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Vince
Aug 21, 2009 18:54:15 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 21, 2009 18:54:15 GMT -5
gl.Vince.lh
Basics [o]Birth Name: Vince [o]Common Name: Vince [o]Alias: Vincent, Vin [ uncommon ] [o]Meaning: Prevailing in Latin [o]Pronounciation: Vin-sent [o]Age: 7 [o]Gender: Male [o]Height: 4'6" [o]Weight: 543 lbs [o]Species: American Lion x Cave Lion
Lineage
[o]Mother: Anna-Corneilia [o]Father: Theodorus [o]Brother(s): Théo [o]Sister(s): None [o]Half-sibling(s): None [o]Grandmother: Unknown [o]Grandfather: Unknown [o]Mate: None [o]Past Mate(s): Kay [o]Children: None [o]Other: None
Location
[o]Birth Pack: Aryion [o]Current Pack: Undecided [o]Current Rank: Udecided [o]Past Pack: Aryion [o]Past Rank: Empty suit [o]Desired Pack: Anywhere where his talents will be appreciated [o]Desired Rank: Artisan [o]Current Location: Undecided
Physical
[o]Eye colour: Gold [o]Hair colour: Auburn brown [o]Markings: see reference [o]Main pelt colour: Tan [o]Secondary pelt colour(s): Radiant orange, ivory white [o]Body type: Lean from malnutrition [o]Fur type: Brisk and sharp-edged [o]Scars: None [o]Accessories: None [o]Overall health: Othneil's dimensions reflect a lion who's porportions veer towards the category of lanky rather than muscular. Not immensely toned or physically strong, his forte being his lithe limbs and slender frame which, coupled with a large chest and relatively thin barrell, permit's Othniel's characteristically free movement. This allows him to run at high speeds, as well as take in a large quantity of oxygen through flared maroon nostrils, fueling his sprint further. This earned him a reputation as both an avid and accomplished huntsman. His mane, a shade of manogany brown, runs like rippling tides down his tan back, his torrents of muddy-coloured hair curling occasionally at the tips to give him a distinctive appeal. His mane is thick, almost layered and coarse in texture. His eyes are a brilliant shade of amarillo yellow, orbs as radiant as the sun itself, a similarly tan pelt adhorning the most part of his body. Across the center of his face, stretching from the tip of his nose into his hairline runs an orange strip accompanied by contrasting white patches placed symetrically across either side of his muzzle. His ears, peaking only minimallly over a full mane, are tipped with the same hue of orange. Through his mane and along his tan back the orange strip continues, widening as it nears his mane and thining as it enroaches further down his spine (somewhat resembling a teardrop or pool of water). Bands of this same shade are present on Vincent's knees, acting as a definition between the tan of his body and the white of his digits and paws. His tail is tipped with mahogany brown.
Mental
[o]Likes: his sanity, security, a feeling of worth [o]Dislikes: Disappointment, a feeling of uselessness or lack of worth [o]Loves: Kay, His bother, his art [o]Hates: His mental instability, life at times [o]Fears: Being of no worth to the world, that his mental afflictions will reach a point that would prove fatal either to himself or a on-goer. [o]Strengths: Resilient, hard-working, devoted, steadfast [o]Weaknesses: Insecure, work-orientated, irascible [o]Disorders: Depression, Epilepsy [o]Overall: As a cub, he is fairly oblivious to the outside world. An emotional, unconfident child, Vincent knows nothing but his mothers incessant critism and persistant whining; she continually accusses him as the source of her misfortunes and thus grows as a youngster to believe it. Erosion engrains these thoughts so deeply into his mind that Vincent begins to believe her claims, thus commencing a tragic tendency that would plague him throughout his life; the feeling that he is not good enough. Her persistant reprovals mean that Vincent slowly sinks into a state of sadness, though not nessessarily depression. He begins conjuring up small ways to impress his mother, spending evenings picking flowers for her or presenting gifts as a sort of restitution for his failure to live up to her expectations. However, his mother shunned his offerings, leaving the cub more disheartened. However, Vincent did discover that he possessed a great ability to manipulate objects (I.e. flowers) to form images of other objects or animals, inspiring him with confidence a little. Vincent used his art as a means of expressing himself, as well as distancing himself futher from reality. One of his main goals was to give happiness by creating beauty. However, he remained heavily reliant upon others to assure him of his worth, lacking both self esteem and pride in his works. He could never convince himself that they were good enough. As he ages and life inflicts more hardships on the lion, Vincent feels increasingly depressed, barely retaining his sanity. He fluctuates between moods easily, and during his states of depression can be prone to voilent outbursts, one of which led to a portion of his right ear being shredded in an attack with a hyena. He becomes distant, barely speaking to anyone but a select few and seeking refuge in his work. Vincent (due mostly to his lack of regard for himself) finds it hard to cope with bad situations, when life gets tough prefering rather to escape the situation than to face it. He's constantly anxious and will disregard others compliments should he feel that he has not deserved them. In the last part of his life, Vincent feels that he is of no use to the world, and that it would be beneficial for everyone if he were not around any longer.
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Vince
Aug 21, 2009 18:55:43 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 21, 2009 18:55:43 GMT -5
The Past [o]History: WIP
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Vince
Aug 21, 2009 18:55:58 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 21, 2009 18:55:58 GMT -5
Relationships Hate Dislike Angered Wary Tolerant Neutral Ignore Trust Unsure/just met Aquainted Amicable Friend Best Friend Partner Respect Devoted to Interest Crush Love Family Relationships
[o]Father: I respect you, there is no denying that; though I wish you would understand me a little better or at least make more of an effort to see the world the way I see it. I am not a disgrace. My calling is simply a different one to yours. [o]Mother: I do love you, and you do not oppose me, yet I feel as if we are strangely distant somehow. Perhaps time shall strengthen our bond as parent and sibling. [o]name: [o]name: [o]name: [o]name: [o]name:
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Vince
Aug 21, 2009 18:56:21 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 21, 2009 18:56:21 GMT -5
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Vince
Aug 21, 2009 18:56:44 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 21, 2009 18:56:44 GMT -5
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Vince
Aug 21, 2009 18:57:00 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 21, 2009 18:57:00 GMT -5
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Vince
Aug 21, 2009 18:57:16 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 21, 2009 18:57:16 GMT -5
The Credit [o]Outline: Vince - do not use without my permission [o]Character design: Retrogradenova [o]Character: Vince [o]Other: This character is based on Vincent van Gogh
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Vince
Aug 25, 2009 8:48:41 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 25, 2009 8:48:41 GMT -5
Southward, ever southward to the sun!
Yes, he had found it.
Vince had found his home. At last, a place where he could work in solitude, without the bustle and business of Forest life. Now at long, long last, some peace. That was what his mind needed; an overload of external stimulus had overwhelmed him before, but now the world was his oyster! He could work here, live easily, and socialize on occasion, perhaps.
But he wouldn’t set his hopes to high.
Only on a few occasions had he ever really found a friend, and more often than not his temperament or hostility had driven them away. Was he doomed to a life of infinite loneliness? Well, he had met a few others interested in the arts in his travels, mostly those of the ancient forest, fellow nomads who too had been cast out by everyone around them and strove only to make a living with their efforts, gain acceptance into a pack, a rank even.
All his past efforts had failed, but maybe this was his chance to live a life how he’d always wanted to. As a painter, a lone soul, with love only for his work and his work alone. That was all he needed; his art.
”Everything under a sky of delicate blue, white, pink, violet tones”
The sulphur tones highlighted the horizon, engulfing the entire landscape in a shade of glistening, soiled yellow. The golden grasses set against a sky of blue, unblemished blue reminded him of his times as a child when he and his brother walked together, hand in hand, under the bright sun of the Breda prides territories. This place was reminiscent in a way of his former home; the bright, luminescent sun, the vast, endless expanse of withered grass, and the occasional dark form doted against the horizon.
I have tried to express the idea that it is a place where one can ruin oneself, go mad, or commit a crime.
This would be his home from now, a place where he could work in solitude, in peace. And or course, there would be those whom he could draw and paint as he had done elsewhere, assuming they'd be willing to model for him. He hoped so, oh how he hoped so.
This was his Japan, but much closer to home.
Sighing contentedly, the lion gathered his equiptment; he had his strips of bark on which he painted, his few chalky rocks which would be crushed in due time, then water added to them, which would serve as his paint.
"What a place this is" he implied, gazing unto the horizon with a certain reverance he had only ever felt in his homeland. Yes, he would be quite comfortable here.
btw the stuff in italics are van Gogh related quotes. I auto-accepted him since I wanted to begin rping him in Aryion. Also I know he is in a thread in the AF and I'm going to finish it, but this is just some time ahead <3 « Last Edit: Yesterday at 12:39:42 PM by .Vince. » Logged
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Re: Southward, ever southward to the sun! [ open ] « Reply #1 on: Yesterday at 06:58:51 PM » Quote
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hurr, I've been wanting to rp with you<33 ))
"Rawr!"
Practicing her roaring. So she would be like the other lionesses when she was older. She figured she wasn't doing much of a good job now, but as they say 'Practice makes perfect!' Although, she would never reach perfect or know what that really meant. So, she kept going. Louder too. "RAAAAAWWWWRRR!" This time leaping at the fallen log she usually took shelter in. It rattled ash the small paws pounced onto it, sending the bugs scattering.
Sanaa grinned a wide grin. Chocolate eyes glimmered. "Hah, silly bugs." Now I'm off~ She nodded and slowly trotted along the vast savanna. If there was one thing to describe it was beautiful. No matter how ashy or how much it stormed. Still, it was one of the most beautiful things the cub had ever laid eyes on. San was glad she helped Zuberi here and the two made it their home. She didn't seem to mind the fact she never really saw any of the other lions. She would find them, even if it meant sneaking into their dens to surprise them.
Heh, there was something for her to do when she got bored now. Sneak into dens, perhaps, cause a little mischief.
Tail curled behind her now. Those active ears flicked every so often. Boy, those birds were she noisy. But their songs. Oh, their sweet melodic tunes they sang out. They were such lovely sounds, Sanaa quite enjoyed them, that she did. And as she turned her head there was something she hadn't seen for a while. . Or well last week. When there was a storm and she out and about.
Curiosity struck the young lion. Tan paws moved silently over the golden grass. Dead or slowly dieing, she nodded. That's what she thought was happening to the grass.
"What'cha doin' sirrr?"
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Vince
Aug 25, 2009 8:49:15 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 25, 2009 8:49:15 GMT -5
Crushed.
Desperate. Alone.
Five times a failure, a useless, worthless piece of dirt that had no better purpose than to be eradicated from the face of the earth. An empty, disheartened soul, crushed by disappointment, but one that longed for a calling, for something which would make him of use somewhere, to someone in some form.
That soul was now satisfied to some degree, for that soul had found what it had longed for now; a purpose. That purpose was painting. It was something that made him feel infinite, like he had some worth, and would provide him with a means to escape, no matter how briefly, from the pressures and stressed that life dished out. He had no friends, no love, and no real home; so he painted. He crushed his own dyes from red beetles and chalky rocks, moistened them with water or dew, and thus commenced his great, prolonged studies which he painted onto strips of mahogany bark.
What would he paint? Well just about anything he saw fit to depict; Cyprus trees, tall and proud, a life force within them so strong that it almost resembled the human form. He had difficulty in sourcing models, so resorted to painting landscapes all too often; he had even managed to paint himself, rather laboriously by peering into the rivers crystal rapids and swiftly jotting down what he could before the ripples became to tumultuous.
Everyone thought him mad; he had driven away almost all whom he held close (with the exception of course of his devoted brother Theo, with whom he corresponded frequently) and so confided in his pictures what he could not express in words.
“Altogether it is the only thing in painting which moves me to the depths,” “and more than anything makes me feel infinite”
The sun flooded the landscape in a light of pure gold, yellow tones seeping into every form on the landscape, from the trees whose leaves grew a lush emerald green, to the pulsating tides of the stream. The cloudless sky loomed overhead eerily with a threatening presence subdued by the tranquillity of the atmosphere. Birds whistled choruses to themselves melodically, never a note wrong, and occasionally stood still long enough for Vince to paint.
Summer, though not his favourite season (coming in at a close second to spring), provided him with the best opportunities to exercise his passion, without fear of weather disrupting his work. Today he was determined to find subjects to whom their likeness he could commit to ‘canvas’*.
It was just a matter of whether anyone was willing to model for him. His bohemian appearance and ways often deterred others from associating with him, something which he had come to accept.
Perhaps today he would not be so lonely.
*Canvas meaning the bark he uses on which to paint on; also this is before he loses his ear. Click the second paint splat in his siggy BEFORE you post please « Last Edit: Yesterday at 01:00:36 PM by .Vince. » Logged
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Re: All I ask in painting is a way of escaping from life ... [ any ] « Reply #1 on: August 23, 2009, 10:08:01 AM » Quote
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jazz padded through the sun dappled forest, reveling in the beauty of it. She always loved this time of day, when the forest was filled with a warm golden glow. The sunligt hit her chocolate colored coat and made it seem to shine in the light. Her ebony paws carried her across the leaf strewn ground and a warm, gentle breeze ruffled her soft fur.
Today, the young timber had decided to take a walk in the forest, what with it being such a nice, warm day and with her in a cheerful mood. She had eaten heartily this morning, having found a deer whom had died recently of natural causes. It had been such a rare treat to find so much meat in one place and Jazz had enjoyed every bite of it. There was still some left, if she remembered correctly and hopefully, no other creature had dragged it off. Jazz's tail lashed at the thought, but she soon calmed herself. Any creature with sense would smell her scent on it and not touch it.
“Altogether it is the only thing in painting which moves me to the depths, and more than anything makes me feel infinite”
A soft voice carried across the breeze and Jazz’s ears pricked to catch the sound of it. Who could it be? Another wolf, perhaps? The thought cheered her; it had been ages since she’d talked to anyone, and the voice sounded male, another bonus. Could this day get any better? She trotted off in the direction of the voice.
As she approached, she found that she had been wrong. Instead of another wolf, a huge lion stood in the center of the clearing, the sun making his pelt shine even more golden. Jazz didn’t feel afraid of the lion, for some reason, she was more curious. He seemed to be doing something with a strip of bark that Jazz couldn’t see.
“Hello.” she said, a little tentatively. Her curiosity could not be contained any longer, but she forced herself to try and find a polite way to phrase her next question. “My name is Jazz. What are you doing with that?” Logged
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Quote from: .Raven. on May 23, 2009, 05:42:06 PM Congrats Jemi! You've been voted Sick's biggest fan!
Quote from: S i m e o n on August 08, 2009, 05:51:10 PM I'm the ghost that sits in the back of your room waving and waiting to hug and glomp you numerously.
:3 .Vince. When the blind lead the blind, don't they both fall into the ditch? Initiate
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Re: All I ask in painting is a way of escaping from life ... [ any ] « Reply #2 on: Yesterday at 12:42:02 PM » Quote
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Excited and ambitious, Vince set to work in arranging his ‘studio’, situated in a small clearing in the heart of the forest, rather animatedly.
The lighting here was the fantastic, he could truly capture the form as it was, be true to it in his work, just as he intended it to be. He would rather them not be splendid and lack character in the eyes of some, so long as he could show the beauty hidden in his subjects.
Generally it was his choice of model that most found alarming; he would rather depict peasants toiling in a field, faces blackened by dirt and hands moulded by labour than the higher class of people, who he found lacked real human character, what some might call a ‘soul’. They knew not of the harsh reality of life, of struggle. He’d much rather ‘lower’ himself as it were to the class of the less respected peoples if it meant he lived honestly and truthfully, which he did.
He grasped his strip of bark, and set to work dampening the chalky rocks and crushing them with his paws; today his subject was a large Cyprus tree, with leaves of emerald green that splayed out from the central trunk that stood firm amidst the surrounding fauna.
The lion dipped his paw into an earthy green substance and applied it to the bark.
“Hello”
Vince peered up from his work. Before him stood a wolf, female, with a stocky though light frame. Her was adorned by shades of ebony and mahogany; one eye a striking lavender hue and the other a baby blue, contrasting somewhat.
"I should wish to express not sentimental melanchonly, but serious sorrow ... so far the people will say of my work, he feels deeply, he feels tenderly ..."
At first he paid little heed to her presence, continuing with his work as he would do as if nothing has occurred.
“My name is Jazz. What are you doing with that”
At her inquiry, Vince turned away briefly.
“Vince” he replied friendlily. "I'm an artist of sorts; this is my equiptment. I have been working for a while in this forest, trying very hard to improve on my work."
His golden eyes looked upon her once more; she would make a good subject to draw would she not? Her form was true to her species, she was not immune to a harsh existence; the only problem was her compliance? Would she allow him to sketch her briefly? The only way he had at his disposal to find out would be to ask ...
"Would you object to me sketching but a few quick drawings of you Jazz?"
btw the words in italics are various van Gogh related quotes « Last Edit: Yesterday at 01:49:47 PM by .Vince. » Logged
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Re: All I ask in painting is a way of escaping from life ... [ closed ] « Reply #3 on: Yesterday at 03:06:13 PM » Quote
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Jazz watched, the lion started to crush rocks under his paws. He also seemed to be studying a tree very carefully, as if it was the only tree in the forest. He dipped his paw into the poultice of dampened rock and started to stroke the bark, making marks in an earthy green color. Hmm, was he trying to make a picture of the tree? She had seen humans making crude pictures on cave walls of people made of lines and animals, such as deer, caribou and wolves, like herself. But, they had chased her off before she had learned how they did it. But, she mused, this must be the closet thing to it in the animal kingdom.
As she greeted him, the lion looked up at her and seemed not to acknowledge her. Jazz's tail flicked a little bit in annoyance, she wasn't the type to take being ignored lying down. She pressed onward, telling the lion her name and asking him what he was doing. This time, he acknowledged her, his golden gaze meeting her semi sightless one.
“Vince. I'm an artist of sorts; this is my equipment. I have been working for a while in this forest, trying very hard to improve on my work."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vince." Jazz said politely. She felt his gold eyes sweep up her body again. What was he doing? He didn't strike her as the kind to "check out" females, and they were different species...No, it couldn't be that. Vince seemed to be contemplating something, so Jazz remained quiet. Finally, he spoke.
"Would you object to me sketching but a few quick drawings of you Jazz?"
Jazz smiled. "It would be an honor, Vince." She had always wanted to see how other
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Vince
Aug 25, 2009 17:52:58 GMT -5
Post by Akyra on Aug 25, 2009 17:52:58 GMT -5
So Vince is currently wandering about the Ancient Forest and is in need of some roleplaying action. His basic stats are listed below/ VINCE//Name: Vince Age: 7 Species: American Lion x Cave lion current threads //~ All I ask in painting is a way of escaping from life~ Southward, ever southward to the sun!possible threads //~ In need of models -requests required- plots //~ None need to ask about //~ None Roleplays I owe~ Retrogradenova EDIT/ Read this before you request a rp <3
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