Post by MACON ANDREW LONGSTON on Jan 16, 2010 17:31:01 GMT -5
NAME: macon andrew longston.
NICKNAME: mac. drew. macon bacon. macon babies.
GENDER: male.
AGE: twenty one.
ETHNICITY: the other white meat.
RELIGION: constantly changing.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: straight.
STATUS: single.
OCCUPATION/GRADE: university sophomore.
HAIR: light brown.
EYES: hazel.
HEIGHT: six feet, four inches.
WEIGHT: one hundred and forty some pounds.
DISTINGUISHED FEATURES: macon has covered random bits of his flesh with tattoos, some of which have meaning, some of which just don't. as for piercings, while he has several, he truly only keeps the hole in his left nostril jeweled at all times.
PLAY BY: zack merrick.
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LIKES:
DISLIKES: there are very few things macon dislikes.
FEARS: to be embarrassed.
SECRETS: macon's actually pretty open. he'd let the world know his business if they asked.
HOBBIES: macon enjoys knitting, watching disney, playing the bass, playing drums, and being all around unusual and comical. if it'll make you laugh with him, he'll do it.
PERSONALITY:
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FATHER: julian longston, radio disc jockey.
MOTHER: chloe longston, bank teller.
SIBLINGS: none.
PETS: a great dane named funks.
HOMETOWN: nashville.
HISTORY:
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[/i] had lucked out. he had a few bruises, a couple of scratches, and a small burn up the back of his leg. she had received a few cuts along her arms and one rather large cut on her soft cheek. she still looked beautiful, even shaking and wet and bleeding.
NAME: kara.
GENDER: female.
AGE: eighteen.
OTHER CHARACTERS: none, as of now.
EXPERIENCE: four years.
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:
he had even laughed and made a joke about nothing having gone wrong. about how someone upstairs obviously wanted them to be alright. just as he was about to open his mouth to say that someone upstairs must have wanted to scare them into something - he would have asked her to marry him then - his eyes found the blood staining the thighs of her legs, though. her eyes found the blood, too. he stared for a moment and then looked around for someone with a very serious injury. he was sure she must have gotten someone else's blood on her. nothing could be wrong with her. nothing could be wrong with their baby. their baby was two months, it couldn't have died.
it did, though. he had thrown up while she washed to blood away and they cried in each others arms for a bit. then, they walked their separate ways on the beach. he sometimes told her that he let her be alone for three days and three nights so she could be alone, but he always amanged to leave out the part of that explanation: he blamed himself. he thought she blamed him, too. he still does some days. he had paid for that stupid boat ride. he had gotten her pregnant. he couldn't help but blame himself. he slept on the soft, yet sharp, sand of the beach every night. alone. he watched several people find one another and find a savior in one another. he wanted to find suri. he wanted to take everything back. he wanted to ask her to marry him. most importantly, he wanted to have a phone right about now. not for rescue and not for pizza or anything practical like that.
he wanted to call the decorator his mother had suggested and tell them to remove the crib and the curtains and the rocking chair. he never got to make that call and the nursery at the end of the hall of the house they'd chosen at the edge of the water remained, haunting him some nights. he had a relapse the previous year, giving in to the calls of a bottle of clear vodka and had taken an hour to rip the shelves from the walls and the curtains from the windows. he spent the next hour trying to clean up. now, the nursery remains a green room with white wood and ripped wall paper. he supposed he'd have to clean it soon, get it ready for suri. he didn't want suri to see it like that; a reminded of what they lost. he'd clean it and paint it white for her, so she could paint it yellow.
when he arrived home, he stood in the door way for a long minute. he couldn't decide whether he should head straight to the nursery or straight to suri. suri meant more to him than anything, so his choice was obvious. she was on the beach, at the water's edge. she didn't go in the water as much or at all now, he noticed the previous year. he didn't blame her. he didn't ask or force her in. if she was afraid, it was his fault, he didn't have the right to take that fear.
he approached her, taking a seat behind her, a leg and an arm on either side of her. he placed his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. i love you, suri. you have no idea how much i love you.[/justify] [/ul]
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