Post by dani on Jul 22, 2009 22:26:32 GMT -6
[/color]VALKYRIE,
CALIFORNIA
the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?
there are no happy endings.
the world ends with bloodshed.[/font][/center]
WHEN THE OCEAN MET THE SKY ,[/color]
CHARACTER BASICS ,
you missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye[/color]
FULL NAME: astor falcon petrov.[/font]
NICKNAMES: ass, petrov, meesh.
GENDER: male.
AGE: twenty four.UNIVERSITY YEAR:MAJOR:MINOR:
JOB: marine soldier, bartender at nonsense, & drug dealer on the side.
PLAYBY: jake gyllenhaal.
YOUR BODY MAY BE GONE ,[/color]
CHARACTER APPEARANCE ,
i'm gonna carry you in my head, in my heart, in my soul[/color]
ETHNICITY: russian, irish, filipino, german.[/font]
HAIR COLOR: light brown.
EYE COLOR: light blue.
HEIGHT: six foot two.
WEIGHT: hundred eighty nine.
BODY TYPE: athletic.
DISTINGUISHED FEATURES: distinguishing features, i'm not quite sure that is the correct word for them. a birth mark here and there, as he has one just above his lip on the left side. a few run along his shoulders and down his back, a few run down his arms. the marine corp seal is branded into his left shoulder as a tattoo. other than those features, astor's body is covered with varies of scars, each of them with their own back story. in particular there are three rather large, obvious scars that definitely hold the most meaning to him.
PERSONAL STYLE: the kind of clothes he wears, is definitely not the most expensive or the most trendy. astor takes whatever he has and goes with it. usually wearing t-shirts and torn up jeans, along with either his high tops or a pair of boots. a jacket isn't normally with him, but he does occasionally wear one out and about. casual but a bit reckless, is his style. his hair is always a mess, but its always clean. his hair as since grown back since he shaved his head the first year he went into the marine corp.
IN YOUR MOUTH, IN YOUR SOUL ,[/color]
CHARACTER PERSONALITY ,
the more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind[/color]
STRENGTHS: his ability to make people feel safe, his sense of humor, dealing with stressful situations, charming his way with people.[/font]
WEAKNESSES: sometimes too quiet, sends off the wrong message to people, doesn't make friends easily, is quite the asshole.
LIKES: being alone, the sounds of the city, the smell of fresh cut grass, black coffee, country and classic rock music, women, sunrises and sunsets, big dog breeds, having a good time, relaxing, forgetting about his past.
DISLIKES: authority, obnoxious pricks, eye contact, drunk chicks, annoying ringtones, people who text all the time, his father, politicians, his past, whores, people who nag and complain, wealthy people.
FLAWS: not being able to connect to anyone emotionally, is way too quiet most of the time, rarely looks people in the eye.
HABITS: ruffles up his hair for no reason, clicks his tongue when he is bored.
SECRETS: he murdered his older brother.
BEST MEMORY: "my best memory. my younger sister, she was four years old. i was nine. i was the only one home most of the time, so i always had to watch her. i never minded it, because i absolutely adored her. i had taken her to an ice cream parlor just down the street for some ice cream, we walked down the road with our hands swinging, linked together. i had two scoops of rocky road and she had two scoops of strawberry. we talked, laughed. that was probably, the best memory i have with my baby sister."
WORST MEMORY: "looking into those dead eyes, the light had disappeared from them. i pushed myself off the motionless body of my bloodied brother, my hands bloody. my shirt bloody. i was bloody. i couldn't believe. i was so tired. i just wanted to disappear."
OVERALL PERSONALITY: there is no real way to describe how astor petrov really is. the man is of all kinds. he has quite a wide range to the extremes of his personality. although mostly astor is quiet and just observant of his surroundings, he also has a completely different side to him. not many people get the chance to witness a chatty, fun-loving side of astor, but he sure has it. there are many reasons to just why he is the way he is. you know how many people say, "your past is what shapes you?" well. that is definitely true for astor petrov. although no one except a very few know just what his past is, so it isn't quite understandable to why he is so... aloof, unadjusted, anit-social, you get the gist.
where ever astor is, no matter if it is a blasting loud room, you can nearly all the time, count on him being quiet. just looking around him, his eyes constantly moving, watching. sometimes you may catch him staring off to no where in particular, consumed in his own thoughts and memories. the truth was, his mind was a whole different person to him, only it wasn't. astor never told a word of this to anyone, but his mind talked to him, told him to do things, gave him opinions. in more ways than one, it has definitely helped him out in situations. he would not say it was like anything of those psycho schizophrenics, who do bad things just because the "voices told me to do it". the voice in his head didn't much tell him to do anything, it was just a speaking opinion. told him what other people were doing, what they were possibly thinking. not that he was in their hands, just by their body language, he could read.
it isn't very often that astor speaks, he doesn't ever say more than five or so words in a sentence when he does talk. when it comes to speaking when being spoken to, at times he doesn't speak back when spoken to. mostly astor would just look up, stare them directly in the eyes and stare at them. now when that happens, it is always best to back off. making eye contact is one of the last things astor would ever do, he hates it. he hates looking into another person's eyes, he hates people looking into his eyes. afraid that they'd see all the pain he had went through in his life, to see the weakness he had shown in his past. something he thought was pathetic of himself. he sure didn't want anyone else to see it. emotion is not a strong point of astor's either, if you couldn't tell already. in his younger years of course, he wasn't afraid to show his emotions. he often showed love for his baby sister. but things happened, and that was all over and done with.
now, getting him to let his guard down, that is a real treat. once astor feels completely comfortable and relaxed, his mood changes drastically. like he's a totally different person. astor is a very lovable person, he loves to just have fun and have a good laugh with a few friends. he is quite the funny guy. he knows how to get just about anyone to laugh. although it definitely does not seem like it at all, astor enjoys life. he doesn't mind every day, even despite what he has to do to just get by and where he lives. sure, he is in the marines, but he's been stationed in the same place for the past well, four years. and working never really bothered astor, he liked to earn his living, it was something to do. however his third job, the side one... that one is purely upon being forced. of course that'll be covered in the history, though.
when it comes down to it, astor is a various of things. he can be very sarcastic and a huge asshole, not giving a care for anyone's feelings. he can be impulsive and reckless, cold hearted and unthoughtful. then he can be very caring, very thoughtful and an all around loving, fun guy. it all depends on what his mind says to him.
AND WE'LL BOTH GROW OLD ,[/color]
CHARACTER HISTORY ,
well i don't know, i don't know, i don't know, i hope so[/color]
HOMETOWN: miami, florida.[/size][/font]
PARENTS:- anthony robert petrov.
- sicilia lynn amstead.
SIBLINGS:- josh robert petrov - deceased.
- angela marie petrov. - deceased.
LIVING SITUATION: the shaks.
HISTORY: a warm, humid summer morning in miami, florida. the date was july second. a baby's cry was heard from one of the many hospital rooms where mothers lay holding their newborn babies. in many of these rooms, the fathers accompanied these mothers. not in this particular room, however. this mother was all alone, with her newborn son, in which she had taken the liberty in naming him astor falcon petrov. was there a ring even on her finger? no. there was nothing, not even other significant rings. the rays of sunshine glistened through the large open window, resting upon the new baby boy the mother held in her very arms. as if the heavens were calling to him, as if god was warning him of his life to come. did this baby boy know any of this? of course not. all he knew of was to cry, poop, and eat. that as all he was to know of for the next couple years. just like all newborn babies.
one more day of staying in the hospital went by and it came the time for the mother to bring her new baby home. the mother spoke to the baby, telling him stories of how he had an older brother. his name was josh, he was only three years old. she also told him how his father was at home, waiting proudly for his new son's arrival. of course, her words had a sense of hope in them. as the cab pulled up in front of the run down, white trash looking two-story yellow house, the mother pushed a twenty in the man's hands and took her new son, gripping him tightly. she walked up the cracked sidewalk leading to the porch stairs and she went up the three steps and opened the old white storm door, and then opened the front door. "josh! anthony, sweetheart! please come here." she ushered, only no one came. she sobbed, going up the set of creaky wooden stairs that led her to the second floor.
she took a left down the hallway, then as she reached the second door down the hall, she took a right and rested astor's small body into the old, dirty baby crate. it had once been josh's, but now he slept in a big boy bed. tears flowed from her green eyes, rushing down the sides of her face. as she exited the room, her hands rested upon the walls of the hall, sliding her fingers across the texture of the paint. she slowly made her way back down the noisy staircase, she brushed her feet along the dirty, stained carpet into the kitchen. the tile was sticky, as it usually was. there she found both her boyfriend, anthony, and her three year old son, sitting at the kitchen table, their eyes glued to the small tv set that sat on a stand in the corner. "tony, didn't you hear me calling you?" she cried, sniffling. the man who looked no older than twenty two, grunted and scratched his stubble. "shut up, i'm watchin' somethin'." he said over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the screen.
"excuse me?" she snapped, walking around the table to stand in front of the tv. she blocked it, raising her eyebrows. "i just gave birth to your second goddamn kid, and all you have to say to me is 'shut up'?" she spat, anger and fury in her eyes. the man closed his eyes, and with a sudden move he stood up, walked around the table, and grabbed the woman by her hair, and held tightly. "listen here, you bitch. who supports you, these goddamn kids, huh? without me, you would be nothing." he hissed in her ear, pulling her head back with his grip on her hair. the woman, who's name was sicilia, raised her right hand and scratched him across the face, grabbing skin underneath her fingernails. "ah fuck, you bitch." tightening his grip on her hair, he jerked her head back, making her slam her skull against the wall, putting an obvious hole in the dry wall. sicilia had fallen to the floor and the man - anthony - stood there, kicking her.
from the uproar, josh had jumped off from his chair and ran - as fast and as sure as a three year old could - out the kitchen, into the family room, and up the wooden stairs. taking a sharp left, nearly slipping on his own feet, he took a right into the room he used to sleep in. his baby room, where his new brother said would be there. short of breath, he peered into the small crib, "baby brover." he blubbered, his speech still that of a baby's. that was where the two of them stayed, for the night. josh listened to the yelling and the smashing, and the screaming downstairs. he just looked at his baby brother.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
five years later, astor is now a handsome five year old boy, as his brother is now eight. they were still in the location of miami, florida, nothing much had changed, only except a new addition to the family. just a day earlier, their mother had returned home with a new baby. her name was angela. where was anthony? no where to be seen. the man was barely home anymore, the night astor had turned three years old, he only turned up every few days. just to throw some money at their mother and to guzzle down some beer and eat whatever was left in the fridge, then he was gone. it wasn't all that bad, until a few days after she had brought angela home, she had packed a bag. she had left without saying goodbye, she had left in the very early hours of the morning. no note, no nothing. not a goddamn thing.
four days went by after she had left. josh had been in charge, but he was eight years old. he had no idea what to do, there was barely any food that was even edible. angie needed milk, preferably breast milk. they had neither. thankfully around 9pm on the fourth night, anthony walked through the door and instantly realized that sicilia had been long gone. he went right back out the door and came back forty minutes later, with a large pizza and some whole milk that he had gotten from the grocery store. he let the boys eat and warmed up a bottle of the whole milk, feeding angela what she would eat. it went on like that for a while. of course, since their mother wasn't there to take the beatings, it was next in line. josh started to get beat around, astor usually took angie out into the family room or whatever room he could that was away from josh and their father. that didn't last long, soon anthony and dragged astor into the beatings as well. over little things, such as if the house wasn't completely clean, or if their clothes were out of place.
when josh turned ten and astor was seven, they had started to cater to their father. making sure his breakfast was ready when he wanted it, getting him his dinner, cleaning the house, getting off to school, getting good grades, and coming home. there was no room for friends. sure, friends were made at school. but there was nothing once school ended. "can you come over?" "um... no, i can't, sorry." "hey, can i come inside?" "um no, you can't. sorry." it was the same. the beatings never decreased, they had only gotten worse. they wouldn't stop. astor didn't care, just as long as angie was left alone, he didn't care.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
an eleven year old boy stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, his shirt lifted up. it was astor, he was taking inventory of the damage done. his entire torso was covered in black, blue, purple, gray, and yellow bruises. his body had a deformed looked to it, showing the untreated broken ribs. astor had faced his good amount of injuries and broken bones to last someone a few lifetimes, but he wasn't complaining. anthony had not touched angela once, so he didn't care. that was still his one condition: don't touch angie, there won't be a problem. that had once been josh's condition too, however, that was seeming to change. astor knew it. they both had well mastered the art of acting like nothing was wrong, moving around like nothing hurt, like there was no pain. there was nothing going on. at first teachers had begun asking, but it faded away as the years went.
every day still, they came and they went. school, home. school, home. that was it. the occasional field trip the school made them go on, but that was the only time the boys got to see outside of their school and their home. astor wasn't complaining, josh was beginning to.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
it was dark and silent in the house. that was normal, but this time... it was not because there was no anthony, or because the boys were asleep. well, there was no anthony. he was not home yet. however, it was quiet because astor sat on the floor on the second floor, in the room he had shared with his older brother. blood covered his white shirt, it was smeared over his face. the body of his older brother lay a few feet from him, his face.... no longer a face. it was dismantled and a bloody mess. seven year old angie lay unconscious on the floor, her face was scratched up and no doubt she was going to have a black eye. what was the explanation for this? over the years, josh had grown with an anger problem. he usually took it out on walls or other objects, beating and beating, just like their father did to them. only on this particular night, angie had walked in at the wrong time, carrying one of josh's cds, which was covered in peanut butter. she had been crying, "joshie, i'm so sorry, i didn't-i didn't..." she blubbered, tears flowing from her puffy red eyes. she handed josh the cd.
astor had been downstairs, watching some stupid show on the small tv in the kitchen. when he heard angie scream, he had bolted from the kitchen chair so quickly, it got knocked down and hit the kitchen floor with a loud WAM. his socks stuck to the kitchen floor a bit, but he didn't let that stop him. he raced up the wooden stairs and took a right, went straight down the hall into josh's room, where he knew the scream had come from. as he came running into the room, he found himself mortified at what he was seeing. josh, had angie on the floor, and was slamming his fist down on her skull, repeatedly. without a single thought or any hesitation, astor had jumped on josh's back and brought him down to the floor, and he began punching his older brother's face, nonstop. the amount of white anger he felt, it was powering. many times astor had told himself to stop, tried to stop, but he just could not. he did not stop, until he could no longer lift his own arms. by that time, josh had been long dead.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
anthony didn't come home that night, or the next. angie had regained consciousness the next morning and said nothing about josh, didn't even ask a question. my silence, was enough answer for her. days went by without their father coming home and astor did the best he could - silently, of course - to take care of angie. he fed her, made sure she had clean clothes, and went to school. astor however, stayed home. he did not go back to school after that night. however one day, he did go to school. which had been a huge mistake on his part, for angie always got home an hour before astor did. and at the end of the school day, as the bus pulled up in front of their house, astor saw anthony's truck in the driveway. he rushed off the steps and through the front door. anthony had been waiting for him, with none other than angie, laying on the floor on the kitchen. no movement came from her. he rushed to her side, "its too late," he heard the man laugh. "you can't help her now." that, was the end of it. without a single thought, astor slowly picked his baby sister up into his arms, stood up from kneeling down, and carried her out the front door. quiet teats flowed from his eyes, but he remained expressionless.
it wasn't long before someone had called the police, saying that a boy was carrying a bloodied up girl in his arms down the street. it wasn't long, before a cop had pulled up beside astor, carrying his dead sister .it wasn't long before the cop had called for back up. it wasn't long before they had raided the house they all once lived in. it wasn't long, before they caught anthony. it wasn't long, before astor stood before his baby sister's grave. it wasn't long before astor had been placed into his aunt's house across miami. it wasn't long, before he turned eighteen and signed himself up for the marines.
it was not long before he was shipped off to iraq. spending only two years there, before he was stationed back in valkyrie, california.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
it wasn't long before astor got an apartment outside of the military base. it was in the poorer side of town, but it didn't much matter to him. he had no riches to him, he was used to the poorer side of things. that was where he lived for the next four years of his life, working as a bartender and selling a wide variety of drugs on the side.
COLLECTED MY BELONGINGS ,[/color]
ABOUT YOU AND FOR THE ADMINS ,
and i left the jail, well thanks for the time[/color]
YOUR NAME: dani.[/size][/font][/blockquote]
GENDER: female.
AGE: a million years old.
RP EXPERIENCE: five to seven.
OTHER CHARACTERS: none.
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:Home. It was such a fantastic thing, really. A place where you were able to just relax and have sometime to yourself, unless you had people over. But as it was Falcon, he never had people at his house, only himself and Raquel. Why? It was just a place for them. A place to get away from everyone else, so why in the hell would he bring the people into his house, if he was trying to get away from them? Made absolutely no sense. Therefore, his house was merely for himself and his girlfriend. If it hadn't been for Raquel, he would still be living in his condo. She had convinced him to buy a house, just for them. So he had. However to his surprise, Falcon was at his home a lot. When he wasn't at work, he was home. Unless he was dragged along somewhere, like premieres, fashion shows, and any other place that Raquel dragged him. Not that he entirely minded. Being among those who were famous and rich had became something that he was used to. In the past two years, since he had started dating her, he found himself surrounded by famous stars and rich people. Also when others heard his last name, mostly the first question asked was if he was related to Cohen Maslow, which he was. Cohen was his little brother, although he had not been in contact with his brother for years.
It was interesting how most of his friends and those he held close, had made something of themselves in the whole Hollywood circle, while he was just a former U.S. Marine, who had been born in Russia and now lived in Australia, owning his own auto shop and salvage yard. Although he had a few talents of his own, he didn't think of putting them to use and becoming known for them. When he was a kid he had been in a few commercials, but it never went anywhere. He modeled when he was younger as well, but he stopped when he reached eleven years old. He also was good at the piano and the acoustic guitar, along with writing his own songs as well as singing them. But it was never something he considered doing for a living. It was like a hobby, something that helped him cope and escape. Raquel barely even got to listen to him play. Being who he was, was just fine with him. He got his taste of fame every single time he was referred and known as "Raquel's current boyfriend." In magazine, articles, interviews with her, whatever the media came up with, that was what he was known as. It was perfectly fine with him. There was also a huge downside to being squeezed into the world of Hollywood.
Being followed just for dating someone was known. Falcon was often followed, people taking pictures of him while he was either out grocery shopping or just walking Max. It was weird to say the least, for the fact that he did absolutely nothing for the world of Hollywood, yet he was followed and ended up in some magazines anyway. Falcon's personal favorite was whenever some magazine article spoke that he was cheating on Raquel. Those were the best to him, because he found them so amusing. Such good times. Putting aside all of the media, the time spent away from everyone, it was fantastic. Although there were times where she had to be gone for a long while, but every single time she returned, it made up for their lost time. With her being gone, it made them stronger. The way he felt for her, was unexplainable. Usually after the first year of a relationship the giddiness and the new feeling of it faded, but most thankfully, it wasn't at all the case with them. Valentines Day had been a perfect example for that. Falcon had spent the entire day, getting the house just perfect. It had required a lot of candles and a lot of red roses, but it had been so worth it in the end.
When she had walked through the service door that was in the kitchen that led out to the garage, all the lights were off but the rooms were lit from candles. And a trail of rose peddles led her into the bedroom, where Falcon had came from behind her, his arms coiled around her tightly, as his lips caressed her neck passionately. Of course, it was obvious to what that had led to. It had definitely been a good Valentines Day. Although the question of if they were going to get engaged lingered in the air, they made no plans of anything. Falcon had nothing in mind for their future, just that it continued with them being together. The thought of being married, it was a confusing one. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready for that. He liked the way things were between them and he was afraid that marriage or adding another level of commitment such as an engagement onto their relationship, would only complicate it. Plus, dating for only two years wasn't quite a long time, if you thought about it. Falcon was more than comfortable with where their relationship was and changed wasn't something he wanted at the moment. However, it was always in the back of his mind.
Jaw clenched as scorching water ran down six foot two, a hundred and seventy eight pounds of lean muscle and flesh. Falcon rinsed himself from all soap suds and shampoo from his soaked hair, before he turned the nozzle off and slid the glass door of the shower open. He grabbed the towel and dried himself off, before he stepped out and pulled a clean pair of gray boxers on along with plaid pajama pants, that fitted him perfectly around the waist. Stretching out his shoulder blades, he picked up the damp towel and his dirty clothes and walked out from the bathroom, the cool air in the hallway nipped at his bare torso. Falcon listened to the television in the family room, it was on some fashion show, that much he knew. As he walked into the kitchen, the cool tile on his bare feet felt good, he tossed the towel and his clothes in the laundry room and walked back out into the family room, standing behind the couch where Raquel was lounging, her eyes on the screen. "Oh I love her shoes." Eyebrows rose as he heard her comment and Falcon looked at the television, observing the said shoes. "I dunno, I think they need a bit more, um... Humph." He responded, smirking lightly to himself. Obviously mocking her, playfully though.
"They don't shape her ass enough." He added, resting his hands on his hips as he leaned back, stretching out his spine until he heard a nice crack. "But then again," Falcon paused as he jumped over the back of the couch and carefully rested himself next to her, making sure not to smash her feet at all. "I believe you have just spoiled me with this perfectly shaped ass..." He trailed off, his hands found themselves resting on each of her butt cheeks, disappointed that her pajama pants were in the way of feeling the flesh of them.credit: format by lainey, lyrics by modest mouse
