Post by sachertorteforall on May 14, 2011 17:51:13 GMT -5
!R O D E R I C H - E D E L S T E I N¡
° N-ame || Roderich Edelstein
° A-liases || Mr. Edelstein, Roddy,
° A-ge || 26
° G-ender || Male
° F-amily || His mother's sister married Alric, which makes Alric his uncle and the Beilschmidt boys his cousins.
° S-ight || No.
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° E-ye color || Dark violet
° H-air color || Mousy brown
° H-eight || Just shy of six feet
° W-eight || 140 lbs
° S-kin tone || Healthy but pale
° D-efining features || Most noticeable is the one stubborn piece of hair that curls up no matter what he tries. He has one smallish-sized mole by the corner of his mouth. Other than that, he is a mostly plain person, with no memorable physical features (he hasn't even broken any bones), but he always makes eye contact, and that strikes many people in the Military as odd.
° A-dditional features || Except when absolutely necessary, he dresses like a noble, since he finds it preferable to traipsing around in a Military uniform all day. He wears glasses, though his eyesight is already sharp. Some say that he's trying to make a fashion statement, but really it's only because he thinks his face is too plain.
\-|-°-|-/
° J-ob || Military
° R-ank || Strategist
° R-eason for current profession || Born into a Military family but can't do anything remotely athletic.
° H-ome town || Granor
° B-irth town || Granor
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° P-ersonality ||
It is immediately apparent from the way Roderich holds himself that he considers himself above the normal rabble that populate Atheros. Some would call it arrogance; he rather likes the term "classy." Either way, he takes great pride in his manners and tends to look down on anyone who does otherwise. He is not easily flustered and can usually maintain a careful facade through anything. Because of his upbringing, he has certain standards and is horribly intolerant of blatant stupidity and childishness. And although he considers himself very mature, his vice is overly sweet things, made obvious by how much cream he dilutes his coffee with and how much he enjoys cake.
In a way, he is still innocent, not knowing of the horrors of the world. Never has be actually been in a skirmish, and never has he feared for his life as a soldier does. He controls the battles remotely, and he has yet to fully realize the consequences of each and every one of his actions. It has been drilled into him not to think about the number of lives at stake every time the Military goes into battle, and he has no intention of rectifying that. Instead, he is perfectly pleased with the life he leads now. As long as he can focus on his duties and perform them with precision, he knows that he has the potential to become even higher up in the Military. Yet, in the wee hours of the morn when he can't get to sleep, he wonders if he's really happy and if the Military is his only ambition. And then he reminds himself that his family is irrevocably intertwined with the Military, and leaving it would be nearly impossible--nevermind the kind of backlash he would receive for even thinking about it.
When he does need a reprieve from his duty, he plays his piano for however long it takes to let go of the stress he carries with him. Anyone who tries to disturb him will usually be ignored or reprimanded severely.
° L-ikes ||
• Cake, specifically sachertorte
• Playing the piano
• Etiquette
• Coffee with almost too much cream
• Naps
° D-islikes ||
• Loud, cacophonous noises
• Obnoxious people
• Being called a sissy
• Dirty things (but disorganization, as long as it's his own, he can handle)
• Pencils (pens are superior)
° F-ears ||
• Aquatic creatures
• Failure
• Dying, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone.
° L-esser known facts ||
• He fell in love once, but now he knows that there was no way it would work out.
• His favorite color is blue.
• Though he enjoys playing nearly any piano concerto or sonata he can get his hands on, he doesn't compose any works of his own.
° G-oals ||
• Stay in Alric's favor.
• Figure out what he really wants from life.
• Perhaps settle down one day with a wife. But that's a long way off.
\-|-°-|-/
° H-istory ||
Roderich was born into his position, that of Military intelligence and strategy. From an early age, he was educated in the arts, mathematics, and sciences, but most specifically in the practice of Military maneuvers. His earliest memories are of fabricating battles on the dining room table with soldier figurines, each painted and crafted with care. The infantry and cavalry stood valiantly in formation, and Roderich marched them toward the enemy lines. When he was home, his father would control the opposing forces, and the two spent hours going back and forth on their mock battlefield.
As he grew, it was apparent that Roderich had neither the physique nor the mentality for a soldier; he had no longing to shoot a rifle, to camp in the most dismal of terrain, to face death every day with a firm resolution. His talents had lain in the field of strategy, the art of plotting meticulously the battles that could and would go wrong in every possible way. It was like a puzzle game to him: every mission he planned began with the question, "How can I make this work in the most perfect way possible with the fewest casualties?"
Under the Military's most prestigious strategists, he memorized tactics and statistics and studied the war history of Atheros. He dissected some of the most decisive battles of the known world and memorized the terrain of each and every continent. At the same time, he was trained in the subtle way of politics, for his relation to Alric meant that his presence would be required at state gatherings and official military meetings.
At the age of fifteen, his parents gifted him with a piano, as per the suggestion of one of his tutors. He knew that Roderich had the intellect and skill needed to learn to play, and he argued that this could prove beneficial to the boy's concentration and patience. Although reluctant to learn at first, and after many hours of perfected technique and memorizing of the harrowing chord progressions, Roderich grew to love the music he coaxed out of the keys and wires and wood of his piano, and he always makes sure to serenade his household at least once a day.
Three years later, when he turned eighteen, his father saw it fit to introduce Roderich to the real world of war-planning. Working with some of the brightest military minds in Atheros, he managed to plot out a raid on a Ruthian arms stronghold. After much scrutiny, his plans passed inspection. Several weeks later, when he had almost forgotten the ordeal entirely, he received word that the raid had been a complete success, and from then on, he was inducted into the Military's strategist corps, becoming the youngest person in the division.
Shortly thereafter, he also proved his diplomatic skills when talks with an influential Pirate captain began to go awry. Roderich volunteered to meet with the captain, and in turn the Pirate was caught off guard by the soft-cheeked youth sent to parley. With the shrewdness hammered into his character by years of living and breathing strategy, he managed to diffuse the situation and returned back to headquarters with one less incensed Pirate crew working against the Military.
Now he spends his days ferried between cities, constantly politicking and strategizing back and forth. With his current salary, he can afford his luxuries, but his parents are beginning to ail, and when they pass, he knows that he will inherit their fortune and influence.
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° R-oleplay example ||
If Roderich heard the door open, he didn't make any sign of acknowledging it. The courier stood nervously in the doorway, and Roderich paid him no heed. His mind was elsewhere, with the music he coaxed forth from the belly of the grand piano. His right hand tapped out the melody, a rich, mezzoforte tune, though slightly dolorous. But the left hand's chords were hopeful, almost comforting the melody. Roderich had his eyes closed, traveling with his music, for he had memorized this piece for the most part, and when he faltered, he improvised and brought the progression back to the written notes.
The courier had heard the tales of the wrath of Mr. Edelstein when he was interrupted from his playing, and he had no intention of experiencing it himself. He merely waited for the man to finish his song impatiently. Roderich's fingers hovered over the ivory and ebony, pausing to let the song take its breath before the final phrase. Thinking he was completely finished, the courier spoke the words, "Mr. Edelstein, sir," startling Roderich, who pressed down on the keys--hitting flats that were supposed to be naturals and vice versa. The spell broke, and the jarring mixture of notes hung in the air accusingly.
Roderich turned on his piano bench to face the courier and adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. The dissonance faded into silence, punctuated only by the courier's words: "I-I'm sorry, Sir…" There was no reaction from Roderich, so the man went on. "The Head of Strategies requires your presence in the war room. He didn't say what for, but…" He trailed off, watching Roderich's face anxiously. And Roderich looked back with a level gaze.
"And don't you think," he replied after a drawn-out pause in the conversation, "That you could not have waited one more minute to inform me?" His tone betrayed the slightest hint of frustration, but it was otherwise normal.
The courier bit his lip. "I only… I was only following orders, sir. I didn't mean to--"
Roderich rose from his bench; he was a good five inches taller than the courier. "And did the Head of Strategies tell you that it was absolutely necessary for me to be in the war room at this very moment? Is the matter really this pressing?" There was real viciousness in his voice now, and the courier tried to stammer a response while subconsciously backing up toward the door.
"No?" Roderich asked rhetorically. "Then, pray tell, why did you come traipsing in here? Obviously you aren't even fit to polish the boots of the Head of Strategies, for you have no notion of of courtesy or respect for men of higher authority than yourself. Now, if this happens again, I'll personally make sure you're exiled to Zequea. Do I make myself clear?" His piercing violet eyes, usually so tranquil, bored holes into what was left of the courier's resolve. The courier, his eyes wide in fright, nodded hastily and fled the room, only to spin on his heel, run back through the door, salute Roderich, and then make his final escape.
Roderich sat back down on his bench, rubbed his eyes, and sighed. He hated it when his temper ran off like that, and he hated that all his pent-up stress led to outbursts like this. But it was a part of the job, he reasoned: with all the authority, respect, and power came the stress, the ever-present burden of being presentable and negotiable and functional, every day of the week, every week of the year. And whenever duty called, it couldn't be ignored.
Roderich grabbed his coat and hat on the way out.
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° U-sername || sachertorteforall
° A-ge || 15
° T-ime zone || EST
°W-hat is the secret word from the Rules? || That flower from Rapunzel. Yeah.