into the night
adlajdflskfdjla I'm sure everyone is sick of my RP talk by now, and I truly apologize for wasting your time, but! I'm so excited right now, because last night, this character sprung into my head, almost fully formed, and I completed his app in one night and I really, really like him! His name is Uri and his application is below.
Character Name: Uri Elouai Bey
Age: 28; Born on June 15, 1998
City: Paris
Character Position: Knight
Languages: Egyptian Arabic [native], French [mostly fluent], English [semi-fluent]
PB: Uriel of Kaori Yuki’s Angel Sanctuary
Special powers:
Advanced healing. Uri is able to heal most any wound he receives; he has an abnormally strong immune system and his blood, which is type O, possesses properties which can speed up the healing process of any individual who receives it via transfusion. His education in the medical field has only strengthened his abilities. However, it should be noted that Uri cannot regenerate lost body parts; he can heal flesh and bone but is unable to spontaneously grow a new kidney.
History:
The child of two prominent Egyptian professors, Uri Elouai Bey grew up in the shadow of the sun-bleached Cairo University . His mother Ariella was a native Israeli who had immigrated to Egypt after meeting Imad, Uri’s father, who, like her, was a professor of Biology. Neither was particularly religious, and so little conflict arose from the fact that Ariella had grown up in a Jewish household while Imad’s upbringing had placed a heavy importance on Islamic ideals-they were intellectuals, after all, and therefore felt they were above any statistical evidence that might suggest their match was an unwise one. It was in fact scientific theories, rather than religious ones, which would eventually cause a rift in their marriage. After Ariella accused Imad of stealing credit for an experiment which she had intended to submit to a prominent scientific journal, the two spent so much time arguing that they seemed to have forgotten their son altogether. Uri, who had always been somewhat of a solitary child, did not feel the sting of neglect as acutely as others his age might have, perhaps in part because he had just discovered his powers and was pre-occupied with experimenting with them. By the time her son turned fourteen, Ariella had left Cairo in favor of France’s “more advanced intellectual atmosphere”, and Uri was suddenly alone with a father he barely knew, and who viewed him as little more than an acquaintance with whom he occasionally had dinner.
This in itself might not have posed a large problem, but Imad was a scientist, and, like many scientists, often poked his nose in places it did not belong. So it was that one day Imad discovered Yuri making systematic incisions in his arm, only to have them heal, scarless, in a matter of seconds. Being a biologist, Imad was beyond fascinated by the phenomena, and burst into Uri’s life with one fell “How in Heaven did you do that?”
At first, Uri was indifferent to, if not slightly pleased by, his father’s sudden interest, but he soon realized that said interest was focused only on his powers. Imad wanted to know the full extent of Uri’s abilities; he analyzed his son’s blood, saliva, urine, tissue-no biological reason for his rapid healing seemed to exist on an observational scale, however. Frustrated and impatient, the biologist was nevertheless hesitant to reveal his son’s “mutation” to the world without hard evidence, out of fear that in doing so he would lose credibility on a subject which could render him far more famous than his wife’s experiment ever could. So for the next two years he contented himself with running various experiments on Uri when the boy wasn’t in school. These eventually culminated in Imad cutting off his son’s left pinky finger to see whether or not it would regenerate. It didn’t, though the remaining flesh healed quickly.
Uri, understandably enough, was changed after that. More silent, grave, and willful than before, he refused to take part in any more experiments and likewise denied his father the opportunity to film him performing even the smallest biological miracle. Guilty over hurting his son but yet convinced such measures were necessary for “the greater good”, Imad begged, cajoled, and at times even threatened Uri in an attempt to regain his cooperation. The teen would have none of it, however. At some interval between the blade of the knife and the healing of his hand, Uri had discovered that he was stronger than his father and that in the face of a steady gaze and an iron will, the man’s so-called greater good meant nothing. Administering the final blow was a laughably simple: he called his mother and told her what Imad had done. Whether out of genuine love, guilt, or a vindictive need to get back at her husband, Ariella put her estranged son on the next plane to Paris and welcomed him into her home with open arms.
The next few years proved active: attending the University of Paris on a partial scholarship, Uri lived peacefully with his mother, though truly it was a bit too late to re-connect with her. Still, it was through her that Uri learned of the Black Order, which Ariella had joined in the years she had been separated from her son and husband-of course, she was a more casual fringe-member, even after the War began. At first, Uri was extremely wary of them; he disliked most things having to do with his ability, but the War’s apparent chaos altered his view of the Order somewhat; this was a conflict far bigger than him, and he found within him a desire to help bring it to a close. He would be a loyal Knight, and an efficient one, given his disposition.
Having graduated with a medical degree, he is currently acting as a resident in a local E.R. He uses his blood only as a last resort, and so far, no one has picked up on it.
Personality:
Silent and intense, Uri would be intimidating if he were not so good at keeping to himself. He is the sort of man one would appreciate in an emergency: while not incapable of being caught off-guard, he is generally calm in crises and has trained himself in keeping a level head. He acts on instinct when situations spiral into chaos, and those instincts generally serve him well. He speaks very formally, especially when invoking a non-native language, and is precise and careful when choosing his words. Negatives of this come in the form of antisocial tendencies. A bit of a stick-in-the-mud, he is not the sort of guy with whom you’d like to go clubbing or drinking. Inside jokes and pop culture confound him; sarcasm, he understands but rarely invokes.
Beneath his impassivity, however, lies a concerned, almost tender streak for those he deems his comrades. He tends to act as a stern nurse toward those he trusts, and is likely to drag them back to bed if they attempt to push themselves. At heart, he’s a mama hen, but you are one special person if you get him to display a degree of affection beyond that.
He regards his parents with an even aloofness, neither resenting them nor attempting to get closer to them. Were his father on his deathbead, Uri would likely pay his respects, but he probably would neglect to mention his blood has curative properties. That’s about as vindictive as he gets, at least when it involves only himself.
Appearance:
Uri stands about 6’3” and is quite fit and handsome. In spite of the intense hours his schedule demands, he rarely shows sign of dishevelment and does not tire easily. He has dark skin and hair offset only by olive-green eyes which often lead people to mistake him for one of Mediterranean descent. His hair grows so rapidly that he simply stopped cutting it one day and resigned himself to caring for a thick mane the rest of his days. He is yet to grow a beard, however.
He favors earth tones and tends to dress in simple clothing when not in scrubs. His one fashion indulgence is a high-collared trench coat he bought with his second paycheck. His first was promptly invested in a stock which wound up returning three times its value. Sometimes, he’s lucky like that.
First-person journal sample:
[Filter: Private; Language: Egyptian Arabic (Masri)]
A dragon, she says.
I find this hard to believe, but then, have I ever known her to be given to fancy? Stranger things have likely occurred. The darkness.
Should I ask them.
[Filter: Paris Black Order; Language: French]
Please forgive my suddenness, but my mother has spoken of a
[Filter: Private; Language: Egyptian Arabic]
Perhaps not.
Third-person writing sample:
“But I like these jeans!” a still-tipsy woman wailed as Uri sliced them away with a pair of sharp scissors. Though many would have been tempted to fire back a smart retort, Uri was not the sort of man who wasted time on such things, particularly when the woman in question had just been wheeled in after colliding with another vehicle and causing a DUI accident backing up half of the Paris bus line.
“Are you allergic to any medication?”
“Don’t take my jeans away!”
“Exactly how much did you drink, can you tell me this?”
“Are you a pervert or somethin’? I want my mom! My jeans…”
He counted to three. Tried a different route. “Do you wish to die?”
The girl was silent for a moment.
“Tell me what you drank, Estelle,” he said, remembering the name on her student ID.
“Vodka.”
“Russian or American?”
“Russian.”
She was in for a rough night, then. “And you are not allergic to adrenaline or penicillin?”
“My jeans…”
He took that as a yes, and sedated her fully. Sometimes that was all one could do, after all. He would be grateful should she live to buy another pair of jeans.
Aside from that, things have been steady enough in my life. I start school Monday, so I'm a bit nervous, but since my sister decided to remain at the private school I'm feeling a bit more resolved. She'll be safe there and I won't have to worry about her punching a former enemy or two. I've already met my teachers, and they seem surprisingly kind--my Spanish teacher especially. He had a few phrases written on his board for Open House, and it was simple to read them after all my teacher put me through last year. Damn cognates. But anyway, he said he was impressed that I even tried, which was nice of him. And perhaps the best part is that this school is on block scheduling, and I don't even have to THINK about Math for an entire semester! You have no idea how reassuring this is~
I'm still worried, though. I'm not cool. I don't know if I can make friends. I don't know if they'll like me. What if they think I'm lame or something?
And more than that, what if I see him?
I wish I didn't have to think about that.
Character Name: Uri Elouai Bey
Age: 28; Born on June 15, 1998
City: Paris
Character Position: Knight
Languages: Egyptian Arabic [native], French [mostly fluent], English [semi-fluent]
PB: Uriel of Kaori Yuki’s Angel Sanctuary
Special powers:
Advanced healing. Uri is able to heal most any wound he receives; he has an abnormally strong immune system and his blood, which is type O, possesses properties which can speed up the healing process of any individual who receives it via transfusion. His education in the medical field has only strengthened his abilities. However, it should be noted that Uri cannot regenerate lost body parts; he can heal flesh and bone but is unable to spontaneously grow a new kidney.
History:
The child of two prominent Egyptian professors, Uri Elouai Bey grew up in the shadow of the sun-bleached Cairo University . His mother Ariella was a native Israeli who had immigrated to Egypt after meeting Imad, Uri’s father, who, like her, was a professor of Biology. Neither was particularly religious, and so little conflict arose from the fact that Ariella had grown up in a Jewish household while Imad’s upbringing had placed a heavy importance on Islamic ideals-they were intellectuals, after all, and therefore felt they were above any statistical evidence that might suggest their match was an unwise one. It was in fact scientific theories, rather than religious ones, which would eventually cause a rift in their marriage. After Ariella accused Imad of stealing credit for an experiment which she had intended to submit to a prominent scientific journal, the two spent so much time arguing that they seemed to have forgotten their son altogether. Uri, who had always been somewhat of a solitary child, did not feel the sting of neglect as acutely as others his age might have, perhaps in part because he had just discovered his powers and was pre-occupied with experimenting with them. By the time her son turned fourteen, Ariella had left Cairo in favor of France’s “more advanced intellectual atmosphere”, and Uri was suddenly alone with a father he barely knew, and who viewed him as little more than an acquaintance with whom he occasionally had dinner.
This in itself might not have posed a large problem, but Imad was a scientist, and, like many scientists, often poked his nose in places it did not belong. So it was that one day Imad discovered Yuri making systematic incisions in his arm, only to have them heal, scarless, in a matter of seconds. Being a biologist, Imad was beyond fascinated by the phenomena, and burst into Uri’s life with one fell “How in Heaven did you do that?”
At first, Uri was indifferent to, if not slightly pleased by, his father’s sudden interest, but he soon realized that said interest was focused only on his powers. Imad wanted to know the full extent of Uri’s abilities; he analyzed his son’s blood, saliva, urine, tissue-no biological reason for his rapid healing seemed to exist on an observational scale, however. Frustrated and impatient, the biologist was nevertheless hesitant to reveal his son’s “mutation” to the world without hard evidence, out of fear that in doing so he would lose credibility on a subject which could render him far more famous than his wife’s experiment ever could. So for the next two years he contented himself with running various experiments on Uri when the boy wasn’t in school. These eventually culminated in Imad cutting off his son’s left pinky finger to see whether or not it would regenerate. It didn’t, though the remaining flesh healed quickly.
Uri, understandably enough, was changed after that. More silent, grave, and willful than before, he refused to take part in any more experiments and likewise denied his father the opportunity to film him performing even the smallest biological miracle. Guilty over hurting his son but yet convinced such measures were necessary for “the greater good”, Imad begged, cajoled, and at times even threatened Uri in an attempt to regain his cooperation. The teen would have none of it, however. At some interval between the blade of the knife and the healing of his hand, Uri had discovered that he was stronger than his father and that in the face of a steady gaze and an iron will, the man’s so-called greater good meant nothing. Administering the final blow was a laughably simple: he called his mother and told her what Imad had done. Whether out of genuine love, guilt, or a vindictive need to get back at her husband, Ariella put her estranged son on the next plane to Paris and welcomed him into her home with open arms.
The next few years proved active: attending the University of Paris on a partial scholarship, Uri lived peacefully with his mother, though truly it was a bit too late to re-connect with her. Still, it was through her that Uri learned of the Black Order, which Ariella had joined in the years she had been separated from her son and husband-of course, she was a more casual fringe-member, even after the War began. At first, Uri was extremely wary of them; he disliked most things having to do with his ability, but the War’s apparent chaos altered his view of the Order somewhat; this was a conflict far bigger than him, and he found within him a desire to help bring it to a close. He would be a loyal Knight, and an efficient one, given his disposition.
Having graduated with a medical degree, he is currently acting as a resident in a local E.R. He uses his blood only as a last resort, and so far, no one has picked up on it.
Personality:
Silent and intense, Uri would be intimidating if he were not so good at keeping to himself. He is the sort of man one would appreciate in an emergency: while not incapable of being caught off-guard, he is generally calm in crises and has trained himself in keeping a level head. He acts on instinct when situations spiral into chaos, and those instincts generally serve him well. He speaks very formally, especially when invoking a non-native language, and is precise and careful when choosing his words. Negatives of this come in the form of antisocial tendencies. A bit of a stick-in-the-mud, he is not the sort of guy with whom you’d like to go clubbing or drinking. Inside jokes and pop culture confound him; sarcasm, he understands but rarely invokes.
Beneath his impassivity, however, lies a concerned, almost tender streak for those he deems his comrades. He tends to act as a stern nurse toward those he trusts, and is likely to drag them back to bed if they attempt to push themselves. At heart, he’s a mama hen, but you are one special person if you get him to display a degree of affection beyond that.
He regards his parents with an even aloofness, neither resenting them nor attempting to get closer to them. Were his father on his deathbead, Uri would likely pay his respects, but he probably would neglect to mention his blood has curative properties. That’s about as vindictive as he gets, at least when it involves only himself.
Appearance:
Uri stands about 6’3” and is quite fit and handsome. In spite of the intense hours his schedule demands, he rarely shows sign of dishevelment and does not tire easily. He has dark skin and hair offset only by olive-green eyes which often lead people to mistake him for one of Mediterranean descent. His hair grows so rapidly that he simply stopped cutting it one day and resigned himself to caring for a thick mane the rest of his days. He is yet to grow a beard, however.
He favors earth tones and tends to dress in simple clothing when not in scrubs. His one fashion indulgence is a high-collared trench coat he bought with his second paycheck. His first was promptly invested in a stock which wound up returning three times its value. Sometimes, he’s lucky like that.
First-person journal sample:
[Filter: Private; Language: Egyptian Arabic (Masri)]
A dragon, she says.
I find this hard to believe, but then, have I ever known her to be given to fancy? Stranger things have likely occurred. The darkness.
Should I ask them.
[Filter: Paris Black Order; Language: French]
Please forgive my suddenness, but my mother has spoken of a
[Filter: Private; Language: Egyptian Arabic]
Perhaps not.
Third-person writing sample:
“But I like these jeans!” a still-tipsy woman wailed as Uri sliced them away with a pair of sharp scissors. Though many would have been tempted to fire back a smart retort, Uri was not the sort of man who wasted time on such things, particularly when the woman in question had just been wheeled in after colliding with another vehicle and causing a DUI accident backing up half of the Paris bus line.
“Are you allergic to any medication?”
“Don’t take my jeans away!”
“Exactly how much did you drink, can you tell me this?”
“Are you a pervert or somethin’? I want my mom! My jeans…”
He counted to three. Tried a different route. “Do you wish to die?”
The girl was silent for a moment.
“Tell me what you drank, Estelle,” he said, remembering the name on her student ID.
“Vodka.”
“Russian or American?”
“Russian.”
She was in for a rough night, then. “And you are not allergic to adrenaline or penicillin?”
“My jeans…”
He took that as a yes, and sedated her fully. Sometimes that was all one could do, after all. He would be grateful should she live to buy another pair of jeans.
Aside from that, things have been steady enough in my life. I start school Monday, so I'm a bit nervous, but since my sister decided to remain at the private school I'm feeling a bit more resolved. She'll be safe there and I won't have to worry about her punching a former enemy or two. I've already met my teachers, and they seem surprisingly kind--my Spanish teacher especially. He had a few phrases written on his board for Open House, and it was simple to read them after all my teacher put me through last year. Damn cognates. But anyway, he said he was impressed that I even tried, which was nice of him. And perhaps the best part is that this school is on block scheduling, and I don't even have to THINK about Math for an entire semester! You have no idea how reassuring this is~
I'm still worried, though. I'm not cool. I don't know if I can make friends. I don't know if they'll like me. What if they think I'm lame or something?
And more than that, what if I see him?
I wish I didn't have to think about that.