Post by stereophonics on Jun 30, 2011 23:08:58 GMT -5
---------------------------------------
[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font]NAME Brighton Crowne.
AGE Seventeen.
GENDER Male.
CLASS Trainer.
ORIENTATION Bisexual.
HEIGHT 5'05"
WEIGHT 134 lbs
FACE CLAIM Kida; Durarara
GENERAL APPEARANCE They say that he looks like sunshine.
The actual nationality of this young teen is unknown. His mother had been partially Korean, with her pale skin and soft features, but it was obvious from her soft, curly hair that cascaded down her back in waves of chocolate silk, that she wasn't purely Japanese. His father, with a slim face and smoldering chocolate eyes, seemed more Korean than her because of darker set of hair; yet Brighton is brightness and sunshine and warmth, with his fierce golden hair and liquid-brown orbs that sparkle tints of chocolate in the light, sweeping through like lake water. Even if others might assume otherwise, however, Brighton is not one of those suspected half-children. His parents very rarely disputed and the tension that took place in many households seemed virtually nonexistent by the time him and Ashley were old enough to realize it. The colors of this particular sun-child seemed to have come from the thinner, less prominent lines in the Crowne family.
Don Crowne, grandfather to our own Brighton, is perhaps where he gets most of his looks than anywhere. The old man, if you take away his wrinkled skin and replace it with a crinkled smile of his younger years, looks like a parallel of Brighton. At first, a person would wonder what kind of similarities anyone would see in them -- Don has a wider face and broader shoulders, he's an old man with a swagger in his step, he's loud but cheerful; if Brighton is the sun, his grandfather is the moon. Flip back through the pages of Don's teenage years and into his childhood, the similarity slowly becomes apparent. Brighton's grandfather was born with brilliant streaks of color in his hair, dipped in sunshine and gold, but - for some reason - by the time Don reached twelve, he dyed his hair to reveal the very same shocking white that everyone was familiar with.
Like most young teens his age, Brighton doesn't look his age. especially with that solemn expression that is often on his face when he is alone, the young boy probably looks closer to the late teens than he actually is -- but more than that, Brighton also carries the build and height of someone who is older. For some reason, he had his growth spurt earlier than most - in eighth grade - and had gained the affections of many ladies because of it. The young boy stands at about 5'5", but he is still growing into himself. This young trainer also carries quite a bit of muscle, as well. It is not enough, however, to label him as particularly "bulky" or "large", because he is not quite that strapping, but Brighton's build is lean and slim, the effect of him being an avid member of his school's soccer team and baseball team for a few years. He is, however, more of a long-distance runner than he is anything else and his body is fraught with hidden muscle from the rigorous training that he had gone through for it.
However, Brighton very rarely shows this muscle as he is often in a slouching position, a hand encircled around one of his headphones, eyes closed -- he is often not paying attention to much else. Of the clothes that Brighton is supplied with, there is a variety of sorts; he is willing to wear most anything, from purple sweater-vests to red wristbands, to orange wife-beaters. No matter what he wears, when Brighton isn't adorning casual attire (jackets, t-shirts, jeans, etc). However, no matter what he's wearing, he is usually in style -- not that he plans it, or anything. Like most teenagers his age, the young boy often adorns sneakers and jeans, but everything else is up for grabs. A bag is always slung around his shoulder, carrying all his supplies, and headphones placed on top of his head, around the fluff of sunshine sand that is his hair.
This new trainer is without many scars, but that it is not because he has lived a sheltered life -- rather, he has not, for the most part, lived a risky one. There is something, however, about him that many people do not have. It is neither a birth or beauty mark, but a scar. From the event that nearly cost him his life, he has a large burn covering his right side, colored a burnt scarlet that slowly eases into crackled black. there is, also, a ringed scar lining the end of his shoulder blade, that lifts up towards his neck, where it spills into a soft, purple bruise. as for broken bones, he has fractured his left arm twice and dislocated his right shoulder -- and it is that which would cost him dearly in any physical fight. Brighton is anything but rich and pampered, even if tends to give off a more princely appearance compared to some of his peers. Girls may describe him as pretty, rather than handsome, but it probably because of his maturity and "coolness" - his new acclaimed apathy towards so many things - that they think this way. It sets him apart from all the other young, juvenile boys his age who are obsessed with impressing their female counterparts by jumping through circles and off buildings.
LIKES eating good food, rain, swimming, birds, science, learning, telling jokes.
DISLIKES gum, morons, those who do not understand his sense of humor, sigilyphs, alarm clocks, snow, being cold.
HOBBIES painting, drawing, swimming
QUIRKS goes almost everywhere with his headphones, endlessly sarcastic, likes to stand in the rain
OVERALL PERSONALITY The first and foremost thing about Brighton’s personality is his sarcasm. He uses it both in defense and as the staple of him sense of humor, occasionally making it hard for people to read him (which was perhaps the goal all along). He very rarely takes anything seriously, preferring to make light of any and every situation. Perhaps the only thing he treats with any amount of severity are his pokemon (though he certainly doesn’t act as such). Brighton gets things done, mind you, and is reliable enough… but you can’t hold it against him if he cracks a joke at someone’s funeral.
Ever juvenile, Brighton adores to flirt with any lady or man he sees, often mimicking the worst pickup strategies of his male counterparts. He finds this endlessly entertaining, especially when the object of his teasing obviously attempts to reject his advances. Though he does have the ability to court in a more realistic manner, and anyone who actually manages to catch his fancy is likely to be spared him mocking come-ons… Brighton is very likely to completely avoid his romantic interest altogether, for fear of forming something long-lasting and potentially dangerous. All in all, he’s definitely more the type for the occasional wild fling.
Brighton is… rather full of himself. His swagger is undeniable, no matter how much he may attempt to play it down. Most insults seem to roll right off him -- whether or not he's actually paying attention often comes into question. Comfortable in his own skin, he very rarely regrets anything and stands by his decisions. (Even if he damned well knows he's done something stupid, he will defend it into the ground.) Surprisingly, despite his natural aptitude and rather quick wits, he enjoys playing dumb -- in fact, this almost feeds into his swagger, and even he isn't quite sure why this aura of false stupidity gives him such a sense of self-empowerment and security.
Adventuresome and with a great love for games, he is rarely seen sitting still. Be it rock-climbing or gambling or drinking contests, Brighton has a need to be doing something -- sitting around idly is the way to madness, in his eyes. Too much time sitting around gives you too much time to think, and pondering his fate and place in the universe only serves to make him nauseous. He will get noticeably uncomfortable when stuck in boring, political situations -- often fidgeting or moving restlessly in his seat.
He also loves a good prank -- drawing from both him odd sense of humor and general sense of adventure and lack of respect for rules -- and anyone he deems a friend will most certainly be the butt of these jokes. From the elaborate blind-date setups to switching sugar with salt, he has no end of ways to irritate others. And of this, he is rather proud.
HOMETOWN Kanto, Pallet Town
MOTHER Juliette - 37
FATHER Thomas - 36
SIBLINGS Ashley - 14
HISTORY
Brighton has led an entirely boring, uneventful life. Perhaps the most interesting thing to happen to him before deciding to become a trainer was the day his junior year of high school that he was dubbed "science club president". And while that held a certain amount of pride for him, such a feat tends to not be held in such high regards with the rest of the world. (Unfortunately.)
He was born a happy, healthy child to Juliette and Thomas, a loving couple who supported and encouraged him throughout his childhood. Though he grew up around pokemon and was comfortable enough around them, he seemed reluctant to go into Training like his father had done. Though Thomas was a bit disappointed, his pouting was quickly put to a halt when Ashley was born. A rough-and-tumble little twerp, it was obvious that she didn't have the mental ability to do anything more than janitorial work or pokemon training, and so Thomas jumped at the ability to pass on his knowledge. Brighton, however, stuck to school, the only drama he encountered being a brief struggle with his sexuality and endless amounts of homework.
The fights between Juliette and Thomas did not begin – or, rather, went unnoticed by Brighton – until he began to pick up more on tension within the household. After several stormy months, the two split. It was awkward at first, but Brighton couldn’t really say he was affected by it. He knew it ought to bother him, but he found he couldn’t make hisself relate to what was going on. His long-seated need to take everything lightly kicked into overdrive, perhaps spurring on his outlandish flirting behaviors.
Like any good student, he tucked his personal life into a corner and plugged away with schoolwork, keeping his good grades and graduating, when an official professor asked a request of him.
He was to become a trainer. A real, honest-to-goodness trainer.
A bit tentative at first, he worried about the additional responsibility. This would require his to raise othis creatures. With a resigned sigh – yes, this was really going down – he decided that he better at least get hisself a pokemon before forging his way into unknown territory. When Ashley decided to tag along to get her first pokemon so she could impress her father, Brighton remembers meeting the professor and obtaining the traditional choice of a charmander, while his sister chose a chimchar. Once released in the house and left inside while the two siblings went out, the two began to light the furniture on fire.
Brighton woke up to an explosion of light.
He blinked his eyes open, blearily, as a growlithe whined against his knee and pushed a cold nose to his thigh. However, he couldn't pay attention to the amber-furred pokemon as what he saw before him almost made him drop dead. His house, somehow, had burst into flames. There were firetrucks all around the house, the flames licking the edge of the reserve, but what made his stomach drop was the shadow he saw in Ashley's room. The shadow soon fell out of the two-story window onto the grass below.
There was a scream, and Brighton began running towards it.
The next thing that Brighton remembers is waking up in the hospital, and what greeted him was a particular excruciating pain on his back. He couldn't move his arm, or he would screech in agony, and it hurt to flex his fingers. It was almost as if something had fallen on something, and as though he had been in a fight with an Ursaring. The boy looked down, past the white hospital sheets, and sighed in relief, glad to see that the majority of his body was okay. Noticing the small creature that slept at his feet, Brighton stretched over, and tangled his hands in the soft fur. Hoshi, the family growlithe, smiled softly in her sleep and with every breath of the pokemon, he felt a gust of relief sweep through him.
Soon, doctors spilled into the room and was followed by his grandfather who was limping because a cast had been wound around his leg. Before he could open his mouth could ask any questions, the police came filling in too and Hoshi had already jumped from the bed and out the door.
They wasted no time in informing Brighton of the events. He had a gut feeling something bad had happened, but the memories were fuzzy. Still, it didn't prepare him for the cold words that greeted him. "Both your mother and sister are missing. They could not be recovered from the fire.
Questions buzzed on the tip of his tongue as the world began to spin. Though, he only had the strength for a few words and managed to blurt, "Tell me they're alive at least. Say they're okay!"
The officers looked away.
So, after recovering, he took a ferry to Cheyenne, eager to start a new life to get his mind off of the past. Some part of him believes that since he's in a new region, he can bury the past and start anew without any complications; the other part still clings to the events and memories that painfully tug at his heart.