Post by amphigoricide on Feb 17, 2012 12:11:26 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #171323;,true][cs=2] LAWLESS ODELL LANE  | |
| [atrb=width,200] nickname law, lawl, laws (loz) birthday 20/10/1992 place of birth Sapphire Bay, CA gender male | [atrb=width,200] sexuality homosexual nationality american membergroup elite play by arthur sales gouveia (arthur sales) |
| [cs=2] likes: dogs; drawing; photography; motorcycles and cars; reading; accents; boys. dislikes: bad first impressions; pretentious assholes; desperation; people who don't like animals; television. personality: chill. chill as fuck. Lawless lives by the mantra 'shake it off'. he doesn't believe in grudges or bullshit and he does a fantastic job of keeping out of it a lot of the time. that being said, despite his own tendency toward a grudge-less living, he can get some other people pretty pissed off at him. and that's a fact. this is typically due to the excessively high likelihood of his throwing out something unintentionally offensive at heated moments--or simply electing to go full-out and bring someone's mama into things. Law's got a great sense of humor and is a wicked lover of animals (he handled show dogs semi-professionally for a few years in juniors and still does on occasion). he's a head-strong, all-feet-forward, leap-without-looking kind of guy. he seems to know no fear and is consistently placing himself in harm's way as a result. fortunately for him, a man of his good looks and considerable talents need not worry about too much in the appropriate situations. his talents, by the way, lie in pencil drawings, particularly portraits and (you guessed it) dogs are a favorite subject of his. lastly, but most certainly not leastly, sentimental old Lawless is a closet romantic. although he seems to have made it a personal mission to get into the proverbial pants (or at least hearts) of as many guys as possible, it's going to take a cheesy, classic love affair to get to him. you know, one of those moments where the one walks into the room, time slows down, your eyes lock and you see fireworks? one of those. family: father: edward lane. banker. mother: joelle lillith lane (nee princeton). recovering alcoholic, former real estate agent. god-mother: jordi sylvester. heiress, society lady. history: that thing, where stuff goes wrong and you never quite know how to stop it and get back to where you were before? that's the story of Lawless's life. it all started when he was born; see, his parents named him Lawless. it's been RIGHT down hill ever since. oh yeah. and they made his initials LOL. for the most part mom and dad were pretty normal, until Law turned--what?--twelve? somewhere around there. good old Edward Lane started staying out later, longer, speaking at all sorts of work benefits. the guy was a high-roller, even being the banker that he was, and when he took out the lease on that third car there were some questions. well, those questions dug up some seriously unpleasant facts. basically, the cops unravelled a tangled web of deception--and money laundering. Lane had been covering up the fraudulent origins of his profit for months and the damage amounted to millions. the mess landed him in prison for a three year term, and mama couldn't (or rather, wouldn't pay bail). the stress, however, got to her and (isn't it always the way?) miss Joelle turned to the drink. or rather her new boyfriend turned her to it. Carl, as Lawless remembers him, was a greasy no-job-to-speak-of alcoholic who tampered with harder drugs. it had never quite made sense to Law why his mom turned from his dad, who had been good-looking and well off (alright, maybe he had some issues) to that guy. at the start of their relationship, Law's mum had met up with Carl at sleazy motels and cheap bars and kept him well away from the house. the farther it progressed, the closer he came to Lawless back at the original Lane manor. At age thirteen and a half, Law's mom was convinced his "gayness" was a phase. lacking a proper father figure to talk to him about it, she enlisted Carl. lacking all the knowledge of such a figure, Carl took advantage of their time alone. the molestation that young Lawless Lane put up with had him confused for four more years, although--thankfully--Carl was out of the picture the second Law mentioned the situation to his mom a couple months later. with dad back in prison for another two year stint (this time as a result of attempting to escape), dear mum's drug and alcohol habits grew steadily worse. eventually they landed her in rehab and left her son too young to manage the house alone--which was when auntie Jordi showed up. auntie Jordi was mom's best friend and she quickly became Lawless's best friend, too. he credits her with actually raising him, although he loves both his parents dearly. it was she who helped a confused young man figure out who he loved and how, and it was her money (although, admittedly, some of his own/his parents', too) that bought him his elite status in Sapphire Bay. when his dad got out of prison, he was so busy trying to get Joelle back on track that Lawless thought he'd be better off out of their hair. he's been living with Jordi ever since. |
amphigoricide/amphi - 18 - seven years
... so this is brutal. and canine. if that's not okay, I can whip something up by I haven't played on a site that's still active to steal human samples from. 9:
The reek of fish in the air was... distinct. Oh, bollocks to that. It was revolting and all-encompassing--or at least to Alida. The stench of it (well-seasoned by the rotten sea-salt stench) permeated her twitching nostrils, the sting forcing her to punch out a sneeze in retaliation. All that served to do was clear her sinuses and invite the unwavering scent in with a whole new force. Her little muzzle wrinkled and she glanced out to the pier--as she had a tendency to do lately. For some reason she was finding herself drifting from the sidewalks and harsh city noises more and more lately; odd for a dog who'd been so comfortable in her urban skin for most of her life. But memories of car crashes and a nagging fear of the speed of it all was leaving a proverbial bitter taste in her mouth. The mudi needed a break.
Picking her little black body up off the sandy ground of the beach where she had been spending her time, already-pricked ears jutted forward enthusiastically. Her dark-as-night eyes flicked up to the pier as she watched another dog--definitely male, she would bet on it--pace the length of creaking wood. He didn't look unfriendly and Alida's unfailing logic told her that although someone who would wander carelessly out into the open thought he had nothing to fear, it didn't mean he was threatening. Quite the opposite, she thought. It was hard to judge someone when they were alone however; she would need to observe further--or, and here her grin grew wry, talk to him. She wasn't in the mood to start the shit she usually did, so Alida thought she could handle a simple conversation. The black bitch sprung to her tiny, cat-like paws and scaled the sandy slope to where the pier began. She scrabbled a little trying to crawl over the top but when she was standing there, panting triumphantly, she felt like the queen of the world.
For a moment she simply put her head on one side and contemplated the dangerous looking human... thing. The pier was rickety, unquestionably, but a better word would be decrepit. It looked like one wrong step would send the entire beast crashing to the ground in a mushroom cloud of dust and little-known beach debris. Speaking of beach debris, Alida would be picking up bits of dead crab later--she reminded herself not to forget. Again. It had to be done at low tide when the water left the little creatures looking for a place to hide. The key was to get at them before the birds did, since she had never managed to catch one of the wicked flying things.
Shaking out that curly black head, Alida ducked under the yellow tape--she had no idea what its purpose was, but even if she had she would have scoffed. Humans; they were the only animal that would try to impose their will while they weren't even around. Dogs, on the other hand, knew that that ethereal posturing meant nothing--what it all came down to was tooth and force. Not that she was counting on any of that, either. A board creaked dangerously under her feet, the tick-tick-ticking of slightly-too-long-nails giving her away as she paced up behind the white male. Who was, by the way, larger up close. Alida heard him say something--definitely male by that low tone--but she was too far away. Although Ali pegged him as a friendly kind of guy she still kept a short distance away; enough that she would see him coming if he meant her harm.
"What was that?" she queried. "You're mumbling, my good sir."
The reek of fish in the air was... distinct. Oh, bollocks to that. It was revolting and all-encompassing--or at least to Alida. The stench of it (well-seasoned by the rotten sea-salt stench) permeated her twitching nostrils, the sting forcing her to punch out a sneeze in retaliation. All that served to do was clear her sinuses and invite the unwavering scent in with a whole new force. Her little muzzle wrinkled and she glanced out to the pier--as she had a tendency to do lately. For some reason she was finding herself drifting from the sidewalks and harsh city noises more and more lately; odd for a dog who'd been so comfortable in her urban skin for most of her life. But memories of car crashes and a nagging fear of the speed of it all was leaving a proverbial bitter taste in her mouth. The mudi needed a break.
Picking her little black body up off the sandy ground of the beach where she had been spending her time, already-pricked ears jutted forward enthusiastically. Her dark-as-night eyes flicked up to the pier as she watched another dog--definitely male, she would bet on it--pace the length of creaking wood. He didn't look unfriendly and Alida's unfailing logic told her that although someone who would wander carelessly out into the open thought he had nothing to fear, it didn't mean he was threatening. Quite the opposite, she thought. It was hard to judge someone when they were alone however; she would need to observe further--or, and here her grin grew wry, talk to him. She wasn't in the mood to start the shit she usually did, so Alida thought she could handle a simple conversation. The black bitch sprung to her tiny, cat-like paws and scaled the sandy slope to where the pier began. She scrabbled a little trying to crawl over the top but when she was standing there, panting triumphantly, she felt like the queen of the world.
For a moment she simply put her head on one side and contemplated the dangerous looking human... thing. The pier was rickety, unquestionably, but a better word would be decrepit. It looked like one wrong step would send the entire beast crashing to the ground in a mushroom cloud of dust and little-known beach debris. Speaking of beach debris, Alida would be picking up bits of dead crab later--she reminded herself not to forget. Again. It had to be done at low tide when the water left the little creatures looking for a place to hide. The key was to get at them before the birds did, since she had never managed to catch one of the wicked flying things.
Shaking out that curly black head, Alida ducked under the yellow tape--she had no idea what its purpose was, but even if she had she would have scoffed. Humans; they were the only animal that would try to impose their will while they weren't even around. Dogs, on the other hand, knew that that ethereal posturing meant nothing--what it all came down to was tooth and force. Not that she was counting on any of that, either. A board creaked dangerously under her feet, the tick-tick-ticking of slightly-too-long-nails giving her away as she paced up behind the white male. Who was, by the way, larger up close. Alida heard him say something--definitely male by that low tone--but she was too far away. Although Ali pegged him as a friendly kind of guy she still kept a short distance away; enough that she would see him coming if he meant her harm.
"What was that?" she queried. "You're mumbling, my good sir."
FLEMING @ CAUTION 2.0[/div]
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