I'm twenty three. No Face accurately describes my appearance, I think. I've been roleplaying for a long time. Feel free to correct me on things. I edit character sheets a lot. My male characters will highly outweigh my female characters. I reuse characters that I like. I was in advanced writing classes at one point, it didn't make an impression on me. I do best in high casual settings but I could probably do advanced if I put effort into it. I hate writing personality and appearance sections, I'm bad at it. It takes me at least four replies before my responses stop looking like garbage. I refuse to write a first status until I can think of something good to say. At every given moment, I'm worried that I'm annoying everyone in the thread. I'm not as pretentious as my name might suggest.
The line was practically full of noises, between the television in the background and the insistent wailing of a car siren in the near distance. "Hey, Daphne. I was..." a pause, a shuffle, a bitter laugh. "I was.. I was thinking about it and um-"
His words are slurring, he's moving around a lot. He's obviously drunk, it's something she would be far too used to hearing. "You got me real fucked up about this and I'm- I'm not sure you know what kind of mistake that you're making. Fucking Darien-"
Another bitter laugh, the clink of a bottle. "Darien. I have never met a Darien that I have ever liked. Like, I hate to be a downer but-" not only is he slurring now, he's kind of muffled, he has started smoking mid-sentence. There's a deep inhale, a deep exhale. "I think that's a bad omen, don't you? That I've never met a Darien that I liked, like some kind of fuckin' statistic or some shit. There's no good people with that name. It's just-"
A cough, a pause, liquid sloshing. "Okay, maybe you don't trust the word of a drunk loser but-" bitter laugh. "Of course, you fuckin' liked the opinion of a drunk loser when you were in Cali. Do you remember that? I remember that. I remember that a lot."
Another cough, more sloshing liquid, more coughing. "God, we were so fuckin' happy, Daphne. We were-" he sounds angry now, a bottle hitting the floor sharply. "I got your Goddamn intial tattooed on my fuckin' neck! You have my Goddamn initial-" more coughing, wheezing. "And you threw it all away. What did I do, Daphne?"
His voice breaks, there's a lot of noises for a moment. He's pacing even more, he's puffing aggressively on the unseen cigarette. "You-" the line becomes muffled. "Nevermind, Daphne, happy fuckin' wedding. I hope he's everything you ever fuckin' dreamed and more."
Liquid sloshing again, he's obviously picked his bottle back up. "I'll RSVP-" coughing, sputtering. "I'll-" He sounds strangely miserable. "Seeya there, Daphne."
Las Vegas, Nevada. The city was saturated in smoke and lights. His headlights, his cigarette. The radio was going out on him again, the sound of Arcade Fire was fading into static and the car was filled with terrible silence. He hated silence, silence gave him time to think and if he was thinking then he had time to get angry about this all again. He punched the radio, cracked the glass on the front of it and it sputtered at him. He punched it again, it didn't seem to respond much after that. He heard his own frustrated exhale, smoke rose from between his lips and out of his nostrils. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
Four hours. He had been driving for four hours. Plane tickets were expensive, it was cheaper to drive. He had been listening to the same Arcade Fire album for four hours. The radio had been his only solace in this trip and now it was down for the count. He was frustrated, he wanted to punch it until it coughed up music again but now he was stuck in silence. The only sounds around him were the sounds of the road, and the sounds of the road just made him feel muted and miserable. Inhale smoke, exhale smoke. Drop the ash into the styrofoam cup beside him.
The coffee in the cup holder beside him was cold and full of cigarette ash. He had taken two sips of that coffee before his stomach had become violently ill and he'd had to wretch up all of it's contents onto the side of the road. The cigarette clutched between his fingers was trembling, a thin tail of smoke was curling up towards the tattered ceiling of his car. He could see a steady trail of ants marching across his dashboard to a half eaten snack-cake from an hour ago. He was a wreck.
He dropped his cigarette into the cold coffee, let it sizzle out there and he fumbled for another one. He stuffed the next cigarette between his lips, brandished his lighter and lit the tip. He inhaled smoke, he exhaled smoke. There was a bad feeling settling over him again, he had been hoping to drown it out in cigarettes and music. There was no more music and he was running out of cigarettes.
Why was he coming here? Simple answer, she had invited him. Complicated answer, he had some ridiculous hope that he could change the course of events as they happened. After draining a bottle of vodka the night before, he had come to the brilliant idea that he could win her back. It had seemed like a great plan at the time, now it was starting to seem like a split second decision made by alcohol. It was funny how that happened, it was funny how he thought he was responsible enough to make grown-up decisions when he was still doing shit like that.
Marriage. It was a word that tasted like blood in his mouth, marriage didn't work. The pieces never fit together like they ought to. You couldn't just tie two people together forever and expect it to work, people had urges, people cheated, people- It was just so unexpected. She had always talked marriage with that same disdain that he did, she hadn't ever seemed like she'd wanted a husband. Maybe that meant something, maybe this invitation was her hint to him that it was only with him that she couldn't picture forever.
Maybe he was only coming here to drive himself insane. He didn't know any of these people, he had never met any of them. He knew their names and he knew little snippets of things that she had told him. He was a stranger amongst strangers, just Daphne's estranged college friend. They didn't know him, he didn't know them. That should have made him more hesitant. It should have put his nerves on end, it should have made this alcohol-fueled decision seem even crazier. Luckily, Quinn was not a guy that was easily deterred.
Anyway, despite all his anger, despite all his misery, Daphne was home.Home, in the sense that wherever she was, that was home for him. He had watched her walk away once, he wasn't about to watch her walk away again, not without a fight. No, this time wasn't going to be that easy, this time he was going to convince her to stay. That was the plan, at least, he was still working out the kinks.
The rest of the drive was like that, nothing but silence and the turmoil of his own thoughts. A cigarette between his fingers, cold coffee swiring with ash, the rest of the ride was silent but Quinn's mind was very loud. He could see the hotel as it came into view, as grand and as beautiful as he would expect of her. She had been born into money, she was used to fine things. He wasn't so used to fine things, the sight of it was a little bit intimidating to him. He took a moment to watch the people that were entering and exiting the hotel. He needed a moment to size them up, a moment to see what he was dealing with. The car was safe, he was anonymous in the car.
Once he stepped out of the car, he had to put on his game face. He fumbled a new cigarette out of his emptying case, placed it in his mouth and lit the end. He smoked like that for a good few minutes, just watching people as they passed. He had rode the last hour out in silence, he was content to spend a few more moments in that silence. People entered, people exited. Some watched him suspiciously, locked their cars up noticeably at the sight of him, others didn't even notice him. He liked the ones who didn't notice him.
He waited, he waited, he waited. Finally, he drew himself up, dropped the cigarette into the cold coffee and opened the car door. He said a mute goodbye to the car that had been keeping him safe and he made his walk into the hotel. He checked in, didn't stick around to talk at the front desk, though he did crack a joke or two about the prices and then he walked to his room. It went like clock work, it went smooth.
He checked his pack of cigarettes, counted three and dismissed the frustrated urge to groan in the middle of the hotel hallway. He unlocked the bedroom door, he stepped inside and he counted his cigarettes again. He counted three. There were still three, that was still frustrating. He paced for a moment, checked his phone, ignored the urge to respond to Daphne. He paced again, he freed a new cigarette from the pack.
He walked out to the balcony, lit up and- He saw her. Beautiful, with dark hair and brown eyes. A face that he had remembered down to the curve of her nose. She looked the same, seeing her now was different than a photo or a memory. It twisted something inside of his chest, it made him remember why he'd come here all along. It made it hard to keep his mouth from curving into a smile.
Birth of Serpents See that young man, who dwells inside his body like an uninvited guest.
| Full Name |
Osmond Andrew Wright.
| Nickname/Alias/Callsign |
| Age |
| Gender |
| Sexuality |
| In-Depth Appearance |
Osmond is the kind of guy that's affectionately referred to as stylishly messy, with a headful of rumpled, dark blond curls and a pair of intense brown eyes. With a hard chin and high cheekbones, the boy is considerably handsome in an almost ordinary way. A small birthmark stands stark at the right corner of his jaw and is usually made more apparent by deep dimples when he's smiling.
Standing at around five-eleven, the boy is built lean and gangly with long limbs. He dresses in very expressive attire, seeming to like wearing colorful button up shirts and dark jeans the most. Shirts like this monstrosity and this monstrosity are very commonly found in his closet. He likes to accent these with black combat boots.
| Personality |
Osmond is very friendly individual who has an honest love of life and a tendency to take everything with a grain of sand. There's rarely ever a time where he's angry, he seems to keep himself chill in just about every situation. He's not without his frustrations however and whenever those present themselves, he can become somewhat snappy with any surrounding people.
He can come off as overtly flirty at times, though his flirting is absolutely cheesy and unimpressive in just about every way. His favorite is to use his name as a pun on "Mister Right", he's used this line so much that it's become incredibly stale and unamusing. Not only does he flirt with women, he tends to jokingly flirt with men as well.
At times, he can be very lazy. It can make it hard to get him to do tasks, even if he's made a commitment to complete those tasks. He doesn't seem to like to lend an extra hand unless it directly benefits him, this can lead to him going to drastic lengths to avoid doing certain tasks. He's very much an underachiever.
Every so often, he seems to swing into a mood where he comes off as very irritated and sarcastic. This dash of sarcasm is a vast difference from his usual demeanor and makes it very clear that he's feeling tense or upset. This can be easily remedied by talking about his issues but he'll never make the first step to do that. It can lead to a lot of miscommunication.
Between jobs, tendency to pick up odd jobs and lose them just as quick.
Relation to the Bride or Groom
Cole became a very close friend of Quinn's during her time spent in California, he was a native of the area and they had a similar outlook on life. It worked out as well as one can expect.
BRUNETTE - GREEN EYES - 6"0 - 147 LBS
Quinn is a very tall and gangly fellow, he stands in around an even 6"0 in height. He's very slender, lacking much muscle at all and maintains narrow hips and shoulders. His frame is naturally very slight and his legs are very long, he is also very pale. He has very few freckles or scars but the freckles that he does have are very prominent and dark.
He has extremely curly hair that is very dark in color, so dark that it's almost black. This hair frames a pointed, youthful face with high cheekbones. He has very thick, dark brows that sit low over jade green eyes. His lips are nicely shaped and he has a slight dimple in his chin.
He is prone to wearing highly casual clothing, though he has a noticeable fondness for plaid.
SARCASTIC - BITTER - HUMOROUS - CLEVER
Quinn is a jokester, the type of guy that never takes things seriously. He breezes through life with little to no care for anything around him, while this light-hearted approach leads to him having very little stress, it also leads to him being a major underachiever. He doesn't follow through with commitments and he hates to be tied down.
He's very friendly most of the time, though there seems to be an undertone of bitterness to his personality. He's passive in regards to the feelings of others and he has a tendency towards snide remarks. He seems to have an edge of self-deprecation in everything that he says about himself, though a lot of it is masked in sharp humor. He's very clever and able to work things out quickly, he's often the first to suggest plans and ideas
He can be slightly reckless at times, seems to try to live as fast-paced as he can. He's prone to self-destructive habits and will often engage in risky behavior. He seems to constantly be testing the edge of just how far that he can go before something bad happens.
Quinn Alan Lloyd was born in Los Angeles, California, and he was born into what could only be considered a low income home. There was a constant struggle to keep food on the table and his parents were constantly working, it made for a very distant relationship with them. The distance between him and his parents lead to a lot of missed events and them never really knowing much about their son. Quinn was unhappy in this environment, though there wasn't much that he could do about it.
He understood as best as a kid could that necessity deemed that his parents would have to work extra hard to take care of him. Despite this distance between him and them, he understood that they cared about him. His relationship with his parents was never really the problem, the problem was what happened when he was in middle school. In middle school, his mother divorced his father after a four year long affair that everyone in the household had been turning their heads to.
In her absence, Quinn's shaky existence became even shakier. They were barely raking in enough money to keep their house, the kid was practically living on school lunch and whatever his dad could afford to buy that night. By highschool, Quinn had developed a kind of bitterness towards his mother that became more and more evident each time that they interacted. After awhile, she stopped trying to connect to her unreachable son altogether.
After they completely disconnected, Quinn began to fall into a cycle of bad habits as if to compensate for how bad that he was feeling. Fights became frequent, he was constantly getting in tiffs with other students and he had picked up a habit for smoking, he became obsessed with parties and drinking himself silly. His father was working harder than ever to maintain their household, it was only natural that he wouldn't have the time to keep his wild son in check.
This behavior seemingly never stopped, not even when he went into college, barely scraping by on a trustfund that was set up by his grandparents. Quinn pursued psychology because he had always had an interest in the field, and it lead him to meeting Cole who had come to California for college herself. They were both prone to bad habits and risky decision making, it was kind of a match made in hell. It was kind of the only thing that he enjoyed about college as a whole.
While the two friends were separated when Cole made the decision to move back home, he remained in contact with her as best as he could. He was adamant about them remaining friends.
Quinn moved out, bought himself a shady apartment, and quickly became wrapped in pursuing odd jobs. He could never seem to hold a stable job but he made ends meet as best as he could, it was in between jobs that he was invited to Cole's wedding.
Quinn suffers from MDD, though he's unlikely to talk about that. He has a phobia regarding spiders. He's a hell of a chain smoker. FC: Robert Sheehan. Dialogue Color: #8dc73f
Of course, he was getting kind of drunk, a lot of things weren't making sense but it wasn't normal to hear Colin become so emotional over something. His response had stricken Zeke as important, it was something that he was going to ask about later. It was something that he couldn't ask about right now with a few drinks in his system but he was definitely going to bring it up later. It was natural for him to worry about his older brother, especially with everything that Colin had gone through. He hoped he hadn't accidentally dug up some bad memories.
This was a night about having fun, which neither of them seemed to have enough of. It was about time for things to start running smoothly and maybe they could have kept running smoothly if it weren't for the appearance of Suspicious Tall Man. Zeke didn't like the look of him and he wasn't warming up to him over his glass of scotch, so he was sure that he wouldn't be warming up to him any time soon.
Colin introduced Adrian with flourish, though something in his mannerisms suggested to Zeke that he didn't like the other man at all. It was hard not to pick up on the distinctively threatening stance that he had taken at the sight of him. Though it made Zeke a bit more comfortable to know that he wasn't the only Brady getting bad vibes from Adrian tonight. Of course, he couldn't be so bad, right? He was friend's with the Captain so he couldn't be so bad, right?
As Colin began to ask Adrian about returning home, Zeke finished off his drink. He wondered if he could get another if he flagged the bartender down himself. It was steadily becoming his primary goal to get as plastered as physically possible before he left here. It had been a good while since he'd been able to sit back and drink in excess, he appreciated Colin for giving him the chance. He'd been having fun so far, even if he was a little drunk.
As Colin and Adrian talked, he allowed his gaze to scope out the room.
It was hard not to be stressed, he had learned that survival was the most important goal when it came to these situations. It had taken one axe murderer to amp his paranoia up so high that it was practically touching the clouds. Though the insects weren't carrting axes and Scott Reese was nowhere to be seen, he was still full of apprehensive fear of what was to come. He was waiting for that inevitable scream.
He didn't feel safe at all anymore and this was doing little to prove that theory wrong. One moment, they're hunting for evidence and the next moment, they're being swarmed in insects. It was only natural to find himself waiting and waiting for those insects to get in. Each moment was another moment of pure stress and anxiety. He couldn't stop barracading, he had to do something.
He was grateful for the help when Grant joined him, he wasn't quite the toughest and an extra set of hands was more than appreciated. He smiled to Grant half-heartedly when Grant made the sign with his hands and didn't quite know if he could honestly say that he was "ok". He was scared out of his mind and he was trying to stave off that terribly ominous feeling inside of his chest that something was destined to go terribly wrong. How do you explain that you just don't trust anything to go fine?
He answered Grant out loud because there wasn't time for him to text everything. "I'm just scared," he admitted. "Waiting for the sky to fall, y'know?"
He had a lot of people in here that he didn't want to see get hurt and he may have been able to test fate once but he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it again. He didn't know what he could do, shadows didn't stop bugs, he couldn't distract a whole swarm. He was full of nothing but stress, and then there was the cry, the inevitable voice calling out into the house. The sound of the swarm, the sickness twisting inside of his gut.
Panic gripped him and he looked up, waiting for the insects but... they had frozen. He was frozen, not in the same way, but in staring at them. He reached up, touched one of the frozen bugs and exhaled sharply. "I can't help but agree with Tuyen," he said quietly. "Basement seems like a death sentence but it might be our only shot."
John Reid's Farm - Barn.
"You already know but I'll repeat it for those who don't, I make things invisible. It's fairly useless here because I had us invisible in that tunnel and those damn bugs still followed us."
She couldn't help but sound a bit irritated, it was an overall irritating situation. Bugs galore and not a damn thing to do about it, it was all so frustrating. It made her regret ever moving to Farmerhill, she couldn't help but imagine that this would have never happened if she'd just stayed in the Keys. Of course, they has left the Keys for good reason but it was still a pain in the ass.
She wished she'd been given a power that could vaporize the hell out of these bugs or something. Instead, she was able to hide things, how ironic. She was a moment away from pacing the room in her frustration, she was trying to settle for foot tapping. She could cloak the room but all that would do is make them die while invisible. She hoped Lynette had a good plan, Lynette was a leader, if anyone could come up with something then she could, couldn't she?
[color=black][h3]Just call me Prose.[/h3]
[i]I'm twenty three.[/i]
[i]No Face accurately describes my appearance, I think.[/i]
[i]I've been roleplaying for a long time.[/i]
[i]Feel free to correct me on things.[/i]
[i]I edit character sheets a lot.[/i]
[i]My male characters will highly outweigh my female characters.[/i]
[i]I reuse characters that I like.[/i]
[i]I was in advanced writing classes at one point, it didn't make an impression on me.[/i]
[i]I do best in high casual settings but I could probably do advanced if I put effort into it.[/i]
[i]I hate writing personality and appearance sections, I'm bad at it.[/i]
[i]It takes me at least four replies before my responses stop looking like garbage.[/i]
[i]I refuse to write a first status until I can think of something good to say. [/i]
[i]At every given moment, I'm worried that I'm annoying everyone in the thread.[/i]
[sub][i]I'm not as pretentious as my name might suggest.[/i][/sub]
[h3]Roleplay Compilation List:[/h3]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171564-breaking-the-sun/ic]Breaking the Sun[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171138-the-marchand-school-of-sorcery-in-need-of-students/ic?page=1]Marchand School Of Sorcery[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171222-the-sands-of-time-a-days-of-our-lives-roleplay-high-casual-slice-of-l/ic]Sands of Time[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171668-your-friendly-neighborhood-government-sanctioned-superheroes/ic]Government Sanctioned Superheroes [/url][/color][/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://78.media.tumblr.com/835e45cb3c1e5af15c965d75e36b4304/tumblr_ojr8g7Q6bI1tknp1oo1_400.gif" /><br><font color="black"><div class="bb-h3">Just call me Prose.</div><br><span class="bb-i">I'm twenty three.</span><br><span class="bb-i">No Face accurately describes my appearance, I think.</span><br><span class="bb-i">I've been roleplaying for a long time.</span><br><span class="bb-i">Feel free to correct me on things.</span><br><span class="bb-i">I edit character sheets a lot.</span><br><span class="bb-i">My male characters will highly outweigh my female characters.</span><br><span class="bb-i">I reuse characters that I like.</span><br><span class="bb-i">I was in advanced writing classes at one point, it didn't make an impression on me.</span><br><span class="bb-i">I do best in high casual settings but I could probably do advanced if I put effort into it.</span><br><span class="bb-i">I hate writing personality and appearance sections, I'm bad at it.</span><br><span class="bb-i">It takes me at least four replies before my responses stop looking like garbage.</span><br><span class="bb-i">I refuse to write a first status until I can think of something good to say. </span><br><span class="bb-i">At every given moment, I'm worried that I'm annoying everyone in the thread.</span><br><sub><span class="bb-i">I'm not as pretentious as my name might suggest.</span></sub><br><div class="bb-h3">Roleplay Compilation List:</div><br><span class="bb-b">GMing:</span><br>N/A.<br><br><span class="bb-b">Co-GMing:</span><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171564-breaking-the-sun/ic">Breaking the Sun</a><br><br><span class="bb-b">Partaking In:</span><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/170587-vivid-recollections-into-the-world-unknown-urban-fantasy-with-hints-of/ic">Vivid Recollections</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171138-the-marchand-school-of-sorcery-in-need-of-students/ic?page=1">Marchand School Of Sorcery</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171222-the-sands-of-time-a-days-of-our-lives-roleplay-high-casual-slice-of-l/ic">Sands of Time</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/171668-your-friendly-neighborhood-government-sanctioned-superheroes/ic">Government Sanctioned Superheroes</a></font></div></div>