{ just a case of CRAZINESS [Xavier "Sylar" Street]

[Shay Anderson]

X avier "S ylar" S treet

Note: Yes...I'm deleting another character for the time being. ><;; you probably all hate me for doing that like, 154687415674 million times. What can I say? You know you love me.

Valkyrie Academy

About The Roleplayer:
Name: Asia. <3
Age: Sixteen. Finally.
Gender: Female.
Years Roleplaying: Eight as of like, a week ago.
Some Basic Interests: Apparently, deleting characters. xD
Oh.
And Jezzie is pretty cool.

About The Character

[/b][/size]
Name: Xavier Street.
Alias: Sylar. [Meaning you always call him that. xD]
Age: Seventeen.
Gender: Male.
School Year: Twevle ;; Senior.
Art Interest (why you’re here): Art, primarily free sketch and painting.
Originated From: Dublin, Ireland
Parents: Father ;; Rodney Street. Forty-six.
Mother ;; Jordin {Anderson} Street. deceased. Would be: Thirty-nine.
Siblings: Nathan Street ;; Brother. Twenty-one.
Shannon Street ;; Twin sister. Seventeen.
Relatives: JT Anderson ;; Cousin
Cornelius Moore ;; Uncle {Unknown}
Aislinn Moore ;; Cousin {Unknown}
Portrayed By: Zachary Quinto
Picture:
Appearance: For the past decade or so, the media has been the largest influence on mortal’s lives. And what is the most important thing in the media? DING DING DING. You got it! The appearance. When you describe someone else, you just say “she’s thin and blonde.” Not, “she has a great personality! =D” I mean, come on. That’s lame. Someone like Xavier Street was no acception to that rule, written in stone. He was nothing special to look at. You wouldn’t take a second glance at him in passing, probably not even a first glance. Not to say that he was one of those people shunned by today’s society for being painful to look at – even for a split second. However, he wasn’t one of those people automatically envied, or hated, for being absolutely gorgeous. That’s like…Brad Pitt. And, trust me, this guy was no Brad Pitt. I mean, only Brad Pitt is. Of course…Shiloh looks like him…

And, we all know in a place like Valkyrie Academy, you have to be model-level gorgeous to even be thought about. Look around, people.

More and more, males are becoming obsessed with their appearances. By some sort of stereotypical law, gay men have always been. But now, many straight males are becoming what we like to call “metrosexual.” They like to look nice. And, that always includes doing their hair in the morning. Females who care too much about their appearances spend hours on their hair; so why can’t a guy? He couldn’t call himself quick “metro”, no…that would be weird. But, after spending fourteen years with a shaggy head of thick, dark hair, he’d had enough. Just like with his name. I mean, who names their kid Xavier? No, he was good with Sylar. Wasn’t that a watch company? MOVING ON. Sir Street has inherited his head of dark hair directly from his mother. When she was living, her hair was always long, glowing and gorgeous. It curled perfectly, was styled immaculately, and would straighten when given the desire. On a her, it looked amazing. On Sylar? Not so much. It even worked well on his older brother, Nathan, who kept his hair shaggy and unkempt. So, shortly after he turned fourteen, Xavier marched right down to the local barber shop and demanded he cut it all off. From then on, he kept it short and gelled upwards. A little overplayed, sure. But it was overplayed for a reason. Of course, there were the times he was forced to look “respectable”, and actually gel it downwards. With his geeky glasses…trust me, it was a painful sight.

Okay, so I would be mean to say that Sylar was someone unfortunate looking. But I would be much too pompous to say that he was incredibly attractive, too. He definitely was not one of them outcasts ignored, or made fun of, for being funny to look at. No. He never had eyes the color of rain that were so expressive or that mysterious aura that just made people want to keep looking and interacting with him. He wasn’t even a mixture of the two. That was saved for those waify models, with the doe-like eyes and interesting faces, that were either funny to look at with a killer body, or had that air of someone above it all. He wasn’t even a part of the population that was so gorgeous, it was painful. Amazingly enough, all of those people went to Valkyrie Academy. Except for the small population that was funny looking. Born with a rather long, oval shaped face and the piercing stare of someone with a secret, he had to admit, there was something interesting about his appearance.

To be honest, there was nothing overly special about his eyes. Not the shape. Not the color. Not even the stare. As he continued to grow, they grew into the simple, common, color of a dark – almost black – brown and a lovely, shapely form of an almond. For his entire life, Sylar had wanted to be special. Someone different, stood out from the crowd. Unfortunately, that never happened through his eyes. His stare remained neutral and ordinary. However, there was one unusual thing about them: they could be read like an open book. Anger would make his eyes begin to grow soulless, and stony. Hatred would make them gleam. Lust would make them glaze, and thick. Happiness would hollow them out. Fear would make them distort. However, the only thing that remained intact with them was the constant emptiness. Like long, hollow black tunnels with no ending. An emptiness that had a secret.

On both sides of his family, it was common to see a defined jaw line. On his father, it had reflected his powerful presence, and natural state of authority. On his mother, it had looked just ridiculous. She had been a shy, gentle woman with delicate features, and a petite body. With such a strong jaw, it gave her the look like a large, black hole in a painting of a field of flowers and rainbows. It just didn’t fit. Fortunately, on Sylar, he had inherited his father’s facial structure, giving him a dignified look with his jaw. However, his genes did give him his mother’s strong, arched eyebrows. Again, on her, they looked feminine and lovely. On him? Not so much. They were long, expressive, and, in his opinion, took up too much of his own face. The majority of Valkyrie Academy was tanned. A small minority were of various ethnic backgrounds, giving them different skin tones. Xavier Street was part of the handful of people who were pale. Smooth, often flawless, and the color of old paper kind of pale. Not deathly white pale. Or that awkward, “what the hell is this?” kind of pale. The kind of pale that sun burnt easily, never tanned and couldn’t be changed no matter what he did. Why fight with genetics?

His father had been tall and muscular. His mother had been petite and thin. Sylar, on the other hand, was a clean mixture of both of his parent’s body types. At a young age, it had been obvious that he was going to be a tall male. While he was still growing, however, he had looked awkward. Having been tall for most of his life, he had still yet to grow into his hands and legs. Even at seventeen, his stature was still slightly awkward. With a trim, muscular torso, thin legs and small hands, part of him still looked young. With a neck of average length, and fairly broad shoulders, it was easy to see him as his father; with a large physical presence. However, he had always been of a slightly leaner stature. With his chest easily tapering into a thin waist, and his torso falling into fairly straight hips and long legs, there was still something slightly strange about his physique. With an upper body appropriate for his age, his lower half was still long, thin and gangly. With a diet of energy drinks, a steady stream of cigarettes and the odd meal, he had easily been able to keep himself in a fit, lean stature.

At Valkyrie Academy, the majority of the student body dressed fairly well. In slim cut pants, short skirts and trendy items. A handful of people dressed in skinny pants, black shirts and colored hair. Others were conservative. Some were preppy. Other, athletic. Sylar had never been into any of that. Often spotted sporting looser fitting, dark washed jeans or pale chinos, a variety of different t-shirts and either a blazer or track jacket, his way of dressing was fairly mainstream and consistent. Remember, he never liked to call any attention to himself through his appearance. So we best play that one safe. Of course, he’s been known to switch the entire thing up randomly. Who knows.

Personality:

[+] The Good ;;

ox. Loyalty lies with the dogs

For someone like Xavier Street, emerged into the world of darkness and family abandonment, friendships were everything. You could never trust your family, they could turn you in at any moment. Relationships, oh please. All that was left were your friends. They would always be in the same boat as you. They would always understand the sacrifices you had to make so everything would be okay. Obviously, Sylar long learned to be loyal to those who he cared about. His friends were his world since he moved deeper and deeper into that endless maze he had built for himself. But never once, never, would a friend of his be left alone standing in the rain, just awaiting for their impending doom. He was someone they could rely on, and with that, came a certain level of trust that they could constantly count on him. A call in the middle of a hot date? The date would have to suffer. Begging for help instead of doing a chemistry lab, screw the lab. Since he was sixteen, friends had been his everything. There was no way that was going to stop now.

ox. He’s all eyes and ears

For most of his life, Sylar had been left alone. Sitting alone in there dark, there, you begin to learn things. Your eyes adjust to the darkness. You begin to notice details that the average eye wouldn’t see. You begin to hear sounds no one else would. At the beginning, all he had done was dwell on his own life, his own problems. But that got old quite quickly. Instead, he practiced to listen to others. Or pretended, even. If he saw a lonely spider, sitting on its web all alone, Xavier would pretend to be its therapist. He would make up a miserable life story for the spider, and begin to understand. Even when he was finally released to his biological family, he had been an excellent listener. Often sitting in silence for hours, simply absorbing the conversation about him. Beginning to see the undertones of them.

ox. Intelligent in the ways of you

As we all know, Sylar Street was someone with the unusual talent for being a cheap therapist. He could sit and listen for hours on end. With this, came another talent. The talent of reading people. The human body moves in a very subtle kind of way; and each individual has their own, unique set of these movements. From the moment he meets you, this Street immediately begins to search for these movements. That way, he can read you. A sudden change in these subtle, natural movements would tip him off. Another undertone in your voice would let him know your actual mood. A different glint in your eyes would let him read you like an open book. It was rare for him to say anything. Of course, isn’t that what a listener is good at?

[+] The Bad;;

ox. Animalistic traits never disappeared

For the majority of his life, Xavier was left alone. Alone to wallow with no one but himself, and the other creatures surrounding him. When he did see the outside world, however, all he saw was something bad. With the combination of that, and his self-raising past, he grew to be out of control. He grew from the timid child into, well, a monster. He was rough and loud. Violent and angry. He taught himself how to defend himself, and that’s it. Often returning to his instincts for violent outbursts, Sylar was someone you could call almost animalistic.

ox. Everything needs a smooth edge

For someone unintelligent, these animalistic traits could turn them into a Neanderthal. Like a cave man or something. But not Xavier “Sylar” Street. No. He was intelligent, almost too intelligent. With his random lashes, and angry words came something he had also taught himself: a smooth, razor sharp edge. Instead of uncoordinated and dangerous, his movements became sharp and sleek. His words, once so cluttered, transitioned into smooth, icy words. His stare became stony and uncaring. His gait became graceful and confident. In combination with his angry, animalistic tendencies, this new edge became like a shard of glass. Amazing from a distance, but deadly up close.

ox. Danger isn’t a dance you should be dancing with

Many people in this world are cold. Many others are sharp and smooth. Some are even animalistic. Xavier Street, on the other hand, seemed to have mastered all of these. He grew into someone who didn’t mind hurting others, or even using them. He became dangerous. His threats would always be carried out. His words would never be empty. He would pay attention to your weaknesses, waiting for the perfect time to strike the tender cord. You could say he didn’t have much of a conscience. One for people he cared about, maybe. But that’s about as far as his caring would go.

ox. He’s cold to the touch

He had stopped caring all together. What was the real point of everything anymore? All he had become was an animal and dangerous, nothing more. And certainly something less. Damnit. In the beginning, Sylar had asked too many question to himself. Why was he becoming so dangerous? However, as time progressed, and his negative personality continued to bloom and grow, he stopped asking those questions. You can’t stop what you naturally are; and he was naturally, well, a bastard. Someone who just used people for personal gain, and nothing else. Someone who wanted to be different, special. And had achieved that. Even at his young age, this was prominent. His eyes turned stony. His movements turned uncaring and secretive. Through years of being alone, he had turned into a monster.

[+] The Ugly ;;

ox. The Alcohol

He had been abandoned by his biological family when he was a toddler, only to be left alone with an angry drunk, and a dark closet for a home. He raised himself to be like a shard of glass: graceful and smooth, but deadly at the touch. The brief glimpses of the outside world he did see were filled with drugs, sex and alcohol. He was never given drugs. And had only experimented with sex at Valkyrie Academy. But the alcohol? He had first been given it at a very young age, so he became accustomed to it. Even when he was living the normal, teenage life, he had been a mess around alcohol. Would show up to a party already pissed-drunk, and looking for a fight. Would drink his problems away, only to become moody and on the edge of a break down the next day. How many times can you say, “Hi, I’m Sylar and I’m an alcoholic.”?

ox. The Mental Instability

All of his life, Xavier “Sylar” Street had been suspected to have a few mental instabilities. Severely violent, often angry, outbursts. Random periods of breaking down. At seventeen, he remains in denial about any of that. I mean, a few other who go to Valkyrie Academy are similar to him. Sure, he couldn’t really name them, but who could? He always saw people having numerous one-night stands. Or getting into countless fights. Sure, only a handful of people could so carelessly use people like he could, but who cares? There’s only so many medicated pills they could force into the guy. To be blunt, Sylar’s someone without a whole lot of mental stability. In more than one way.

Likes: +One-night stands
+A good looking girl
+Fighting
+Using people
+Beating someone up
+People he loves
+Cooking
+Intelligent people
+Long, brown hair on females
+Being tall
+Horror films
+Being a therapist to someone random
+Alcohol
+Sex
+ROCK AND ROLL. [...xD sorry]
+Secrets and lies
Dislikes: -Commitments
-Long-term relationships
-Betrayal
-Medication
-Having seizures
-Being picked apart and examined
-Doctors
-Probably you
-Being alone for too long
-Getting beaten up
-Getting busted
-Being forced to do something
-Unintelligent people
-Bimbo blondes [although they make for a good one-night stand]
-All of the asylums he's been sent
Flaws: How about more?

• Is a compulsive liar
  
• Uses people more than he should
  
• An alcoholic -- been to AA
  
• Has severe epilepsy
  
• Mildly obsessive-compulsive
  
• Has been the abuser in a relationship
  
• Often walks around high off of his medications
  
• Has angry outbursts
  
• Is a total, and complete, bastard.
  

Secrets: His entire life is a secret. <3

• Being declared "crazy"
  
• Has been to one of those insane asylums for minors and AA
  
• Has hit a girl more than once
  
• Sees himself as worthless
  

History: Well over five paragraphs on history.
Living Situation: The Shaks
[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Shay Anderson]

History:

Xavier “Sylar” Street was someone who has always been alone. Whether that be left alone, or by free will, he had never been the type to constantly be around other people. Growing up in Dublin, Ireland was something many people wish they had. Born into a loving, wealthy family and having an amazing childhood with good grades, many friends and an unforgettable life. Pfft. Right. Xavier has experienced something the exact opposite of that, unfortunately.

He was taken away from his family at the tender age of four, and he’s never had a real explanation of why. I mean, he had an older brother, honest parents and a twin sister. It’s not like they were inadequate or anything. If they feared for their children, the Street parents would have sent all three of their children into the deadly foster care system. But, that didn’t happen. Only their youngest son. After just a few weeks of group homes, the young child was taken into the gentle arms of a middle-aged woman, and someone who must have been her husband, a heavily tattooed man who had that chronic, unclean smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Okay, so maybe this new home wouldn’t be so bad after all! The older woman was loving, kind and gentle around Xavier. The home was large, clean and spacious. The toys and friends were plentiful. What could possibly go wrong?

You know how people have said that death brings people together?

Not in this case. It only tore them apart.

When he was nine, everything suddenly changed.

His home was no longer bright and friendly. His mother was no longer there, waiting for him after school with a kind smile, and an after-school snack. All that was left was darkness, and that large, intimidating man he rarely saw. Until today. Now, everyday after school, he was forced to walk himself home, fix himself dinner and try and finish his homework without any help. Well, there was help. The blaring television, countless alcohol bottles littering the dark, wooden floors and those awful moans of pleasure he heard from any room in the spacious building. That was his first encounter with sex. Seeing that large man on the sofa, naked, with someone he guessed was a prostitute wiggling around, also naked, on top of him. For his nine year-old eyes, this was the equivalent of seeing someone get murdered. With his eyes beginning to tear up from terror, Xavier simply saw that large hand grab the collar of his brand new T-shirt and drag the tall child into the depths of the house’s basement, and into that closet he had never seen open. For a good reason.

It was a thick door, he noticed that first. With a large, black room behind it. What about this didn’t scream scary? All he could feel was the cold, concrete floor coming up at his face, and then the slam of the heavy door behind him. And the sickening groan of the aging lock, caging him in this small room. At first, Xavier had done nothing but bang on the door, pleading for someone to let him out. However, as the time passed and it became evident that this dungeon was his new home, Xavier began to become accustomed to living in the dark. Most people would eventually go crazy in there, but then again, he never was most people.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, Xavier Street was used to living in that dingy closet. It had become like normal life, just darker. The thoughts ignoring the outside world had kept him just south of sanity, preventing his going absolutely crazy. He became intoned with the world around him; adjusting to the darkness of no light, began to hear nearly silent noises no one else could, and learning how to pay special attention to even the most minor of details. However, with all good things comes a negative side, right? With that, Xavier was growing more and more inhuman with each passing day. He was becoming cold and cruel, with a certain animalistic attribute or ten to him.

He saw little of the “outside world” until he was fourteen. Five entire years the majority of his life had been spent in that dingy little closet in the depths of that house. Shortly after his fourteenth birthday, the ancient lock of that thick, metal door was finally broken into. The lights and all of the people was startling at first, everything was so new to the terrified teenager. The kind words spoken by the police officers, the concerned faces of the psychiatrist assigned to mentally evaluate him. Everything was terrifying. So much so that, for the last time, Xavier Street shunned himself into that empty shell he had long constructed for himself. He had been teaching himself for years on how to react to this. His eyes immediately grew stony, his words became cold and smooth, and his actions became rough, yet strangely sophisticated. However, during the days he was stuck in the hospital, for what the doctors described as severe food deprivation, dehydration and questionable sleeping patterns, something did entered his ears.

His family.

The people that had so cruelly abandoned him into the foster care system ten years prior to that day. The people that stood in the doorway to his hospital room.

His dark eyes remained searching, examining the strangers silently. The man with them he assumed to be his biological father. With his tall, muscular body and authoritative stature, Xavier saw a few of his own attributes in Rodney Street. Then there was the eighteen year-old standing furthar away from them. The immediate reaction to him was, ‘stay away’. Lying there, in the hospital bed, the Irish male looked at the mature, stressed face he saw every morning – now – in the mirror. With his dark, shaggy hair and defined jaw line, Nathan Street was the spitting image of his younger brother. Even Xavier, who had been alone for so long, realized this.

And then his eyes fell onto the girl. She was tall, and slim…a mixture of his mother and father. With searching eyes, a knowing smile and blonde hair, he had no doubt who this was: Shannon Audrey Street. His own twin sister.

The conversation was ignored, and the visions were blurred. All Xavier really heard was his aging psychiatrist listing things off, what he could only expect to be the mental issues he now apparently had.

“Mister Street…you must understand that your son is severely traumatized, but he’s in denial. He won’t tell us anything. However, from my exams and what he has said about the last few years, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is more going on. He is prone to violent outbursts, and is showing very little compassion for those around him. It would be in his best interests to be admitted…”

This was his turn to come alive once more.

“What do you mean, admitted? I’m NOT going into that psych. Ward again.”

I mean, what can minors do about their health choices these days, right? Like all cases, he had no real choice in this. That same day, Xavier was moved from his hospital room and into the large, Ireland-based psychological wing. With the white scrubs, drooling patients and dim lights, this could have been out of a cheesy television show. Now, he was a part of this freak show.

Like most of his life, the next eighteen months passed in a boring, unimportant blur. What was important about those endless hours in therapy, anyways? It’s not like anyone was helping him. Or, maybe, he wasn’t helping him. At fifteen and a half, Xavier Street had begun to realize who, and what, he truly was. Unfortunately, the psychiatrists were beginning to take notice of that as well. He had been drugged to the point of immobility more times than he could count. Had bloodied up some helpless, drooling patient more than once. Still, he had no real reason to admit to the doctors that he had a problem. And, drug-induced could only help so much, right? The more they tried, the harder he fought. The harder the force they used, the more violent and out of control Xavier Street would become.

“Hey, brother…uhm…the doctor’s said that you can come with us when we move to the States in a few days….you just have to pack up your things, and you can come home tomorrow.”

Looking over from his bed, Xavier’s cold eyes fell onto the dark-eyed, shaggy haired stature of his own brother, someone he hadn’t seen in months and months. So…moving to the United States, are they? Interesting. For the past few weeks, he had been giving these doctors nothing but more and more problems, to the point where they couldn’t do anything more with him. What were they going to do? Put him into a permanent coma? Yeah, that would go over well with the authorities.

“Nate, do me a favour and go back to the streets and continue to deal with that coke-head friend of yours, okay? He came by to see me a few times, nice guy. Why did you end up doing that shit to him, anyways? Shannon was telling me yesterday that he used to be so normal. Then you just came along and screwed everything up, right? You both spent a year in prison, and my own sister was just released from Juvie.”

His voice was cold, very cold, and his eyes remained uncaring. He was like a statue. Didn’t react at the shocked expression on his older brother’s face. Nor to the half-hearted sucker punch to the stomach. What was the point, anymore? He was moving away from this hell hole, and his brother was staying behind for University.

That had been the first day of the rest of his life. He was finally, FINALLY, released from that junky hospital wing they liked to call the psychological needs ward. All they had achieved in the last fifteen months was a diagnoses of severe epilepsy, violent outbursts and office gossip that he was a monster. Yeah, like he didn’t know all of that shit already. Even by the concerned, almost frightened, glances he constantly got from Shannon on the entire plane ride from Dublin, Ireland to Los Lunas, America. Not even the sharp eye his father was keeping over his only son as they settled into their new life. Or, in his opinion, end of a real life. What kind of a hick town is Los Lunas, anyways? What did they have? A traffic system of horses, and people making livings off of rustling cows around and entering travelling rodeos.

Strolling through the uncrowded streets of his new, American home, pale hands shoved into his pockets, Xavier Street’s dark eyes roamed around. This was exactly like what he thought. Nothing but a hell hole. A no place to live, especially where someone wanted to make a living. A complete and utter – pleasure to live here.

He was sixteen by this time, and filled with raging hormones. And he had always liked a pretty girl. Especially one like….that.

Enter Rebecca Sorenson. Tall, lithe and blonde. With a clever face, intelligent eyes and gorgeous smile. She was a girl, alright. A girl he instantly fell head over heels with, and someone he was determined to make his own. In his opinion, it hadn’t taken much. After all, he was older than her, and she was…young, inexperienced. Exactly how he liked gorgeous blondes. And enter his first ever, and probably last, actual relationship.

Even for two people so young, he had rarely felt so alive before. Almost to the point where felt…human. Normal. Not the cold, cruel emptiness that constantly followed him around. But, I mean, nothing good ever lasts, right? It was the exact same in this case. By nature, Xavier Street was violent, cold and restless. And, on top of that, he had had a slight problem with alcohol ever since he had first been locked in that prison of a closet. For the brief times he was outside, in the grimey house, he had been given increasing amounts of alcohol in the place for nutritious food and water.

And when he drank, he got angry. Angrier than usual.

For the last few months, he had been dating Becca Sorenson, and was still amazed that she hadn’t really picked up on his mental instabilities. Until, one night, everything changed. He was drunk, he remembered that. Very drunk, with bottles and bottles of various alcoholic beverages surrounding him. And he was angry. Spitting fire with every word he spoke sort of angry. And then it had happened. All at once.

He had hit her.

He didn’t know what had been going on with him during those dark months in Los Lunas, now in a full-fledged abusive relationship with the only girl he had ever ‘loved.’ And he was the abuser. It wasn’t even just verbal abuse anymore, it was physical. For someone who’s cold heart was melted by her smile, he was also taking everything out on her. Leaving her bloodied, and bruised, night after night. Seeing her break down more and more with each passing day. Until, one day, she was suddenly gone. Moved away. Out of his life completely. There was no question. He had been drunk once more, and had nearly forced them to have sex with each other.

“She told on you, dude. That’s the only reason she moved away.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

By the time he was seventeen, Xavier Street had turned into someone inhuman. With his constant seizures, violent outbursts, angry words and smooth movements, no one really recognized him anymore. And yet, he never admitted anything was wrong with him. What was there to say? He was like many teenage males; he liked girls, alcohol and living life.

On the outside.

By the time July of 2006 rolled around, Rodney Street announced to his twins once more they were moving. This time? Valkyrie, California. Apparently a place filled with gossip, drama, scandals and parties. I mean, it was California. What could be wrong with sunny skies, white-sand beaches and girls in bikinis. Nothing, in his honest opinion. On the first day of his Senior year of high school, Xavier Street had become a monster. Someone smiling coldly through dark, empty tunnels for eyes. But who would know that from when he first walked into the first class? Chemistry, or ….something. Everything was new, and different, now. Only his sister knew about his mental instabilities and dark past.

“Ah, a new student. And what is your name, young man?”

Insert a cold, knowing smile and a nod. New life, and a new name.

Street. Sylar Street.”

Everyone gets a new beginning.



For The Valkyrie Academy Admin:

[/b][/size]
Read the Rules?: Of course. <3
Name One You Liked: Word.
What Makes Your Character Different From The Rest?: Ask, and I kill you. xD
Roleplaying Sample: Dur.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Shay Anderson]

And this is the part where I accept myself...xD

A C C E P T E D. <3