Post by HOLDEN ANDREW MOORE on Mar 27, 2012 23:05:09 GMT -5
HOLDEN ANDREW MOORE
FULL NAME: Holden Andrew Moore
NICK NAME: doesn't have any
AGE: 20
COMMUNITY SUPPORT: hunter
ORIENTATION: straight
FACE CLAIM: Mikey Way
EYE COLOR: Hazel
HAIR COLOR: Brunette
HEIGHT AND WEIGHT: 6' & 170lbs
DESCRIPTION: Rock and roll's the way to go; Holden wears mostly band tee shirts, jeans, boots, muscle-cut tanks, and all that typical attire associated with being an art school punk. He is slim in form, though slightly muscular from all his work with scrap metal. His awkward knees and strong jaw line are some of his more noticeable aesthetics. Despite his insane knack for stuffing his face as often as humanly possible with the most unhealthy of foods, the boy is as thin as a rail. Aside from his height, Holden has an abundance of scars over his arms and hands from the many altercations he's endured in his welding endeavors. His boyish good looks are too important to him, so Holden would never consider piercings of any sort; besides, he's already poked metal through his skin a few times, no way he'd take the chance of accidentally tearing something out of him, or welding it to his skin. He does, however, have a few tattoos that he now regrets: a cartoon unicorn on his right ass-cheek and a heart that has 'forever' written on a banner over it with flames coming from it - a piece he got done for a lady friend at one point in his young, stupid life.
PERSONALITY: Loyal - Holden, while weary at first about strangers due to the 'stranger danger' talks of his teacher parents; once acclimated and accustomed to having a person in his life, will be loyal until proven foolish. Not having any siblings left a young Holden to make his own friends. While they are few and far between, he treats them just as he would his family, which he holds near and dear to him. He didn't want to leave them for his dream, but understands that it was the right choice to obtain what he needed out of life. This can be a problem though, because if he trusts someone enough to adopt them into his wayward tree of friends, he'll fight on their behalf regardless if he believes the cause or not.
Confident - While never completely a 'star' in any aspect in his life, Holden was graced with enough common sense to realize that the only way one achieves anything in life is to display a sense of confidence; regardless of if you are, in fact, confident. This makes him vocal about many things that he should perhaps shut his trap about, as well as doing things that might not make a lick of sense to anyone not residing in his own little head. His sweltering sense of confidence has lead him into an almost childish belief that his word is law. This happens to get Holden into a bit of trouble from time to time, and with the proper buttons pushed, tends to lean on the side of anger on more than one or two occasions. He is quite stubborn once set in his ways, so changing them takes a strong will and patience, something he lacks in arguments.
Crafty - Yes. The boy loves his arts and crafts. He prides himself on the work he does; Holden will spare no expense, be it time or actual money, to finish a project he's got his mind on. His dedication to the arts has also led to another sort of craft though; the kind that's needed to deal with a majority of the people in his life. He sees the games people play very well, be it from his wallflower tendencies during high school or that wolfy instinct that's buried away in his psyche, and has adapted to situations that may have otherwise ended badly. If there's something he wants, he will obtain it. It's the hunter way. Besides, his parents taught him to earn his way though life; enough so that, while they do send him money for living expenses now, Holden will at some point not need their charity.
HOMETOWN: Pittsburgh, Pa
FAMILY MEMBERS: Mother - Margret Moore - 43 - Preschool teacher, Wife and mother.
Father - Andrew Moore - 40 - Head of Google, Pittsburgh
Uncle - Mark Moore - 44 - Owner of a logging company
HISTORY: Margret met Andrew Moore her sophomore year of college at the University of Pittsburgh. They both happened to be education majors and on no particular afternoon he approached her with a very awkward question. "Excuse me.... You don't know me, but I've happened to notice you around campus, and I think you're very attractive. Would you by any chance like to have sex with me tonight?" It was a ploy to put their students into awkward social settings and learn how they adapt. As luck would have it though, they actually got along really well and after a whirlwind romance of a year, Margret, by accident, became pregnant with Andrew's child. The two wed and moved into a two story home in Bellevue, Pennsylvania. Somehow, they both managed to finish their degrees and raise their son well enough; as well as they could, with a bit of help here and their from Andrew's brother, Mark, whose logging business was fairly simple compared to raising a child.
Holden spent youth being badass as a little boy could be, with camping trips nearly every weekend at his uncle Mark's in Crafton. Sometimes his parents would join in, though most times they let him wandered around woods own his own accord. Not that he struggled to survive; what Uncle Mark lacked in child-raising skills, he made up for in general survival and common sense knowledge. The young Holden, even at an early age, had an affinity for taking odd things he found on his nature hikes and turning them into this or that art project. It was also during this time that Holden discovered some sort of primal inclination that had been apart of him for some time. Having gotten lost in the woods one afternoon during a hike with his uncle, a pack of wolves descended on the easy prey, only to find instead of a boy, a wolf cub that yielded no harm to them. The next morning, Holden wandered out of the woods and went about his life, not really knowing what had happened in the woods beyond a crazy dream that he'd had about running with a pack of wolves that his uncle and parents brushed off.
School for Holden was pretty typical. He never got any grief about his parents being teachers because his mother taught preschool and his father college classes. He was well rounded in his education, though he had a passion for the arts. He tried drama for a semester in high school, but found he pretty much hated it completely. While his parents never pushed him into music, like most high school boys, Holden managed enough through Youtube and various websites to teach himself the basics of a guitar, though he only ever played it for the ladies. Throughout school, he had a small circle of friends who weren't always the best of influences - the kid smoked a little pot now and again but decided cigarettes were better. He wasn't stupid though! Holden graduated in the top ten of his class, so he was smart enough to take pre-college courses, but not brainy enough to actually excel in them to gain anything more than a few grand in scholarships for art school.
Knowing that art was the way he wanted to head, Holden signed himself up for a two year course in 2D Animation at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. It was close enough to home that he didn't have to do student housing, but chose to instead rent a four bedroom apartment in Millvale with a few friends. All were boys he'd known through high school; two of which joined him at the Art Institute, one in photography and the other in culinary arts. The other two decided to try their luck at the Pittsburgh Technical Institute. They partied through their first two semesters - drank regularly because that's all there is to do in a steel town, and smoked a little more pot. Cigarettes were still better. This ended as soon as Holden's grades seemed to be affected and the boy buckled down and managed, rather well, to pass.
He was debating moving out to New York City to further his degree in art when he receive a letter beckoning him to Memory, Maine. Having no connection that he knew of, Holden was weary at first, but decided that it sounded like quite an adventure - strange letter inviting him off to some place he'd never heard of. Who knew, maybe he'd pull some artsy crafty sort of muse from the trip. A week later he hopped a bus and made his way to the strange town, completely blind to what was in store.
DISNEY CHARACTER: one of the many wolves in Beauty & The Beast
STATUS: awakened
ABILITIES/ATTRIBUTES: wolf shifting
DESCRIPTION: Holden and his wolfy counterpart have never really bothered with one another. When he was young, Holden found himself lost in the woods on his uncle's land and tried his best to find his way home. When night fell, a pack of wild wolves happened their way across him. Sensing the imminent death of his host, Holden's wolf took over and got him away from the pack before they thought to adopt him into their little clan. Protect the host. That's the key thought his wolf has always held.
All he ever remembers of the wolf taking over are dreams of being a wolf. He assumes their dreams. Through his life though, Holden has found that with age, his dreams become more and more awkward. First it was dreams about being a wolf running around, and lately they've become something more sinister than dreams; he wakes up in places he didn't go to bed, and sometimes he's a dirty mess. With his arrival to Memory though, it's possible that running into other wolves would lead him into more shifting, and perhaps eventually a control over such an ability, once it's realized that's what he is going through, and not just losing his mind with crazy dreams.
YOUR NAME: Jess!
YOUR AGE: 24
YOUR RP EXPERIENCE: Oh God. I've been fanfic writing since i was like, 13, but I didn't pick up actual roleplaying until i was, urhmm. 16ish.
YOUR SAMPLE: Kobra might have been down for the count in a physical sense, but he could kind of make out the voices. They were low though, almost like that fading sort of light through the fog. Some things he made out, while mostly it was just the blackness and the smell of blood and dust.
The voice of his mother flooded through Kobra with a soft sadness. "Boys, behave!" He hadn't ever remember much of his mother, but being knocked unconscious and left for dead by your flesh and blood brother had a way of kicking up old memories, or so it seemed. The scenes of long ago - before losing Cole to BL/ind, before their year in the wastelands, before the bombs even hit or they'd met their 'brothers from another mother' - were the first to pop into his mind.
It was as if he were living it all-over again. The rushing sound of water that filled the bathtub. The sweet smell of lavender shampoo their mother used on them, mixed with warm aroma of vanilla from the perfume she wore was enough to kick anyone's ass with nostalgia. They played in the water with their water pistols, and even then Cole had managed those reflexes, always hitting Ryan first with the streams of water. This always made him so mad, because try as he might he could never be faster than his big brother. There must have been something magical about being older.
Of course, Ryan would throw a fit and wrestle with his brother, splashing him out of jealousy of his skills in water gun battles. Cole would splash back in defense, and always it happened that Ryan would get a mouthful of water and cry to his mother that 'Cole was being a meanieface'. Their mother would scold them, but in that sort of sweet way that you did with young boys. Even if she wasn't terribly attentive to them at times, she could be sweet.
When the phone rang in the distance, their mother wandered off, leaving the boys unattended. They played a little longer, but sooner or later the tub water would get cold, sending shivers up and down Ryan's little arms. He remembered pleading his brother to add hotter water, to which he eventually did. The next time the water went cold, Cole climbed out and, after wrapping a towel around himself, would pad along the tile of the bathroom with a towel for his brother.
Ryan could feel the warmth of the towel and the care that his brother took in making sure his head got dry. Sometimes he'd throw a noogie in there, but the particular memory only had Ryan flinging his arms around Cole to tell him how much he loved his big brother and was so lucky to have him and Cole calling him silly and to hurry up or he'd miss his program on the television.
The thoughts were crippling Kobra's already broken heart. He wanted to wake up. He wanted Party to hold him like he had before he was Party Poison. Hold him and tell him things were going to be alright. Dreams were supposed to be sweet, not further rip your heart into pieces when your brother had all but sealed your fate.
