Matteo Salvatore Buchanan

[Audrey Harper]

Valkyrie Academy

About The Roleplayer:
Name: Gurms, c'mon guys, you know me already.
Age:16
Gender: va jay jay
Years Roleplaying:2-ish
Some Basic Interests:wet lab photography, making sarcastic remarks, arguing, volunteering.

About The Character

[/b][/size]
Name:Matteo Salvatore Buchanan
Gender:Male
Age:21
Grade:university junior
Major:Neurology
Minor: not applicable
Occupation: Valkyrie Country club, sous-chef
Originated From:United Kingdom
Parents:Isaac Buchanan, 52, Colonel in UK military
Annaliese Buchanan (nee Harper), 49, architect
Siblings:Siobhan Angelique Buchanan, 17, student
Portrayed By: James McAvoy
Picture:

Appearance:
Not quite qualifying as a having black hair, Matteo’s dark chestnut colored mane usually droops a little above his dark brows. For reasons unknown, his brows and the hair on the top of his head are substantially different in color, even accusation of him fly that he dyed his hair. He counteracts such accusation is a heave of his shoulders and a small chuckle. With a few curls scattered, Matteo’s hair is usually a little wavy, without any considerable thought to its form, and usually just quickly combed through after a shower, leaving it in its casual disarray. The texture of his hair is abnormally soft and smooth, with the ends lightly prickling his forehead, leading to the ladies whom are fanatical of such hair, repetitively stroking or running their fingers through. With such lustre and softness, it is difficult to resist the temptation to play with his mane; a definite advantage with women.

How do you explain the seven oceans trapped inside a pair of irises? Easy, you look into the eyes of Matteo Buchanan and let your very soul become enthralled by his piercing perception. With sea blue gaze complemented by dark hair, Matteo is truly a ravishing entity. However, sea blue does not always occupy his irises, for his eyes change colors. Shifting from slate grey, sea green and back to blue, and having no control over it, Matteo’s eyes change as erratically as his moods. His glance can cripple, leaving you helpless, and possibly drooling, you have been warned.

Whoever thought of the saying ‘pale is the new tan’ must have known Matteo. A ghostly pale child while growing up, Matteo was never able to achieve one of those perfect Bermudan inspired tan. Instead he would be one of those boys at the beach under a gigantic, super hat with sun screen generously applied to his nose by their over cautious mothers, terrified of a few sunburns. Oh did Matteo ever burn. Luckily, the male is now, ever so sluggishly, able to, slightly, un-paste-ify himself. However, Matteo wouldn’t want a tan even if he had the capability to attain one without burning, thinking they are very overrated. He prefers to be a wan, (no children, I didn’t spell ‘tan’ wrong) tall-man instead.

Being a strapping five feet and eleven and a half inches tall young fellow, Matteo had not always been of such heights. Being a miracle child, a premature child, he was always small His height was always the butt of jokes for most of the older children’s pranks, until one day, growth spurts began. And did he ever grow. Surpassing the height of his mother in mere months, Isaac was nearing his father's; eventually outgrowing him.

Presently, Matteo’s weight is of no question, perfect. Not too scrawny and not too chunky. However, this has not always been the case. Teased on being a fat, short kid during his childhood, Matteo fondly remembers his threat of that time; “I’ll sit on you!” Although he likes to stress that he was ‘a little chubby’, his pant size as a child would suggest otherwise. A clothes shopping was never something he liked to go about, but it was inevitable. Once hitting puberty, another catalyst to such a drastic change, he was in the higher standards when he found the joy in running. Not such a fan at the beginning, but during his jog, he was always able to think. With this realization led to his major weight loss and his current svelte anatomy.

Matteo’s body type isn’t something that can be squashed into a certain category. He isn’t much of a skinny person, Matteo, being slightly on the averagely tall side of the neighborhood of man, does have some muscle behind the rather thin exterior. Not much of a gym person, in high school he was usually the first one finished the twenty laps in gym class. Sounds like he is the all-varsity, all sports, egotistical jock type, doesn’t it? Oh how deceiving that really is. Matteo, not much of an organized sports kind of person, only does one thing to maintain his modestly built physique. Running. Sprinting a few miles starting at six thirty in the morning, Matteo runs for many benefits, physically and mentally. In this action, he can freely think, with breathing in check; some of his most brilliant ideas have spurted from this very ritual. In short, Matteo has powerful legs, strong arms and a witty mouth.

A pair of slightly fitted dark washed jeans hangs from Matteo’s waist, usually accompanied by some sort of shiny belt. A clean t-shirt with a witty saying or if Matteo is feeling fancy a button-down shirt with an intricate tie nicely covers his torso. The last on his list of attire are the shoes. Owning only three pairs, each play a key role in his life. Each suites any occasion or function he ever makes an appearance to. Nevertheless, on a fairly normal day, Matteo would choose to slip into his blue, doodle filled converse shoes and head out.



Personality:
••Gentleman••
Oh Mr. Buchanan is such the romantic. When he dates a girl he knows how to treat her, quite well that is. Maybe this is why so many women seem to fall for him. Opening door, pulling out chairs, reaching for her hand to kiss the back of it lightly, Matteo is the kind of guy you would see in old movies. Matteo will do anything he can to make her smile. He is what a lot of people see as the perfect boyfriend. To put the cherry on the sundae, he is perfect for meeting the folks, polite, charming and full of everything the parents want their little darlings to be in a relationship with.

••Stubborn••
Stubborn, doesn’t even begin to cover it. Matteo, a very opinionated man, and will not change his views. Obstinacy only resulted because Matteo is almost always correct, it is a rarity to catch him wrong. Being of the outspoken type, he isn’t scared to give his two cents worth; even if it is only a penny for his thoughts. Be it the dean, his boss, or a passer-by he just happens to eavesdrop on; if a controversial topic floats into his ear, Matteo is bound to contribute, very much like his cousin Audrey.

••Impulsive••
Live for the moment, a small motto Matteo received from Ziraili, at the shear beginnings of their relationship. He tries not to dwell in the past for too long, but he relapses once and a while. But Matteo is an unusual boy. He doesn't tend to think things through before he does them, and often acts on a whim. Which, I suppose, is fine sometimes, but when it comes to something vastly important, it isn’t the best way to handle certain situations. However, that does not stop him, he does what he wants to, playing by no ones rules. Matteo leaps before he looks, and does not worry about the consequences until afterwards.

••Witty••
If Matteo could be summed up in one word, it would have to be witty. Having the sharpest of tongues, he will have you reeling after his swift whip of eloquently flowing language; even tossing in a few archaic words. Truthfully, Matteo is a wonderful guy, others who meet him for the first time would say otherwise for the most part it was his sarcasm. He was always the boy who would make a witty remark at any given opportunity, resulting in the class erupting in laughter. For those who dared to go against him, a smirk would be planted on his face as the factory of sarcasm offered another comment

•• Frivolous ••
Matteo has a natural drive for fun. He loves to have a good time and a better laugh, or even being the entertainment at your party. He will do anything to have a grand time, in some instances might getting him into a wee bit of trouble. Matteo has a good sense of humor and isn’t afraid to make a fool of himself in public. Actually, he quite enjoys that. Because of his childishness, you will be left in giggles, no wonder children adore him.

••Promiscuous••
Matteo, not quite a sex hound, does enjoy harmless sex, but not in a sex addict sort of way. He's an honest and genuine guy in everything he does so girls tend to fall for him but he is never one to stay with one girl. He only stayed with one girl, and now she isn’t around anymore, leaving a void he now tries to fill by resorting to sex; commitment-less sex. However, it is not about a meaningless, quick fuck, what’s the fun in that? Matteo likes to flirt, and does so without any real control over it. So he is sort of manwhore-ish with tenderness doused all over the place. With this, Matteo could never have the ability to lie to girls, if asked, he will honesty tell them that he had no intentions of ‘us.’ It is surprising how many ladies are perfectly fine with that, just having a night or two with Mr. Matteo.

From afar, it seems as though Matteo comes off as an arrogant brute fresh out of Europe. But that is only sort of true. With his sarcasm and witty remarks, and his random bursts of laughter, he is not all that that arrogant. On the contrary, he is very friendly and quite humorous, taking nothing too seriously. Although his mannerisms are highly European and formal, full of chivalry and what not, Matteo is laid-back and relaxed. He towers over most people with his six foot one inch stature, which could be slightly intimidating at first, but Matteo, after a while, is very inviting; to ladies particularly. With an undeniable charm accompanied by very gentlemen-like qualities and a flawless accent, Matteo is simply irresistible.

Likes:
• Intellect
• Articulate women
• Fiery, passionate lust
• Sex
• Darth and Vadar [his chocolate Labrador dog and golden retriever]
• Wine
• Orange Soda
• Humor
• Chocolate
• Sarcasm
• Cooking
• Tea
• Foreign movies
• Rain
• The ocean
• Literature
• Big beds
• Hazelnuts
• Occasional alcoholic drink
• Root beer floats


Dislikes:
• Redundancy
• Pistachios
• Coffee
• Ignoramuses
• Clowns
• 'Ditzy' people.
• Chores
• People who try to imitate his accent
• Southern drawls
• Walnuts
• Country music
• Most rap
• Leeches
• Solitude
• Failure

Flaws:
• Stubborn
• Impulsive
• Picky, picky.
• Slight perfectionist
• A little impatient when driven to an extreme
• Short attention span
• Flirts, uncontrollably
• Can be a little too critical of himself
• Can come off as being a wee bit of an ass
• Swears and uses god's name in vain
• Cannot commit

Secrets:
• He opens reads a letter from Ziraili before going to bed with the jewelry box open, so he can hear their song.
• Still wears the ring she gave him around his neck, however, does not tell anyone why or what it signifies


[/center]

[Audrey Harper]

History:
••But Mona Lisa just keeps on smiling,
It’s a miracle, it’s a miracle, it’s a miracle••

Isaac frantically paced in the waiting room, the habitual way his right foot subtly dragged left a visible ruffled smear in the well worn, navy blue carpet. He gnawed on the tip of his middle finger; anxiety crawling up and down his spine. His young wife had gone into premature labor. He was worried substantially; she had three miscarriages before this successful pregnancy. It was a miracle child, nonetheless. Annaliese, Isaac’s wife of nearly a year, gave birth to a baby boy on the midnight of July thirty-first.

A minute after midnight struck, Isaac entered the delivery room, as he held the child, cradling it with his life. He glanced down, to view his son smiling. At that moment, the name 'Matteo' came to mind, the name being of Italian background. The meaning, 'Gift of God', and so was his small, small, son.

Matteo had a typical childhood, full of toy cars and crayons against the wall. Everyday was an expedition for the only Buchanan child, and everyday was a power rangers day.

The beginning of school meant new friends outside the play dates that filled his indolent days. Making his best friends the moments they played with their hot wheels and legos, it was an easy time for Matteo. His sister, Siobhan, arrived three years later, and so the attention slightly shifted. The miracle child had a companion.

Spending summers in various places in the United Kingdom, schooling in one of the most posh schools in London, England, Matteo and Siobhan were quite the little travelers. Life’s responsibilities still had not caught up with them, and the only real pain they felt were the constant scars and scrapes of their ungraceful voyages.

••And these are the lives you'd love to lead
Dance, this is the way they'd love
If they knew how misery loved me••

High school. The mention of the establishment would send the squeamish squirming, the weak of heart flying away. Brother and sister are torn apart by cliques and awkward social graces. Sadly, that happened to this particular brother and sister. Siobhan, climbing in the social pyramid, maintained minimum contact with her ‘reject’ brother during school hours; at home, communication wasn’t so banned, since she had to live with the walking, talking ‘social suicide’. Matteo on the other hand, developed a passion for biology, more specifically the way the brain operated and photography, spending his free time in the darkroom, horsing around with the other science dweebs and developing artists. Although he was somewhat of a social outcast, Matteo had sailed through high school with not too many scars and had even received an award or two for his achievements in the school’s various science departmental contests. However, it was nearing the end of his eleventh year when he decided to live a little more on the edge.

•• The forest is breathing along with us tonight
Upper Class thugs take middle-class drugs••

This was around the time of high partying and the spirit of becoming the next rulers of high school when Isaac took his very first shot of alcohol; and many other experiences ensued. It was not even hard alcohol, just a vodka and coca cola, which had given his premier buzz. He enjoyed the subtly dizzying feeling of floating and preferred to have it last much longer than a few hours. The night was young and so was he; Matteo did not have the senses to know better, seeing as they were blurred by vodka.

Hangovers; nature’s bad-drinking karma. Matteo meets his sister’s various lectures with groans and moans, flopping in his bed, now curled into the fetal position as Siobhan’s newest lecture on alcohol shrieked in his ear. After that night, and that hangover with a couple of ibuprofens in his body, Matteo vowed never to drink out of moderation, knowing damn well of the results that followed. But he did not rule out other poisons from entering his system.

Isaac had attended all the mandatory drug seminars held at his school, he even saw the gruesome consequences of hard drugs like heroin, cocaine and methamphetamine. But, isn’t everyone a little curious?

It was a sweltering summer’s day. The day where you could see the heat rising from the tarred roads and breaking an egg above the sidewalk meant seeing an omelette before it hit the pavement. Such unusual weather for London. Unfortunately, Matteo had to do some things and be somewhere, doing it all in a dark dress shirt and a bright crimson tie. How he loathed summer weddings, at least he just had to show up for the reception. Lounging around at another party, a party full of intoxicated teens, all strangers, but linked in the buzzing effect of cheap liquor. Clearly, it was out of hand, as more booze broke through the front door and more shady characters came into view. In the midst of this rumble, along came ‘Mari-J’. London’s calling, and you have got to answer her.

***

He squirmed in his seat, beating rhythmically on his thighs with his fingertips; the subtle twitch was often mistaken for nerves of excitement for the new couple that was almost about to make their entrance. He was hysterical; tears of laughter were in his eyes as he got up to clap for the newly weds. Ending the applause, Matteo pursed his lips, attempting to hold his laughter. The Best man roughly said something along the line of ‘best friends’ and ‘be together forever’ when Matteo began to titter like a little schoolgirl. He almost made it to the end of the speech before he could not conceal his laughter anymore.

No one suspected such a good kid to be dense enough to try marijuana. This innocent praise vanished as quickly as the temporary high when Matteo passed out during the wedding banquet. Knocked out cold, he awoke suddenly in a hospital bed now supplemented by various tubes, needles and instruments jabbing skilfully at his exposed anatomy. So it was a stupid idea to let weed and alcohol mingle in his body. Who knew?

Returning home a few days after, Matteo tried to laugh off his small endeavor down poison lane, but was only met by his parents’ disappointed looks for what seemed as an eternity. His outings were vigorously monitored; Matteo had now created himself an invisible cage with his ignorant choices of the past. Somehow his parents became even closer, ironic considering the overly bitter arguments his parents would share in various languages. Luckily his small stint with curiosity did not affect his capability to enter university On the contrary, although his financial security was of no question, he still received substantial scholarships into the medical department. It was time to leave London and bask in the cultures of New York.

••I know your fears and you know mine
We've had our doubts but now we're fine
And I love you, I swear that's true
I cannot live without you••


It was one of those cliché romances you would read in one of those Nicholas Sparks books. Matteo did not care for those similarities. He saw her, and he wanted her. Then and there. It was a rainy mid-November day, the Columbia University campus was nearly deserted when he saw her. Her dark mahogany hair was tousled and dripping in rainwater, with non existent make-up darkening her otherwise pale complexion; but she was beautiful and he was left speechless. It never occurred to him to pick up his umbrella after his jaw dropped. Something grew within his stomach and crawled up to his throat. But his eyes couldn’t pull themselves away from her. Until she spoke, that is. “Staring is rude. Take a picture, it will last much longer.” That shook him out of her spell. He began to stutter, glancing down to his feet before he abruptly sat down beside her on the wet bench, causing the rear of his pants to soak up most of the liquid. He knew he would never forget her, never part from her. From that very first meeting, he had memorized her smile, the way she would brush her hair behind her ear and chuckle while glancing down; shyness and modesty devoured her. Her scent, the moment it rose through his nose was committed to memory. Looking back, Matteo knew he loved her from the moment he laid his eyes on her. How disgustingly cliché; but how undeniably true.

Their romance was envied, they were captivated by each other; oh so captivated. Matteo knew she was the only one he wanted to spend the rest of his life together. Ziraili, the name that resounded with every beat of his heart, with every love drenched breath. He loved her, confessing his love on the eve of their first anniversary. What surprised him more was that Ziraili felt the same way. The next day they exchanged promise rings. They both tethered them to thin gold chains, which then draped around their necks. Shortly after, they began to reside together. But they had not stopped a ritual they began since the beginnings of their relationship; writing letters to each. Sappy? Maybe. But the reality of it was that their love was now scripted onto sheets of paper, neatly stored away in Ziraili’s jewelery box. They were inseparable, hands coiled together at every moment of the rest of their lives. Matteo wanted to marry Ziraili. Scratch that, he didn’t want, he needed to marry her. She was meaning to his existence.

The blue velvet burned in the pocket of his coat as sweat smeared the palms of his hands as he held onto the wheel. His mother’s engagement ring felt as though it glowed through the box and through his pocket. Matteo was tense, slightly paranoid even. She asked him multiple times what the matter was, why he was driving like a crazy man through the cab and pedestrian filled streets of Manhattan. He just shrugged it off as he drove upfront of the hospital. They were going to visit his sister, Siobhan, for she had broken her arm, for the second time. He never ceased to be amazed at how his little sister was so… accident-prone. Just like Ziraili oddly enough. However, Ziraili was never making frequent trips to the emergency room. As she was exiting his black sports coupe he grabbed her hand, making her turn and look at him and then glance at her captured hand. He gave her a classic crooked smile, whispering the three words me only associated with her, “I love you.” His accent glazed over his words, making them irresistible.

Ziraili smiled, sitting back down onto the plush seat, her purse falling to her feet; she lightly kissed him, taking his breath away, as always, “I love you more.” She murmured, entwining her hand within his.

“Not Possible.” He chuckling, kissing her once more. The cars behind them began to honk as Matteo briefly craned his neck to view the commotion. He was attempting to park in the no parking zone, he wanted to go with her, but she insisted that he go park. Matteo sighed, he could never refuse her. Can someone say ‘whipped?’

Shaking his head, he kissed the back of her hand like the very gentleman he was and watched her stroll through the automatic doors into the hospital complete with the lemony scent of sterilization.

This would be the last time he would see the love of his life.

***

He twirled the ring around his index finger, whistling to himself while walking towards the hospital when explosions began. Chaos ensued. The vicinity was up in flames, and all he could comprehend was to locate Ziraili and have her in his arms and away from this havoc. Despite his refusal, and his constant pleading to go to the hospital and find Ziraili and siobhan within this commotion, Matteo and other civilians were escorted to safety, taken by the truckloads outside of the city. It was reported the Area was bombed, leaving no survivors in the rumble. Many people were still be unable to found, but believed to have perished in the blasts.

This was the day Matteo Salvatore Buchanan died.

••Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok••

Everything ended. The explosions, the panic, the fear; everything. All that was left was a numbing pain that lingered on him, a gaping hole where his heart used to be. Everything was going to go back into place, except for him. His work-life began over again, he moved to California and began to go back to school, attained a modern home with an awesome kitchen finished with a professional grade gas stove, pantry, four large bedrooms, three bathrooms, living room, a balcony and a whole lot of other extras. The whole lot was going back to normal. But he was hollow, so very hollow. He got in contact with his parents, who were safe and back in London, on the road to recovery and rebuilding their own lives. He only wished he could too.

He had found his car a few weeks before he shifted, with her bag still in the passenger seat. He pursed his lips as he sat in his car, in the dark parkade. He pulled the purse onto his lap and un-zipped the bag. The scent of Ziraili floated into his nose as his eyes began to water. Blinking away the tears but still maintaining the lump in his throat, Matteo found a picture of the two of them, tucked inside her wallet. It was when they had their arms around each other, and he snuck a kiss before the flash went, making Ziraili glow like the fourth of July. He chuckled at this memory, as he recalled her voice chiming through his mind like a melodious orchestra. God, did he miss her.

Matteo began to attempt to get away from it all, let it be with booze, women, and parties that begin the process all over again. He needed to come into comprehension that he needed to feel again; needed to move on. With the help of a few of his friends, Matteo and Ziraili’s apartment was emptied out, stuffed into a van and into his new home. He found her jewelery box, securely placing it atop of his bureau, the essence of their love engraved in the edges of the wood. Matteo opened the box, finding a new letter, written by Ziraili before this all happened. For once, he cried wholeheartedly. He tried to get away from this, he tried to forget everything; everything but Ziraili. But now, he needed to go on with his life, with life floundering around him and with everyone else who are doing the same.

NOTE: THE EXPLOSIONS ARE PURELY FICTIONAL.

Living Situation: Valks

For The Valkyrie Academy Admin:[/b][/size]
Read the Rules?:of course
Name One You Liked: 1. This is not a roleplay with unicorns and fluffy clouds, this roleplay can deal with real-world issues, after all this is highschool.

haha unicorns and fluffy clouds.
What Makes Your Character Different From the Rest?:
Matteo isn't different because, like most, he is trying to forget about his past by drowning it in girls, booze, awesome cooking and sex. However, Matteo is different because he is a sous-chef, his master cooking skills are impeccable and in University he is studying to become a Neurologist. A cooking future doctor from the United Kingdon; fierce.
Roleplaying Sample: Check out Audrey's

[Haley Summers]

yay he's awesome Gurms

ACCEPTED