked to leave boarding school for my 'underperformance' in maths, science and physical activity. My father was furious. My mother was distraught. I retaliated by signing up to an art's course at the Royal College of Art in nearby London. I attended the classes, and for the first time in my life I made friends. I really felt like I belonged there, and it hurt all the more knowing I had been denied it for so many years. I met a guy, we hit it off... One thing lead to another, and I found myself with my first boyfriend. It was time to come out to my parents. It didn't go well, and within an hour of telling them, I was hitting the streets of London with nothing but my leather jacket and a pocket full of savings. I stayed with my boyfriend for a while, but it didn't work out. I had family in Germany, so I decided I would head there. They'd heard from my dad and turned me away. So now, I was not only alone, but I was alone in a foreign country. It turned out fine. I knew a lot of German. I got a job in a gay bar, and ended up renting a room in the owner's apartment. He and his partner were infamous drag queens in the underground art world of Berlin, and soon enough I was a part of that scene too. I made films and took photos, and we arranged screenings in the bar. The community really embraced me as their own, especially Raja and Helga, whom I was living with. They both mothered me. I was happy. When I was 17, I began to realise I had a gift. It wasn't a particularly fantastic gift, but it was the result of a mutation none-the-less. The thought terrified me. I'd already been exiled by people I loved; I couldn't have that happen again. So I exiled myself before they had chance. Within a night I was gone, taking all my possessions with me. I never looked back. It seems stupid to me now, almost two years later. They were loving people. They would have accepted me. All I knew at the time was that I needed to get away. So, I've been living on my own now in a different suburb of Berlin. I rarely bump into old pals from the scene, and if I do I just pretend to not know them. I'm struggling to control my powers. I'm constantly aware of all the mirrors in my apartment building, it's near impossible to think. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night, lost in the mirror realm with no idea how I got there. It takes me ages to find my way back to my room. I need to get a sense of control, and if that means I have to go back to school... Then hand me the uniform. [/INDENT] [HIDER=Sample post][i]CHINK.[/i] The red bottlecap soared through the air and landed tinnily on the hard, sticky floor of the bar. The music was loud and decidedly campy as Mason handed the bottle of lemony-looking liquid to a young, blonde female. She thanked him and left, vanishing into the crowd of buff gay men and their entourages of liberal women. The crowd tonight was largely German - tourist season didn't properly kick off for another month or so, when the city held its annual "Internationale Filmfestspiele Berlin". The lights dimmed, interrupting his trail of thought. As the music trailed off, a spotlight illuminated the stage, and out tottered a tall, chunky lady to all the whooping and wolf whistles the inebriated crowd could muster at this late hour. Of course, the word "lady" was used in the most metaphoric sense of the word; this lady had plastic breasts, a strong jaw and a mountain of neon green hair atop her aged but immaculately made-up face. Helga Holla, one of Berlin's finest drag queens and a regular fixture in the gay and art scenes here in the German capital. Mason grinned bemusedly as he watched his housemate work the stage and maintained it as he spotted Raja observing from the sidelines, just as she did every night; eyes wide in the admiration only a devoted lover can possess. Raja and Helga were each other's number one fans, and it was - quite frankly - adorable. "E-excu, I mean uh... Entschuldigung?" came a male's voice, attracting Mason's attention from the glass he was absent-mindedly wiping. It was not common for customers to visit the bar whilst Helga or Raja were performing, but also not entirely unheard of. Mason chuckled at the man's poor attempt at the language, but it was always endearing when people tried to make the effort. "Hallo," Mason began, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Was soll ich Ihnen bringen? Ein Cocktail, vielleicht? Ein Glas Wein?" He spun the words rapidly and with precision, as a spider spins her web. The young man's face was flooded with panic as he began to rummage around in his pocket for his smartphone. Mason laughed. "No need, my friend. Just joking with you." He smiled warmly at the man, who looked relieved. "What can I get you?" The man chuckled; he was embarrassed but clearly saw the funny side, and Mason appreciated his smile as he ordered a vodka with Redbull. He was quite attractive, his light blonde curls pulled back with a traditional bandana, revealing his angular face and smooth complexion. He adjusted his glasses as Mason handed him the drink. "Are you here alone?" Mason asked. The man nodded apprehensively, taking a sip of his beverage. "May I ask why?", Mason pushed. "I, uh... I actually just moved here. I don't have that many friend back home, you know..." the man mumbled. It wasn't hard to tell he had confidence issues, but he had a lot of accidental charm. He was endearing. "I kind of just wanted to--" "To get a fresh start?" Mason interrupted, smiling as the man nodded once more. "Yeah, exactly that." he replied. Mason smiled in return. "What's your name?" he asked. "Ben." he replied. "Well, Ben. I know exactly what that's like. I just moved here a year and a half ago, actually." As he spoke, he scanned the crowd for people he knew. He eventually made eye contact with a friend of his, Monika. She was German but she spoke good English, and she was here with other people Mason knew. He shouted her over. "Was geht, artfag?" she laughed, slightly drunk as she and her friends approached. Mason laughed too. "Monika, this is Ben." he said, gesturing towards the new arrival. "He just got here from England. Doesn't really know anyone, if you get what I mean." He and Monika exchanged knowing looks, and the whole group smiled at Ben warmly. "Do you like art, Ben?" Monika purred, wrapping her arm around the alarmed man's shoulders. "Y-yeah, I... I love art. I just graduated from Central St. Martin's in London." he said, seeming a little overwhelmed by the warm welcome. "Well, Ben. You're gonna love it here," he smiled, before winking platonically the man whom Monika was now draped over. "I'm Mason, by the way. That one's on the house."[/HIDER]