Post by Wyatt O'Flaherty on Mar 13, 2011 22:25:18 GMT -8
O'Flaherty, Wyatt
DEMIGOD
2nd year at Camp
Age: 16
Son/Daughter of Demeter
DEMIGOD
2nd year at Camp
Age: 16
Son/Daughter of Demeter
Appearance:
Eye(s): Blue
Hair: Honey blond
Height: 5'11"
Build Type: Tall, lanky and sinewy; he's not extremely muscled, but not a weak guy all the same.
Brief Description: Wyatt is a very attractive young man. That's what everyone says, anyway. He stands at an inch or so above average height for teenagers his age at five feet, eleven inches. He has pale skin in the winter, but all the time he spends in the garden gets to his skin during spring, autumn and summer, leaving a tanned hue in its wake. Wyatt's eyes are bright blue, shining with the color of the sky itself. He has a head of light blond hair that falls in subtle waves to the nape of his neck. Wyatt never lets his hair grow too long, and it gets darker in autumn and winter.
Wyatt is rather fashionable; he has a lovely eye for color and is a quite sharp dresser. He was raised to have class and style, and it truly shows in his regular wardrobe. He opts for a more European style sense, with button-down shirts with loose vests and dark jeans that aren't too tight. He looks dashing in a good suit, as well, but at camp he often dresses casually.
Background:
Mortal Parent(s): Séan O'Flaherty (father)
Other Family: Ailbhe Ó Mughráin (paternal aunt)
Pets: N/A
Brief History: Wyatt grew up in Dublin, Ireland. His father never married; Wyatt believes he's still in love with the goddess Demeter to this day. Wyatt was raised largely by his father and his aunt, Ailbhe. He was told from an early age--since he came toddling into the house with a giant azalea plant in hand, laughing and watching as it grew to monstrous size--that Demeter was his true mother.
Séan and Wyatt moved to the United States upon learning that Camp Half-Blood was there. Wyatt had already encountered some of the dangers that demigods have to face for their bloodline and power, so having a safe haven was a source of great relief. They had to leave Ailbhe, but still visit for Christmas and Easter. Séan simply wasn't comfortable with Wyatt having to keep flying back and forth from Ireland to the USA.
Wyatt now lives in upstate New York with his father. They live in a secluded town, and are mostly at peace. Sometimes, the rest of the residents get a bit suspicious when Wyatt's garden is far more beautiful than the gardens of everyone else, but they just attribute it to "the luck of the Irish" or "that nice boy's green thumb." He and his father just laugh about it in the privacy of their own home, for they would never openly laugh at another person.
Personality:
Likes:
- Flowers
- Justice
- Ireland
- Gardening
- Autumn (harvest time)
Dislikes:
- Death
- Dishonesty
- Wilting plants
- Fire (mainly forest fires)
- People making fun of his accent/girls flirting with him
Skills:
- Green thumb
- Fantastic with plant breeding
- Sprints (he was on track in Ireland)
- Playing the violin--his aunt had been teaching him from when he was very little until he left for America
- Farming
Weaknesses:
- Fear of fire
- He can't resist apples or potatoes
- Good cooking
- He'd do anything to protect his father
- Self-control
Passions:
- Gardening
- Learning
Fears:
- FIRE
- Death of his father
Hobbies:
- Violin
- Flower-breeding
Fighting Specialty: Hand-to-hand combat
Describe the extent of your powers/abilities: Wyatt is, as per the usual powers possessed by a child of Demeter, is brilliant with gardening, farming and harvesting plants. He also can grow plants to fantastic sizes, and enjoys using vines to climb up buildings or to lift himself far into the air. Wyatt is rather adept at manipulating the colors and numbers of flowers in a garden.
Fatal Flaw: Wyatt is so concerned with the well-being of others that he'd ignore his own needs to help other people.
Theme Song: Chicago - Sufjan Stevens (random song ftw)
Lyrics
I fell in love again
all things go, all things go
drove to Chicago
all things know, all things know
we sold our clothes to the state
I don't mind, I don't mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go
I drove to New York
in a van, with my friend
we slept in parking lots
I don't mind, I don't mind
I was in love with the place
in my mind, in my mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go
if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things know, all things know
(I made a lot of mistakes)
you had to find it
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things go, all things go
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things go, all things go
drove to Chicago
all things know, all things know
we sold our clothes to the state
I don't mind, I don't mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go
I drove to New York
in a van, with my friend
we slept in parking lots
I don't mind, I don't mind
I was in love with the place
in my mind, in my mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go
if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go
you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things know, all things know
(I made a lot of mistakes)
you had to find it
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things go, all things go
(I made a lot of mistakes)
The Puppeteer:
Name/ Alias: Christie
Age: 16
How long have you been role playing?: About six years.
How did you find us?: An ad on another site, of course~
Role Playing Sample:
Sympathy. He had Francis' sympathy. Somehow, that calmed him in the slightest of ways, made the world seem slightly less daunting. Someone saw him as a person, not a king. Not a leader, but a boy who had problems, needs, a heavy heart and an overwhelming amount of people who depended on him. He glanced down at Francis once more, looking at his blonde ponytail and deep kneel. "It is a change. A challenge; the largest challenge I have yet to face. But for the people, I continue to endure. I intend to be just as brilliant a king as my father."
Then, the blonde Duke was leaving, and Matthew could not bear to be alone in the midst of such a deep conversation. He had not spoken to anyone of his feelings since he'd become the monarch of Britannia. His brother, Alfred, was useless. All he wanted to do was have adventures and eat. While they had spoken of emotional, important things when they were small, it was no longer part of Alfred's mental capacity to speak of things that were not central to him.
He stood up, tightening his grip on the folds of his robe until the skin stretching over his knuckles whitened. He called weakly, "W-wait!" Pausing and briefly berating himself for appearing so needy, he added quietly, "My innocence has already been sullied by those tales, but the ones I hear are of my own people. I am sure I can handle yours."
He wasn't sure, but all he wanted in that moment was to be with someone who he could speak to. He wanted to feel like he was a normal human being, to be treated as such. Francis Bonnefoy would treat him as a normal human. He just had to ask.
The young king was silent during the tale. Matthew was taught a strict set of manners and etiquette since he was very small, and to interrupt was already on his list of largest social offenses. He dared not speak during a story he himself had asked to hear.
Despite this, he was silent after the speech ended as well. He stared at Francis, unable to tear his eyes away. A pale, delicate hand reached up to gently touch one flushed cheek. He whispered, "Of whom do you speak?" He had to know that it was someone else, for who would love Matthew?
Nobody in their right mind. He'd never been noticed before the crown had been passed to him. He'd never been talked to by another human being besides his governess, his father and his brother. Of course, the court knew him, but rarely spoke with him.
Francis couldn't love him. Francis was too beautiful, too perfect, too anything to possibly desire Matthew. Matthew was bland. He was nothing special. "Desirable" had never even occurred to him as something he could be.
He must be speaking of Alfred.
Alfred the Brave. Alfred the Strong. Alfred the Daring, Alfred the Knight, Alfred the Savior.
Matthew had no name. He was not famous. He was King Matthew. Nothing else.
The people hardly remembered his name on the rare occasions they came to speak with him. The only person not of the court that remembered his name was a one Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was the brother of Ludwig Beilschmidt, the best blacksmith for miles around. Gilbert was the only one Matthew could call a friend after Alfred rode off to have his adventures.
"Are you speaking of my brother? Because he is away dallying with quests. He won't be back until next month, most likely," he said curtly, trying not to let his voice shake.
Then, the blonde Duke was leaving, and Matthew could not bear to be alone in the midst of such a deep conversation. He had not spoken to anyone of his feelings since he'd become the monarch of Britannia. His brother, Alfred, was useless. All he wanted to do was have adventures and eat. While they had spoken of emotional, important things when they were small, it was no longer part of Alfred's mental capacity to speak of things that were not central to him.
He stood up, tightening his grip on the folds of his robe until the skin stretching over his knuckles whitened. He called weakly, "W-wait!" Pausing and briefly berating himself for appearing so needy, he added quietly, "My innocence has already been sullied by those tales, but the ones I hear are of my own people. I am sure I can handle yours."
He wasn't sure, but all he wanted in that moment was to be with someone who he could speak to. He wanted to feel like he was a normal human being, to be treated as such. Francis Bonnefoy would treat him as a normal human. He just had to ask.
The young king was silent during the tale. Matthew was taught a strict set of manners and etiquette since he was very small, and to interrupt was already on his list of largest social offenses. He dared not speak during a story he himself had asked to hear.
Despite this, he was silent after the speech ended as well. He stared at Francis, unable to tear his eyes away. A pale, delicate hand reached up to gently touch one flushed cheek. He whispered, "Of whom do you speak?" He had to know that it was someone else, for who would love Matthew?
Nobody in their right mind. He'd never been noticed before the crown had been passed to him. He'd never been talked to by another human being besides his governess, his father and his brother. Of course, the court knew him, but rarely spoke with him.
Francis couldn't love him. Francis was too beautiful, too perfect, too anything to possibly desire Matthew. Matthew was bland. He was nothing special. "Desirable" had never even occurred to him as something he could be.
He must be speaking of Alfred.
Alfred the Brave. Alfred the Strong. Alfred the Daring, Alfred the Knight, Alfred the Savior.
Matthew had no name. He was not famous. He was King Matthew. Nothing else.
The people hardly remembered his name on the rare occasions they came to speak with him. The only person not of the court that remembered his name was a one Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was the brother of Ludwig Beilschmidt, the best blacksmith for miles around. Gilbert was the only one Matthew could call a friend after Alfred rode off to have his adventures.
"Are you speaking of my brother? Because he is away dallying with quests. He won't be back until next month, most likely," he said curtly, trying not to let his voice shake.
Read more: campolympians.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=enrollment&action=display&thread=930#ixzz1GRBxi6UV