Post by ayumi on Apr 4, 2009 23:09:16 GMT -5
shinigami. shinigami. shinigami.
" they say i'm like a ghost in a shell; empty, dead . . . — but they're not far off." [/center]
name: kokoro kouno.
" ' heart [of] rivers and fields ', is his roughly translated name. People, more often than not, love to attach his first and last name together simply because it rolls off the tongue. Kokoro, on the other hand, tends to react in mild irritation; he dislikes it when people affectionately place a shortening or lengthening of his name. Amongst the popular pet names he has are: ' ko-chan ', ' ko-kou ', ' kokokou ', and of the like. Either ' kokoro ' or ' kouno ' would do, nothing else if you desire his liking. "
age: looks fifteen - sixteen.
" well beyond the years and understanding of an adult, kokoro is definitely no inexperienced youth. Although he may appear young enough to attend a junior high or high school, the blonde male's age is actually disclosed and unknown to many of his shinigami peers. Only a chosen few in which he keeps close are in knowledge of his actual age, and even then, he is considered ' young '. "
gender: appears to be a male.
" many times, or rather, multitudes of times, kokoro is sure enough to be mistaken for a female at least once or twice a day. People, both in the spiritual and human realm, would point and question his gender — which, in fact, might as well still be an unknown puzzle to vaguely familiar acquaintances; it doesn't help that he willingly wears skirts and hair accessories. However, one thing's for sure: he doesn't like being directly pointed out as a girl. Oh, he's definitely a guy. "
rank: captain.
division: seventh.
zanpakutō:
shikai:
bankai:
kidō:
seven reasons to like, several reasons to hate
" being alone doesn't need any pity; rather, being surrounded
by idiots — that's something to laugh about. "[/center]
appearance: ' delicate ', ' fragile, ' wimpy-looking ', those are the few negative comments that may filter in one's mind once their attention has become fixated upon the blonde wonder. A captain . . ? He sure didn't look like one, wouldn't he be better off playing with dolls or something? Laughter. Such crude remarks were of the daily annoyances kokoro had to put up with, but they were the least of the worse — usually, scrapes or bandages would appear on sections of his flesh. The primary cause? Bullying, of course. Albeit harboring a ' to-die-for ' captain status, kokoro allows for others to dismiss his label and harm him without fighting back; he never cared, not now, not ever.
personality: length should be at least five to six good paragraphs
history: " listen to me! I see spirits! Why won't you . . .- " a pause intervened in a blonde youth's uncontrollable rant as he returned the crowd's cold glare, his aqua orbs trembled in sudden fear ," listen to me, damnit! " No matter the situation, nobody ever listened to him; he was problematic, or so they said, and accused him of being an attention hogger — which he never truly intended himself to be, but even then, attention came naturally to him. He was a traveler, he had been to many places, seen many different kinds of faces, was a trendsetter, and was absolutely magnetic — kokoro had everything. However, he was different. What had set him apart from other normal humans was the fact that he, for one, wasn't normal; he saw ghosts, he felt strange vibes. ' Normal ', huh, he wondered what the simple word meant. Did . . . people like what was normal and hated what wasn't? His parents feared for him, and even then, when he denied his odd so-called " ability ", they were not convinced of his normality. There had always been something bizzare around the lad, and they knew it. Kokoro's brightly shaded orbs said it all; he was scared. Scared of what?
Born in the beautiful spring of may twenty-first, bliss entered in the kouno family — a precious baby arrived; ' kokoro ' was his name.
role-play sample:
First off, the sixteen year-old had no need to listen to her life story and complaints; every word that had spilled out of her lips felt like a hit of eternity and forever-ness, and it made his stomach unsettled. There was something about her that was different from other people, from other girls, but he couldn't quite place a finger on it. And even then, when there were brief moments were she would pause in her sentence, his head would pound from the inside-out. Oh, man, was he coming down with a fever? He sure felt fine in the afternoon until . . . she came along. That marked it. He certainly did not like the pretty woman; she was bad news.
A part of him became scared - not scared as in " ohmahgawd, a monster " - but it was ' scared ' as in: a deer in front of headlights, startled and cautious. It took him long enough before he realized he had his name tag pinned onto his chest, and that mere fact relieved him - just a little bit. It was just the way she said it. The way her tender lips moved and pronounced the name, his name, with such teasing familiarity. Although he was considered slow and ' dumb ', Takuto was aware of his instincts, and one of his senses screamed at him and said: ' she knows you '. What if . . . what if she knew what he was? What if she knew what a Shizen was? What if . . .
Enough was enough, he didn't like her, he couldn't stand her, and obviously, he wanted nothing to do with her, not anymore, that is. He didn't even want to look at her. Her eyes were penetrating, and the Leo couldn't help but feel as if she knew a whole lot more about him. Perhaps even more than he knew himself, after all... ever since that incident, everything had been a blur; he became a name and face without a history, without a background. All he had was his guitar and his band - friends of which he had to ' start over ' with. And every now and then, Takuto could have sworn he saw a look of melancholy from his bandmates, Aoi and Keiichi. Because the truth was, Takuto was not Takuto — not the Takuto he strived to become, to learn more about. Gawd, he felt crappy . . . at this moment; at this minute; at this second.
Hesitantly, he lowered his silver protection, avoiding the stranger's unyielding gaze until a flash of gold caught his cerulean capsules; the first thing he saw, as she waved the plastic card, was ... was... - Shizen, he gasped. Of all the-- every time when he tried to escape the presence of other Shizens, of the curse, of the family, it ended up being two steps further ahead of him - waiting to taunt him, cage him. Takuto couldn't run; the curse would find him again. "Huh, the f...-" he grimaced, puzzled, running one hand through his unkempt bangs, his gaze glued onto the tiled pavement ,"... this is so stupid." He was stupid. What was he supposed to do or say? The girl was a Shizen; he did not look any further, not wanting to rewrite the word into his complicated mind. "Can't you...-" A whisper. "Can't you leave me alone?!" A shout. The café went silent, several pairs of eyes exploding at the Shizens' direction.
"I hate you!" the cursed male hissed, angered ,"I hate all of you!" So confusing the world was. Shizen this, Shizen that. Curse this and curse that. He was better off dead. His head felt like it was about to implode. With the drop of his platter, the furious boy stormed after his guitar before rushing out of the door. A coward. He was a coward. He couldn't run, and although he was, he knew he was going nowhere. Not like this.
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__ k o k o r o __
seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues
" they say i'm like a ghost in a shell; empty, dead . . . — but they're not far off." [/center]
name: kokoro kouno.
" ' heart [of] rivers and fields ', is his roughly translated name. People, more often than not, love to attach his first and last name together simply because it rolls off the tongue. Kokoro, on the other hand, tends to react in mild irritation; he dislikes it when people affectionately place a shortening or lengthening of his name. Amongst the popular pet names he has are: ' ko-chan ', ' ko-kou ', ' kokokou ', and of the like. Either ' kokoro ' or ' kouno ' would do, nothing else if you desire his liking. "
age: looks fifteen - sixteen.
" well beyond the years and understanding of an adult, kokoro is definitely no inexperienced youth. Although he may appear young enough to attend a junior high or high school, the blonde male's age is actually disclosed and unknown to many of his shinigami peers. Only a chosen few in which he keeps close are in knowledge of his actual age, and even then, he is considered ' young '. "
gender: appears to be a male.
" many times, or rather, multitudes of times, kokoro is sure enough to be mistaken for a female at least once or twice a day. People, both in the spiritual and human realm, would point and question his gender — which, in fact, might as well still be an unknown puzzle to vaguely familiar acquaintances; it doesn't help that he willingly wears skirts and hair accessories. However, one thing's for sure: he doesn't like being directly pointed out as a girl. Oh, he's definitely a guy. "
seven days of light, seven days of night
" don't be an idiot — does it look like i care? obviously
not, and apparently you don't get it. "
[/center]" don't be an idiot — does it look like i care? obviously
not, and apparently you don't get it. "
rank: captain.
division: seventh.
zanpakutō:
shikai:
bankai:
kidō:
seven reasons to like, several reasons to hate
" being alone doesn't need any pity; rather, being surrounded
by idiots — that's something to laugh about. "
appearance: ' delicate ', ' fragile, ' wimpy-looking ', those are the few negative comments that may filter in one's mind once their attention has become fixated upon the blonde wonder. A captain . . ? He sure didn't look like one, wouldn't he be better off playing with dolls or something? Laughter. Such crude remarks were of the daily annoyances kokoro had to put up with, but they were the least of the worse — usually, scrapes or bandages would appear on sections of his flesh. The primary cause? Bullying, of course. Albeit harboring a ' to-die-for ' captain status, kokoro allows for others to dismiss his label and harm him without fighting back; he never cared, not now, not ever.
seven sweet hello's, eleven bitter goodbye's
" if you ever need anything, go ahead and bother the
guy next to me — just not me. "
[/center]" if you ever need anything, go ahead and bother the
guy next to me — just not me. "
personality: length should be at least five to six good paragraphs
seven broken hearts, ten thousand perished souls
" emotions are worthless, a burden, and should be kept in a box,
locked and stored away forever; if only . . . "
[/center]" emotions are worthless, a burden, and should be kept in a box,
locked and stored away forever; if only . . . "
history: " listen to me! I see spirits! Why won't you . . .- " a pause intervened in a blonde youth's uncontrollable rant as he returned the crowd's cold glare, his aqua orbs trembled in sudden fear ," listen to me, damnit! " No matter the situation, nobody ever listened to him; he was problematic, or so they said, and accused him of being an attention hogger — which he never truly intended himself to be, but even then, attention came naturally to him. He was a traveler, he had been to many places, seen many different kinds of faces, was a trendsetter, and was absolutely magnetic — kokoro had everything. However, he was different. What had set him apart from other normal humans was the fact that he, for one, wasn't normal; he saw ghosts, he felt strange vibes. ' Normal ', huh, he wondered what the simple word meant. Did . . . people like what was normal and hated what wasn't? His parents feared for him, and even then, when he denied his odd so-called " ability ", they were not convinced of his normality. There had always been something bizzare around the lad, and they knew it. Kokoro's brightly shaded orbs said it all; he was scared. Scared of what?
Born in the beautiful spring of may twenty-first, bliss entered in the kouno family — a precious baby arrived; ' kokoro ' was his name.
role-play sample:
[/b] o m e . . . attitude she had, and boy, did it compliment the sickeningly sweet stench on her; it was unbearable and almost nauseating. He couldn't stand lingering around the mystery-woman any longer — not if he wanted to explode into some kind of unreasonable fit about how she smelled. To any other normal person, the girl would have had a lovely aroma - charming and seductive; and really, if Takuto was to ever spat out an " ugh, you stink! " at her, people would label him insane... which was partly true, in a way, since he did think of her stench as a very strong pest-repellant [and he was the so-called " pest "]. Instinctively and without consciously knowing, he raised the silverware over his nose and mouth, his eyes being the only one exposed to the thorned rose before him; he secretly hoped his "shield" would hold off her rancid odor for a few more minutes. Disgusting, he mentally growled.
First off, the sixteen year-old had no need to listen to her life story and complaints; every word that had spilled out of her lips felt like a hit of eternity and forever-ness, and it made his stomach unsettled. There was something about her that was different from other people, from other girls, but he couldn't quite place a finger on it. And even then, when there were brief moments were she would pause in her sentence, his head would pound from the inside-out. Oh, man, was he coming down with a fever? He sure felt fine in the afternoon until . . . she came along. That marked it. He certainly did not like the pretty woman; she was bad news.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Takuto.”
A part of him became scared - not scared as in " ohmahgawd, a monster " - but it was ' scared ' as in: a deer in front of headlights, startled and cautious. It took him long enough before he realized he had his name tag pinned onto his chest, and that mere fact relieved him - just a little bit. It was just the way she said it. The way her tender lips moved and pronounced the name, his name, with such teasing familiarity. Although he was considered slow and ' dumb ', Takuto was aware of his instincts, and one of his senses screamed at him and said: ' she knows you '. What if . . . what if she knew what he was? What if she knew what a Shizen was? What if . . .
Enough was enough, he didn't like her, he couldn't stand her, and obviously, he wanted nothing to do with her, not anymore, that is. He didn't even want to look at her. Her eyes were penetrating, and the Leo couldn't help but feel as if she knew a whole lot more about him. Perhaps even more than he knew himself, after all... ever since that incident, everything had been a blur; he became a name and face without a history, without a background. All he had was his guitar and his band - friends of which he had to ' start over ' with. And every now and then, Takuto could have sworn he saw a look of melancholy from his bandmates, Aoi and Keiichi. Because the truth was, Takuto was not Takuto — not the Takuto he strived to become, to learn more about. Gawd, he felt crappy . . . at this moment; at this minute; at this second.
Hesitantly, he lowered his silver protection, avoiding the stranger's unyielding gaze until a flash of gold caught his cerulean capsules; the first thing he saw, as she waved the plastic card, was ... was... - Shizen, he gasped. Of all the-- every time when he tried to escape the presence of other Shizens, of the curse, of the family, it ended up being two steps further ahead of him - waiting to taunt him, cage him. Takuto couldn't run; the curse would find him again. "Huh, the f...-" he grimaced, puzzled, running one hand through his unkempt bangs, his gaze glued onto the tiled pavement ,"... this is so stupid." He was stupid. What was he supposed to do or say? The girl was a Shizen; he did not look any further, not wanting to rewrite the word into his complicated mind. "Can't you...-" A whisper. "Can't you leave me alone?!" A shout. The café went silent, several pairs of eyes exploding at the Shizens' direction.
"I hate you!" the cursed male hissed, angered ,"I hate all of you!" So confusing the world was. Shizen this, Shizen that. Curse this and curse that. He was better off dead. His head felt like it was about to implode. With the drop of his platter, the furious boy stormed after his guitar before rushing out of the door. A coward. He was a coward. He couldn't run, and although he was, he knew he was going nowhere. Not like this.
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