Post by puffinwhisperer on Nov 26, 2010 16:57:50 GMT -5
!E g i l K o r s m o¡
° N-ame || Egil Korsmo
° A-liases || Egg, Little Brother, Albino
° A-ge || 18
° G-ender || Male
° F-amily || Blood-related to Nikolai; considers Magnus, Berwald, Tino, and Peter his extended family.
° S-ight || Yes, though he can’t see as easily as Nikolai.
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° E-ye color || Violet
° H-air color || Silver-white
° H-eight || 5’8”
° W-eight || 149 lbs
° S-kin tone || Pale
° D-efining features || Despite being eighteen, there’s still a bit of childish roundness to his face, and he blushes easily. He is not actually an albino, but try telling that to a man who’s already had a few drinks. He has a scar on his left hand on that bit of skin between the thumb and forefinger.
° A-dditional features || He is nearly always seen with his pet puffin; the two are virtually inseparable. His build is that of a lanky teenage boy, wiry and thin but not weak.
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° J-ob || Barman
° R-ank || Server
° R-eason for current profession || Doesn’t know how to do much else, really.
° H-ome town || Town of Zequea
° B-irth town || Town of Zequea
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° P-ersonality ||
Growing up with Nikolai left him with a tendency to imitate his brother’s emotionless façade, but underneath that, Egil is strong-willed and passionate about the things he loves dearly. He doesn’t like to pick fights, but would usually end up either watching on the sidelines or picking the side of the underdog. Being around Nikolai so much has made him a stoic type, but it takes much less to get a reaction out of him than it would his brother. He also likes to think that he’s a very mature young man, and he hates being reminded that he’s the baby of the family.
He has a doting parent side to him, and he pours all his affection onto Mr. Puffin, his pet and best friend, aside from Nikolai. Nearly all the time, he can keep that mask of apathy up, but when in the presence of Mr. Puffin, he can't help but smile and coo as one would at a baby.
Many would describe him as introverted, and by definition, he probably would be. Zequea doesn't exactly have others his age, and the only people he really opens up to are his family. At first, he wasn't sure what to think of Tino and Berwald when they came to Zequea, but over time he warmed up to them as well. To strangers, he watches and keeps his mouth shut, preferring to only say something if imperative. After all, "Better to seem a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt."*
He isn't an intellectual, but Nikolai taught him to read and to appreciate books. He doesn't spend his time holed up with any dusty old tomes like Nikolai sometimes does. Though he isn't book-smart, he has sound reasoning (most of the time, at least) and usually thinks before acting.
((*Stole that from Abe Lincoln, only because I thought it was applicable and I'm a sucker for good quotes. orz))
° L-ikes ||
• Puffins
• Nikolai
• Snowball fights
• Mead, even though Nikolai tries to keep him away from it.
• The warmth of the bar right after coming in from outside.
° D-islikes ||
• Storms. They don't come to the Zequean tundra often, but when they do, it's downright horrifying.
• When people mistake Nikolai for a woman. Even though his brother can sometimes use it to his advantage, Egil doesn't like going along with it. His brother is supposed to be a role model, after all.
• Hangovers. He's only experienced these a couple times himself, but a hungover Magnus is a terrifying thing to face any day.
• Being babied by his brothers. He's eighteen already, and he's not a child anymore, no matter what the rest would like to think.
• Sitting still for long periods of time. He hasn't worked in the bar for long, but the hustle and bustle of the family business has already ingrained itself into his subconscious. There's always something to be done, after all.
° F-ears ||
• Getting caught up in the war. He has no desire to join either side.
• The death of a family member. It happened to his father and mother, so it could happen to anyone else.
• The rest of the world. Not that he would ever admit it, but the tundra is all he has ever known, and the rest is completely unfamiliar to him.
° L-esser known facts ||
• He'll eat almost anything edible in the least. He has eaten even the most ungodly concoctions that his brothers have created without being sick.
• He can't fall asleep if he's on his own. Mr. Puffin doesn't count.
• He has a bad habit of talking to himself every so often.
° G-oals ||
• Get Magnus or Berwald to teach him how to fight.
• Ride out the war without getting involved. At all.
• Find out more about his parents. He doesn't know where to start, but he's determined to uncover as much information as he can.
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° H-istory ||
Growing up in the Zequean tundra doesn’t leave much in the way of imagination. All Egil has ever known is the snow, the cliffs, and his family: Nikolai since he was born, and then later Magnus, Tino, and Berwald.
His mother died as he was born. Often he wonders if he was really worth the life of his mother, and he speculates what he could do with his life to make her proud. When he was younger, he would ask Nikolai about his mother, but his brother could remember very little about her: only her violet-pink eyes, the same as Egil’s.
When he was ten years old, he was out playing by the cliffs when he spotted a lone egg left on the rocks. Curious, he went over to inspect it, inadvertently scaring away the chick’s parents. He left it as per Nikolai’s advice (“Put it down before you drop it!”), but returned later that evening to see if it was still there. Sure enough, it was, and the egg’s parents were nowhere in sight. Reasoning that it would freeze, unprotected on the cliffs, Egil carefully carried it inside and set it down by the hearth, hoping that the heat from the embers would substitute for its parents. Nikolai scolded him for bringing the egg indoors, but seeing that Egil was on the verge of tears, allowed him to keep it, as long as he could care for it if the egg hatched. Excited by the prospect of owning a pet and eager to see what kind of creature would hatch, Egil religiously tended to the egg, going so far as to making his own nest for it out of an old shirt. When the day came for it to hatch, he watched in fascination as a tiny chick emerged, sticky and newly exposed to the world. Within a few days, he identified it as a puffin and named it, ever so creatively, “Mr. Puffin.”
His first real experience with the world outside of Zequea was at the age of twelve, when he overheard his father talking with a friend of the family. He heard words he didn’t understand but had heard before, among them being “Ruthians,” “pirates,” and “military.” While he had no idea what those terms meant, it was easy to pick up the fear in the men’s voices and it was obvious that there was some kind of conflict, but he didn’t know any details. Nikolai found him eavesdropping behind the bar and promptly removed him from the scene before he could really find out any specifics, but he still remembers the incident quite well, especially the tense, cautious way the politics were discussed.
At thirteen, the disappearance of his father unnerved him. More than once he remembers crying himself to sleep while Nikolai gently stroked his hair. Eventually he learned what really happened, probably courtesy of Magnus. The older boy told him to man up and be strong, but there was only so much he could go through with a placid façade. He wasn’t as good at masking his emotions as Nikolai, and he was constantly struggling to be “strong,” which included not crying.
Tino was teaching him, a fifteen-year-old boy, how to properly skin and prepare cod when the serrated knife Egil was using slipped. It sliced through part of his left hand, severing the skin connecting his index finger and thumb. All of a sudden, there was blood everywhere, and though the pain hadn't registered yet, he started blubbering hysterically. Tino kept calm and staunched the bleeding, then eventually made Egil sit still for long enough to stitch the wound up. When the others asked about it, Egil said that he had cut his hand while putting silverware away. He was very grateful to Tino for helping him, but he didn't want to admit that the sight of his own blood had caused him to lose all sense and--the worst part--to cry like a little kid.
When he was old enough to work at the bar with the rest of his family, he readily took up the chance to help support them. An added bonus was that he could overhear more news of the ongoing conflict. While he could hardly imagine all this going on outside the tundra, the only thing he knew, it was strangely horrifying and exciting at the same time. With a grim fascination, he followed the war, usually not receiving word of current events until weeks after they had passed.
Thus he spent his days, working and basking in the company of his family. He was content to watch the war from a distance, never believing that it would ever come to Zequea.
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° R-oleplay example ||
If there was one word to describe Zequea, to sum up all the pristine white show, the speckled grey sky, and the pale sun that never seemed to give off heat, it would be bleak. Many people took that in the negative sense, reasoning that because there were few things that could survive in the tundra, it was a desolate place.
Egil knew that was entirely false. There was life, if one knew how to find it. It was tough and it knew how to survive, just like his family. There was beauty in the breathtaking blankness of the ever-present snow and in the night sky, sometimes the aurorae spirits danced across the heavens, curtains of yellow-green and sometimes a glitter of pink. Yes, there was an unrivaled allure to the tundra that few people recognized. Most of the time if they had to travel through Zequea, it was hurriedly and miserably, never taking the time to appreciate the unadulterated elegance of the white tundra.
He breathed in the clear, sharp air, accustomed to the chill that invaded his lungs as he did. It was slightly marvelous how out here, the snow swallowed all sound. Here we was, not five hundred paces from the bar, and the silence blanketed his piece of the world. The only things he could hear were the crunching of snow under his boots and the slight whoosh as he exhaled, the warm air turning to vapor as he released it.
As his ears began to sting and his nose began to run, he knew it was time to get back to the bar. Today was a slow business day, and he had taken the opportunity to snatch a few minutes for himself, but there were still dishes sitting in the sink for him to wash. Nonetheless, as much as he loved the homey coziness of the bar, he couldn't keep inside forever. The icy air helped clear his mind, and out here, it was easy to think, whether it be about everything or nothing.
However, now was time to work. He trudged back the way he came, following his own footsteps back to the bar, wondering if the pile of dirty glasses and dishes had grown in the fifteen minutes he had been out.
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° U-sername || puffinwhisperer
° A-ge || 15
° T-ime zone || EST // GMT -5, I believe.
I'm using the placeholder name because I can’t be held accountable for coming up with a better one. And according to Himaruya's new blog post, it's actually one of the names being put into consideration for Iceland.
I took so many liberties with this, and if there's anything at all that I screwed up, don't hesitate to throw something at me.
