Post by cyril jett winchester on May 4, 2013 20:59:37 GMT -5
[style=font-family:georgia; font-size: 40px; letter-spacing: -2px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #fafafa; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 1px; margin-top: -30px;]Cyril jett winchester ,
nineteen - male - local
[style=margin-left: 50px; margin-right: 50px;]P R I M A R Y
full name: cyril jett winchester
nickname(s): cy, jett, jet-black
age: nineteen
gender: male
sexual orientation: bisexual
academy: none
year: none
canon: original
class: local
player: moon
play-by: brock kelly
S E C O N D A R Y
likes: cars, the ocean, hot showers, singing in the shower, rowboats, cats and dogs, fighting, guitars, fixing cars, long walks in a forest or on a beach, cold weather, snow, Canada, one-night-stands (only when he's drunk), the faint smell of cigarettes on someone, sunglasses, plaid shirts, hoodies, all kinds of hoodies, coffee, bacon, strawberries, maple syrup, alcohol
dislikes: the heat, snobby, rich people, being the center of attention in a crowded room, american football, bimbos, loud places, doesn't like people very much, drugs, olives, his parents, insects, the crunching sound of killing a bug, white chocolate
aspirations: get a car, wants to go back to Canada, open his own car garage, a little family in a nice house
motivations: his job, hating the heat, Canadian people are hot
fears: insects, being hated, being noticed in a crowded room, being locked in a room without any light, being yelled at, getting touched in an inappropriate way, death
key traits: loner, quirky, sarcastic, droll, neutral, passive-agressive, a little self-destructive, jerk, mean jokes, dark humour
personality: Cyril was mainly affected by his violent nature as a child. Being an outstanding "warrior", as he would put it, he quickly learned how to fight and win most of his "arguments". The conflicts that had started out as playful scuffles had become far more serious. As he grew older he started to learn how to maintain his anger and violent tendencies. He took to fighting after witnessing his mother being the subject of domestic abuse at a young age and never learning it was wrong. His destructive nature followed him to school. Being very aggressive towards his classmates, they grew wary of him. He was scolded so often he started to dislike hanging out with the other children as to not get punished anymore.
After he was sent to America, he started to joke around more because he was afraid of being alone again. His uncle, who was a lighthearted, jolly, and friendly man altered him in a positive manner. When became a teen, his hormones started kicking in and everything began to change. The people he thought he once knew started leaving him behind. Before he could be hurt any further, he abandoned the rest of his friends and started to isolate himself. His mom's sudden death put him on edge and he was sensitive about the subject.
Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to introduce this boy to alcohol.
family tree:
lily isis winchester, mother 31 (deceased)
lindsey irene smith, maternal aunt 42
lorraine iris smith, maternal aunt 40
lisa isa smith, maternal aunt 37
frank george winchester, father 46 (in jail)
rick xavier winchester, fraternal uncle 43
sean devin winchester, fraternal uncle 40
history: Up to when Cyril was five, he was stuck with his parents in Quebec, Canada, and although it is the French part of Canada, their family originally came from England. As a child he was witness to his mother getting beaten by his father almost every day, which made him believe that violence was right in the real world. His mother, who was a heavy smoker, was very kind and loving towards him. The lingering smell of smoke on her clothing turned into a symbol of safety and comfort. One day his father hit his mother over the head with a hard and heavy object during a drunken rage, causing severe head trauma. Cyril called the police to help his mother, resulting in his father's arrest. When she came back, though she was too weak to take care of him, and ended up sending Cyril to his uncle.
As life went on, and Cyril grew older, he learned how to make money on the streets easily. With his uncle being the youngest of the two, he inherited nothing when his parents died. The coziness Cyril experienced as a child was thus taken away when he arrived. His uncle, who was a carpenter, didn't get paid very well. As Cyril went on about making money, working part time jobs wherever he could and going to school, he found his true passion in mechanics.
He was actually beginning to get on pretty well until he learned of his mother's death back in Canada. He began to drink to cope with the loss, and the more he drank, and angrier he got. When he was mad, he fought; much like he did when he was younger. It was all one big, vicious cycle. With the drinking came restless sleep and mind splitting hangovers, but with the fighting came dark bruises and many psychological injuries. As he as he got more and more tired of the teachers and students telling him what to do, he dropped out of school and took up a job as a waiter at the local bar. He found himself an apartment and moved out from his uncle's as soon as he could, so he could avoid the shame in his uncle's tired eyes.
T E R T I A R Y
roleplay sample: Cyril took another swig of his beer, welcoming the cold liquid that rushed down his throat. Today had been a one hell of a day and he wasn't in a good mood at all. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, one knee up with his arm resting on it, the other leg on the floor and his hand laying next to it. He finished his drink and tossed it next to all the other empty bottles. His eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit apartment. His anger was getting a hold of him again as he sat there alone, silent and reflecting, and just as he was about to get up, he wondered why he even drank. The tearing feeling in his gut that followed that thought ceased any and all effort he was putting into lifting himself off the floor.
He sat there, numb and suddenly lost, remembering the soft touches of a far off memory. He clutched his head with his right hand and held back a sob. Thoughts like 'what would she think of me?' or 'I'm turning out to be just like him' came racing towards him and his muffled cries became a rain of salty tears as the image of his mother invaded his mind. He got up, wobbling lamely, and tried to make his way to his bed, trying to fight away the memories threatening to destroy him. Trying to grab onto pieces of furniture where he thought they were, only to find empty air and to fall on the cold living room floor.
He gripped his sides, bawling, letting the tears fall from his eyes like a miserable waterfall. Sometimes he thought he should stop drinking, but it wasn't like these flickers didn't follow him when he was sober. If drinking didn't kill him, something else would.
[/style][/style]full name: cyril jett winchester
nickname(s): cy, jett, jet-black
age: nineteen
gender: male
sexual orientation: bisexual
academy: none
year: none
canon: original
class: local
player: moon
play-by: brock kelly
S E C O N D A R Y
likes: cars, the ocean, hot showers, singing in the shower, rowboats, cats and dogs, fighting, guitars, fixing cars, long walks in a forest or on a beach, cold weather, snow, Canada, one-night-stands (only when he's drunk), the faint smell of cigarettes on someone, sunglasses, plaid shirts, hoodies, all kinds of hoodies, coffee, bacon, strawberries, maple syrup, alcohol
dislikes: the heat, snobby, rich people, being the center of attention in a crowded room, american football, bimbos, loud places, doesn't like people very much, drugs, olives, his parents, insects, the crunching sound of killing a bug, white chocolate
aspirations: get a car, wants to go back to Canada, open his own car garage, a little family in a nice house
motivations: his job, hating the heat, Canadian people are hot
fears: insects, being hated, being noticed in a crowded room, being locked in a room without any light, being yelled at, getting touched in an inappropriate way, death
key traits: loner, quirky, sarcastic, droll, neutral, passive-agressive, a little self-destructive, jerk, mean jokes, dark humour
personality: Cyril was mainly affected by his violent nature as a child. Being an outstanding "warrior", as he would put it, he quickly learned how to fight and win most of his "arguments". The conflicts that had started out as playful scuffles had become far more serious. As he grew older he started to learn how to maintain his anger and violent tendencies. He took to fighting after witnessing his mother being the subject of domestic abuse at a young age and never learning it was wrong. His destructive nature followed him to school. Being very aggressive towards his classmates, they grew wary of him. He was scolded so often he started to dislike hanging out with the other children as to not get punished anymore.
After he was sent to America, he started to joke around more because he was afraid of being alone again. His uncle, who was a lighthearted, jolly, and friendly man altered him in a positive manner. When became a teen, his hormones started kicking in and everything began to change. The people he thought he once knew started leaving him behind. Before he could be hurt any further, he abandoned the rest of his friends and started to isolate himself. His mom's sudden death put him on edge and he was sensitive about the subject.
Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to introduce this boy to alcohol.
family tree:
lily isis winchester, mother 31 (deceased)
lindsey irene smith, maternal aunt 42
lorraine iris smith, maternal aunt 40
lisa isa smith, maternal aunt 37
frank george winchester, father 46 (in jail)
rick xavier winchester, fraternal uncle 43
sean devin winchester, fraternal uncle 40
history: Up to when Cyril was five, he was stuck with his parents in Quebec, Canada, and although it is the French part of Canada, their family originally came from England. As a child he was witness to his mother getting beaten by his father almost every day, which made him believe that violence was right in the real world. His mother, who was a heavy smoker, was very kind and loving towards him. The lingering smell of smoke on her clothing turned into a symbol of safety and comfort. One day his father hit his mother over the head with a hard and heavy object during a drunken rage, causing severe head trauma. Cyril called the police to help his mother, resulting in his father's arrest. When she came back, though she was too weak to take care of him, and ended up sending Cyril to his uncle.
As life went on, and Cyril grew older, he learned how to make money on the streets easily. With his uncle being the youngest of the two, he inherited nothing when his parents died. The coziness Cyril experienced as a child was thus taken away when he arrived. His uncle, who was a carpenter, didn't get paid very well. As Cyril went on about making money, working part time jobs wherever he could and going to school, he found his true passion in mechanics.
He was actually beginning to get on pretty well until he learned of his mother's death back in Canada. He began to drink to cope with the loss, and the more he drank, and angrier he got. When he was mad, he fought; much like he did when he was younger. It was all one big, vicious cycle. With the drinking came restless sleep and mind splitting hangovers, but with the fighting came dark bruises and many psychological injuries. As he as he got more and more tired of the teachers and students telling him what to do, he dropped out of school and took up a job as a waiter at the local bar. He found himself an apartment and moved out from his uncle's as soon as he could, so he could avoid the shame in his uncle's tired eyes.
T E R T I A R Y
roleplay sample: Cyril took another swig of his beer, welcoming the cold liquid that rushed down his throat. Today had been a one hell of a day and he wasn't in a good mood at all. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, one knee up with his arm resting on it, the other leg on the floor and his hand laying next to it. He finished his drink and tossed it next to all the other empty bottles. His eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit apartment. His anger was getting a hold of him again as he sat there alone, silent and reflecting, and just as he was about to get up, he wondered why he even drank. The tearing feeling in his gut that followed that thought ceased any and all effort he was putting into lifting himself off the floor.
He sat there, numb and suddenly lost, remembering the soft touches of a far off memory. He clutched his head with his right hand and held back a sob. Thoughts like 'what would she think of me?' or 'I'm turning out to be just like him' came racing towards him and his muffled cries became a rain of salty tears as the image of his mother invaded his mind. He got up, wobbling lamely, and tried to make his way to his bed, trying to fight away the memories threatening to destroy him. Trying to grab onto pieces of furniture where he thought they were, only to find empty air and to fall on the cold living room floor.
He gripped his sides, bawling, letting the tears fall from his eyes like a miserable waterfall. Sometimes he thought he should stop drinking, but it wasn't like these flickers didn't follow him when he was sober. If drinking didn't kill him, something else would.
