WINTER, Leonidas F. Oct 18, 2013 13:17:13 GMT -5
Post by LEONIDAS FAOLAN WINTER on Oct 18, 2013 13:17:13 GMT -5
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Face Claim: <Jamie Campbell Bower>
OH, HAI THERE! I'M Thistle AND IT IS MY PLEASURE TO MEET YOU. I'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR A long time SO I KNOW WHAT TO DO. YOU NEED TO TALK TO ME? HIT ME UP AT Skype: kaathomas AND I'LL TRY TO GET BACK TO YOU.
FULL NAMELeonidas Faolan Winter
SEXUALITY Mildly bi-curious, but prefers women
BIRTHDAY December 5th
Leo stretches a full 6'4" of lean, sinewy muscle. He appears scrawny, but he's much stronger than he looks. With a mess of golden blonde hair, and a gentle creamy complexion, this guy has some good looks. His sharp eyes are a dusty blue.
This is all complimented by his easy-going neo-punk wardrobe. A comfortable day for him is a pair of mildly ripped jeans, fitted t-shirt and his fathers old jacket, covered in protest patches.
- Getting lost in a good book
- Protesting for a cause he believes in
- Drinking with his buddies
- Napping on a sun-warmed wood floor in the middle of winter
- High-school education system
- Sports in general, but football in particular
- An excellent fiction writer
- Naturally fit
- Excellent money-management skills
- Doesn't get sick easily
- Can't cook; he can burn mac'n'cheese
- Can't drive; he never saw the point in learning
- Weak math and science skills
- Socially inept
When people ask Leo what he wants to do with his future, he always waffles and tells them he's not sure. The truth is, he's embarrassed to tell the truth. Leonidas wants to be a writer. He wants to write beautiful detailed novels that will change the way people see their fellow man. He wants his works to someday be examined in university English lit classes. He wants his pieces to be classics. And he knows he's a great writer, but he doesn't want to be set up for failure. He wants to rise up and astonish the world. He wants to be special.
Leonidas is a clever individual, quick with wit and an easy going way of speaking. Unfortunately, this is countered by his failure to follow social norms. He's honest to a fault. If he thinks you look silly, he will tell you. He will attempt to be tactful, but he's frequently unsuccessful.
Most people would just call him an asshole.
He can be a challenge to get to know, but he does have a good heart, and he's not afraid to show it to the world. He tries his best to help those around him and make the world a better place, despite his moderately anarchist tendencies.
Although he values his friends dearly, he doesn't care much for family. He has been disillusioned of the whole process. He feels it's easier to keep loved ones at an arms length, and though he's had several girlfriends, they all inevitably ended with his refusal to commit in the long-term.
It was early December, and the snow was thick on the ground. A tall, wiry man in a faded coat struggled through the snow to his car. His darling wife had phoned him desperately, begging him to come swiftly to the hospital. She was in labour. Their son would be born that night.
Shortly after 11pm, in a bleak white hospital room, a boy was born. His mother desperately clutched him in her arms before her life slipped away from her. The wiry man arrived too late. Leonidas was born into the world, and his dear Allison was gone.
Leonidas was raised until the age of 5 by his aunt Helena. He was told that his father was being important and making the world safe for him. He had built in his head an image of a knight in shiny armour. What he got instead, on his fifth birthday, was a tired politician. After Allison died, Leonidas's father swore he would make a difference in their city. He swore the roads would be cleared faster in the winter, and that the hospitals would get state-of-the-art equipment. He swore healthcare in general would improve. 5 years later, and he hadn't made much difference at all.
When Leonidas went home with his father that day he never even considered that this man would break his heart. The barren home, providing only the basic necessities, should've tipped him off. Sadly, at that youthful age, he still held such high hopes.
In the years that followed, he asked his father frequently why there were no pictures of Allison in the house. His father would never answer the questions, saying simply that there were none to be put up.
His fathers political career had begun to snowball. He was gaining momentum and supporters. Sometimes, he would go away for days, and young Leonidas would be left alone in the empty house.
It was during one of such times that he ventured into the cellar. His father had always warned him not to go down, as it was dangerous, but Leo was 12 and feeling a bit rebellious. Down there, he found more than he would ever have expected.
When his father returned from his trip, Leonidas had expected him to be happy. The house was filled with hundreds of photographs. Hundreds of images of Allison. Instead, his father grew furious. He tore down the photos, gathering every one of them and burning them in the fireplace.
That was the day Leonidas discovered the truth. His father had given up on making the world a better place. His father didn't care about the people anymore. He didn't care about Allison, and he certainly didn't care about Leonidas.
That day, Leonidas put on his fathers old, worn jacket. If his father wouldn't save the world, he would.
The next few years were painful. His father remarried and they moved into a much larger house. This was apparently what Senators did. Leonidas salvaged what he could, and defiantly he wore the jacket as frequently as possible. He began to research all the things that were wrong in the world, horrified by what he found.
It seemed to him that the world was a very messy place. It would take a lot for him to fix it, but he was sure he was up to the task.
At the age of 16, Leonidas got his first job and, with the help of his aunt Helena, moved into his first apartment. His relationship with his father became more strained, but he didn't care. Family was over-rated. All he needed was to help the little people.
A sliver of moon sat high in the sky, casting little light onto the foggy city. The air was heavy and damp with fog. The scent of a turkey cooking emanated from a large, well-tended house. Inside, lights shone out. A happy woman, and her happy husband, sat before a fire drinking wine and laughing. Soon, the turkey would be cooked and they would sit down to Christmas dinner.
A tall, slender boy stood outside in the snow, his breath curling away in thick white puffs. He looked in at the couple and pulled his over-sized coat tighter around himself. The man in the house looked nothing like the man in the old photographs. This was a man that wore a suit and tire, his hair cut short and combed back. The boy glanced at the faded photo in his frozen hand, hoping to see some similarity. And he supposed there was. The shape of the nose and the eyes, the high cheeks bones... Those were all the same. But gone was the thick blonde hair, drawn into a loose ponytail. Gone was the boyish grin and the crinkled eyes.
He looked back up at the man in the window. Every action was calculated. Every moment timed.
Leonidas turned away from the house, tucking the photo back in his pocket. It was Christmas, and families were tucking into their dinner. But who did he have? Where would he find his meal tonight? He thought about the basket his aunt had sent him. He was sure there would be enough to make a meal, all pre-packaged so he would just have to microwave it. He knew she cared for him, and so desperately wished he could spend the evening with her family. But that would be rude of him. He was grateful enough just for the sentiment.
The boy ambled down the road, shivering. Soon, he would be off this street, out of this neighbourhood. There was a bar only a block or two from his apartment. They knew him there, and despite his age, they would serve him. He chuckled to himself. How dramatic, spending Christmas with the drunks. Still, it was better than spending it alone.