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F.A.Q. ♦ RULES ♦ PLOT ♦ FACE CLAIM ♦ CANON SPECIFICS ♦ BIO FORMAT ♦ CANONS ♦ DEATH TO MARY SUE! ♦ BELIEFS ♦ EVENTS |
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JOLY Technicolor-Werewolf SISTER SITES  
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| Henry Beauvais | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 16 2009, 12:05 PM (96 Views) | |
| Guess | Feb 16 2009, 12:05 PM Post #1 |
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FIRST NAME Henry. LAST NAME Beauvais. GENDER Fella. AGE Thirty. APPEARANCE .` IMAGE . drawn by yours truly. Near inhuman. Flashing, bold, daring, all in a muted manner. He wears the funniest things in the latest fashions: prismatic fuchsia fluffed by mink boa, garishly decorated cane topped by gilt vest. But the strangest trend in his glaringly bleurgh wardrobe consists of the rainbow’s first streak. J’adore this pretty, pretty hue more than the lily greens or blues! Truly. Red. Red. Red. The sweeter swirls of peppermints, the quick splash of spewing entrails, the precious carpets of Eastern Trade: red. Almost an addiction. Half the time his gloves are oxblood product. That’s not the worst though, no. What’s wrong with his face? Nothing! Because it’s not there to see to view to coddle to bat lashes at! “An acquired trend,” he says indubitably, “the rage in elsewhere.” One can see the chippery jaw line moving with each delectable word. Bucketed by usual top hat and umphed flare collar, he looks almost taller than should be allowed. Still, it’s all very proportionate. Without the silly masque to “hide it all”, he has a slightly bent shnoz, vaguely square lips, and a growing mane of modest brunette ribbon tied in the day’s vogue. You can enjoy looking at his face if he invites you for crumpets at his own dwelling, as he doesn’t really go unmasked during outings. (He doesn’t wear mask at home.) Most often does he garb in patterned frock and overcoat, matching pants, gloves, and eyepopping hat. ×HEIGHT Five, ten. ×BUILD Scarred curvature. Soldiers’ muscle; cargo brawner’s build bedecked in most unfitting sophistication. Tall, genteel, iron legs, feminine waist, and flaring shoulders made sleek by suit and era’s expensive apparel. ×SKIN TONE Maitenant: I doubt he’s seen much sun. ×HAIR COLOUR Brown. ×EYE COLOUR Much chagrin; tinkling blue. Craig with the Atlantian touch, crystalline kisses by sheer iris cloaked in lightened Caribbean wine. ×ACCENT/PHONETICS Muffled. Not a tang to vernacular out of orn‘, bass British there and touchy McLondon here. Flowing, and somewhat corroded by a nick in the neck. HISTORY On the docks. Punch-me, punch-you! Touché, mon ami, my dreadful family sharing none blood and only juxtaposed civilian work life through calloused limbs and rotting decrepits. I had brains; who’d thunk it through? Papa raised Charlotte-Anne and Beatrice without mum’s mettle to aide, and myself? What happens to a drying boy, withered, wrung, in the face of poverty’s despair?… Booted from bore shmore school to an adventurer’s life on fishery plane, this new market square smelling of squid and cod and murky mackerel to be my home! (-that’s what!) An abode to tussle through, though income may be hard, and nonetheless the happiest, saddest days of a worthless bucket boy’s life. Mais… can’t expect laddie to stay in one place, do you? On a whim… I ran away from France, to France. Jovial tempest! What a maddening brew- seasickness not for me! Mars and gentle Venus, send me a love for conquest, for desire! Coast to coast, homeland to heartland. Welcome to a chapter of teenage curiosity, myself. Alas, mais non. We are but spinners of spiders’ thread, unfolding our own lives through trial, error. I found solace- work -by sweatshop. One day, zut!, caught blood handed writing family letters in the latrines! But… Monsieur Fevrier saw the strangest bit of chance in me, and thinking me a poor orphan sod, whisked off by the bootstraps to a proper, stiff-backed, white-wigged education. I did well. Despite the rough scritchings of marine market youth, seems enough brains had been left unaddled. I came across an Indian one time, on a travels with M. Fevrier. He wore the oddest sheet of silk around his face; circus performance? I thought it was rather interesting. Bought one for myself in my favorite colour. And now I am here, hobbying part-time as sculptor, part-time as playboy plunderer, hm. ×SPOUSE/FIANCÉ(E) - ×LOVE INTEREST All the painted boys and girls in sweet Europa! Cherries on the giving tree. ×CRUSH - ×LOVER - ×BELLE/BEAU - PERSONALITY I think he is insane. But in a wonderful way! Or perhaps merely eccentric, so aptly put by his current guardian? When will the boy ever grow from his otherworldly fantasies? Or maybe he’s already grown up, and is dancing in the clouds with gulls and apple-cheeked cherubs. To catch the weird fox you'll have to run out of your mind. His vernacular says all: suave in the early prime of prime age, riddling puns and odd phrases with every tick tock of time. Some say he’s one of those flamboyant strangers- a Cheshire painter with no common sense but plenty of some other, a friendly acquaintance with vile tendencies. Either way, he’s amiable in both bed and boum and backstreet murder, so what’s there to complain? (Also a little blunt, too, better watch out for that.) Don't tell him secrets! Don't lie in his face! Don't show him your back without a goodnight kiss! He should have been a famous magician. ×QUIRKS O, sanguine, precious rubes, let the blood of rams flow! What’s better than the summer strawberry, mudcaked, bespeckled bescarlet flesh? Nothing. Nothing. Also, an intense aversion to song of larks, ferns, and handpicked oranges. ×SEXUAL ORIENTATION Just a slight inclination towards women, though… ×OTHER He once caught a large fish at port, when his voice hadn’t yet cracked and long before he had stowed himself away in a boat to someplace else. The large fish had a blistered eye, and Henry chucked it back into the sea. His sister scolded him that the fish would have made some pennies at the shops, despite its mutated eye. Henry replied that there was no moral, and that he wonted mussel instead. SECRET WORD rara avis. LIKES
DISLIKES
ABILITIES
OPINIONS N/A THREADS N/A Edited by Guess, Feb 16 2009, 12:12 PM.
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| Alandree | Feb 16 2009, 12:48 PM Post #2 |
 
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Intriguing, intriguing...Murderers galore! ACCEPTED! |
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