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 Posted: Tue May 24, 2011 12:37 pm
A B O U T
[ ******** off ] Cicero DixonMeaning: Chickpea
Usage: Ancient Roman
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Height: 5'7
Body: Slim
Hair: Dark brown
Orientation: Gay
Food Preference:
Sign:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Theme Song:
Favorite Music Genre:
Hobbies
Observing:
Herbology:
Equestrianism:
Secret:
--- Rebellious, aloof, quiet, rejects change, courageous, courteous, thoughtful, committed, stubborn, perceptive, sly, resentful, focused, generous, hardworking, negative, loner, practical, realistic, selfish, brusque, knowledgeable, systematic, pretentious, calm, clean, rational, reckless, educated, efficient, sensitive Not gentle, but abhors violence things can get done with brains instead of brawn can't abide mindless cruelty he can do anything all by himself either over thinks a situation or doesn't think enough on it before jumping in hostile family upringing -- Likes -- Hobbies teas: Affinity for animals (speaking to the them) Knowledge of poisons and immunity to them Knowledge of Herbology and plant affinity
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Posted: Thu May 26, 2011 1:20 pm
Character Name: Cicero Dixon
Player Name: Honeybii
Race: Human
Ambitions: Lilium
Tea: Golden Apple Slice; Grants the knowledge of herbology and an affinity with plants
Cicero had been out riding most of the day, his favorite Abyssinian having taken him to the edges of his father’s expansive estate and back. It had been a liberating ride and Cicero entered the tables feeling refreshed. He jumped from the back of his ride, and patted the creature’s neck fondly.
“Good boy, Champion,” he murmured, petting the horse’s soft nose. He let him nibble his fingers for a moment before finally relinquishing the horse to his servants to be put away. For once, it had been an uneventful morning.
The quite moment of calm lasted only as long as Cicero had been in the stables. The second he left his personal sanctuary, real life in the form of his father’s summons clouted him in the gut. He waved off the butler who’d come with the message, assuring him he’d be there at once. When the man had disappeared back into the manor again, Cicero took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, wiping his face of any emotion he might have displayed around Champion. His father was not a soft man and giving him any kind of ammunition to verbally reprimand him was never a good thing.
It was with the stoic expression of a man prepared for battle that Cicero knocked on the door of his father’s study, entering when given permission. “You called me father,” Cicero asked delicately, his hands clasped behind his back in the proper show of respect as he stood before the man‘s mahogany desk.
“You of course know of your grandfather’s death,” Richard Dixon announced to his son without preamble. Cicero had barely hid a wince. He’d been fond of the old man. “His will has stated that everything be left to your mother and this further includes you and I. However, as unorthodox as it his, he has left something that his solely for you alone.
Richard opened the top door of his desk and pulled out what looked to be an old cigar box, the faded words of “Asgard’s Finest” peeling off the lid. “This is yours,” Richard pushed the box to the edge of his desk with a look of disgust. “Though I doubt you’ll be able to open it. It’s spell shut.”
As fast as he dared, Cicero snatched up the cigar box and held it too his chest. He ignored the curious glint in his father’s eye and instead stared as a place on the back wall. Like hell he’d try to open the thing in front of the man. If he had his way, his father would never know what was in the box.
“Thank you, father. Is that all?”
“Yes,” Richard replied with a wave of dismissal, only to pause. “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten. Have you all your things packed for the Academy?”
“Yes, father. I’ll be ready to leave at dawn.” Cicero never got a reply as his father waved him away a second time, returning to perusing the papers on his desk. Cicero promptly left, not even sparing a last glance as the man he called father.
Later that night when everyone had gone to sleep, Cicero sat on the floor with the cigar box between his legs and a single candle burning beside him. He worked his fingers beneath the lip of the lid, holding his breath and tensing for something magnificent to happen. Nothing did. He opened the cigar box as easily as he would anything else.
Feeling slightly disappointed after all the pomp his father had put on, Cicero peered into the box. A single, dusty phial lay inside. When Cicero picked it up, he felt a jolt run through him and nearly dropped the thing. As he peered at the shriveled slice of golden apple behind the glass, he knew at once that he held a tea ingredient in his hand.
Perhaps school wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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Posted: Fri May 27, 2011 5:09 pm
Character Name: Cicero Dixon
Player Name: Honeybii
Race: Human
Ambitions: Lilium
Tea: Golden Apple Slice; Grants the knowledge of herbology and an affinity with plants
It was with the stoic expression of a man prepared for battle that Cicero knocked on the door of his father’s study, entering when given permission. “You called, father,” Cicero asked delicately, his hands clasped behind his back in the proper show of respect as he stood before the man’s mahogany desk. Every meeting with his father was like a dance. One slip up and the man was apt to explode into one of his trademark frenzies.
“You know of your grandfather’s death, of course,” Richard Dixon announced to his son without preamble. Cicero barely hid a wince. He’d been fond of the old man. “His will has stated that everything be left to your mother, and this further includes you and I. However, as unorthodox as it is, he has left something that is solely for you alone.”
Richard opened the top door of his desk and pulled out what looked to be an old cigar box, the faded words of “Asgard’s Finest” peeling off the lid. “This is yours,” Richard pushed the box to the edge of his desk with a mixed look of disgust and interest. “Though I doubt you’ll be able to open it. It had been spelled shut.”
“Thank you, father,” Cicero replied, slowly reaching for the cigar box and pulling it closely to his chest. He held his father’s piercing gaze, wondering what else the imposing man wanted. “Is there anything else, sir?” Cicero added slowly when Richard didn’t immediately speak again.
“Should there be?” Richard demanded suddenly, unsettling the papers on his desk as he rose. “Why would that damned old man leave you anything? He only met with you a handful of times, and that was when you were still an infant.” Cicero refused to step back as his father peered at him closely, his mouth twisted into a sneer. “It was your mother wasn’t it,” he spat. “She put him up to it. Or it was both of you! And after I expressly forbid that man in my house!”
“If you’re trying to get me to reveal something to you, it isn’t going to work,” Cicero hurriedly replied, trying to stave off more of his father’s tirade as he grasped for the right thing to say. When Richard opened his mouth to speak again, Cicero cut him off. “I have no secrets from you father and neither does mother, as you well know. Wouldn’t the servants have informed you of any illicit meetings,” Cicero wheedled almost soothingly. “They are loyal only to you as the lord of this manor. My grandfather, for whatever reason, left me an old cigar box that cannot be opened.”
Cicero made a show of trying to open the wretched thing, and for a moment, the lid would not open. Yet, when he felt it give way just slightly, he immediately stopped his tugging.
“He was as crazy as you‘ve always believed, father,” Cicero finished softly, as he gave his father an guiltless smile. This seemed to mollify Richard and Cicero held in a breath of relief as the man sat once again.
“Get out,” Richard growled with a wave of his hand as he returned to his papers and dismissed the matter entirely.
-----
Later that night, when everyone had gone to sleep, Cicero sat on the floor with the cigar box between his legs and a single candle burning beside him. He worked his fingers beneath the lip of the lid, holding his breath and tensing for something magnificent to happen. Nothing did. He opened the cigar box as easily as he would anything else.
Feeling slightly disappointed after all the pomp his father had put on, Cicero peered into the box. A single, dusty phial lay inside. When Cicero picked it up, he felt a jolt run through him and nearly dropped the thing. As he peered at the shriveled slice of golden apple behind the glass, he knew at once that he held a tea ingredient in his hand.
Cicero was unable to supress the smile that flitted across his lips.
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