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 Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:00 pm
 The Guardian
. NIFL .
& her Chosen
. HON. MR. LOCKE ORMONTON .
Second Son of the Earl of Ashford & Brother of Lord Thornley Ormonton
. . . An Essay Concerning Human Understanding . . .† : biggrin IRECTORY::
. guardian:: nifl .
. chosen:: locke . relations . details .
. contacts . happenings . album .
. extra notes .Thank you for dropping by! RP is always open -
while I can type long passages when appropriate, my style
tends towards fast, concise tags that keep the RP moving;
I usually reply in 1-2 days or less, & would love to RP with you!
Feel free to contact me through PM about anything, anytime!
Most unfortunately connected to :: Thornley Ormonton & Mellt
. Updates .
15th July 2012 :: Journal created…
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:01 pm
:: GUARDIAN ::
. NIFL .
Clever and steadfast: a moral compass that drags her Chosen
kicking and screaming in the righteous direction...
[ to be filled in as she does ]
:: With her brother, they called them, she preferring the brighter ::
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:02 pm
 :: CHOSEN ::
. LOCKE ORMONTON .
. APPEARANCE .
Locke is fairly tall - just a few inches shy of his strapping brother - and fine-boned, with the pale and slightly sallow look of a shut-in at twenty-five. His dark hair, stark against his skin, is slicked with wax to keep stray locks back during marathon research sessions. His eyes, a weak bluish-green, seem overly large for his narrow face, often wide and wary, lightly bruised in a way that gives away his late nights by candlelight. His lips are thin and malleable, most often pressed together tightly in habitual disapproval. He moves like a bird, quick and darting; though he's entirely unaware of the fact, his hands give the most away of his guarded thoughts, the long, thin fingers telegraphing his pleasure or unease with fluttery gestures. He wears a simple pair of eyeglasses only when reading. In other words, he looks kinda like that, except better drawn, probably →
†
. BACKGROUND .
The bright and ambitious second son of the Earl of Ashford, he harbours all the spite and resentment you could expect a bright and ambitious second son of an Earl to have. To compound matters, he has gotten it into his head of late that he's likely a b*****d child, being that he does not in any way resemble his robust mother, and sporting a colouration that no immediate family may boast, to boot. Unfortunately, he is too spoilt and untried to wage a rebellion, or simply run away from home to make his own fortune, so he spends most of his time locking himself into libraries and making his way through vast reserves of knowledge on whichever studies he knows his opinionated father will disapprove of the most…such as of Wardwood and the Old Ways…
†
. PERSONALITY .
A loaded gun in search of a direction to be pointed at. In his childhood, he was a sweet, shy, boy, a little frail, precociously intelligent, and rather loving, who ardently admired his brother, clung needily to his mother, and thought his father the wisest of men. Once he hit his tweens and finally allowed himself to fully grasp both the immutable regulations of hereditary Earldom and the extent of his honourable but lunkheaded brother's limitations in strenuous intellectual exertion, it all went downhill: he may be obviously more intelligent, by unspeakably far more learned, infinitely better suited to political intrigue, but he will always only be the other son. This is so common a condition it hardly bears thought, but he has given it all of his, and the resentment such thoughts have bred bleeds into every inch of his being. He is customarily reserved, but the timidity of his youth has given way to condescension - he is much too busy judging to speak to you. When he does open his mouth, it is usually to gain favour through some eloquent wheedling, or to drop some tidbit of his intellectual superiority, depending on the company he's in. He had always been cautious of others, having survived a bit more than his fair share of bullying in his youth, but his caution has evolved into outright suspicion, believing most acquaintances to be, if not simply addle-brained fools, then would-be adversaries scheming as much as he - and he does scheme, and brood, and brood and scheme, some of his greatest comforts: he has not yet fallen so far as to plot lasting ills, and so his schemes for now at least revolve largely around how to turn his poisonous tongue and contrary actions upon his father's feelings and intentions.
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:03 pm
:: RELATIONS ::
. Obediah Ormonton, Earl of Ashford (Father) .
His Lordship is a bit of a strange one, caught in the crossroads of tradition and change: embracing new technologies to ensure the efficiency of his lands, he detests talk of the Old Ways, and the superstitious frippery that is termed magic of any sort - yet, he stubbornly holds to old notions in the ways of power and culture. Perhaps, like most men, he would pick and choose the bits that fit his interest best. Also like most men, he is not guilty of overly much where the treatment of his younger son is concerned: he favours the elder, openly and unapologetically, but that is only natural, for he is the heir, and a boy much in his father's hardy mould. Aside from affection, both sons had never need to want for anything, much of their early hearts' desires encouraged to flourish. Such a father hardly deserves the undying resentment of his younger child - it is, after all, not as if he does not love him, he merely loves him less. Perhaps once Locke had only desired his father to look upon him with pride, a son differently worthy but no less worthy than the other. That look had never come, and that time is long past, now.
. Frances, Countess of Ashford (Mother) .
Locke, rather tellingly, resembles not a bit of his fair mother, the influence of whose robust and regal features can be seen all over Thornley's face, a fact that incites bitter hatred - as well as bitter chagrin, for in his childhood he had ever been his mama's boy. The thought that he may not be the blood of this noble and warm-hearted woman poisons him, so that his time with her is half-spent staring at her familiar figure in grim bewilderment as if she were an utter stranger, and half-spent reading whatever she wishes aloud to her over her embroidery in a sort of private penance.
. Lord Thornley Ormonton (Brother) .
When he was young, Locke loved his brother more than anything else in the world. A 'delicate' child who's a bit of a crybaby and scaredy-cat could always use a charming, fearless, devoted knight, and Thornley served that role with excellence. At that age it seemed natural and comfortable for Thornley to be good with sports and he to be good with books, and all had its place on the good Earth, trala. His eventual understanding that not all sons had a place within the Earldom trala was doubtlessly the bigger disappointment, but the shock of realising Thornley would never be good at figuring things out - figuring things that needed to be figured out as an Earl out, especially - should not be underestimated: if his brother had been a little more suited to his eventual role, the ignominy might not have been so hard to bear. As it were, the love has festered into acrimony and a general loathing of all that the brawny, social, openhearted man stands for; the secret and more charitable part of his ire merely wishes for Thornley to be more intelligent, the much larger part of wishes he could just have his job already. He thus spends a lot of time avoiding his brother, and shunning and snapping at Thornley's confused and somewhat heartbroken attempts at reengaging his once-adoring little brother.
. The Common Masses .
What about the Common Masses? …Fine, Locke can think of nothing worse than to be a part of the Common Masses and thus minimises contact with them as much as possible. Of course, this is a prejudice only latterly developed after indulging the notion that he may be a b*****d child - deeply fearing the vast divide between himself and the rest of the family should he really turn out, as he suspects, to have been birthed by some scullery maid or barwench…well. As a convulsive response, he holds them apart as the abject Other…something that'll have to change quite soon with the newest development in his life…
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:04 pm
:: FURTHER DETAILS ::
. INTERESTS .
Study :: Scholarship comes naturally to him with the ability to parse and memorise large tracts of text relatively quickly. He enjoys the reaping of knowledge for knowledge's sake, and has spent ridiculous amounts of time on any absurd hook that happened to capture his interest at the moment. Popular talking points such as politics or philosophy come in handy for the token flaunt at a social event, but more esoteric topics, such as, say, the finer techniques of belly-dancing, he keeps to himself.
Sciences :: Of all his academic perusements, the sciences are particularly close to his heart, partly from an early introduction thanks to his father's attempts at modern improvement of his lands, and partly due to the constant discoveries that keep the subjects lively. He is especially interested in the latest developments in biology, chemistry, and, his pet, technology - of the last, he often fritters his father's wealth in procuring new specimens of personal machines…such as firearms. Lately, however, while he does keep generally abreast of the news, his in-depth scrutiny of the latest journals has waned somewhat, thanks to his burgeoning passion for…
Superstition :: …which his father just cannot abide. This, naturally, is what turned his attention towards dubious tomes of magic and old lore in the first place, but he quickly discovered his interest genuinely piqued, embracing his new desire to hunt down whatever snippets of information on the Old Ways, and even Hedgecraft, could be procured. Most of all - and it is a compulsion fuelled by the strange pulling in his chest that has arisen lately at the very thought - he has come to be obsessed with writings of the sprawling Wardwood…and the old tales of those once known as the Wardens…their Guardians…and the Wolves…
Marksmanship :: While his brother is exceedingly skilled in the combative arts, Locke is not quite as enamoured with the joys of physical exertion - he could never bring himself to follow in Thornley's footsteps and swing a broadsword around like a brute. Instead, his weapon of choice is anything that requires an uncanny aim, and he revels in archery and the practice of firearms, despite their technological limitations. Though the reading glasses he dons for study are more for comfort than absolute necessity, his eyesight is hardly perfect: his preternaturally accurate calculation of trajectory is rather more geometrical.
†
. MISCELLANY .
He is named for the (Wardwood equivalent of?!?!) philosopher John Locke, and had devoured all of the good man's works from an early age through sheer vanity. Like most sulky, self-important, power-hungry untried thinkers, however, he rather considers the man too conservative, preferring - naturally - Machiavelli. He has lately taken to accusing his father of the reference only because it is the closest he will ever get to that elusive title Lord, amongst other such snipes that are not half as clever as he'd like, but serve well enough to needle the Earl of Ashford.
†
. TEAL;DEER .
Intelligent but unworldly petty seething ball of resentment over hereditary issues, who will be forced into interaction with those he would spite via needing to know more about what to do with his new Guardian. This will either lead to the eventual breaking down of his spiteful walls and set him on the healing path of personal fulfilment, or cause him to snap and turn into a raging serial killer. Let's see, shall we?
†
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:05 pm
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:06 pm
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:07 pm
:: ALBUM ::
[ …to be continued…]
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:08 pm
:: EXTRA NOTES ::
Rejam and blue made me so happy. ;_; [ …to be continued…]
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 1:09 pm
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