Post by chris on May 29, 2010 0:51:38 GMT -5
Full name: Christopher Alexander Willis II (Chris to his friends)
Age: 17
Birthday: October 30
Original or Canon?: Original
Face Claim: Zac Efron
Why You are here: Claustrophobia that sometimes leads to extreme panic attacks, and some compulsive behavior, related to post-traumatic stress disorder. Lashes out against anyone violating his personal space. (See below under 'History' for details)
Horse: Shadow or Althea
Riding Experience: Absolute Beginner
Riding Interest: Has no idea about it yet, but might tend towards dressage one day
Favorite Breed: Doesn't know enough about horses to have one
Appearance: Chris stands about 5'11" tall. He has blue-gray eyes, and brownish hair that he sometimes bothers to smooth down. At other times he allows his hair to spike in whatever directions it wants. Chris has an average build, neither super muscular, nor very thin. He is always clean shaven, but otherwise doesn't pay terribly much attention to his appearance. Chris dresses like any average teenager, and likes t-shirts with slogans on them. He has one trademark piece of apparel: a light-brown sports coat (inherited from his grandpa) that he often wears and that's beginning to show signs of constant wear, despite its sturdy material.
Likes:
- The ocean
- Open spaces
- Skateboards
- Jet skies
- Going to the movies with friends
Dislikes:
- Jocks - they always get the best girls
- Cheerleaders - because they only seem to have eyes for the jocks
- History lessons
- Book learning
Personality Traits:
- Friendly if you don't try to get too close
- Helpful
- Doesn't bother much about his future
- Prefers practice over theory
- Lazy
- Impulsive
- Trusting
- Imaginative (when it comes to finding solutions to practical problems)
- Intuitive
- Daydreamer
Family Tree:
- Father: Allan Willis - 53, car mechanic, runs his own small garage
- Mother: Silvia Willis née Haldane - 51, does most of the office work at Allan's garage
- Siblings: Irene Willis - 22, sister, university student (media studies)
- Other: Christopher Willis I - Grandfather, deceased, previous owner of Chris's trademark sports coat.
Hometown: Pensacola, Florida
History: Chris was always a fairly average teenager. He didn't like school, he liked hanging out with his friends, had a few flings. He enjoyed skateboarding, going out to sea on a jet ski, and the parties on the beach. He didn't care much about his future, as he very much expected to end up with a job at his father's garage one way or another, not being as interested in studies and learning as his older sister. But his father welcomed that, even if his mother sometimes seemed a little disappointed that her son didn't aspire to anything special.
All that lasted until the hurricane hit town. Irene had moved off to Orlando to attend uni, and Chris's parents were away on a rare vacation, celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary. Chris was the man of the house, and he would have liked nothing better, but then the storm warning came. Of course he was prepared. He knew the drill, bolted down the house, secured the windows, made sure he had all the supplies he would need to sustain an army for a week.
Everything was fine until the storm blew over a tree that crushed the roof. The falling debris knocked Chris out, and when he came to his senses again he found himself trapped under half the upper floor that had come down.
He struggled, cried for help, struggled until he thought his heart would burst from the effort, but it was no use. All he could do was wait, and he waited until he gave up all hope and became convinced that he would die there, in the wreckage of his own home, boxed in, unable to move, confined.
After Chris was finally freed he wasn't the same average teenager any more. He got panic attacks when in small rooms, especially locked rooms, and he simply refused to ride in an elevator. When forced to be in an enclosed space he tends to fiddle with things in his reach, order them, rearrange them, just to distract himself. Nowadays he also feels very uncomfortable being close to other people and impulsively lashes out - physically - at anyone touching him.
While there are several methods to treat claustrophobia, none of them helped him all that much, however many therapists his parents consulted, or how expensive those therapists were. They wanted the best for their son, but after a while they came to the point where their money was running out, so they looked into alternatives to the local shrinks. Shipping their son off to Montana appeared cruel to them as it would deprive Chris of what little support they could offer, but it sounded like a place where he could find lots of open spaces, and the classes were short, so he wouldn't have to spend much time indoors. Maybe it was for his best to send him to Willow Brooke.
Nickname: Andreas
Age: born in 1967
Years of RP Experience: Online? A few years. About 4 I guess. Offline? Around 26 years or so
Other Characters: Ayesha McMillan
Jaroslaw Kowalczyk - Jarek to his friends - stopped a few hundred meters from the Academy and sucked in a sharp breath. That was one impressive building. He wondered how he could ever feel at home in a place like this, but a drop of sweat trickling along his furry brows distracted him. He pulled a linen handkerchief from a pocket of his cargo pants and wiped his brow and forehead.
Jarek was used to being sweaty, first from working in the fields along his grandparents, then from his time as a conscript in the army. But he wouldn't want to enter Four Points all sweaty and uncouth. His grandparents had spent every zloty they had, just to buy him a plane ticket to Italy, so he could learn to make something of his talents. He would make them proud, and making a halfway presentable entrance was the first step.
He did his best to wipe the sweat from his face and extremely short-haired head, then picked up his duffel bag again and made his way towards the doors of the entrance hall. Determination lent his steps purpose, but inside his anxiety grew, the closer he drew to the doors. What place had a country bum like him in a place like this, magic or no magic?
Jarek gulped, then shook his head. No, he could not turn back now. How could he face his grandparents again, after they had spent so much time and effort to give him this opportunity to learn more magic? He had never thought of himself as a coward, and now was not the time to change that, he told himself. He pushed open the doors and stepped into the entrance hall just far enough that the doors could close behind him.
After a look around, Jarek breathed a sigh of relieve. His clothes were perhaps not the latest fashion, but several of the people he saw were dressed rather casually. In his sneakers, cargo pants, and grey t-shirt, topped of with an unbuttoned jeans shirt, he stood out perhaps not as much as he had feared. He took a few steps away to the side, so not to block the door, and dropped his duffle bag and large backpack to the marble floor.
'What now?' he wondered as he surveyed the hall through his hazel eyes.
Jarek was used to being sweaty, first from working in the fields along his grandparents, then from his time as a conscript in the army. But he wouldn't want to enter Four Points all sweaty and uncouth. His grandparents had spent every zloty they had, just to buy him a plane ticket to Italy, so he could learn to make something of his talents. He would make them proud, and making a halfway presentable entrance was the first step.
He did his best to wipe the sweat from his face and extremely short-haired head, then picked up his duffel bag again and made his way towards the doors of the entrance hall. Determination lent his steps purpose, but inside his anxiety grew, the closer he drew to the doors. What place had a country bum like him in a place like this, magic or no magic?
Jarek gulped, then shook his head. No, he could not turn back now. How could he face his grandparents again, after they had spent so much time and effort to give him this opportunity to learn more magic? He had never thought of himself as a coward, and now was not the time to change that, he told himself. He pushed open the doors and stepped into the entrance hall just far enough that the doors could close behind him.
After a look around, Jarek breathed a sigh of relieve. His clothes were perhaps not the latest fashion, but several of the people he saw were dressed rather casually. In his sneakers, cargo pants, and grey t-shirt, topped of with an unbuttoned jeans shirt, he stood out perhaps not as much as he had feared. He took a few steps away to the side, so not to block the door, and dropped his duffle bag and large backpack to the marble floor.
'What now?' he wondered as he surveyed the hall through his hazel eyes.
