Young Writers Society

Cleo

The blue, unforgiving waves beat down on me.

Where am I? Was the first though to come into my head. T hen it came back; the pirates, the sinking ship. The fleeting hope of surviving. But, for the present, I was alive. I was about to cry for help, but my reasining came in. There could be wilderness, and animals might come.

"Hello?" I geard someone call.

"Here!" I called back. Confuse the animals, mayhap. But, I wasn't the only on to call.The dark silhouette ran to me.

I'm dropping out. someone can kill my character.. or something. whatever.

Well, this sounded like my former RPG (which I made) GONE. So, of course, I had to join. Of course, there aren't flesh eating fallen angels, saber toothed demons, or ageless people here, are there? And this isn't a barrier island? *sniggers*

Name: Louis Savidge (aka Cujo)

Gender: Male

Age: Make ages 17 and up please. 17 yrs. old

Personality: (Headstrong, independent, snotty ect...) Very independent, reserved, doesn't like help and won't accept any unless it's life or death, will push you until you fall (but he will pick you up), seems to be rather hateful and eccentric, but can be nice (emphasis on the can). He's the basic anti-hero.

Other Personal: (Likes, dislikes,) He likes: the color gray, horses (because all other animals seem to hate him), scaring the snot out of people, and Halloween. He dislikes: children, noisy, immature people, people who think they are better than him, bright colors, messes, anything that may activate his extreme OCD, the ocean (even if he did sneak on a boat to get away from his alcoholic Mom and her abusive boyfriend), and, well, a lot.

Apperance: Pictures are nice but NOT required! (wears glasses, dirty blond hair, scar under left eye, 5'3 ect...) Very tall (about 6'5"), broad-shouldered but lean. He has a rather square-shaped face, but a sharp jaw-line and an almost permanent haggard look. He wears ratty, normally washed out or natural-colored clothes. He has short, but shaggy, blackish hair that sticks up in the back, golden-russet tanned skin, and grayish eyes. He has a slight bum leg, his right, and he limps a bit--he's normally pretty slouched, too.
Brief history: (Short history, I don't want seven flippin paragraphs) He was too brilliant to stay in Hick Town (in his opinion), so he hopped on a cruise ship with a few textbooks and hid out, hoping to start a new life, say, in Alaska or something.
UFL: (Up for love) Depends...on a lot. He generally doesn't like people, after all. He paints, too, so that just makes it worse--he can find something "pretty" in everyone. Which makes him disturbed.
Other: N/A

This good?^ I mean, I think you said you were still accepting...

Roadnevertravelled wrote:Molly-

Molly woke to be welcomed by a pounding headache and a parched throat. As she tried to sit up, she found all her muscles to be sore. She looked at her surrounding, beach, tropical forest, ocean. "Where am I?" She thought. " What happened?"

With more observation, she found a gray piece of plastic half buried in the sand. Flipping it over, she found the blue letters EAN TREASU written on the back. Part of the boat's name. She clutched the piece of plastic that was now her lifeline to the boat that had wrecked her here, stuck on this island. Or, was it an island? Molly couldn't see more than a hundred yards to the sides before it started turning, so it could be a peninsula. Struggling to her feet, she called out in the loudest voice she could.
" Anyone here?" her only answer was her echo " ny one here? here? ere? ere?" She was alone.

Louis S.--

I'd managed to haul myself up the beach, my leg killing me. I glanced down at mysel; covered in sand, blood on my hands, my leg. I had no idea how it had gotten there, either. I was too tired to even search for wounds. I'd fallen out of the boat at least fifteen paces before shore. I'd already been so tired...

I coughed wetly and glanced around, only to see a shape a bit down the beach. I couldn't see it well, the trees' thick leaves making the light funky here. I frowned and hesitantly picked myself up, clutching a rough-barked tree.

"Hello?" I called back, well, tried to. My voice was pretty hoarse.

...Probably can't even hear me... I thought dully.