Post by Theodore Bonaparte on Jun 2, 2010 22:38:34 GMT
" Nothing to do
Nowhere to be
A simple little a kind of free
Nothing to do
No one but me
That's is all I need. "
FULL NAME Theodore Marshall Bonaparte
ALIAS Theo, Teddy
AGE Twenty-two
NATIONALITY French
OCCUPATION PRINCE BONAPARTE, ----------------, 22, FRANCE
Son of the King.
PERSONALITY
Theo does not contain the proper personality traits to be royalty. He could most certainly be a leader, but, to be viewed as a high, honorable, glorious patriarch of a royal society, there would be several things this boy would need to change. For the most part, he is glad his brother will be given the crown—less stress, less panic, less behavior required. His idea is to live life to the fullest. From where he stands, this plan would never be able to be accomplished were he stuck with all the problems come with being King of France. Prince suits him just fine.
First and foremost, Theo is absolutely honest. Sometimes, it comes off as rude, but really, it’s just him trying to be realistic. No societal restrictions could keep him from saying and doing what he wants. He tries to remain polite, and only says the worst of things behind closed doors, but for the most part, he is much more outspoken than the usual Prince or Princess. The only people who may be able to keep him quiet are his older brother and his father, but that’s because he’s very intimidated by them.
Because Theo can barely stand self-obsessed, vain, overly prideful people, he’s become very humble and focused on personality over looks. Compared to his brother, he feels like a bit of an ogre—he’s much heavier, much thicker…not nearly as “pretty”. He doesn’t mind too much, but it makes it harder for him to attract girls. It doesn’t help that he’s younger as well. He envies his brother only a little, but it hurts him deep in his core that his brother can just turn away at every advance, while he has yet to find love. However, though he is generally humble, he always finds moments where he at least tries to love his looks—his smile is his favorite feature, but he really only pretends to feel awkward about his muscles.
Mild-mannered, Theo does not go out of his way to pick fights. He doesn’t think on his feet very well, so arguing is out of the question. Physical fights are easier due to his size and strength, but he prefers to avoid all dramatic affairs. Furthermore, when he is put on the spot for speaking, he often begins to stutter or he can gain a sudden lisp. Whatever he does say that sounds ingenious, romantic, or both, he has to think about for at least a moment or two before he says anything. But, generally, that’s O.K., because he’s very good with words, once he gets them organized.
As well as all the aforementioned, he is loyal, stubborn, and persistent beyond all reason. If he sees something he likes, he simply must have it—even if it involves begging, pleading, and maybe even some underhanded offers. It doesn’t help that he is completely shameless: he would easily sell the shirt off his back for a good-looking slice of cake. (Being a total food-y doesn’t help anything either.) However, it is these exact qualities that make him so lovable: he will give anything for friends, family, and even more for the love of his life. While he has not found that girl yet, he swears he’ll know when it happens.
Though he is not as creative or musically inclined as his siblings, Theo has his own talents. Unlike most royals, Theo can cook and clean all by himself. For the most part, he’s pretty good with his hands. At home, he’s spent many hours hanging out with the servants (they don’t judge him as much as some royalty does), so he was obviously going to pick something up. Cooking is his favorite talent, but he’s also an excellent wood-worker, and can wield a mop in the face of any grime. In high society, these talents can be dubbed as pure rubbish, but in life, Theo, at least, thinks they will do some good. He’s just fine at most sports, and he is a wonderful dancer—these are the two talents his father seems to accept in his son.
One should know that Theo is the most over-the-top romantic they may ever meet. He is usually borderline corny, but he you can’t say he’s unoriginal. He doesn’t really mean to be this way, but it happens—his mother read love poems all the time, and after she died it just stuck with him. Gallant, courteous, and so sweet it might even make you want to throw up a little, he’s what we would now think of as a “real Southern gent”. Because he has no true love of his own, he has a general love affair with culture and the Earth itself: Shakespeare, Twain, Churchill, Cummings, Whitman, Poe—these are his loves of the moment, because he honestly has nothing else to grasp onto. He dreams of good food and wine, and better friends. For the life of a Prince, he requests the simplest of pleasures.
However, though he is romantic, it is this exact sort of passion that is his downfall. Do to his strong feelings for whatever he desires, he has been known to slip into phases of depression when he can’t have what his heart desires. He can be very over-sensitive, and quick to anger (though he usually just broods, rather than flaring out). Because of these characteristics, he is often a heavy drinker, and doesn’t handle emotional trauma well. Furthermore, after his mother’s death, he became an insomniac due to the nightmares her death left him with. He currently spends his nights indulging in far too much alcohol and the company of any insecure woman he can get when in this state of inebriation. While he has no love for any of these girls, he courteously apologizes the next morning for bringing them home and pays for a carriage to send them on their way. While he generally has a few close friends he can stay close with, he’s actually very lonely. He’s begun to think it’s the family curse. Will he find love?
As a final note on Prince Bonaparte, know that, though he is not as intellectual as his brother, Theo makes up for this with his good sense of humor and adventure. He may be more than a little sarcastic, but he has a very playful wit. He can often be seen as childish and immature, but it all adds up to someone who is actually fun. He loves the out doors and often finds it a challenge to sit still. He learned to horseback ride at age ten and has been doing it ever since. He goes for long rides as many times a week as he can—his favorite part of France is it’s countryside. He wonders around the woods for hours, he would give anything to live in a cottage on the beaches of Normandy. He is good with children because of these facts, but bad with very serious people—or situations. Seriousness has not and never will be his forte.
SEXUALITY Straight
APPEARENCE
Theo is six feet tall on exact point, with wind-swept russet brown hair. Unlike his brother, he is by no means thin: he weighs somewhere around one hundred and eighty pounds, and is extremely bulky. He isn’t necessarily fat, just overly muscular: due to this, dress suits make him uncomfortable, and he hates them with every fiber of his being. He has massive steel blue eyes framed in thick, very feminine eyelashes of the richest shade of brown. A strong cleft chin, and a pair of perfect lips. His teeth are less than ideal—a bit pointy and animal-like—but when he smiles, it’s hardly noticeable; his smile changes the look of his whole face. His nose is slightly crooked, with a small hook on the tip. His ears stick out slightly and are rather pointy, but it’s more part of his character than anything else. Usually, there is a light amount of scruff on his face.
As mentioned, his body his bulky: all features are a bit big. His feet are size eleven/twelve, and his hands are huge, but weathered. His shoulders are broad, and a thick neck holds up his rectangular skull. His arms are thick as well as his legs, but not an in unattractive way. His legs are nicer than most women’s, and he doesn’t even need heels to pull it off. His arse is the only contest to his smile, but never in a million years would Theo admit that, or even think it. For the most part, his looks are youthful, sleepy, and a bit teddy bear-ish.
Because of his size and build, Theo tends to stay away from closely fitted clothes. He avoids ties and bow ties at all costs, and instead tries to stick with the basics. White button down shirts with average black suit pants were his easiest, but because he was not usually allowed out of his room with only that on, he usually wore black or crème silk vests over a white shirt with a plain cravat or cross-tie. Out in public, he may add a jacket, a cane, and a hat, but regardless, he tries to keep colors simple: he’d rather have attention drawn to his personality than his looks. Even at balls and royal events, he sticks to wearing the bare minimum of what is considered “fancy”. Sometimes though, when feeling silly, he may, just may, throw on a polka-dotted bow tie. But that’s very unlikely.
PLAY BY Jake Gyllenhaal
MOTHER QUEEN BONAPARTE, ------------------, deceased.
FATHER KING BONAPARTE, ---------, 43
SIBLINGS Princess Jeanne Bonaparte, 19
Prince Claude Bonaparte, 25
PETS
A Border Collie, black and white, Will
A Kisber Felver horse, dark brown with a black mane and tail, as well as a diamond spot on forehead and several white flecks all about body, named Brutus
HISTORY
Theo was born to his father and mother on December 15th in what would eventually become the least favored guest bedroom in his Paris home. It was not a particularly comfortable birth, as he was much bigger than his brother, his mother was in no way prepared for the birth. He was several weeks premature, and the fact he was much heavier than average did not help matters. His mother survived the ordeal, and had another child three years later, but she passed when he was nineteen. His life was changed forever.
At the age of four, it had already become obvious Theo was all too curious. He had already had his first encounters with naked women, and he would soon become interested in another favorite things of boys: the outdoors. He would spend hours outside, playing ruthless games like Pirates and the Inquisition. He collected countless bugs, studied them, and often ate them. He was almost always covered and dirt, and because his hair grew so thick and fast, he was just a filthy child. His mother and father didn’t mind so much, as they were easy-going through most of his childhood, and concerned more for Claude, who would become King.
By the time he was of thirteen, Theo had successfully learned to gallop freely on a horse. He was a talent at archery, and could do just about anything with his hands. He had also discovered some wonder in cooking: he helped the kitchen maids bake bread and small dishes, gathered the herbs they asked for. He was a good chess player as far as they go, but much better at a game of cards. He had gotten good at making tiny figurines out of wood, or soap, but he had yet to be able to build anything practical. As he aged further, soon almost sixteen, he began to leave horseback riding and archery behind, and focused solely on woodworking. By the age of seventeen, he was able to build complex shelves and handsome bureaus. His father began to look down upon it, as it was such a common-man trade, but he did nothing, for the most part.
When Theo was nineteen, tragedy hit like a tsunami. A massive wave of emotion. Water pressed him to the beach. Trapped. His mother passed, and suddenly, life darkened. His father became irritable and unkind, his brother began to shut down—as did he, but in a different way—and his sister just stayed as she was. He, of course, so depressed, threw himself into his work. Nightmares of his dead mother plagued him, and with his brother shut down and his sister unconcerned, it left him only himself. Instead of trying to survive the nightmares, Theo reverted to just beginning not to sleep: insomnia would be his apothecary. He spent many nights working on wood pieces, fiddling with whatever he could in the palace. In the years after his mother’s death, Theo built the pride of all his works: an oak grandfather clock, with as set of golden clockwork twirling inside. When it rang, it played his mothers (and his, when she was alive) favorite tune: Bach’s “Air”, in D Minor. It begins one minute into the original song and plays for about thirty seconds before the gears click and it ends. His father hates it with all fiber of his being, and almost demanded it be burned, but he lets it stay.
As the years passed on, Theo, now twenty-two, still has not fully gotten over his mother’s death. So far, she has been the only truly lovable woman in his life. Without her, what is he but a drunken, wood-working, self-loathing Prince? A small part of him continues to say, “Don’t worry, love will find a way.” But the rest of him just cries out for adventure, a distraction, something to keep him occupied. Days are easier than nights: days, he has friends and family and activities to attend to, but nights, without love, he has nothing but himself and a bottle of rum. His idea of living life to the fullest is the pathetic excuse to hope. Though it is unlikely he will accomplish it from his secret wood-room, he hopes that this trip to Russia may change everything. Maybe instead of just playing the role of a fully happy individual, he can become one. Will he? Will anything change? Will love find a way?
NAME Sebi
GENDER There’s a hole where “man-parts” would be, so yeah…
TIMEZONE East Coast
ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE 3-ish years on and off.
OTHER CHARACTERS None
PASSWORD once upon a december
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE
Henri blinked. He had looked down at his paper for merely a second...and then...something. A small boy had arrived, and gone out of some social boundary, as children often do. His arms were wrapped around Jessie, so tightly, Henri could practically hear Jessie gasping for breath. His eyes fixed pointedly on what he was sure to be the biggest serial rapist in the coming years. Part of him was prepared to reach out and slap the boy across the top of his head, but Henri was not one for violence towards children. It's a child, he realized suddenly. Not an abnormally small man, but a child. When was the last time he had seen a child out and about? He couldn't remember. He blinked several times.
The next few moments passed by slowly for Henri, for his brain slowed everything down so he could try and comprehend. A girl, an Aryan Princess more like it--pale blue eyes and dark hair, the ideal--was running towards him. No, the boy. She's here for the boy, he corrected himself, intaking a beat of breath sharply. The world swirled around him like he was trapped in a fishbowl filled with some kind of gelatin. He felt slightly nauseated. He needed his pills. Or something. Mother..., a faint voice murmured in the back of his mind. He exhaled. I am O.K.
He reached a hand up to touch the boy’s hair, but the boy was now out of reach. The female had arrived and taken him away. Jessie was safe. He heard something along the lines of a scolding. He did not react, rather, he blinked—calmly, he’d rather remain unaccounted for—he didn’t like scaring the locals.
As the girl talked to the boy—he couldn’t tell whether it was a brother, son or nephew…it didn’t matter, anyway-- Henri took a moment to compose himself. Picking up Jessie, he situated the tattered bear on his lap, ruffling his half-hearted drawings only slightly. Eyes shut, he breathed in slow, continuous breaths as he stroked Jessies head. Everything was fine—he reminded himself over and over—everything was fine. That was close
When he was finally without any odds, he looked at the girl. The girl, blinked back. She was saying something. Her mouth was moving but no words were coming out. His fidgeted for a moment, flexing his fingers. Her words were static noise that couldn’t reach his ears. I am not cotton. I am alive, his stated internally. He blinked one more time and rubbed his eyes before refocusing. ”…determined.” He had only caught the bare minimum of her sentence. Darn it.
Taking no time to pause in consideration, he spoke freely and with all-attempt at intelligence. “Ah yes, the Soviets are extremely determined to have their way in Stalingrad—but Germany will of course win! It is by far the better of the two: I will give the USSR the determination factor though—I mean they have much to lose and yet—such a shame we lost them as allies. Alls well that ends well, I guess!” He asserted, the corners of his lips twitching. He punctuated his statement with a hollow laugh.
An awkward silence followed. He paused. Then he heard a faint whisper. Something he should of heard. A word. Children. His eyes widened and his face went pale with embarrassment. One eye blinked, then the next followed with a short delay. He licked his shriveled lips. He hummed to calm his nerves. Pressed his palm onto Jessie. ”Pardon me. I am very confused. Children are the ones determined, yes? I believe that is what you said.” He paused. Left eye. Right eye. Blink. Deep breath. Closed eyes. “If that was what you were saying, which I’m not entirely sure it was—a-nd I apologize if it isn’t—, then I would have to say I wouldn’t know, because I don’t know many children.” There was another pause as Henri opened his eyes. He stared down at the pair, mystified.
The girl, as he noticed first and foremost, was surely some kind of Aryan. Dark hair flowed from her pale scalp, and her eyes glowed the same color as the sky. She was thin, and looked terribly pretty in yellow. Red lips. Like blood. Blood. He thought, eyes tracing down her body—she was filled with blood. As all people are. So much blood, he thought, picturing the battlefields. Men’s bodies spread out across large grassy fields: new rivers, rivers of blood. He is making geographic features. He is making death into art. The feeling of nausea returned for a brief moment. His fists clenched.
Make peace. Just once. He glanced around. Time was still going too slow, even though it had only been a few seconds. He couldn’t be left alone now, not in this state. And they seemed friendly, oh so friendly. He swallowed fear like his pills and held out Jessie; “If…if he promises to be gentle, I think Jessie would very much like to play with him…if that’s O.K…madam.”
