Braonan Mac Cionnath May 22, 2011 16:34:41 GMT -5
Post by Braonan Mac Cionnath on May 22, 2011 16:34:41 GMT -5
NAME: Call me Jaz. ^_^
ROLEPLAY EXPERIENCE: Past seven years? Second Chances, Bardic Haven, Trash Heap(otherwise known as Wormwood Academy), countless others.
OTHER CHARACTERS: Liirasai, and possibly more to come.
HOW YOU FOUND US: Sethy. As always.
BRAONAN MAC CIONNATH
“ All I ever wanted was a place to call my own... Where stars will dance and sun still shines and the storms feel free to roam... ”
BIRTHDAY: December 28
OCCUPATION: Intern to the Literature Teacher...
PLAY-BY: Jonathon Rhys MeyersBraonan is a typical descendant of the Black Scots. And it shows the most in his face. The chiseled jaw has the lean look of the highlander, with cheekbones that provide a slashing, hawk-like appearance, especially when shadowed with stubble. The eyebrows are smooth, and wing over wide set, deep eyes. The eyes themselves are an unsettling cobalt blue, surrounded by black lashes. They seem to be taking in everything they see, as if they could see to the bottom of your deep, dark soul. Against the true black of his short hair, the tan skin and eyes make him look more like a ravaging warlord than the quiet guy he is prone to be. In contrast, his lips are fuller than they should be. Giving a touch of the pirate, they provide sensuality to a face that otherwise only would be barbarous in its beauty.
That sensuality shows in his movements as well. Long, lean limbs tend to casually move over the ground with careful ease and a fluid grace, rather than the purposeful strides one might expect from such a studious person. In fact, the reason it looks so natural is due to the years trying to get away from being the awkward skinny, tall kid in the orphanage. The knobby knees and pointy elbows had been replaced with muscle tone, though never as much as he wanted. Everyone expects him to be great at whatever sports come his way, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Bray's sense of coordination is next to none. It keeps him from tripping over himself and others, but throw in a ball, or something more physically complicated than walking, and he's toast.
When it comes to clothes he keeps it as simple as possible without making too much or too little of a fuss. Generally he sticks to jeans with a smooth, worn, comfortable cotton t-shirt. On more notable occasion, when it is more or less required, you may see him in slacks and a dressy button up with a tie. Although, most likely you won't see him like this for very long. Bray hates restricting clothing. And generally more formal attire tends to irritate him. He keeps shoes to a minimum, and don't even mention socks. Most likely, you'll see him barefoot.
Bray is a very quiet and self contained person. An intensity unexpected in such a young man shows in every decision, every move. Viewing life much like a chess game, he makes his moves only after thinking them through to the last step. Scrupulously polite, he tries his hardest to maintain an iron grip on his emotions. Most of the kids he grew up would tell you if you asked that they had been great friends. This would inevitably be wrong.
As an orphan, Bray learned early on that if you ever wanted to avoid getting hurt, you couldn't let people or things matter to you. He keeps himself apart from just about everything and everyone, while keeping everyone as happy and secure as they wish. All he wants is to find somewhere where he can be alone and not be bothered. He has a reservoir of emotions that are kept hidden under the surface. All it needs is for someone to make the first crack in his shell.
An accomplished actor, he does smile, and just enough so that no one decided he needs cheering up. He makes sure that at the end of the day he's alone. Just the way he wants it. He sees everyone as simple fools who are just setting themselves up for disappointment. He can be slightly patronizing, but he's generally so nice that people don't think he means anything by it. In actuality, he views people who believe in fairy tales like love pathetic. He's controlling, with a mile wide pessimistic streak, although if you asked him he's just smile and say he looked at the world realistically. He looks for inconsistencies in people's behavior and actions, looking for all the idiotic reasons they've set themselves up for a great big fall. He loves to sit in the library and watch people. He considers himself slightly separate from other people, and especially young people. He has always seen too much, and has the eyes of a much older gentleman.
Keeping his boundaries where they should be occasionally takes a toll, and his temper will start threatening the smooth sailing of his expressionless existence. He has seen what emotion can do to you, it can make you weak, helpless even. He keeps everything off balance so it doesn't become important. Every once in a while, however, someone or something will start becoming important. This results in Bray taking off to his room, and staying away from everyone for an day or two while he goes over every bad memory to remind himself why he doesn't care about anything. The anger of almost succumbing to the trap of hope, faith or love upsets him greatly. Viewing anger as a downward spiral he suppresses it as much as he's able. But one of these days, the Irish temper he's tried to hard to eradicate is going to come out, and it won't be pretty...
Braonan is the only survivor of a flash flood that wiped out a small village on the Isle of Skye. He had been visiting with friends in a neighboring township. Unfortunately, this town had been higher up. After the tragedy, the local parish took in the lost and now all alone little boy. The priest and the sisters raised him, and when he became too much for them a few short years later, he was sent to a Catholic orphanage on the mainland. Having the other most important thing taken away seemingly without reason, he resolved to never let anything or anyone matter so much again.
The first few years had been rocky. He had been a boisterous child, full of curiosity and wonder at the world around him. Born as the fourth, unexpected child to a fisherman and his wife, he had spent the first few years of life in a world of warm love and happiness. His older brothers and sister had always had fun with him, never tiring of the questing child with the grubby fingers. A happy child, he had been in a safe harbor that had suddenly given way when he came awake to his best friends mother sobbing uncontrollably the first night he had spent with them.
The first, and the last.
His mother's best friend Dierdre, had tried to convince the parish priest that the boy was better off with them, but he couldn't be swayed. She had stood beside his mother on her wedding day, and stood beside him at her grave, and that of the rest of his family. After a few months of seeing him, but only noticing how unhappy he was, Dierdre moved her family to another town. This caused the young impressionable boy to form his own opinions about himself and how people saw him.
He became rebellious, breaking church windows, turning over benches, making every kind of trouble he could think of. After his eighth birthday, the parish priest confessed his troubles with the boy to a neighboring priest who suggested he be sent to the church orphanage on the mainland. That way, he could be taken care of, and be round kids his own age. The aging priest who in secret thought of Bray as his own son, thought it over and decided it was for the best overall welfare of everyone involved. The last day the priest knelt down and confessed his love for the child as he was about to leave. Realizing that throughout all the trouble he had caused, someone still loved him, Bray broke down. The priest promised him he could always come back if he needed sanctuary.
Determined to make himself into someone the priest could be proud of, he became an active, happy, normal child. Well, as normal as an orphan gets. At the start of his eighth year at the orphanage, he received word that the priest had died. The rage and sorrow ran rampant through him. After spending a few weeks in his room, barely interacting with anyone, he came out. He was quieter than he had been. He didn't smile. He barely showed any emotions at all. This threw the nuns into a frenzy, worrying over him, bringing in doctors, even suggesting confessional therapy. Nothing seemed to work.
As he realized he had to start acting to keep everyone away, Bray decided to let the sisters think they had "fixed" him of his depression and emotional problems. Realizing the futility of love, in anything or anyone made him feel superior to most anyone else, the brides of Christ included. But the toll started showing, and he started to have problems sleeping.
Soon, the boys down the hall in the male side of the dorms started hearing things. Unnatural things... Sounds that weren't human. It started as faint whispers. Just, small shivering sighs soft upon the cool night air. Then, it progressed to keening wails. Like a dying dog, the sound broke through the barriers of stone and mortar. The boys kept it hidden until the screams. In the last stages, the boy would scream like he was being engulfed in flames. The ethereal glow from his eyelids caused the other boys to flee in fear whenever he would move from the bed and walk around the dorm. Fearing he was possessed, the sisters called in expert exorcists from Rome to help them vanquish this evil from their house of the lord. The priest did everything in secret, while the boy was sleeping. But nothing worked. Finally, a man arrived who said he had seen this before. That it was no demon or devil infecting the boy. Saying he'd take the boy off their hands, the man made a generous donation to the orphanage. And in the middle of the night he was removed.
It has since been only a few short years, and Bray still doesn't know what's really going on. He has little issues being somewhere beside where he was, as the location is no longer ever important. He just knows that there is nothing for him anywhere anymore.
The Delusion : AN NEACH DUBH : Spectre
The Delusion : AN NEACH DUBH : Spectre
In the Reverie, Bray appears as a lone sage. Wandering throughout the land, few encounter him unless he means for them to. He forms a hooded figure in a dark, blood stained cloak, with shadows swirling where his face should be. He moves across mountains and valleys in search of a family long forgotten and left behind by time. When he speaks, it is in a quiet voice that reeks of death and decay. His cloak rests on bony shoulders too thin to be covered by flesh, and the hand which is wrapped around his staff is skeletal beyond mere death. He moves in a slow graceful stride, and from a distance appears to be a traveling adventurer. But as he grows closer, so do the whispers. The whispers of death and loss of life. Of rank graveyards, and overturned dirt. The whispers grow louder. Then they turn to screams.