Post by BERWALD OXENSTIERNA on Apr 8, 2011 0:23:51 GMT -5
BERWALD OXENSTIERNA
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Sverige är fantastiskt! [/center]
NAME:[/font] Berwald Oxenstierna
AGE: 18
GRADE: Senior year
NATIONALITY: Swedish
POSITIVE TRAITS:
- Efficient – Berwald hates to waste time. He does not understand the lackadaisical, easygoing nature of many other students, and dislikes being late to any appointments.
- Tolerant - Although Berwald is usually a very tolerant being, he does lose his temper when he believes he has been pushed far past his boundaries. Berwald does not like violence, although he has been in a couple of fights in his earlier years.
- Insightful – Berwald has always been insightful by nature, and he is able to understand both sides of a situation clearly.
- Playful – As intimidating as he may seem, Berwald is actually playful, and appreciates anybody who is capable of seeing him for who he is. He is very optimistic by nature, and never ceases to look at the bright aspects of life.
- Diligent – Berwald works hard as his tasks, no matter what the situation is. Even with the sudden transformation as a student, he is often found studying in his room or the library, and has never missed a single assignment.
NEGATIVE TRAITS:
- Intimidating – It isn’t that Berwald means to be intimidating, he was just born with his rigid looks. They have caused him a few minor setbacks in the past, and he’s had difficulty making friends.
- Socially awkward – Because Berwald has not had many friends in the past, he is not the best at socializing. Although he does make attempts, many people misunderstand his good intentions.
- Curt – Berwald doesn’t speak more than he needs to. It isn’t that he intends to be rude, he just finds no reason to speak more than what is necessary.
- Blunt – At times, Berwald doesn’t understand that his words should be kept to himself. He sometimes speaks his opinions in a manner much to straightforward.
- Stubborn – Berwald works hard to do well in school, and does not plan on letting himself falter any time soon. He’s been discouraged more than just a few times, but refuses to let it affect his determination.
LIKES:
- Cute things
- Order
- Quiet
- Liberation
- Discussions
- Wilderness
- Football
- Ice Hockey
- Fish
- Lilies
- Coffee
- Beer
- Coziness
- Pastries
DISLIKES:
- Being misunderstood
- Confrontation
- Being Controlled
- The Cold
- Taking sides
- Tension
FEARS:
- The safety of those he cares about
- Losing his independance
out of character
NAME: …Joey
OTHER CHARACTERS: I also play South Korea and Poland. I’m trying to grasp Prussia’s character, but I’m such a failed derp.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
Berwald’s eyelids slowly fluttered open as he turned his head to take a look at the digital clock resting on the small table beside his hotel-room bed. 6:59. It was surprising; he was exhausted and sore after the long flight, yet he had still woken up on time, if not early. His thoughts were interrupted with a shrill ringing followed by ABBA’s “Mamma Mia” – well, a rock rendition of the song, at least.
‘There goes the alarm,’ Berwald thought to himself, blinking lazily as he slowly rolled over to reach for his phone. If he didn’t turn the alarm off, there was no telling what the cranky hotel neighbors would do. He got up in a daze, finally reaching the phone and tapping the alarm off. A sharp pain ran through his back, and once again he was reminded that he was aching everywhere. Stretching his sore arms, he walked into the bathroom and started to unbutton his nightshirt; he had a lot of time left and a hot shower would probably do him good.
The shower was much too cold for Berwald’s liking, lukewarm at best. He grumbled sleepily, half-awake and cranky. Was it really too much to ask for properly-heated water in a hotel room? Berwald disliked the fact that he had to stay in a hotel room, but he had no other choice; he was practically homeless until he found himself a recording company that would be willing to sign him in.
‘Shouldn’t be too hard,’ Berwald told himself, taking in a deep breath. Confidence. Confidence was all he really needed. Wiping the fog-clouded mirror, he observed his own reflection. He was sure he could join the music industry. He had seen plenty of stars on the television. Most of them lacked any talent whatsoever, and made up for it by shaking their slim waists and curvy hips.
He hated to admit it, but Berwald realized that looks were a crucial part of getting into the music industry. He’d heard stories of many different artists who were turned down because of their looks – that or they were told to get plastic surgery. Berwald had never bothered to give a second thought about his appearance, but he couldn’t help but to examine his reflection now. He was decent looking…right?
Letting out a small sigh, Berwald walked out of the bathroom, drying himself with a towel as he strode over to his suitcase, still packed for the most part. What was he to wear? He wanted to make a good impression to the record company. Sure he played mostly rock, but that gave him no excuse to barge into the president’s office in full-out punkish attire, did it?
After a seemingly endless combination of outfits, Berwald finally settled into black jeans, a blue tee, and a white blazer. It wasn’t too flashy, and he didn’t think it would make him look like he had a stick up his –
Coffee. ‘That’s what I’m missing,’ he thought, as he clasped his hand over his mouth, attempting to stifle a yawn. Berwald loved his morning coffee, and he already missed the coffee-and-cake parties back in Sweden.
As he entered the café in the lobby of the hotel, he could smell the freshly ground beans and spiced from the hot pastries. He bought himself a regular coffee and a slice of coffee cake, and proceeded to take the elevator up to have his breakfast in his room.
“Tack för maten,” he murmured, before digging in.
The cake was overwhelmingly sweet, and could not satisfy Berwald’s taste; furthermore, it reminded him of the cakes his mother would make daily, and he grew all the more homesick. However, the coffee was to Berwald’s liking, freshly ground with a rich scent that supplied him with a curious wave of energy at the very first whiff.
Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he slid his room kay in his back pocket, ready to head out. “Stay wit’ m’now, Axel,” he murmured, as he headed out the door – yes, he had named his guitar Axel.
It hadn’t been too long when he reached the building. He hesitantly walked in through the large, glass doors, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He was not sure if there was a certain talent scout or managed he was supposed to see; certainly, he would leave a bad impression if he went directly to the company president.
After standing around in a puzzled daze for what seemed about an hour, Berwald decided to ask someone for help. He looked around the lobby, and spotted someone; he was in casual clothing and sitting in a chair comfortably reading a magazine with his feet up, snacking on chips – he looked like he knew his way around the company.
“S’cuse me,” Berwald approached the man, taken aback initially by his peculiar appearance: white hair and red eyes. The man looked around Berwald’s age, much too young to be running out of melanin. ‘Many young stars bleach their hair or wear wigs and color contacts to stand out in this industry,’ he told himself, shaking his head and getting back to his question, “D’ye know wher’ I kin go t’get scout’d as a new tal’nt?”
‘There goes the alarm,’ Berwald thought to himself, blinking lazily as he slowly rolled over to reach for his phone. If he didn’t turn the alarm off, there was no telling what the cranky hotel neighbors would do. He got up in a daze, finally reaching the phone and tapping the alarm off. A sharp pain ran through his back, and once again he was reminded that he was aching everywhere. Stretching his sore arms, he walked into the bathroom and started to unbutton his nightshirt; he had a lot of time left and a hot shower would probably do him good.
The shower was much too cold for Berwald’s liking, lukewarm at best. He grumbled sleepily, half-awake and cranky. Was it really too much to ask for properly-heated water in a hotel room? Berwald disliked the fact that he had to stay in a hotel room, but he had no other choice; he was practically homeless until he found himself a recording company that would be willing to sign him in.
‘Shouldn’t be too hard,’ Berwald told himself, taking in a deep breath. Confidence. Confidence was all he really needed. Wiping the fog-clouded mirror, he observed his own reflection. He was sure he could join the music industry. He had seen plenty of stars on the television. Most of them lacked any talent whatsoever, and made up for it by shaking their slim waists and curvy hips.
He hated to admit it, but Berwald realized that looks were a crucial part of getting into the music industry. He’d heard stories of many different artists who were turned down because of their looks – that or they were told to get plastic surgery. Berwald had never bothered to give a second thought about his appearance, but he couldn’t help but to examine his reflection now. He was decent looking…right?
Letting out a small sigh, Berwald walked out of the bathroom, drying himself with a towel as he strode over to his suitcase, still packed for the most part. What was he to wear? He wanted to make a good impression to the record company. Sure he played mostly rock, but that gave him no excuse to barge into the president’s office in full-out punkish attire, did it?
After a seemingly endless combination of outfits, Berwald finally settled into black jeans, a blue tee, and a white blazer. It wasn’t too flashy, and he didn’t think it would make him look like he had a stick up his –
Coffee. ‘That’s what I’m missing,’ he thought, as he clasped his hand over his mouth, attempting to stifle a yawn. Berwald loved his morning coffee, and he already missed the coffee-and-cake parties back in Sweden.
As he entered the café in the lobby of the hotel, he could smell the freshly ground beans and spiced from the hot pastries. He bought himself a regular coffee and a slice of coffee cake, and proceeded to take the elevator up to have his breakfast in his room.
“Tack för maten,” he murmured, before digging in.
The cake was overwhelmingly sweet, and could not satisfy Berwald’s taste; furthermore, it reminded him of the cakes his mother would make daily, and he grew all the more homesick. However, the coffee was to Berwald’s liking, freshly ground with a rich scent that supplied him with a curious wave of energy at the very first whiff.
Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he slid his room kay in his back pocket, ready to head out. “Stay wit’ m’now, Axel,” he murmured, as he headed out the door – yes, he had named his guitar Axel.
It hadn’t been too long when he reached the building. He hesitantly walked in through the large, glass doors, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He was not sure if there was a certain talent scout or managed he was supposed to see; certainly, he would leave a bad impression if he went directly to the company president.
After standing around in a puzzled daze for what seemed about an hour, Berwald decided to ask someone for help. He looked around the lobby, and spotted someone; he was in casual clothing and sitting in a chair comfortably reading a magazine with his feet up, snacking on chips – he looked like he knew his way around the company.
“S’cuse me,” Berwald approached the man, taken aback initially by his peculiar appearance: white hair and red eyes. The man looked around Berwald’s age, much too young to be running out of melanin. ‘Many young stars bleach their hair or wear wigs and color contacts to stand out in this industry,’ he told himself, shaking his head and getting back to his question, “D’ye know wher’ I kin go t’get scout’d as a new tal’nt?”
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