Post by Admin-Misty on Jun 18, 2012 19:55:32 GMT -5
Application for “Dio” Peccadillo
Name: Call me Sky
Age: 19
Character Desired: Dio, a Puck OC
Timezone: US Pacific Time
How often will you be on? Most evenings from about 8 to…late. Randomly throughout the day, depending on the day and schedule.
Sample Para (can be from another RP, must be at least two paragraphs):
Ah, New York. Taste the air, cold and laced with exhaust. Disgusting, right? But that’s what’s lovely about it. I’m tasting it with my own tongue, not relying on flimsy memories from my predecessor. See, there’s a difference between knowing something from someone else, and seeing it through your own eyes, kiddos.
Granted, I have been to New York, not too long ago. To get technical, I was “born” in New York, a byproduct of the lovely Puck-induced Panic from a few months back. But my memories of the Big Apple were…fuzzy, at best. I was too busy trying to juggle the millennia of memories that were my birthright. No, puck recreation isn’t all fun and games—at least, it isn’t for the one being “born”.
So, you’re probably wondering, why did I come back? Curiosity, mostly. I’d heard of strange happenings in New York—and it had to be strange, to be my origin point. Plus, think of all the people. Clueless, lost in their own little worlds of cement and neon, sewers and skyscrapers. If I’m trying to figure out what direction I want to take for the next few thousand years, may as well start off like every other puck; lying, stealing, and tricking every fool in sight.
Here I am, stepping out of my cab and onto the city streets. Lost in a sea of mortals, all of them cold and laced with exhaust. Disgusting, right?
But that’s why they’re lovely.
Name: Call me Sky
Age: 19
Character Desired: Dio, a Puck OC
Timezone: US Pacific Time
How often will you be on? Most evenings from about 8 to…late. Randomly throughout the day, depending on the day and schedule.
Sample Para (can be from another RP, must be at least two paragraphs):
Ah, New York. Taste the air, cold and laced with exhaust. Disgusting, right? But that’s what’s lovely about it. I’m tasting it with my own tongue, not relying on flimsy memories from my predecessor. See, there’s a difference between knowing something from someone else, and seeing it through your own eyes, kiddos.
Granted, I have been to New York, not too long ago. To get technical, I was “born” in New York, a byproduct of the lovely Puck-induced Panic from a few months back. But my memories of the Big Apple were…fuzzy, at best. I was too busy trying to juggle the millennia of memories that were my birthright. No, puck recreation isn’t all fun and games—at least, it isn’t for the one being “born”.
So, you’re probably wondering, why did I come back? Curiosity, mostly. I’d heard of strange happenings in New York—and it had to be strange, to be my origin point. Plus, think of all the people. Clueless, lost in their own little worlds of cement and neon, sewers and skyscrapers. If I’m trying to figure out what direction I want to take for the next few thousand years, may as well start off like every other puck; lying, stealing, and tricking every fool in sight.
Here I am, stepping out of my cab and onto the city streets. Lost in a sea of mortals, all of them cold and laced with exhaust. Disgusting, right?
But that’s why they’re lovely.