Post by Griffin Caerwyn on Jan 23, 2014 22:21:42 GMT -7
Griffin Caerwyn
Griffin Caerwyn Twenty Four Noble Griff Reliability Renamon, Kudamon, Gaomon FACE CLAIM: Yato ANIMANGA: Noragami GENDER: Male HEIGHT: 6'3" WEIGHT: 182 lbs APPEARANCE In all honesty, Griffin is the kid you'd never peg to be the one for responsibility - especially not the one that his father has placed on his shoulders. He looks much younger than his age - something he constantly curses, and if you mistake his age, he will let you know without a second thought, rather irritably. Under normal circumstances, Griffin appears to be no more than your average college student – generally found in what most people would see as a workout clothes, but Griffin sees them as something to easily move about in. The pants a black, tightly knitted fabric with white stripes down the sides of the legs, tucked into a pair of brown, buckled boots. A matching black jacket (resting and often zipped up over a white t-shirt), more of a velvety fabric with matching white stripes – essentially, they’re sweats. While he’s twenty-four, most people would guess him to be eighteen at the eldest, his thin face frame with, as he describes it, a neatly lain mess of black hair, an unruly section of bangs hanging down before his face. His eyes also betray his true age - a bright, energetic blue, displaying liveliness and that in truth, he often lacks. He’s thin and often seen as lanky by others, however, if you were to take a peek under his clothing (if you could get close enough to the boy) you’d find a well-built body, formed by hours spent training with the military and, more importantly, his mother. The only thing that may ring true to his age is his height… though even then it doesn’t mean much. Standing at six foot three, Griffin currently weighs one hundred and eighty two pounds – a frequently shifting number with his eating and exercising patterns. However, one thing he is not often spotted without is a rather roughly worn (and obviously well loved), white piece of fabric tied around his neck. Without knowing the origin of the fabric, most people would see it as a scrap of fabric that’s worth about as much as trash, but to Griffin, it means the world. The fabric used to belong to his mother’s favorite shirt – carefully cut from what was left of it that he could find, washed with care and never left far from his being. In all honesty, probably the only times you’d see him without it would be if he was bathing or recreational swimming. He sees it as a reminder of the promise he made after his mother passed away, that he can remain strong and make it through despite the things life may throw at him… and, more importantly, a reminder of how much she loved him. I guess you could say that I've always had a protective bone in my body that's found itself prevalent. When I was twelve, I got myself into a fight I knew I wouldn't win because they were beating my little brother - he was only eight. But I always thought better me than him. Even though it brought me scorn from my father (He was a proper man, even my mother always said he was a little stuck up, but she loved him anyway. He worked for the government and wanted well behaved children that would make him look good. I guess you can say I didn’t live up to that much.) and a week of out of school suspension –my mother, however, seemed proud of me. She took me and my little brother out for dinner and ice cream that night while father was at work. That will always be one of my favorite memories. My mother and I were close… very close. As embarrassing as it is to admit sometimes, I was a mother’s boy. But who could blame me. My mother was a high ranked official in the military and she encouraged my interest in her field of work – instead of your traditional bed time stories, I always asked her to read me war stories or battle tactics. She never once complained, only complied with a smile. Even as I grew older, she always read me the stories, moving on to more advanced books so they wouldn’t bore me. As one could guess, I excelled in history classes in school over any other subject, though I still worked to maintain good grades in all my classes – I needed to, to remain in the after school kendo club (that, and I wanted to make my mother proud – I already told you I was a mother’s boy, so shut it). I don’t mean to brag here, honestly, but I was pretty damn good at it. I ranked high in several tournaments… enough to, when I graduated, be offered a scholarship for it. I guess, when you’re passionate about something, you really can excel in it. Most people would have accepted that offer, it was certainly a good one. And, if I didn’t already have plans set in stone that I wanted to follow through with, I would have as well. But I denied it… I denied it to join the military and train under my mother. I guess you could say it was a dream of mine since I was little – but mother made me promise to finish school before joining. I figured it was a fair exchange. Besides… my mother stressed me to appear normal… since I was turning out more like her with each passing day. You see, she had a special partner – something that called itself a digimon… and I always found myself amazed by the intricate creature: the abilities it had, evolving then reverting again, the battle skills, the determination… and most importantly, that it protected my mother. With the rarity of tamers that the digimon spoke of, neither of us expected what happened shortly after my seventeenth birthday – something my mother called a meeting of fate, though I called it stupidity… as the creature saved my life; a digimon partner of my own (I often snuck around, following my mom to watch her fight… and to make a long story short, what she was fighting found and targeted me). She often teased me that it must run in the family, so called tamer blood – and often babbled on excitedly about having another person to train with, not only in battle tactics… but to train our partners together, grow stronger together. We progressed like this for months, even years – training during the day for the military, training at night with our partners in secret. I didn’t get much sleep, neither did she, but neither of us cared. Perhaps it was my mother’s influence that helped me to climb the ranks, but I also did my best to live up to what she saw – and while my father wasn’t too happy that I was becoming a military brat, my mother was proud – I could make her smile, make her happy – that’s all I wanted… and to fight by her side, make sure she was safe, have her back when her partner couldn’t. We knew the digimon invasion, as those who were ‘aware’ tended to refer to it as, was coming, our own partners warning us of the rumors… but none of us could have been prepared for how it started. Nobody foresaw the utter destruction so close to home… and none of us could have stopped it, not even with the fight that was rumored… so many lost tamers… it only egged my mother on, and the more adamant she became about fighting each digimon that appeared, the more nervous I grew – constant battle could never be a good thing… The dead of night was when it happened. The outskirts of Tokyo – the skies were darkened… I don’t remember seeing any stars – only the glowing eyes of a large digimon which radiated terror and destruction. But my mother rushed in without a second thought… and to keep my promise, I followed her. Our partners referred to the digimon as Diaboromon – a digimon said to have wreaked havoc upon the earth years ago, but seemed to lack intelligence, attacking blindly with rage and an unquenchable bloodthirst, its cries unholy… and, admittedly, terrifying. It wasn’t hard to see that we were losing the fight, but my mother and I refused to give up anyway – our partners taking a beating, our bravery (stupid bravery, might I add) and determination racing through their veins. But… Before I could do anything, it happened quicker than my mind could even process what was going on. A flurry of digital particles exploded around us, falling like snow before dissipating as they touched the ground – my mother’s cries filling my ears, freezing me in my place, my feet glued to the ground. Her partner fell with a demonic laugh from our enemy. And I can never forgive myself for what happened next… it’s my fault. I didn’t do anything… I just… watched, unable to move, as the creature took my mother next, tearing through her with one swipe of its disgusting claws. I can’t explain the rush of emotions I felt in the moments to follow… sadness, loss, fear… but most prevalently…. rage. It was a blur… the scream that fell from my lips, my hands tightening around the hilt of the blade, my body finally finding motion as I rushed toward the digimon; I wasn’t in the right state of mind… and I would have died there, had my partner not grasped me by the back of my jacket and pulled me back, throwing me upon its back before rushing off, leaving the raging creature behind. What happened didn’t hit me until we were away, sitting by the side of a creek. My mother was dead… and I just… let it happen. While I constantly kept repeating that it was my fault, my partner insisted otherwise. I felt the tears streaming down my face, that utter feeling of loss and hopelessness sinking my heart into my stomach. I stayed out through the night, unwilling to go home with the news of what had happened to my father – knowing that he’d blame me too. It wasn’t until the next night that I returned… and instead of blame, I found myself wrapped in a tight hug, my father crying into my shoulder. He had heard the reports that my mother had been killed… and with my disappearance, and nobody knowing any better, thought that I too had shared the same fate as my mother. I suppose, you could say that was the moment where I realized that, deep down, my father really did care. The funeral was no easier than seeing her pass… seeing her patched up body lying there. It only tore my heart apart more than it already was… and, taking the small knife she gave me for my birthday a few years back, I cut away a small piece of the shirt she was found in – a white, cotton military grade training shirt, careful to avoid blood, and pulled it close to my heart, making a silent promise to fix what I had done wrong… to avenge hear death. Little did I know what my father had in store for me… and even I have to admit, I wasn’t ready for what he was about to drop on my shoulders. With the bit of my mother’s shirt now tied around my neck, he approached me after the funeral, the expression on his face that I knew well – he had business to speak of. Turning toward him, I prepared myself for the worst… only, I couldn’t prepare myself enough for his next words. My mother was the head of the japan district of the wall guardians… something I had not been aware of (Though, to be honest, once I knew of this, a lot of the things my mother did that confused me before suddenly made sense: her constant fighting of rogue digimon, her insistent desire to patrol the walls… the strange, overwhelming joy knowing the wall was safe each time a rogue fell.). And I had trained directly under her for years, leaving me as the only one that knew her tactics and the majority of her base knowledge which she had founded them off of… unknowingly studying them throughout my life in the form of bedtime stories. With a little bribing and some work using his influential governmental position, he had managed to pass my mother’s position on to me… and, to say the least. I was floored. I knew I didn’t deserve it, not with the mistake I had made… but it was my fault. All of this was my fault. I couldn’t turn away from what I had taken away from everyone with my foolish mistake. I told my father I’d do it… and I’d do my best. I didn’t know what all I was getting myself into by taking this up, only that my life would be much different than before… and much more dangerous. I have to be smarter about the things I do from here on out – my actions, my words, my decisions… they no longer affect only myself. Day to day life isn’t easy. I face constant ridicule. I suffer from constant fear that I can’t do this… that people will rebel against me for whatever reason. Constant regret and self-loathing, but I can’t do anything about it, I have responsibilities and promises to keep. I can’t make my mother proud anymore… instead, I’m now striving to make my father proud, something I’ve never tried before as I knew I wouldn’t live up to his standards. I’m not sure what gave him a rather sudden change of heart – whether it be the death of my mother or some realization it may have brought… but he and my little brother are really the only family I have left now… I don’t want to lose anyone else. I think… I think that’s my greatest fear anymore. I don’t want to get close to anyone else… I don’t want to feel that pain again. It still makes my mind unbearably numb… it still gives me nightmares. I still visit her grave, I try to at least one a day – staying to talk to her, pray for her blessings and, more importantly, her forgiveness. I ask for her to watch over me as I struggle to fill her shoes. I know there are plenty of people who don’t think I deserve this position, saying I’m too young of age (most of them still think I’m a teenager, though it irritates me), too naïve, undeserving. I know they talk behind my back, I’ve heard some of the things they say… but I continue on doing this anyway, I have to. For the people I’ve always fought to protect… for my family, my friends… and most importantly, for the one I couldn’t protect. MEMBER NAME: Ryuujin AGE: Twenty-Two OTHER CHARACTERS: Kouhei Makoto, Oliver Radleigh ROLEPLAY SAMPLE No. |
coded by RYUUJIN for use on SO LONG SENTIMENT only
