Post by Sweden on Jun 24, 2010 9:21:41 GMT 2
Character information
Country: Kingdom of Sweden (Berwald Oxenstierna)
Gender: Male
Starter Pokémon: Turtwig. Male. Named Siv.
Appearance:
Were it not for the constant look of disapproval on his face, or the unwavering glare in his blue-green eyes, one could call Berwald Oxenstierna attractive. As things stand, however, his inability to properly convey his emotions through facial expressions only causes those around him to take a step back in fear of his temper, and not in awe of his good looks.
However, though he recognizes this as an inevitability, Berwald does not allow himself to appear as anything less than presentable. He keeps his light blond hair cut in a short, no fuss fashion that is suited for any occasion, and wears sensible glasses with somewhat wide, rectangular frames to compliment his long face.
Berwald’s fashion choices, although flattering for his body type and always well tailored, do not help in making him approachable. He favors a long, blue coat that emphasizes his already impressive height, and beneath the coat are a long sleeved sweater and straight-legged pants that further exaggerate just how tall he is.
Personality:
One of Berwald’s key flaws is his inability to express himself clearly, especially verbally. Although he holds a preference for silence, when he does speak his words are muddled and difficult to understand. This, in turn, only encourages him to remain quiet even when he has something to say, because he would rather sit in silence than make a fool of himself.
Part of Berwald’s silence also stems from his inward shy nature. Around those he cares about – particularly his “wife” – he finds it hard to voice his thoughts and emotions, and so keeps them deep inside. Such reservation, coupled with his intimidating expression, tends to give people the wrong impression about himself, but he never goes out of his way to correct those impressions.
Given his verbal awkwardness, Berwald has developed a preference of relying on his actions rather than his words to express himself. Instead of saying he will do something, Berwald simply does it with little to no discussion involved. In hindsight, this leads to him making his own assumptions about people and their wants. Since he doesn’t confer with others often before doing something, there are times when he steps over boundaries.
Behind Berwald’s intimidating exterior lurks an unexpected inner playfulness. When around someone he’s comfortable with, such as his “wife,” he will sometimes indulge in a bit of light-hearted teasing. The only problem is that his unchanging expression and serious voice make it difficult to detect that teasing, but when someone notices and responds in kind he can’t help but be inwardly pleased.
~~~~~~~
OOC information
Name: Su-san
Age: 19
Time zone: EST
~~~~~~~
Sample Post
(Ah, if this isn’t an appropriate sample post, I’ll gladly whip something else up.)
Something was stuck to one of the plates. With a small grunt of dissatisfaction that he could barely hear over the hum of the refrigerator, Sweden pulled the dirty dish from the water and inspected it carefully. Looking at it, he didn’t see anything obvious that would account for the small ridge his fingertips felt. The plate was a little chipped around the painted edges from years of use, but otherwise the rest of it looked fine.
And yet… He frowned and slowly ran his hand over the plate, his fingertips alert for the smallest hint of dried food. Sure enough, when his hand neared the brightly colored edge, he found the offending ridge. When he brought it to his face, he could almost see it; a small spot from last night’s dinner, mocking him with its presence. He shook his head, and searched the soapy water in the sink for his sponge. Next time, he would have to be more careful in the rinsing process.
Once he found the sponge, he angled his body and the plate in order to give the offending area a good scrub—only to pause when he felt something nip at his ankle through the fabric of his pants. Brows arched, Sweden glanced down at his feet and met a bright-eyed Hanatamago. The tiny dog wagged her tail at him in greeting and pawed at his leg.
He checked the clock on the wall, and sat the plate and sponge down. “Time t’ go ‘ut,” he decided, something inside of him flooding with warmth at her happy bark. Hana’s furry little body practically vibrated with excitement as she led him to the back door, and he could feel her eyes watch him impatiently as he took the time to slip on a coat and pair of boots.
Despite her impatience, she didn’t scratch at the door; that had been a habit in the making fast broken. Sweden hummed in acknowledgement when she abandoned her staring for playful growling—“Daddy,” he could almost hear Sealand say, “you’re taking too long!”—and opened the door. Hana darted past his ankles and into the snow, her barks filling the otherwise silent morning air.
He shook his head at her enthusiasm and shut the door behind him, mindful to do so as gently as possible lest he wake the sleeping members of his family. Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth when Hana snapped a few snowflakes drifting lazily in the wind, her tiny legs propelling her as high into the air as she could go. Once she played for a few minutes, she paused to catch her breath then cast a shy glance at him before running behind a tree to take care of her business.
It didn’t take long; soon enough, she ran back out into the open and rolled around in the yard several times for good measure. When she finished, she trotted back over to him looking completely satisfied with herself and plopped herself down at his feet. That warm, melting feeling ran through him again. With a fond smile that no doubt scared any wildlife nearby, Sweden bent down and he scooped her up into his arms.
Melting snow soaked his hands when he ran his fingers through her fur.
Sweden hummed in disapproval—she’d get sick if she stayed dripping like that for too long—and tucked her into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s g’t you dri’d off,” he murmured, adjusting his grip on her again when she stretched up to pepper his chin with wet kisses. He patted her head in thanks and, once he made it back inside, dropped a kiss on her fuzzy head before he set her down.
She darted off as he lingered by the door to shed his coat and boots, leaving a wet trail in her wake. He thought to warn her against jumping on the furniture but, upon seeing her leap into his favorite chair and nose her way under the quilt thrown over the seat, decided against it. It wasn’t anything a thick towel and a good scrub down wouldn’t fix.
Country: Kingdom of Sweden (Berwald Oxenstierna)
Gender: Male
Starter Pokémon: Turtwig. Male. Named Siv.
Appearance:
Were it not for the constant look of disapproval on his face, or the unwavering glare in his blue-green eyes, one could call Berwald Oxenstierna attractive. As things stand, however, his inability to properly convey his emotions through facial expressions only causes those around him to take a step back in fear of his temper, and not in awe of his good looks.
However, though he recognizes this as an inevitability, Berwald does not allow himself to appear as anything less than presentable. He keeps his light blond hair cut in a short, no fuss fashion that is suited for any occasion, and wears sensible glasses with somewhat wide, rectangular frames to compliment his long face.
Berwald’s fashion choices, although flattering for his body type and always well tailored, do not help in making him approachable. He favors a long, blue coat that emphasizes his already impressive height, and beneath the coat are a long sleeved sweater and straight-legged pants that further exaggerate just how tall he is.
Personality:
One of Berwald’s key flaws is his inability to express himself clearly, especially verbally. Although he holds a preference for silence, when he does speak his words are muddled and difficult to understand. This, in turn, only encourages him to remain quiet even when he has something to say, because he would rather sit in silence than make a fool of himself.
Part of Berwald’s silence also stems from his inward shy nature. Around those he cares about – particularly his “wife” – he finds it hard to voice his thoughts and emotions, and so keeps them deep inside. Such reservation, coupled with his intimidating expression, tends to give people the wrong impression about himself, but he never goes out of his way to correct those impressions.
Given his verbal awkwardness, Berwald has developed a preference of relying on his actions rather than his words to express himself. Instead of saying he will do something, Berwald simply does it with little to no discussion involved. In hindsight, this leads to him making his own assumptions about people and their wants. Since he doesn’t confer with others often before doing something, there are times when he steps over boundaries.
Behind Berwald’s intimidating exterior lurks an unexpected inner playfulness. When around someone he’s comfortable with, such as his “wife,” he will sometimes indulge in a bit of light-hearted teasing. The only problem is that his unchanging expression and serious voice make it difficult to detect that teasing, but when someone notices and responds in kind he can’t help but be inwardly pleased.
~~~~~~~
OOC information
Name: Su-san
Age: 19
Time zone: EST
~~~~~~~
Sample Post
(Ah, if this isn’t an appropriate sample post, I’ll gladly whip something else up.)
Something was stuck to one of the plates. With a small grunt of dissatisfaction that he could barely hear over the hum of the refrigerator, Sweden pulled the dirty dish from the water and inspected it carefully. Looking at it, he didn’t see anything obvious that would account for the small ridge his fingertips felt. The plate was a little chipped around the painted edges from years of use, but otherwise the rest of it looked fine.
And yet… He frowned and slowly ran his hand over the plate, his fingertips alert for the smallest hint of dried food. Sure enough, when his hand neared the brightly colored edge, he found the offending ridge. When he brought it to his face, he could almost see it; a small spot from last night’s dinner, mocking him with its presence. He shook his head, and searched the soapy water in the sink for his sponge. Next time, he would have to be more careful in the rinsing process.
Once he found the sponge, he angled his body and the plate in order to give the offending area a good scrub—only to pause when he felt something nip at his ankle through the fabric of his pants. Brows arched, Sweden glanced down at his feet and met a bright-eyed Hanatamago. The tiny dog wagged her tail at him in greeting and pawed at his leg.
He checked the clock on the wall, and sat the plate and sponge down. “Time t’ go ‘ut,” he decided, something inside of him flooding with warmth at her happy bark. Hana’s furry little body practically vibrated with excitement as she led him to the back door, and he could feel her eyes watch him impatiently as he took the time to slip on a coat and pair of boots.
Despite her impatience, she didn’t scratch at the door; that had been a habit in the making fast broken. Sweden hummed in acknowledgement when she abandoned her staring for playful growling—“Daddy,” he could almost hear Sealand say, “you’re taking too long!”—and opened the door. Hana darted past his ankles and into the snow, her barks filling the otherwise silent morning air.
He shook his head at her enthusiasm and shut the door behind him, mindful to do so as gently as possible lest he wake the sleeping members of his family. Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth when Hana snapped a few snowflakes drifting lazily in the wind, her tiny legs propelling her as high into the air as she could go. Once she played for a few minutes, she paused to catch her breath then cast a shy glance at him before running behind a tree to take care of her business.
It didn’t take long; soon enough, she ran back out into the open and rolled around in the yard several times for good measure. When she finished, she trotted back over to him looking completely satisfied with herself and plopped herself down at his feet. That warm, melting feeling ran through him again. With a fond smile that no doubt scared any wildlife nearby, Sweden bent down and he scooped her up into his arms.
Melting snow soaked his hands when he ran his fingers through her fur.
Sweden hummed in disapproval—she’d get sick if she stayed dripping like that for too long—and tucked her into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s g’t you dri’d off,” he murmured, adjusting his grip on her again when she stretched up to pepper his chin with wet kisses. He patted her head in thanks and, once he made it back inside, dropped a kiss on her fuzzy head before he set her down.
She darted off as he lingered by the door to shed his coat and boots, leaving a wet trail in her wake. He thought to warn her against jumping on the furniture but, upon seeing her leap into his favorite chair and nose her way under the quilt thrown over the seat, decided against it. It wasn’t anything a thick towel and a good scrub down wouldn’t fix.
