Post by Hunter Sinclair on Jan 6, 2008 2:57:04 GMT -6
[/b][/size]Valkyrie Academy
About The Roleplayer:
Name: Gurman, more preferably Gurms
Age: 16
Gender: female
Years Roleplaying: approxamately two-ish
Some Basic Interests: Black and white Photography, reading, spontaneous activities, painting and writing
About The Character
Name: Hunter Zalman Sinclair
Age: 18
Gender: of the male variety
School Year: Twelfth grade/Senior,
Art Interest (why you’re here): Musical values, Sophisticated Science department, Law program and for a 'better' education
Originated From: New York
Parents:Drew Sinclair [father,47; Neurological Surgeon ]
Alexandria Sinclair-Raynor [mother, 43; Lawyer]
Sean Raynor [Stepfather, 38; Attorney]
Siblings:Raziel Marina Sinclair[18-twin sister, older by three and a half minutes]
Portrayed By: Gaspard Ulliel
Picture:
Appearance:
One might think Hunter is someone tall, dark and exotically good-looking; however, that person is greatly deceived. Self proclaimed ‘jolly fucking green giant’ standing at 6‘3, Hunter is neither dark nor has an exotically weathered appearance. He does have a dark chestnut mane and a greyish teal gaze all set in peachy blank skin. Having relatively unfussy hair, Hunter does not have to do much to seem as though he either gave no effort or a little too much to his ‘do. Usually, his hair is a dishevelled heap on his head, hair pushing every which way, Hunter is off to hit the town; not bothering to smooth out his mane on most days. A pair of semi-tight dark washed jeans hangs from his waist, usually accompanied by some sort of shiny belt. A clean t-shirt with a witty saying or if Hunter 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, Hunter would choose to slip into his rainbow-starred vans and head out.
Now that his superficial clothing clad appearance is settled, it is on to the machine of which the above-mentioned apparel goes with. Hunter, being slightly on the 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 in the band gym program; every alternate day he and the other bandies would be pelted with dodge balls, fun right? However, one day this scrawny little guitar prodigy got his revenge; baseball practice and occasion football had paid off, Hunter had gained a mean throwing arm. Baseball was the extent of his athletic abilities, football was possibly pushing the envelope. Baseball being not the manliest of sports, but it did provide him a place to run, throw, catch and hit. In turn, Hunter has long strong legs, powerful arms and a witty mouth.
Personality:
If Hunter 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. Being a punk, slightly scene and an overall quick-witted sweetheart with a flirty charm masquerading as a subtle badass, Hunter is now only a figment of his old self. The musical half of Mr. Sinclair is still very much intact but the shy and unconfident boy is stranded back in New York; but now he has shed into a new, delicately suave and laid-back gentleman.
However, not all has disappeared of the previous Hunter. The childish goofiness lingers in certain aspects of his social life, from the inability to refrain from a dare to secretly prank call locals. His openness allows him to easily make friends and even easier to behold enemies. However, do not be fooled by this simple façade. He has many acquaintances, and only a few close friends; the kind of friends you could run to at any hour of the night and would be comforted not outwardly confronted. Sadly, the majority of these dear friendships are still resting back in New York.
To clearly summarized Sir Hunter Zalman Sinclair, he is a riveting, vigilant, frivolous and frankly an intellectually compelling individual, both in sobriety and total drunkenness.
Likes:
Dislikes:
Flaws:
Flirts uncontrollably/unconsciously
Can be a little too critical of himself
Can come off as being a wee bit of an ass
[/ul]
Secrets:
fears;because everyone is afraid of something
History:
[‘Oh my god, ANOTHER one?’]
Alexandria had been in labour for quite sometime, she knew at any moment she would become a mother. Drew was frantically pacing the waiting room of New York's prestigious hospitals, Mount Sinai Hospital, wondering about his young wife who had gone into premature labour yesterday. Not quite premature, only about a month before the scheduled birth. They only went to one ultrasound appointment, at the very beginning of Alexandria’s pregnancy, not thinking they would be necessary near the later months.
The doctor snapped the latex glove around her wrist, a smile crossing her features,” You’re dilated ten centimetres, Mrs. Sinclair, you’re about to become a mom.” Alexandria was rolled off to the Delivery Room.
***
An hour and a half later, a nurse dressed in rough cotton scrubs burst into the Waiting Room, congratulating Drew on the arrival of his first child, a baby girl. Smiling at the appearance of his daughter, he was now contemplating on what to name her. She had been a mystery to both Alexandria and Andrew; both were in for a surprise when approximately a month after they had consummated their physical relationship, Alexandria began to have morning sickness. But without a glimpse of his little girl, he loved her dearly. An angel, his tiny angel. An angel of mysteries to be more precise. That is it. He would christen his daughter, the angel, by the name of Raziel, who was the angel of mysteries. Satisfied with this, he had sat down but was quickly brought to his feet once more when the same groggy eyed nurse appeared exactly three point five minutes later.
“Congratulations Mr. Sinclair, your son has also arrived.”
Drew did not know how to respond except to teeter in his tall frame, with his mouth gaping open, and his eyes seriously widened.
[‘The Good Old Days’]
Hunter and Raziel’s days were full of hair yanking, prank pulling ease only available in childhood. Both had their own rooms and were not put through horrific tortures such as being forced to dress in matching clothing. However since both were a ‘surprise’ in the lightest of terms, they had to bear through cheek wrenching relatives and the women of their mother’s future kitty parties and various clubs. The twins were close from the beginning as any fraternal siblings are, but along rolled high school, a both scarring and enriching experience.
[‘Once a Bandie, always a Bandie.’]
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. Raziel, 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’. Hunter on the other hand, developed a passion for music, spending his free time in the Band room, horsing around with the other bandies. Although he was somewhat of a social outcast, Hunter 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 bands. However, it was nearing the end of his junior year when he decided to live a little more on the edge.
[‘Fly high and party higher’]
This was around the time of high partying and the spirit of becoming the next rulers of high school when Hunter took his very first shot of alcohol; and many other experiences ensued. It was not even hard alcohol, just a vodka and coke, 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; Hunter did not have the senses to know better, seeing as they were blurred by vodka.
Hangovers; nature’s bad-drinking karma. Hunter groaned and moaned, flopping in his bed, now curled into the fetal position as Raziel’s lecture on alcohol shrieked in his ear. After that night, and that hangover with a couple of Advil in his body, Hunter 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.
Hunter 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. Unfortunately, Hunter had to do some things and be somewhere, doing it all in a dark dress shirt and a red 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’.
***
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, Hunter 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 Hunter 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 dense enough to try marijuana. This innocent praise vanished as quickly as the temporary high when Hunter 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, Hunter tried to laugh off his small endeavour down poison lane, but was only met by his parents’ disappointed looks for what seemed as an eternity. His outings were vigorously monitored; Hunter had now created himself an invisible cage with his ignorant choices of the past. This was the year his Mother and Father began to stroll down a rocky road of their relationship; ultimately ending in his mother running to the arms of a younger, more successful man, eventually marrying the chap and his father’s decision to move hunter into a ‘Different environment to embrace change‘. Leaving with his duffel bag and guitar, Hunter, could be anyone he yearned to be, to start fresh in an unknown land. He was amazingly accepted into the elite academy in California, he didn’t quite know where this institution was before he went, his aptitude in the sciences and drive to become something in the medical field aiding this accomplishment. Hunter is presently eighteen years of age, in his senior year of high school, with drama behind him and undeniable drama ahead of him.
Living Situation:
The Shaks, since he was raised by the Atlantic, he can't really shake out the sand between his toes; or the lingering sea breeze twirling his hair. Besides, the snobby rich kids aggravate him.[/size]
For The Valkyrie Academy Admin:[/b][/size]
Read the Rules?: very much so, actually I think I was looking for some golden clue word to stick in here.
Name One You Liked:
"3. All posts must be at least three paragraphs with five sentences. Writer’s block is understandable. Just type up what your character is thinking, the weather, your coffee, the worm on your new Jimmy Choos... This rule is going to be more enforced than it has been in the past, so please please follow this one. " the part where the worm on the jimmy choos made me laugh.
What Makes Your Character Different From The Rest?:
To tell you the truth, I don't know what makes Hunter so different from the cliche high school whorefest. Maybe the fact that he was a band geek (still is, but has a more sexy value within his newly acquired suave persona) and now he is the mysterious, musical stranger with hidden tricks and an opaque past.
Since Hunter is the son of a brain surgeon and lawyer, means he comes from a very rich family, however Hunter utterly loathes talking about his family's wealth. He hates it when people begin to treat him differently because of the balance in his bank account, and so he is one of the few richlings living in the Shaks rather than the hoity toity mansions in the Valks.
Roleplaying Sample:
“You what?!” Hunter exclaimed in confusion, resulting in him falling from the countertop to the cold tile floor. A light moan escaped his lips as he pushed himself off the floor, his glasses had skidded across the kitchen floor, but this was far more important than near-sighted difficulties. “A divorce?! Moving? WHAT?!” Hunter was still in the depths of confusion. When did his parents ‘drift apart’, start wanting ‘different things’? Where was all this coming from anyways?
His sister, Raziel, was silent, leaning against the refrigerator door, her auburn hair shadowing her eyes. He had sensed through her silence that she was also uneasy at the situation; however, she was not as vocal with her problems as Hunter. He restlessly crossed his arms, he eyes narrowing to a squint. He had also suddenly quieted, contemplating about the situation at hand. After what seemed like a millennia, Hunter finally broke the invading hush, “It’s because of that Sean kid at her office isn’t it?”
His Father looked away, Raziel glanced up at Hunter; her hand coiled around the handle of the fridge tightened, her milk white knuckles popping. His father’s action revealed it all. Lightly biting down at his lower lip, he left the kitchen, passing the door when his mother came through, unleashing a burst of cold November air.
“Hey champ…What’s wrong?” Alexandria asked, rolling a suitcase into the foyer. She quickly looked at Drew and then back at Hunter. “So he told you.” She said in an icy voice, more of a statement than a question. Hunter bit down at his lip once more, shaking his head, and racing into his room. Pulling out his high school duffle bag and shoving clean and semi clean attire into random pockets and sections. Coming to the sudden realization that he had more clothes than the miniscule space in his duffle, he lurched into his closet dragging out two navy suitcases. More space meant more possessions. Hunter was done packing in twenty minutes flat.
“Dad, I’m ready.” Hunter murmured; his hand tethered firmly around the strap of the duffel bag, heaving his two, other cases into the hallway.
“Hunter Zalman Sinclair, this is crazy, this is between me and Andrew.” His mother barked, positioning herself between Hunter and the beginning of the hall. Andrew? Who is An-- Oh, she was referring to his father. This was the first time he had ever heard his mother call his Father by his first name. It felt odd in his eardrums, but then again, so did the yelling when it had first begun long ago. What had happened to this family?
Everything used to be full of ‘Honey’ or ‘Sweetheart’; those were the simpler days, full of love and less bickering. Much less. Now they days and nights were filled with shouts and yells, fights over meaningless things, escalading into a marriage teetering on the brinks of divorce. Hell, it was past the brink, and tumbling into the oblivion of failed courtships and shattered promises.[/center][/blockquote]
