Post by SAM ♥ KELLS on Mar 2, 2013 0:49:36 GMT -6
JE SUIS FOLLE DE TOI♥
* *C'EST TOI QU'A COMMENCÉ
N A M E* *
samuel anthony kells.
N I C K N A M E S* *
sam, sammy, sambuca, kell, kellsey.
A G E* *
26.
G E N D E R* *
male.
O R I E N T A T I O N* *
heterosexual.
S P E C I E S* *
shifter.
P O W E R S & A B I L I T I E S* *
shift in to any animal, heightened senses. Prefers osprey form.
* *FOU ET TELLEMENT ÉVIDENT
O C C U P A T I O N* *
chef at the eiffel.
C L A S S Y E A R* *
civilian, never attended.
* *QUE VEUX-TU
L I K E S* *
- His Norton ('74 Commando).
- Smell of campfires.
- Classic rock.
- BURGERS.
- His knives.
D I S L I K E S* *
- Carrots.
- Suits.
- The straight and narrow.
- Scars.
- Vespas.
S T R E N G T H S* *
- Perceptive- He likes to think he sees things in people that others don't.
- Reserved- He is generally surrounded by people, but doesn't press his company on them.
- Understanding- He does his best to stand in other people's shoes.
- Stubborn- both good and bad; he sticks to his guns.
W E A K N E S S E S* *
- Self conscious- Some of his more apparent injuries upset him.
- Taciturn- Generally quiet, seems much more grumpy than he really is.
- Unforgiving- Don't get on his bad side.
- Obsessive- Can get carried away with something gnawing at his mind.
* *JE VEUX TE VOIR
M O T H E R* *
Miranda Kells (née Stone).
F A T H E R* *
Ted Kells.
S I B L I N G S* *
Ben Kells, Christian Kells, Matthew Kells.
S P O U S E* *
None, doesn't plan on any.
C H I L D R E N* *
None, doesn't plan on any.
O T H E R* *
N/A.
H I S T O R Y* *
Sam was a late bloomer when it came to being extraordinary. For seventeen years of his life he was completely normal. Grew up in a small town in the midwest with average friends and an average family- stuck right in the middle of two younger brothers and one older, all sheltered by completely average parents with average income. Boring. The boys were diverse as could be however- the brainy one, the social one, the rebellious one, and the jock. Sam was the one who made trouble when there was none- of all his brothers, this little rebel liked adventure the most. He was that kid in high school who could switch from drinking to drugs in the matter of an instant, the boy the neighbours tut-tutted at because they were afraid of anyone with the courage to let go. He was always the first to try something, and despite their differences, all the boys still got along. Sure, the rest of his brothers had more awards to their names, but Sam had more life experience. He got to see an entirely different side of the world than the athletes and mathletes and theatre aficionados.
By seventeen he was fixing motorcycles and washing dishes in kitchens, spending less and less time focusing on school. This was the only bit of tension with his parents- they could tolerate the smoking and the drinking, the generally homeless-chic clothing, but they insisted he go to college at the very least to set him on the right track. There was nothing malicious about Sammy's refusal- he didn't resist because he hated confrontation or authority, it just didn't feel right. For the first time in his life, as he considered becoming a drop out, he was faced with the reality that his parents would not support him, and he would truly be different from his brothers. All his life seemed fake until that point- he'd always had a cozy home and a loving family to return to, but if he continued to disobey, he'd lose them, at least for awhile. Still, something felt wrong.
Everything came to a head the day he came home from work in the kitchens and revealed that he'd flunked out, and was going to become one of the cooks at the local diner instead of just a busboy. There was yelling, there were tears (Miranda was a sensitive soul), but he felt he'd done the right thing. As a challenge to show the seriousness of their disappointment he was kicked out for the night- in their sleepy little town this was somewhat of a scandal, but not at all dangerous. He'd be back the next night, they all knew it.
Running. His breathing was ragged. His feet hurt, and his palms hurt from the road rash. Everything hurt. Sam stumbled along, his duffel of clothes long forgotten. No one could have seen this coming. Predators never approached the town, and crime was practically nil. People usually only died from freak camping accidents or old age. He took a sharp left down the alley, the lights of the next street over temptingly close. He could see a few cars belonging to drunk patrons parked at the bar at the egde of town. He was so close when the snarl started up again, when the hot breath flashed across his neck before blinding white pain. The weight took him face first in to the pavement, body rolling, hands unable to catch himself as his skull cracked down and hot blood pulsed out and pooled beneath him.
Nine years. Nine years down the road and Sam Kells is fulfilling his dream. He never came back after that night- there was no choice. He sweats over the flat top, dark curls flopping in the way his even darker eyes, focused on the task at hand. Tonight he will walk the frozen streets home to his eclectically decorated apartment, unable to use the motorcycle with the next snowfall forecasted. He might have taken a shortcut if he didn't have to carry his clothes, but that was rather difficult when you trades arms for wings or four paws. His life is simple, his curiosity fulfilled. He knows what he is- he knows what the island means to those peculiar students who come through here- but he doesn't care for it beyond its status as a safe haven. This is home. This feels right.
* *C'EST EN QUELQUE SORTE JUSTICE
RP Sample»see Lucas Claes.
* *JE TE CONNAIS PAR COEUR
A L I A S* *
michy.
T I M E Z O N E* *
NA eastern.
C O N T A C T* *
cbox, pm, skype.
O T H E R C H A R A C T E R S* *
Lucas Claes, Mathis Claes.
T O P S E C R E T C O D E* *
