Post by chase on Jul 22, 2009 19:43:46 GMT -5
About You,,
Name: Jamie
Age: Sixteen
Gender: Female
Time Role Playing: 5 years
Secret word: Gingerbread:]
Why do you think you would be an asset to this site:
Aside from my craptastic internet, I should be active:]
About The Character,,
Canon or Original: Original
Name: Chase Orion Matthews
Nickname
Age and Year: Sixteen, Sophomore
Sexuality: Bisexual
Play-by: Nick Jonas
Marital Status: Single
Location: Matthews Household
Clique: Musician, Singer
Appearance: Chase isn't one to really think about what he looks like, on the contrary aside from basic hygiene, he doesn't care much at all; to the point of complete indifference, Chase marvels at finding something clean to wear off of his floor, much less ever noticing about whether it's the latest trend or not. To be honest, he's lucky to get a new shirt a month, if even that, and he's had to stick to worn Converse for as long as he could remember, and since he's never had any different, Chase doesn't seem to mind all that much. And don't even start about his hair, all he'll do is laugh and ask you if you would ever take the time to straighten it, God only knows how long that would take.
As far as eyes go, his aren't very special or noticeable than anyone else's simple brown, though in the past ex partners have noticed how they're always full of some emotion, be it whatever he's feeling at the moment. So whatever, they're expressive or something to that affect, and despite from being able to be read like an open book, Chase doesn't mind one bit: he's a musician, he's used to other people getting a sense of what emotions that run through him.
Personality: Oddly enough for a musician, Chase doesn't like the spotlight - the only time he considers it okay is when he's up on a stage, but other than that he likes keeping to himself and his group of friends, without drawing unnecessary attention to himself. He's more on the average side of the spectrum - not completely ignored but completely not on the popular scale of high school. Chase prefers minding his own business, and because of that he's wholly trustworthy not to tell secrets or spread gossip, considering he values privacy of himself and others. It's completely out of character for him to confess a problem he has, unless it's in music.
More of a pacifist than anything, Chase hates fighting more than anything, and he thinks that's probably why he doesn't play sports competitively in a team rather than with friends just for goofing around and fun. On a whole, he's usually seen with a smile on his face, good-natured and always willing to crack a joke to make someone else laugh. He doesn't mind bending the rules so to speak, but he won't risk disappointing his parents, so he's not so much the rebel as your average teenager that does stupid things sometimes.
Likes:
- Music/performing/playing/etc
- Family
- Spontaneity
- Starbursts
- Being trusted
Dislikes:
- Cliches
- Liars
- Being unsure
- Shallow people
- Mixed signals
Family Members: Lucy Amelia Matthews (37), Orion James Matthews (46)
History: Born the only child to Lucy and Orion Matthews, it would be a bit of an understatement to say that Chase was born surrounded by music: his father was a highly-certified music producer and his mother a piano teacher, so really, from the very beginning, he had his passion marked from the day it was born. His mom likes to tell anyone that would listen (often potential girlfriends or boyfriends, much to his embarassment) that the only way Chase would sleep at night as a baby would be if his dad played for him while his mother sang a lullaby. Though all seemed well within the first year of his birth, change had brought itself swiftly on the Matthews family, and the label Orion worked under flopped and he was left without a job, and with only Lucy's modest payment to support them and a growing baby boy, they quickly had to move from Newport Burbs to the trailer parks on the farther side of the city.
Though the stress had burdened them both at first, they seemed to find solace in their son: he was immeasurably happy for a child, didn't really complain much when they were short on food for a week or couldn't buy him new shoes, and the neighbors seemed to agree he was a sweet boy, talented even. While his grades had been average, maybe slightly above average at best (though in English his teachers had always said he had a fondness and capability for creative writing), and sports held no real interest to him, music had become his forte: Chase picked up every instrument he could get his hands on every day after school and spent long hours learning, eventually composing and writing lyrics when he grew into adolescence.
So maybe Chase didn't have the world at his fingertips, but that was okay; his dad worked freelance jobs with unsigned artists in the city, his mom still worked as a piano teacher, and they lived pretty okay, at least better from when things had fallen through initially. Chase picked up odd jobs here and there, too, cutting grass or raking leaves, small jobs he could do for people he knew that would earn him some pocket money. Life wasn't exactly handing him everything he wanted on a silver platter, though in all honesty that would have never even mattered as long as he got to keep his music.
Role Playing Example:
[/color]
It was freezing, no doubt, given the fact the heater just so happened to be turned off at night to conserve electricity, but that hadn't stopped a particular Net-Harrison from making her way into the school; expertly climbing the gate into enclosed grounds had come in handy, and she quietly congratulated herself from all those years spent climbing trees like a monkey back in her earlier childhood days. This, perhaps, being one hint to which identical twin that was currently sneakily sprinting in school grounds after hours in the dead of night (though that was a bit of an overestimation: it was about eleven or so, but it was a school night and everything was just so damn dark out, so whatever), considering one was likely to do so and one, well, wasn't. The consequences being of which bordered anywhere from a week's worth detention or maybe suspension if staff felt particularly bitchy, but she felt it was worth it to compensate for her insomnia; it seemed, perhaps, whenever she hadn't been able to sleep soundly at night (which happened a few nights a week, actually), she'd sneak out into the dark somewhere, anywhere, to be alone and at peace. Not to say she wasn't at peace when she was at home resting in bed, of course, but there was a difference from listening to your dad's snores in the other room than now climbing the poor fence that held her away from her final destination.
So yes, Michaela Marie Net-Harrison was at school, at eleven o'clock at night, to swim in the pool for what reason she hadn't decided yet, but figured she'd find a valid excuse for if she was caught. Which, by the way, wouldn't have happened, because who else really had the kind of spontaneous ideas she had to just go into a public pool the only hours they were off limits? Which, also, in retrospect, was ridiculous: supervision her ass, thank you very much, Michaela very well knew how to swim and she wasn't prepared to gamble on anything happening to suddenly make her forget. Her sneakers made a silent tap against the cement as she dropped from the fence after successfully climbing to the other side, tossing a tote bag near the water's edge wherein lied her cell phone (just in case Dad or Mom woke up and were in a fury at her empty bed, and Elle would text her in a hurry to ask just where the hell she was), iPod, and other unnecessities that she brought with her, because really, she didn't need them, didn't need the interruption to the desperately sought solace she wished for. In a swift movement, she lifted the black camisole from her body and wiggled out of the first pair of jeans she found lying on her bedroom floor, and shivered for a moment as the cold night air sent tingles down her spine. Her feet bordered the edge of the pool, and she felt her eyes close momentarily, before opening and gazing into the glowing blue. Well, here goes nothing.
"Ow, ow, this shit is cold, dammit,"[/color] she swore outloud as soon as her body all at once was enveloped into the cold water; it seemed bracing herself hadn't done much, and if she thought she shivered before, the shaking of her form certainly surpassed such by now. The obscenities slowly began to fade into a low, reproachful murmur as she shot dark looks at the water, as if it had betrayed her. But just as slowly, her form stilled as Michaela felt her body become adjusted and used to the temperature: sort of like shock therapy, where after a bit the water, although still cold, feels warm. Weird, but, it worked, and after a few moments Michaela found herself swimming a few laps, eventually stopping to tread and close her eyes to just listen at having to not have anything to listen to. There was just a still silence hovering about her, wistful of sound usually heard during the day of rowdy kids in PE or the diving or waterpolo team having practices; but like all silence, it had to be broken eventually, though so deep in thought Michaela hadn't noticed anyone nearby, too content in being submerged in the blue without having to think about complexities.[/blockquote][/size][/blockquote]
