Post by ezekiel patrick greer on Dec 3, 2009 1:25:36 GMT
EZEKIELPATRICKGREER
hello? it's me, Hannah here, remember? oh, okay. well. i'm 19 and i've been around this roleplay world for about 11 years. i stumbled about here thanks to an advert on Weightless with my friend(s) other character names, if applicable.
HE LIVES IN A FAIRYTALE
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full name
Ezekiel Patrick Greer
nicknames
Zeke, E-Z, Zekiel, Scarface, Grim
age
17
date of birth
April 11th
year and house of preference
Seventh & Ravenclaw
bloodline[/color]
Mixed Blood
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IT'S ALL ABOUT THE EXPOSURE THE LENS
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height
6'1"
weight[/color]
155 lbs.
hair colour[/color]
Sandy Blond
eye colour[/color]
Blue
skin tone[/color]
Tan/Caucasian
play-by[/color]
Charlie Hunnam
distinguishing features,
Ezekiel has a few interesting points of interest on his body that are hard to ignore. One being a rather strange scar running from his hairline down to his right eye, dissecting his eyebrow and ending just before the lid of his eye; because of this old injury it should also be noticed that he is slowly going blind in that eye. In the tradition of Muggles he also has a tattoo on his upper back, a tribal depicting a phoenix with its wings outstretched over his shoulders and a Celtic cross on his left upper arm. A vast array of scars cover his hands and chest hinting to pugilistic tendencies and he walks with an ever so slight limp from an old injury to his left leg.
appearance,
The bearer of a ‘good ol’ boy’ appearance, Zeke has been endowed with a strong jaw line and a general oval-shaped face which could mean a certain jowly predilection should he become older and less active. For a young man he has rather full lips and thick tidy brows that are usually arched in amusement. Cornflower blue eyes peer out of a mop of unruly blonde hair and possesses a tanned physique that is reminiscent of a footballer or wrestler, the aforementioned scar that seems to sever (for some) and add (for others) to his overall physical appeal. He gives off the airs of being a very active young adult and certainly does enjoy in playing sports both Muggle (Quidditch Beater & Captain Candidate) and Magickal in persuasion although the limp he carries does hinder him somewhat. He cuts a shadow at 6’1” and weighs 155.
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SENTENCE ME TO ANOTHER LIFE
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father
Colin Greer, 44, Father (Employee of the Nimbus Broom Company)
mother[/color]
Annette Worthington, 42, Mother (Author and Court Stenographer)
siblings[/color]
None.
spouses[/color]
None.
offspring[/color]
None.
other relations[/color]
None.
Born in London, England to Annette and Colin Greer he was the first successful birth in a long line of miscarriages that had worn at the very core of the two's marriage. Born a week after his due date Colin had declared that from the start his son was a strapping example of Irish heritage. His childhood ran on without many incidents with the exception of the occasional knock-out, drag-out fights between his parents about things he did not understand. At first Annette had not been entirely privy to the fact that her husband was a Wizard and when it was revealed to her you can understand that it was a bit of a shock. This began a wellspring of distrust on her part and when her husband informed her that her son would probably inherit the same gift Annette was not sure how to feel about that.
She had always craved a simple life outside the court room and now everything had become so very...complicated.
When Ezekiel was 8 they decided to go on a family vacation to Ireland, the primary reason was to salvage their crumbling marriage. His father's mother lived on the coast, a picturesque cottage by the sea. While his parents were out reconciling his grammy would tell him stories, warn him not to stray too close to the waters around a certain bay at night for there was a creature that wandered in the waters. Even at 8 years of age Ezekiel was fairly headstrong and while his grammy passed out with a cuppa gin in her hand he wandered away from the warm lights of the cottage and walked down along the coast.
He had been sitting on a rock soaking his feet in the water playing with the various plants that had been growing there when he felt something tug at his feet. Growing slightly frightened he turned and tried to crawl back toward the sand but something tugged harder, jerked him and he hit his head on a piece of jagged rock and was pulled into the ocean. He was found hours later on a grass knoll by his grandmother's house sopping wet, bleeding, and unconscious.
Directly afterward his parents could no longer handle each other. His father couldn't handle Ezekiel's horrific seizures and had taken to the bottle, his mother couldn't handle TWO children in the home so she sent Colin Greer packing one cold Sunday night. Ezekiel didn't see his father for two years after that and each day that passed he grew angrier and angrier. When he got the letter from Hogwarts his mother broke down in tears, thinking that perhaps this might be an opportunity for her son to heal.
Ezekiel received a nice broomstick his first year from an anonymous sender but he had since learned that his father had worked for the company. He didn't send a thank you.
He has been busting his ass (to put it in no uncertain terms) to become the best in his chosen field, keeping his secret a secret. He seems to sense however that the time will come and someone will find out but he secretly hopes that when that time comes that will be the seizure that kills him.
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IF GOD'S THE GAME THAT YOU'RE PLAYING
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is this app done?
A TIGER IS A TIGER NOT A LAMB MEIN HERR[/color]
YOU'LL NEVER TURN THE VINEGAR TO JAM MEIN HERR!
roleplay sample
She had watched the victor out of the corner of her eye, an inexplicable feeling pervading her being. Ever since she had hit puberty she had been able to see, hear, and smell things so much better than everyone else she knew. Sybel had been able to pick up the scent of her father up to five miles away, she could hear rats scurrying underneath the streets; hear them get zapped occasionally by the subway lines. She liked her meat bloody and rare and barely noticed the shocked stares she received at family barbecues. Sybel was a woman who lived in willful ignorance, blocking out or pretending not to notice things about her that were out of the norm.
Plum-colored lips tilted upward as she watched the man slowly make his way through the throngs of people, brushing them off as though they were naught but flies. And by all means most of them probably were just that—feeding off of the refuse of a disease known as the human condition. Twining a bouncy dark chocolate lock around a finger she feigned vapid innocence as a man in a suit walked by her, cold eyes giving her a once over. Hands balled, middle finger extended as it touched her lips, satisfied when the sneer melted into something more malicious.
Definitely a history there.
The dreadlocked cage fighter was beside her, within kissing or killing distance. Dark blue eyes flared with some hidden electricity at the thought of fighting boredom with a man who appeared to be used to monosyllabic conversations at best. What was so interesting about Sybel that had made him come all the over here? Tipping her head up to meet his gaze the petite street racer placed her hands on her hips, sassy but not pretending at being saccharine.
”Aw, but then there are no rematches…there’s no challenge in putting someone down right away but then again I’ve always enjoyed playing games. The female condition you know.” Lips curved white teeth flickering into a grin, teeth that seemed so much sharper than they should have been suddenly exposed.
”So what brings you over here to talk to little old me? Can’t be the looks, the gutter rats around here dress showier than I do.”
What time was it? Almost midnight…it was almost time for the race. Almost.
Plum-colored lips tilted upward as she watched the man slowly make his way through the throngs of people, brushing them off as though they were naught but flies. And by all means most of them probably were just that—feeding off of the refuse of a disease known as the human condition. Twining a bouncy dark chocolate lock around a finger she feigned vapid innocence as a man in a suit walked by her, cold eyes giving her a once over. Hands balled, middle finger extended as it touched her lips, satisfied when the sneer melted into something more malicious.
Definitely a history there.
The dreadlocked cage fighter was beside her, within kissing or killing distance. Dark blue eyes flared with some hidden electricity at the thought of fighting boredom with a man who appeared to be used to monosyllabic conversations at best. What was so interesting about Sybel that had made him come all the over here? Tipping her head up to meet his gaze the petite street racer placed her hands on her hips, sassy but not pretending at being saccharine.
”Aw, but then there are no rematches…there’s no challenge in putting someone down right away but then again I’ve always enjoyed playing games. The female condition you know.” Lips curved white teeth flickering into a grin, teeth that seemed so much sharper than they should have been suddenly exposed.
”So what brings you over here to talk to little old me? Can’t be the looks, the gutter rats around here dress showier than I do.”
What time was it? Almost midnight…it was almost time for the race. Almost.
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turn it off in all my spite
credit to NERDS CAN ROCK for this app :] her
hard work went into it when she should have
been studying! shoosh! xP lyrics to paramore's
new album; brand new eyes![/font]
