Post by GRIFFIN BAILEY on Aug 22, 2015 21:44:32 GMT
[nospaces]
[attr="class","ur_appdiv"]
[attr="class","ur_appava"]
[attr="class","ur_apptitle"]BAILEY, GRIFFIN
[attr="class","ur_appsubtitle"]DEMOGRAPHICS
[attr="class","ur_appcont"]
✚ NICK : bailey, griff
[break]
✚ AGE : seventeen
[break]
✚ GENDER : male
[break]
✚ LOCATION : new york city
[break]
✚ ETHNICITY : white
[break]
✚ SEXUALITY : bisexual
[break]
✚ OCCUPATION : student
[break]
✚ ROLEPLAYER NAME : chau
[break]
✚ NICK : bailey, griff
[break]
✚ AGE : seventeen
[break]
✚ GENDER : male
[break]
✚ LOCATION : new york city
[break]
✚ ETHNICITY : white
[break]
✚ SEXUALITY : bisexual
[break]
✚ OCCUPATION : student
[break]
✚ ROLEPLAYER NAME : chau
[break]
[attr="class","ur_appsubtitle"]FACE CLAIM
[attr="class","ur_appcont"]SOUTH PARK, KYLE BROFLOVSKI
[attr="class","ur_appsubtitle"]PERSONALITY
[attr="class","ur_appcont"]
[attr="class","ur_appconttd"]
POSITIVE TRAITS[break]
✚ boisterous
[break]
✚ earnest
[break]
✚ benevolent
[break]
✚ curious
[break]
✚ forgiving
[break]
POSITIVE TRAITS[break]
✚ boisterous
[break]
✚ earnest
[break]
✚ benevolent
[break]
✚ curious
[break]
✚ forgiving
[break]
[attr="class","ur_appconttd"]
NEGATIVE TRAITS[break]
✚ impressionable
[break]
✚ boastful
[break]
✚ impulsive
[break]
✚ unambitious
[break]
✚ self-effacing
[break]
NEGATIVE TRAITS[break]
✚ impressionable
[break]
✚ boastful
[break]
✚ impulsive
[break]
✚ unambitious
[break]
✚ self-effacing
[break]
[attr="class","ur_appsubtitle"]FIRSTNAME'S STARTING DREAM WORLD
[attr="class","ur_appcont"]
GENERAL DESCRIPTION[break]
Griffin calls his dreamworld the Junkyard. There's a forest, a few decaying remnants of civilization, an expanse of endless desert - but mostly there's its namesake, a mountain of lost and broken things and the little shack of a home at its center. Most of the junk is just standard car parts and ripped armchairs, but with a bit of digging can bring up rarer things - worn spearheads and defuct rayguns.
[break][break]
APPEARANCE[break]
The Junkyard isn't small - but most of it is concentrated around the junk piles and the forest bordering a side of it. There are a few ghost towns if you have the patience to walk through miles of scorched desert. There's no night, there's no rain or winds. Just ceaseless sun and cracked ground. It's unchanging - there isn't much of interest apart from the Cool Stuff you can find among the garbage.
[break][break]
POINTS OF ENTRY[break]
The entrance to the dreamworld is inconspicuously hidden behind a first person shooter game in an old arcade in one of the more run down neighbourhoods on the edge of Gaea - the kind of place you wouldn't think to look unless you'd dropped a token. From the dark corner of an arcade to the blinding sun, visitors usually arrive unceremoniously in the desert, with the junkyard within view, a short walk away.
[break][break]
NOTABLE FIGURES (OPTIONAL)[break]
There are little scavengers - formless shadow-creaturs that dart from the forest to pick up scraps. Sometimes, noisy airships pass overhead and far out in the desert, you can see the glint of metal or the shape of a vehicle in a cloud of dust. While there are probably people to pilot them, Griffin hasn't met anyone in the Junkyard but other (rare) dreamwalkers.
[break][break]
GENERAL DESCRIPTION[break]
Griffin calls his dreamworld the Junkyard. There's a forest, a few decaying remnants of civilization, an expanse of endless desert - but mostly there's its namesake, a mountain of lost and broken things and the little shack of a home at its center. Most of the junk is just standard car parts and ripped armchairs, but with a bit of digging can bring up rarer things - worn spearheads and defuct rayguns.
[break][break]
APPEARANCE[break]
The Junkyard isn't small - but most of it is concentrated around the junk piles and the forest bordering a side of it. There are a few ghost towns if you have the patience to walk through miles of scorched desert. There's no night, there's no rain or winds. Just ceaseless sun and cracked ground. It's unchanging - there isn't much of interest apart from the Cool Stuff you can find among the garbage.
[break][break]
POINTS OF ENTRY[break]
The entrance to the dreamworld is inconspicuously hidden behind a first person shooter game in an old arcade in one of the more run down neighbourhoods on the edge of Gaea - the kind of place you wouldn't think to look unless you'd dropped a token. From the dark corner of an arcade to the blinding sun, visitors usually arrive unceremoniously in the desert, with the junkyard within view, a short walk away.
[break][break]
NOTABLE FIGURES (OPTIONAL)[break]
There are little scavengers - formless shadow-creaturs that dart from the forest to pick up scraps. Sometimes, noisy airships pass overhead and far out in the desert, you can see the glint of metal or the shape of a vehicle in a cloud of dust. While there are probably people to pilot them, Griffin hasn't met anyone in the Junkyard but other (rare) dreamwalkers.
[break][break]
[attr="class","ur_appsubtitle"]CHARACTER HISTORY (OPTIONAL)
[attr="class","ur_appcont"]
He’s laying on his brother’s bed, staring up at the three glow-in-the-dark planet stickers that are left after all these years. It makes him a little sad - there used to be the entire solar system stuck up on the bedroom ceiling. He squints, but he can’t even tell which planets are left. Neal is the smart one. He’s also the crazy one. And the good looking one. Griffin is whatever else is left.[break][break]
“You’ll bring back some cool stuff from space, when you become an astronaut, right?”[break][break]
“Astrophysicist.”[break][break]
“Whatever.” Griffin turns his head to look at his brother. Neal is tall and handsome and clever - with his sleeves rolled up and his glasses on a charming angle, Griffin feels a pang of remorse. He looks just like the boy he used to be, he looks like a brother that Griffin could miss.[break][break]
“Hey, we’ll stay in touch. It’s the twenty-first century.” He stuffs a few shirts into his suitcase and meets Griffin’s eyes. “You’re not gonna cry, are you?”[break][break]
“No.” He snaps, looking back up at the remnants of the solar system.[break][break]
—[break][break]
“Hey! Bailey!”[break][break]
Griffin hitches his bag up onto his shoulder.[break][break]
“Does being crazy run in your family?”[break][break]
I’ll show you crazy, he thinks. But he keeps his head down, keeps walking, teeth gritted, a white-knuckled grip on the straps of his backpack.[break][break]
“Bailey! I’m talking to you! Are you deaf or just retarded?” He inhales what is meant to be a deep, calming breath. Breathe in -[break][break]
“Did you land on your head when your whore mom dropped you on the doorstep?”[break][break]
Instead, he stops dead in his tracks. The soothing exhale comes out a snarl instead. He can feel the encroaching footsteps behind him, and the few seconds he has to gain an advantage over the larger boy. All the air in his lungs makes him feel invincible and clear-headed. Griffin bends over, his fingers close around the weighty rock that feels like a gift from the universe.[break][break]
—[break][break]
“Don’t you want to visit your brother?”[break][break]
He twines his fingers together in his lap, stares at the sickly yellow callouses and the dirt under his nails instead of at Julia. “Not really.” He hates hospitals, the antiseptic smell makes him want to throw up almost as much as his brother does. Griffin leaves a big smeary trail of dirt against the clean tile and white walls, and everyone stares after him with pity in their eyes.[break][break]
“He’s been asking about you.”[break][break]
“I’ll visit when he stops being such a fucking nutcase.”[break][break]
He doesn’t look up, but in his peripherals he can see David place a hand on her arm and murmur something into her ear. “Alright, Griff. Maybe next time.” He can’t see the smile David flashes, but he knows it’s there. He can almost feel its radiance.[break][break]
The door slams, the car pulls out of the driveway. Griffin wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand.[break][break]
—[break][break]
He’s four years old, swinging his legs in his seat aside from the hushed adult whispers of Important Things. At that age, Griffin loved police officers - they were nice, they gave him sticky candy and let him play with a pair of handcuffs. He could put his hand right through the loose cuffs, all the way up to his shoulder.[break][break]
He’s too young to understand the gravity of the situation, why his brother keeps snapping, why everyone looks so upset when he can’t answer their questions.[break][break]
“She said she’ll be back.” He insists. All the worry is trying to itch under his skin but he won’t let it. He trusts mother’s word with the naive confidence of a child.[break][break]
He’s heard the word “parent” so many times it’s lost its meaning.
He’s laying on his brother’s bed, staring up at the three glow-in-the-dark planet stickers that are left after all these years. It makes him a little sad - there used to be the entire solar system stuck up on the bedroom ceiling. He squints, but he can’t even tell which planets are left. Neal is the smart one. He’s also the crazy one. And the good looking one. Griffin is whatever else is left.[break][break]
“You’ll bring back some cool stuff from space, when you become an astronaut, right?”[break][break]
“Astrophysicist.”[break][break]
“Whatever.” Griffin turns his head to look at his brother. Neal is tall and handsome and clever - with his sleeves rolled up and his glasses on a charming angle, Griffin feels a pang of remorse. He looks just like the boy he used to be, he looks like a brother that Griffin could miss.[break][break]
“Hey, we’ll stay in touch. It’s the twenty-first century.” He stuffs a few shirts into his suitcase and meets Griffin’s eyes. “You’re not gonna cry, are you?”[break][break]
“No.” He snaps, looking back up at the remnants of the solar system.[break][break]
—[break][break]
“Hey! Bailey!”[break][break]
Griffin hitches his bag up onto his shoulder.[break][break]
“Does being crazy run in your family?”[break][break]
I’ll show you crazy, he thinks. But he keeps his head down, keeps walking, teeth gritted, a white-knuckled grip on the straps of his backpack.[break][break]
“Bailey! I’m talking to you! Are you deaf or just retarded?” He inhales what is meant to be a deep, calming breath. Breathe in -[break][break]
“Did you land on your head when your whore mom dropped you on the doorstep?”[break][break]
Instead, he stops dead in his tracks. The soothing exhale comes out a snarl instead. He can feel the encroaching footsteps behind him, and the few seconds he has to gain an advantage over the larger boy. All the air in his lungs makes him feel invincible and clear-headed. Griffin bends over, his fingers close around the weighty rock that feels like a gift from the universe.[break][break]
—[break][break]
“Don’t you want to visit your brother?”[break][break]
He twines his fingers together in his lap, stares at the sickly yellow callouses and the dirt under his nails instead of at Julia. “Not really.” He hates hospitals, the antiseptic smell makes him want to throw up almost as much as his brother does. Griffin leaves a big smeary trail of dirt against the clean tile and white walls, and everyone stares after him with pity in their eyes.[break][break]
“He’s been asking about you.”[break][break]
“I’ll visit when he stops being such a fucking nutcase.”[break][break]
He doesn’t look up, but in his peripherals he can see David place a hand on her arm and murmur something into her ear. “Alright, Griff. Maybe next time.” He can’t see the smile David flashes, but he knows it’s there. He can almost feel its radiance.[break][break]
The door slams, the car pulls out of the driveway. Griffin wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand.[break][break]
—[break][break]
He’s four years old, swinging his legs in his seat aside from the hushed adult whispers of Important Things. At that age, Griffin loved police officers - they were nice, they gave him sticky candy and let him play with a pair of handcuffs. He could put his hand right through the loose cuffs, all the way up to his shoulder.[break][break]
He’s too young to understand the gravity of the situation, why his brother keeps snapping, why everyone looks so upset when he can’t answer their questions.[break][break]
“She said she’ll be back.” He insists. All the worry is trying to itch under his skin but he won’t let it. He trusts mother’s word with the naive confidence of a child.[break][break]
He’s heard the word “parent” so many times it’s lost its meaning.
