[hider=Stian Jørgensen][color=gray][sup][h1][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/bVt54NW.png[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] S T I A N[/color]
[color=#bb9c6f]S T I A N[/color][/center][/b][/h1][/sup]
[table][row][/row][row][cell][hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/0PccDMp.png[/img][/center][color=2c2c2c][sub]_______________________________________________[/sub][/color]
[center][color=#bb9c6f][sup][i]"It's not cowardice to run and see tomorrow. It's cowardice to give up all the days, weeks, and years that would have been ahead of you."[/i][/sup][/color][/center][hr][sub][b][color=#bb9c6f]N A M E[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b] Stian Jørgensen
[b][color=#bb9c6f]A G E[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b] 3 May 830 [sup][color=white](14 at Breach | 16 at Beginning of Training | 19 at the End)[/color][/sup]
[b][color=#bb9c6f]G E N D E R[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b] Male
[b][color=#bb9c6f]S E X U A L I T Y[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b] 
[b][color=#bb9c6f]E T H N I C I T Y[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b] Scandinavian
[b][color=#bb9c6f]H E I G H T[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b] 6'1"
[b][color=#bb9c6f]B R A N C H[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b] 108th Trainee Corps

[b][color=#bb9c6f]A F F I L I A T I O N S / R E L A T I O N S H I P S[/color] [color=white]⋮[/color][/b]
[abbr=Aksel Jørgensen - Father - Deceased][img]https://i.imgur.com/aCnWv9Y.png[/img][/abbr]

[abbr=Lars Jørgensen - Father - Deceased][img]https://i.imgur.com/VJdRsMs.png[/img][/abbr]

[abbr=Anneli Jørgensen - Sister - Deceased][img]https://i.imgur.com/vLWN89X.png[/img][/abbr][/sub][hr][/cell][cell][hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/HkuYyFN.png[/img][/center]
[right][sub][sup][h3][b][color=black]   A P P E A R A N C E  [/color]
[color=#bb9c6f]  A P P E A R A N C E   [/color][/b][/h3][/sup][/sub][/right][hr][sup]It's fair to say that Stian is built like a brick shithouse. While there aren't many tell-tell signs that he'll get any taller, the musculature on him will probably get more sturdy. He's like a pillar made of flesh and bones, meant to prop up something far grander, but it would tumble without his help. He has dusty blond hair that is kept short on the sides, but unkempt on the top. His eyes are gray, not like a storm, but like a dull fog that has never seen the sun long enough to dissipate it. His skin is tanned and burned in some places, but not as much as one would think for someone that spent most of their time outside. Most notable is the scar on his chin, which looks less like it was from an accident and more like someone put a hot iron on him. He rubs it when he's lost in thought.

Stian looks perpetually bored. He also chews on toothpicks incessantly. In his off hours, he's dressed in clothes that would best fit a stablehand. Rough-hewn button-up blouses that fight against the square of his shoulder and lead into loose trousers cuffed by worn, but sturdy, black boots. This is complemented by leather straps that are made to both keep his pants securely fastened to his waist and hold a few tools. He usually has a pair of worn gloves in his back pocket. When given a uniform to wear, he'll not add any personal accouterments. He's fine with keeping it as uninteresting as possible.[/sup]
[right][sub][sup][h3][b][color=black]   P E R S O N A L I T Y  [/color]
[color=#bb9c6f]  P E R S O N A L I T Y   [/color][/b][/h3][/sup][/sub][/right][hr][sup]Stian is boring, uninteresting, laughably bland, and above all, he reflects that back at everyone else. There's nothing spectacular about the way he acts or reacts. The only thing that he shows the slightest bit of interest in is food, but then again the past year has been rough. So, the normality of food and a roof over one's head can bring delight to any stale pool. The only time he shows an abundance of personality is when he says things under his breath. Whether they be humorous, crass, snide, or kind in nature is a roll of the dice, but he doesn't make his opinion loudly known. A person would assume he was asleep if it wasn't for the fact that he was upright, with eyes open and blinking. And even then... you have to wonder.

He's not too different a beast when he is working. Except he becomes even quieter but this is more from concentration than having nothing to say. He's not quick to anger. Nor is he quick to give up. Instead, he'll try and try again until his muscles are too sore to continue. Much like a horse, he can be run to death if spurned on. Also like a horse, he enjoys apples.[/sup]
[right][sub][sup][h3][b][color=black]   B I O G R A P H Y  [/color]
[color=#bb9c6f]  B I O G R A P H Y   [/color][/b][/h3][/sup][/sub][/right][hr][sup]Stian grew up in the small town of Görlitz within Wall Maria. There his family raised livestock, mostly cows and some sheep, along with chickens. They also bred horses for the army as a way to earn some extra money. It became a fixture of Lars' pastime, as he was obsessed with breeding diagrams and other academia. It was fair to say that Lars was like a square peg in the round hole of this household. He was always buried in a book between working, much to his husband's chagrin. Aksel was a lot more straightforward and did the heavy lifting around the farm. He also broke the horses, Lars having been kicked once and that being the end of that. 

Despite Stian's disposition, he's intelligent enough to know that he's not the biological son of his two fathers. Though, loose lips have taught him that he might have been Aksel's son or maybe Aksel's sister's son. That didn't stop Stian from viewing Aksel and Lars as his parents, though. They'd spend days working, nights having dinner, chatting over clean-up, and Aksel would take the children to stargaze while Lars read behind closed doors. 

It was during one of those stargazing sessions that Aksel explained how to navigate by them. When pressed about how he knew that by Anneli, he said it was from another life. She then asked if she could touch the stars. Stian laughed. He did that a lot then. Aksel said, "if you can find the tallest tree. You can." So, Anneli made it her mission to locate said tree and to bring a star down to show them. When she got a little older, she didn't back down from that stance. She changed her reason, though. She just wanted to see the world beyond the walls. Stian had to admit, that was a nice idea. So, he made an agreement with her that when they were older, they'd take a trip within the Wall Maria to find the largest tree. To see what the world outside the walls looked like. Stian had a feeling that they would never find one, but it made Anneli happy.

Lars traveled to Quinta District occasionally to sell livestock, eggs, hide, and various other supplies. He'd also visit his family there. The past few years he'd taken Anneli, as she was very curious about what life was like outside of the small farm life they had. Stian was more than happy to stay back and help his other dad with the horses. Stian had gotten one of the younger mares to listen to him and was able to get her to tolerate him on her back. He was doing a bit of training with her when the sound of an explosion caught him off guard. The mare bucked and sent Stian into the ground. He twisted his ankle trying to land and not be caught underhoof. Aksel found him and tended to it the best he could. This was more Lars' forte. 

Sometime later, one of the townspeople came to Aksel and told him what happened, encouraging him to flee with them. In a panic, Aksel grabbed the best horse in their stable along with two others and saddled them up. He was not going to flee to Wall Rose, though. Instead, he had gotten ready to head to Shiganshina District. He hoisted Stian on another horse and fastened a couple of saddlebags to the side. Aksel told him to head to Wall Rose because, with his twisted ankle, he'd only be a hindrance in the rescue mission. He also gave him the name and address of a stablemaster Aksel knew well and sold horses to, and that they would rendezvous there. "Be brave, Son," he said as he swatted Stian's horse and rode off in the opposite direction. 

A year later, Stian's injury was healed. He worked for the stablemaster, handling the harder jobs and sleeping in the loft above the hay. It dripped on him during rain, freckled him with sunlight during the summer, and allowed for the most chill of breezes to invade his bones during the winter. The saddlebags held the basics of survival along with a few things that were personal. He'd eaten the rations in the days after the catastrophic event, gone through the clothes he had taken with him, mended the ones that had gotten holes in them, and sold off the horse to not be entirely destitute. He'd read a few books that were in there. They were beyond him as all of them were Lars'. Stian did appreciate reading all his notes in the margins, though. There was a folded, accordion-style oval picture frame with portraits of all four of them within it. Yet, there was one thing amongst it all that made no sense to Stian. It was a patch. It took him a while to find out what it was. He hadn't grown up in the city and barely seen any of the military forces. They were a nebulous force only spoken about briefly by his parents before they'd move on to other things. And the ones that he had seen had roses on their patches. This one was different. After some probing, he discovered it was a patch of the Survey Corps. On the back, in old ink, was written one word: coward. That being the only thread to his family he had left, he decided to join the Trainee Corps. It would take two years for him to finally work up the nerve to leave the rendezvous point. In the end, it was better than waiting on a family that would never come.[/sup]
[right][sub][sup][h3][b][color=black]   T H E M E  [/color]
[color=#bb9c6f]  T H E M E   [/color][/b][/h3][/sup][/sub][/right][hr][sup][url=https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdsNdlQy7zzDyWy-iiIpwET2kHCie2fOP]a Youtube Playlist with Vibes[/url][/sup]
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