Post by TORIS LORINAITIS on Apr 5, 2011 20:19:50 GMT -5
Toris Lorinaitis
[/i]
"Don't be too bold, or you'll burn your eyes; but don't be too slow, or you will lose your share"
- Lithuanian Proverb[/center]
NAME:[/font] Toris Lorinaitis
AGE: 18
GRADE: Senior
NATIONALITY: Lithuanian
POSITIVE TRAITS:
- Kind/polite
- Careful
- Loyal
- Patient
- Resilient
NEGATIVE TRAITS:
- Worrywart
- Easily flustered
- Weak-willed
- Too considerate
- Complicates matters
LIKES:
- Tea or coffee
- His close friend, Poland
- His Baltic “brothers”
- Playing chess, or any challenging game
- Literature
- Ms. Belarus
DISLIKES:
- Being bullied by certain others
- Being considered feminine
- Being flustered
- Being dragged along
- Above all, others being unhappy
FEARS:
- Being betrayed by those who he holds as close
- Being completely helpless to help those around him, or to help himself
out of character
NAME: Call me Tophat or Gent if you’d like!
OTHER CHARACTERS: Not here, no.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
[This was for a WWIII RP with a person who didn’t exactly know too much history so there’s a lot of mentions of background in this. Sorry!]
Read, stamp, pile.
Read, stamp, pile.
Read, stamp, reread, throw away.
The year is 2010, and Toris Lorinaitis found himself doing the exact same thing he had been doing for the past several hundred years. No matter how many years went by, paperwork was just something that was a reality for all countries it would seem. The man - really, the idea of a man – closed his bright green eyes and leaned back in the beaten leather chair with a soft sigh. There was one noticeable difference from this paperwork that separated it from the rest of the years that had been piled on since that one faithful day in the snow, and perhaps even before that. Every paper, every single one was addressed to Toris Lorinaitis. Every single one was addressed to the country of Lithuania.
His worried frown twitched into a small smile as he leaned back further in the chair.
Yes, the man who sat behind the desk couldn’t really be considered human. Not in the traditional sense anyways. He was the representation of an idea, of a people gathered under one particular banner that stood for a nation. His had been a long history, not one of the longest by far, but he had been around since 1037, at least and that was a long enough life by anyone’s standard. He looked back on the older years fondly as well. He had been a strong nation and when he had been with Feliks, the country of Poland… They had lived a good life, untouchable by even Prussia and Austria. Feliks had been a little bossy perhaps, but working with Feliks was much better than working against Feliks and so it had been alright. Recent history though was a little less kind to the Baltic country.
1795. The Partitions of the Commonwealth and the start of the downhill slope that Toris had suddenly found himself pushed along. They couldn’t keep the combined forces of Russia and Prussia both out and Toris had been the first to be completely claimed by Russia who had forcibly dragged him to live at his house for what seemed to be the rest of Lithuania’s years, while Poland was face down in the snow. His closest, perhaps only friend, had laughed while he was taken away. It wasn’t until after the Third Partition that Poland stopped laughing.
Neither of them enjoyed the best lifestyle under their overlords. Lithuania served Russia as best as he could in the following years, all the while looking for the best way to escape. Every rebellion seemed to end in failure and in awful punishment Toris preferred not to think of but damnit, he had survived. He had survived everything up until 1991 when he finally declared independence from Russia, from Ivan, from everyone and everything and he was working to become strong once again. He wouldn’t be forced to live under the heel of another, not again. It was all fine and well in thought at least but he better be able to put it into practice, he quickly thought. Toris was not exactly one who was so very firm in their opinions when it came to intimidating other individuals. Perhaps it came after working with Ivan, perhaps it had always been in his nature. Who knew?
Eyelashes fluttered open and stared up at the ceiling flecked with chips of white paint starting to show beneath the chipping yellow. Another thing to add onto things to do, but he certainly didn’t mind. He was making fast progress in the world with his freedom. He was free. He had his own house that required him to cook and clean for himself, not for others. He was free. He had piles of paperwork now addressed to him and not Poland, or Russia. He. Was. Free. Nineteen years and the thought still surprised him and thrilled him, sending bubbles of nothing but pure joy running through his veins. The bottles of pills had not disappeared but had grown considerably smaller these years, sitting faithfully by the edge of his desk. He reached out, shifting forward in his seat and lifted the bottle, snapping the top off and dumping four or five of the tiny round pellets into his mouth. Snapped the cap close and push them away, swallowing them without any unnecessary water or anything like that.
The last bit of paper work sat in front of him, demanding attention immediately but Toris pushed away from the desk, wheeling away on the intricately woven carpet and turned to look outside the window. The paperwork could always be done a little later, he decided (still rather delighted that he could decide things now) as he stared out through the glass panes. The winter landscape stretched out before him, the snow disappearing and melting with the black trees of the woods that stretched out behind the house Toris had gotten for himself to stay within. He smiled despite of himself and raised his hand to touch the glass, fingertips pressing against the thin barrier. He could feel the cold from the outside bite into his hand, trying to force itself into the room. He only observed and remembered, opting to hold onto the thick stem of the wilted sunflower that sat in a vase on the opposite side of his desk and enjoy its warmth instead.
The wilted sunflower was faded, the edges of the few petals that clung to the thing still pitifully hanging on for their lives. Toris felt one gently between his fingers. Dry, brittle and fragile. The normal bright yellow of the petals had faded to a near grey brown color. His fingers twitched. The petal tore itself from the flower, coming off and falling gracefully onto the palm of his hand, landing like a Russian dancer on her toes. It looked even worse off in his hand though, not having the company of at least the curled remains of the greenery which had also faded in color. He sighed and shook his head, crushing the petal and tossing it away into the waste bin by his desk. It wasn’t as if he had left the flower in the corner of his room and had simply not taken care of it. No, Toris paid close attention to details like that when he was so used to caring for a huge house. It had been given to him like this, already dead and with a bright pink bow and tag tied around its neck.
With love, from Feliks.
Toris and Feliks had become friends again after Lithuania had declared independence. Both of them had changed in their time apart, but such changes hadn’t meant much to either of them. They were still close, perhaps even closer now that they had been separated for so long. It was true that the other was a bit of a ditz, but was surprisingly perceptive when it came to certain subjects. Toris really wished that he wasn’t. Perceptive was one thing. Tactful, understanding and kindness were completely separate from being able to see what was hidden under smiles and reassurances that Toris was indeed okay and yes, he had moved on in his life from the past. Toris hated these small signs that Feliks knew. He was trying so hard to pretend and forget and truly move on, not just fake it. Couldn’t Feliks pretend too?
Another sigh and the rest of the flower found its way onto Toris’ desk, beside the paperwork but hidden, kept away from sight. It would lie there until the next morning, but until then Toris wouldn’t have to see or think about it at all.
He turned back to the window and looked out again. This time the view had something new. There was a figure moving in the snow towards the walkway of the house. They had to be knee deep in the snow and by the looks of the outside, it must have been freezing cold for that poor soul. Toris touched the glass again and tried to see the figure better. Hardly anyone really visited Lithuania and especially not in the winter. While he had gotten his independence back, he wasn’t exactly a big player among the other nations, only barely noticeable to be invited to the World Conferences and not pushed aside or ignored like Sealand (who, bless the tiny ‘nation’, was helping Latvia as much as Latvia was helping him, Toris certainly couldn’t look down on him for that). It couldn’t be Poland. Feliks would always be wearing something French and stylish and altogether impractical for the weather and would never resign himself to trudge across the snow to the door from such a distance. He would either ride one of his ponies or order Toris to come out there and carry him inside.
But if it wasn’t Feliks, who could it be? Toris squinted harder and as the figure moved closer, more details came into view. Very light blonde hair, almost an off grey color like the sunflower petal he had just thrown away. A old beige coat, perhaps not old but the fashion was certainly dated. Nothing Feliks would ever wear, Toris quickly reminded himself, although his heart twittered in excitement, a mash of nervous energy and a fleeting moment of positivity coursing through him. There was also something silver in this stranger’s hand, something silver and bright and… Oh. Oh no. This was no stranger. No stranger at all, but entirely much too familiar.
Oh crap.
Toris immediately swung himself out of the chair, reaching up and snapping the curtains shut, letting the inviting olive greet their visitor instead. It made the room much darker, to cut it off from the sunlight but that didn’t matter right now. He whipped around and raced for the door, knowing that he had approximately 5 minutes to close all the windows and lock the door. The chair grabbed his leg, slamming him face first into the carpeting of his floor. Scratch that. 3 minutes. He scrambled up, ignoring the pain running through his bones and dashed downstairs. The front was the most important. Once that was secure, then he could worry about boarding up the rest of the house. It might be safer to move through the back of the room though than to simply wait here and face the wrath of the beast that was fast approaching.
This worrying was eating away at his time as well as his nerves.
He locked the door quickly, three latches and then immediately moved to the windows, drawing the curtains up as well. It was cutting it close, the man was probably only a few feet away at this point. If he tried to move, he would probably hear the movements and then he’d know for sure that Toris wasn’t gone anywhere or that the house was empty and then that would only make things so much worse. So instead of moving towards the back door, Toris simply sat propped against the wall beside the door and pulled his knees to his chin. Goawaygoawaygoaway. The phrase ran over and over and over in Toris’ mind as only one thing in this world mattered any more, and only one fact remained.
Ivan Braginski had come to visit.
Read, stamp, pile.
Read, stamp, pile.
Read, stamp, reread, throw away.
The year is 2010, and Toris Lorinaitis found himself doing the exact same thing he had been doing for the past several hundred years. No matter how many years went by, paperwork was just something that was a reality for all countries it would seem. The man - really, the idea of a man – closed his bright green eyes and leaned back in the beaten leather chair with a soft sigh. There was one noticeable difference from this paperwork that separated it from the rest of the years that had been piled on since that one faithful day in the snow, and perhaps even before that. Every paper, every single one was addressed to Toris Lorinaitis. Every single one was addressed to the country of Lithuania.
His worried frown twitched into a small smile as he leaned back further in the chair.
Yes, the man who sat behind the desk couldn’t really be considered human. Not in the traditional sense anyways. He was the representation of an idea, of a people gathered under one particular banner that stood for a nation. His had been a long history, not one of the longest by far, but he had been around since 1037, at least and that was a long enough life by anyone’s standard. He looked back on the older years fondly as well. He had been a strong nation and when he had been with Feliks, the country of Poland… They had lived a good life, untouchable by even Prussia and Austria. Feliks had been a little bossy perhaps, but working with Feliks was much better than working against Feliks and so it had been alright. Recent history though was a little less kind to the Baltic country.
1795. The Partitions of the Commonwealth and the start of the downhill slope that Toris had suddenly found himself pushed along. They couldn’t keep the combined forces of Russia and Prussia both out and Toris had been the first to be completely claimed by Russia who had forcibly dragged him to live at his house for what seemed to be the rest of Lithuania’s years, while Poland was face down in the snow. His closest, perhaps only friend, had laughed while he was taken away. It wasn’t until after the Third Partition that Poland stopped laughing.
Neither of them enjoyed the best lifestyle under their overlords. Lithuania served Russia as best as he could in the following years, all the while looking for the best way to escape. Every rebellion seemed to end in failure and in awful punishment Toris preferred not to think of but damnit, he had survived. He had survived everything up until 1991 when he finally declared independence from Russia, from Ivan, from everyone and everything and he was working to become strong once again. He wouldn’t be forced to live under the heel of another, not again. It was all fine and well in thought at least but he better be able to put it into practice, he quickly thought. Toris was not exactly one who was so very firm in their opinions when it came to intimidating other individuals. Perhaps it came after working with Ivan, perhaps it had always been in his nature. Who knew?
Eyelashes fluttered open and stared up at the ceiling flecked with chips of white paint starting to show beneath the chipping yellow. Another thing to add onto things to do, but he certainly didn’t mind. He was making fast progress in the world with his freedom. He was free. He had his own house that required him to cook and clean for himself, not for others. He was free. He had piles of paperwork now addressed to him and not Poland, or Russia. He. Was. Free. Nineteen years and the thought still surprised him and thrilled him, sending bubbles of nothing but pure joy running through his veins. The bottles of pills had not disappeared but had grown considerably smaller these years, sitting faithfully by the edge of his desk. He reached out, shifting forward in his seat and lifted the bottle, snapping the top off and dumping four or five of the tiny round pellets into his mouth. Snapped the cap close and push them away, swallowing them without any unnecessary water or anything like that.
The last bit of paper work sat in front of him, demanding attention immediately but Toris pushed away from the desk, wheeling away on the intricately woven carpet and turned to look outside the window. The paperwork could always be done a little later, he decided (still rather delighted that he could decide things now) as he stared out through the glass panes. The winter landscape stretched out before him, the snow disappearing and melting with the black trees of the woods that stretched out behind the house Toris had gotten for himself to stay within. He smiled despite of himself and raised his hand to touch the glass, fingertips pressing against the thin barrier. He could feel the cold from the outside bite into his hand, trying to force itself into the room. He only observed and remembered, opting to hold onto the thick stem of the wilted sunflower that sat in a vase on the opposite side of his desk and enjoy its warmth instead.
The wilted sunflower was faded, the edges of the few petals that clung to the thing still pitifully hanging on for their lives. Toris felt one gently between his fingers. Dry, brittle and fragile. The normal bright yellow of the petals had faded to a near grey brown color. His fingers twitched. The petal tore itself from the flower, coming off and falling gracefully onto the palm of his hand, landing like a Russian dancer on her toes. It looked even worse off in his hand though, not having the company of at least the curled remains of the greenery which had also faded in color. He sighed and shook his head, crushing the petal and tossing it away into the waste bin by his desk. It wasn’t as if he had left the flower in the corner of his room and had simply not taken care of it. No, Toris paid close attention to details like that when he was so used to caring for a huge house. It had been given to him like this, already dead and with a bright pink bow and tag tied around its neck.
With love, from Feliks.
Toris and Feliks had become friends again after Lithuania had declared independence. Both of them had changed in their time apart, but such changes hadn’t meant much to either of them. They were still close, perhaps even closer now that they had been separated for so long. It was true that the other was a bit of a ditz, but was surprisingly perceptive when it came to certain subjects. Toris really wished that he wasn’t. Perceptive was one thing. Tactful, understanding and kindness were completely separate from being able to see what was hidden under smiles and reassurances that Toris was indeed okay and yes, he had moved on in his life from the past. Toris hated these small signs that Feliks knew. He was trying so hard to pretend and forget and truly move on, not just fake it. Couldn’t Feliks pretend too?
Another sigh and the rest of the flower found its way onto Toris’ desk, beside the paperwork but hidden, kept away from sight. It would lie there until the next morning, but until then Toris wouldn’t have to see or think about it at all.
He turned back to the window and looked out again. This time the view had something new. There was a figure moving in the snow towards the walkway of the house. They had to be knee deep in the snow and by the looks of the outside, it must have been freezing cold for that poor soul. Toris touched the glass again and tried to see the figure better. Hardly anyone really visited Lithuania and especially not in the winter. While he had gotten his independence back, he wasn’t exactly a big player among the other nations, only barely noticeable to be invited to the World Conferences and not pushed aside or ignored like Sealand (who, bless the tiny ‘nation’, was helping Latvia as much as Latvia was helping him, Toris certainly couldn’t look down on him for that). It couldn’t be Poland. Feliks would always be wearing something French and stylish and altogether impractical for the weather and would never resign himself to trudge across the snow to the door from such a distance. He would either ride one of his ponies or order Toris to come out there and carry him inside.
But if it wasn’t Feliks, who could it be? Toris squinted harder and as the figure moved closer, more details came into view. Very light blonde hair, almost an off grey color like the sunflower petal he had just thrown away. A old beige coat, perhaps not old but the fashion was certainly dated. Nothing Feliks would ever wear, Toris quickly reminded himself, although his heart twittered in excitement, a mash of nervous energy and a fleeting moment of positivity coursing through him. There was also something silver in this stranger’s hand, something silver and bright and… Oh. Oh no. This was no stranger. No stranger at all, but entirely much too familiar.
Oh crap.
Toris immediately swung himself out of the chair, reaching up and snapping the curtains shut, letting the inviting olive greet their visitor instead. It made the room much darker, to cut it off from the sunlight but that didn’t matter right now. He whipped around and raced for the door, knowing that he had approximately 5 minutes to close all the windows and lock the door. The chair grabbed his leg, slamming him face first into the carpeting of his floor. Scratch that. 3 minutes. He scrambled up, ignoring the pain running through his bones and dashed downstairs. The front was the most important. Once that was secure, then he could worry about boarding up the rest of the house. It might be safer to move through the back of the room though than to simply wait here and face the wrath of the beast that was fast approaching.
This worrying was eating away at his time as well as his nerves.
He locked the door quickly, three latches and then immediately moved to the windows, drawing the curtains up as well. It was cutting it close, the man was probably only a few feet away at this point. If he tried to move, he would probably hear the movements and then he’d know for sure that Toris wasn’t gone anywhere or that the house was empty and then that would only make things so much worse. So instead of moving towards the back door, Toris simply sat propped against the wall beside the door and pulled his knees to his chin. Goawaygoawaygoaway. The phrase ran over and over and over in Toris’ mind as only one thing in this world mattered any more, and only one fact remained.
Ivan Braginski had come to visit.
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