Post by Kimo on Jul 6, 2012 22:46:46 GMT -5
"But nobody wants to know him,
they can see that he's just a fool.
And he never gives an answer."
Name; Kallan John Ramseyer. Sometimes calls himself Hawk.
Age; 19, or so he appears to be.
Gender; Male.
Species; Human. Again.
Appearance; Kallan has a sharp, angular face with a slight hook nose. His eyes are a deep ocean blue that can be very piercing when he's on his guard, and soft when he's exposed. His hair is windswept and brown, jetting from the sides. His expression is often frustrated and upset-looking, and rarely does he smile.
Kallan wears a purple patterned vest with a long-sleeved collared shirt underneath. He wears dark grey pants and fancy pointed shoes. Tucked underneath his shirt is a necklace with a silver cross hanging off it.
Kallan has olive European skin, and is very lanky and lean.
Personality;
Kallan has a very sour personality at first. He is very stubborn and finicky, viewing everyone with an eye of disdain. Meet him in person and he will greet you with a long list of things he is already judging you for. He pretends to have a sort of Sherlockian air to him, being cold and calculating when he wants to be. Though, he is far from being unemotional. (To be fair, he isn't as smart either.) There is something digging deep within him, and it often shows. He won't spill about it easily, though, as he guards his feelings like a hawk.
History;
1831
[/b]they can see that he's just a fool.
And he never gives an answer."
Name; Kallan John Ramseyer. Sometimes calls himself Hawk.
Age; 19, or so he appears to be.
Gender; Male.
Species; Human. Again.
Appearance; Kallan has a sharp, angular face with a slight hook nose. His eyes are a deep ocean blue that can be very piercing when he's on his guard, and soft when he's exposed. His hair is windswept and brown, jetting from the sides. His expression is often frustrated and upset-looking, and rarely does he smile.
Kallan wears a purple patterned vest with a long-sleeved collared shirt underneath. He wears dark grey pants and fancy pointed shoes. Tucked underneath his shirt is a necklace with a silver cross hanging off it.
Kallan has olive European skin, and is very lanky and lean.
Personality;
Kallan has a very sour personality at first. He is very stubborn and finicky, viewing everyone with an eye of disdain. Meet him in person and he will greet you with a long list of things he is already judging you for. He pretends to have a sort of Sherlockian air to him, being cold and calculating when he wants to be. Though, he is far from being unemotional. (To be fair, he isn't as smart either.) There is something digging deep within him, and it often shows. He won't spill about it easily, though, as he guards his feelings like a hawk.
History;
1831
A horse trotted through the woods on a foggy afternoon, its jockey scanning the area, gun in hand. There had been rumors of a bear on the loose, and Kallan was out to settle it once and for all. His hands were eager to hunt, thus he broke out of his mansion and saddled up in secrecy. They would discover his disappearance eventually, so he had to make it fast. He scanned the area with piercing eyes until finally, the Ramseyer boy had to take a break. Leaping off his horse, he itched the back of his head and gave one more look around.
There. By the River. It was her.
Immediately, Kallan ducked down and aimed his gun. The forest's canopy had darkened the area and the sun was setting, making it hard to spot the creature. But the bear seemed to be stopped, and if there was any time to rid of this menace, Kallan figured it was now.
His gunshot fired through the air. Silence. The sound of a body dropping.
But the bear was still there. Kallan watched in disbelief as the Ursaring quickly fled off, free from any bullet wounds.
What had Kallan shot?
Kallan slowly made his way to the area of where his gun fired. As he got closer, the body became more apparent, and Kallan's heart beat faster, lead pumping into his veins.
No. Oh Lord, no. No no no.
Kallan was now standing over the body. Violent sobs suddenly pierced through his body, and he toppled onto his knees, unable to fully concieve what he had done. He stared into the eyes of what once his best friend, the brother he never had.
Kallan screamed.
"Vincent!"
2010[/b]
"...And that," Kallan choked out, "was how it happened."
Vincent stared. He didn't say again, just looked at the ground with wide eyes, looked at his hands, looked back at Kallan. He stared at his ghostly visage, stared at Kallan's ghostly visage, and finally muttered a reply.
"So... You killed me."
"Yes. Vincent... I'm-"
Gone. Vincent had turned straight around and dashed off into the woods.
"Hey!" Kallan yelled, chasing after him. They ran for miles, able to go on forever. Until that is, Kallan felt a strange feeling that he hadn't felt for years. Centuries. He stopped, the sensation overwhelming his entire being.
He felt tired.
He tried to continued, tried to fight it, thinking that it was some kind of fluke, but his feet were weighing heavy on him, and his eyelids drooped, and suddenly he had toppled on the ground, falling into a deep, deep sleep.
2012
"Vincent!"
Kallan woke up with a gasp.
He was in his bed, back in his mansion, the very same bed that he had died from consumption. Kallan jumped out of bed, ran towards the door, and attempted to float through it.
SLAM.
Kallan ran straight into the door, toppling backwards onto the floor. What just happened?
Kallan felt his entire body, putting his hand to his chest. In the silence, he could hear a heartbeat echo through his ears.
He was alive.
Now Kallan is in Tarro Town, looking for the whereabouts of Vincent. After figuring he might as well have a companion, he decided a pokemon adventure was in place, and is now looking to become a pokemon trainer. Or something like that.
Other; Kallan loves Ghost pokemon to the point of elitism.
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