Ronan Cary
Posts : 8
Total Experience Points : 8
Join date : 2012-11-01
Character Sheet
OOC: Saeyer
Classification: Grand Master
Experience:
    (8/160)
 |  Subject: Ronan Cary  Thu Nov 01, 2012 6:41 pm | |
| The Basics Name: Ronan Cary Age: 25 Element: Wind Classification: Grand Master Birth Kingdom: Ventus Home Kingdom: Valetudo Appearance Playby: Rufus Sewell (from a few years ago) Appearance:Ronan is a tall man, standing to around 6 feet even. His body is slender and lithe, strong from all the training he has undergone as part of the Ventus Brotherhood. There is an ease to his movements, as though he were lighter than he is: some claim that the air around him does not resist him in the way it does for most people. This also lends speed to his reactions and reflexes, though not beyond anything a person can be trained to do anyway. His dark, thick hair curls in a disheveled, wild manner that gives him the appearance of perpetual bedhead, no matter what he does to it. The man could spend all day preening and still look like he had just rolled off his cot. His eyes are an olive green, ringed with dark brown and there is an intensity to his gaze that many find disconcerting. His face is handsome, if always a little tired-looking, and the scratchy fratch of a five o'clock shadow often graces his jaw. Personality Personality:As a Brother he is expected to have a tight reign on his emotions, which he can and does have, but the training never quite wrung the quiet cheerfulness out of him. He smiles easily and often, yet there is a sense of reservedness to him, an unwillingness to express exactly what he thinks and feels. His thoughts are his own and only carefully coaxed out of him. In a discussion involving the technicalities of history or protocol, he is more than willing to pitch in what he knows from his studies and contribute to the conversation. In conversations concerning more subjective experiences, however, he had a tendency to take a back seat: he wants to know how you feel about something before he tells you how he feels.
While he attempts not to show it, Ronan is clever enough to recognize that he is a little twisted. While he accepts himself without question, he understands that certain things are not meant to be said aloud, as who knows who could be listening on the breeze. He has less trouble than most compartmentalizing his feelings and expressions; he might strangle your uncle and then return to serving you dinner with a genuine smile. It isn't that he enjoys killing, or using his abilities for subterfuge (though that is what he has been trained for), but more like he leads a dual life inside his own body. Left to his own devices, Ronan would be a soft-spoken man in a library somewhere, becoming overly excited about a different translation of an old tome; when the Brotherhood assigns him to a task, he does it ruthlessly and without question. His sharp analytic mind has not yet turned itself to the issue of whether or not he agrees with what he is told to do. He was raised not to ask questions of the Brothers above him, and so ask he does not.
At the same time, he takes intense pleasure in the use of his element. It comes easily to him and he uses it as often as he can. But when called upon to do something that only someone of his level of power can achieve, his face contorts into a look of fierce, wild joy that had given more than one Brother pause. Users of Outer Systems are not traditionally meant to draw power from their own emotions, and who is to say if he does; but he certainly does not wield his winds with a calm, meditative mind.
Even from a young age he showed minimal interest in all sorts of things that occupy the attention of growing boys: even before the more comprehensive discussion about exactly what the celibacy part of the Vow meant, he understood and didn't seem to care. He never tried to hide sweets in his room, never openly lusted after another, never coveted a material object. What he prizes above all else is the Wind. Likes:
- books
Ronan appreciates knowledge in many forms, but above all he loves books. The tactile experience of reading a book, running his hands across the pages and hearing the rustling of the paper, leads him as close as he has ever come to showing real desire for an object. He would line his quarters with books if he could, but contents himself with the library.
intelligent conversationHe loves a good discussion about the finer points of this idea or the real reason behind that King denouncing So-and-So. While it takes a little bit more effort to coax him into theoretical conversations, he still enjoys them immensely. He's the sort of man who gets so wrapped up in a conversation that he ends up talking to someone all night and neither of them notice. using his abilitiesHis difficulty with crafting small Winds makes this difficult on a daily basis, but he is often called upon to do larger workings and he likes nothing better. If it wouldn't destroy everywhere he went, he'd walk around wrapped in winds all day long. That or fly everywhere, which is fairly extravagant. (Traditional Wind Walking is difficult for him and requires an intense amount of concentration to not end up at least five feet off the ground) doing a job wellHe gains great satisfaction from completing missions, jobs and other tasks to the best of his ability. Ronan takes pride in what he can do and achieve, and when it helps the Brotherhood. spending time with people who actually display emotionPartially this just makes them exceptionally easy to read and figure out, but he also finds it comforting when people actually show their thoughts on their faces. He likes it when people smile at him, for no reason other than they're giving him a sort of approval. He even likes it when people get obviously angry with him, though his first instinct is to goad them further still; he usually tries to keep that in check. Dislikes:
- being reminded of his family
This is a sore spot for him that he doesn't like poked. To his mind, the Brotherhood is a sort of extended family, even as distant and stern as they can be.
choresA little prouder than necessary, Ronan dislikes being roped into menial tasks of any sort. Part of it is certainly that he finds them a bit beneath him, but the other, larger part is that he simply doesn't like doing the work. overly sexual humorJust because he's not interested doesn't mean he doesn't get it, but he usually finds them in very poor taste. Add to that that they're probably told in his presence as a concerted attempt to make him, a Brother, uncomfortable just makes him want to smack someone. meatAfter having been brought up vegetarian by the acetic diet of the Brothers, he finds the smell of meat distasteful. It doesn't even look appetizing to him, especially when cooked rare; who wants their food to bleed? On the occasions that he has tried it, his body was unused to handling it and it made him slightly ill. being reminded he is a Grand MasterHe knows. And he knows you know. There's no reason for it to come up in conversation unless someone is asking him about something he can or can't do. Elemental Strengths- creating
He has very little trouble whipping up the air around him into a gale, no matter how still it is. He is also very deft with his aim with the winds he creates, good at hitting what he's aiming for.
deflecting/redirectingWinds that come his way, from people or just from nature, can easily be sent on in another direction of his choosing, or simply batted away. Stronger winds obviously pose more of a challenge: it wouldn't be smooth sailing if he tried to deflect a tornado. Elemental Weaknesses- minor control
Ronan has a very difficult time shaping his Winds into small forms, or fine points. He could blow a door down, a grown man away or even bear himself up on the air for a short period of time, as though flying, but if he were to try and blow out a candle he would knock it out of its holder and clear across the room. If he tries to shut a door with his power it slams, potentially cracking or weakening its hinges. Finesse on a small scale is beyond him: he can create the most articulately crafted winds of great magnitude, but don't ask him to fill the bellows of your forge.
subtletyThis goes hand in hand with his issue with minor workings: his level of power is anything but subtle. It can be, if he tries very, very hard, but he'd really rather blow the door off its hinges than try to manipulate the lock with a few tendrils of air. While this tendency is at odds with certain aspects of his personality, it is too exhausting for him to focus down to that fine of a point to make it feasible. There has also been talk that his inability to work fine Winds is because of his inability to remain emotionless, like a proper Brother. Background History:Aislin Sams was the Consular of a small town called Slane, near the Southern edge of Ventus. Ice elemented, she was a difficult woman to understand at the best of times and the best of times were few and far between in Slane. Though sheltered slightly from the most violent winds, their environment was by no means a hospitable one. Many of the townsfolk left their homes to live in a network of caves that honeycombed the steep cliffs at the edge of their island, building doors over the mouths of the caves so the winds stopped screaming by. Aislin was against this move, knowing that the damp of the caves was even worse than the dry cold of the lands above, and that while this decision might alleviate discomforts, it would simply give rise to others. She was making her rounds through the caves when she met Bran Cary, a Wind Citizen who had come to visit an ailing relative. They spoke at length, Bran being willing to talk back to her in a way that most of the people of Slane were not, and in the end she gave in and the process of moving the entire town underground was taken on.
By the time Bran and Aislin married, the stone masons had cut a decent amount of the town out of the cliff side. Homes were carved out, even streets were made, all with the help of several Earth Apprentices. It was with great trepidation that the Carys brought their first child into the world, but when he was born they couldn't have been more pleased. Ronan was a lively baby, the kind of child that wants to see everything that's going on so badly they turn their heads back and forth until the fine hair on the back of their heads is rubbed off. He had large, dark eyes and a wicked chortle. Bran was the one who took care of him most days, once Aislin was able to return to her duties, and had a deep love for the child. This love was certainly not diminished when, at age 3, Ronan showed his first signs of being Wind elemented. Confused but excited by the early onset of his sons abilities, Bran took it upon himself to teach his son as much as he knew. Throughout Ronan's early childhood, his memories are off his father teaching him to shape and control winds, teaching him theory from books and just trying to get him to focus.
By the time Ronan was 6 he had outstripped his father's power with seemingly very little effort. While glad that his son was so strong, Bran began to wonder what more he could teach his son, and it was difficult not to resent the boy a little. When Ronan was four his parents had had twins, Ashling and Reagan, who were developing more like normal children, with no clear indication about their elements. When he was 8, the only person who could make Ronan listen to them was his mother, mostly because she was more powerful than him. Any excitement anyone had had about such a powerful child being born to their community was gone, replaced with resentment and fear. While the boy was sweet by nature, he had the disturbing habit of doing things well beyond his years without so much as flinching.
Three months before Ronan turned 9, his father bundled him up and told him they were going on a trip. Having only seen the sky a few times before in his life, Ronan was eager to spend days and days under it, thoroughly enjoying the winds that whipped around them. He played with them like they were other children, swatting playfully and laughing as they ruffled his shirt. It took them only a few days to get to Ahearne, and not even a day to find Ronan standing alone on the steps of the Ventus Brotherhood Discipline of Ahearne. Bran left almost immediately, with minimal explanation, and Ronan began his life in the Brotherhood, confused and hurt.
It took Ronan several weeks to really understand that this was his life now, seemingly endless chores and the promise of studies later on. He spent most of his time in and out of trouble, usually caused by using his element for "the wrong reasons" (ie. fun), or trying to tuck extra bread rolls under his tunic after dinner. He chafed at the bit of their authority, wanting so much just for someone to be kind to him that the sterner they got and the more he was told off, the angrier he got. Things looked to be heading toward disaster, at least for him, until some time right after his 10th birthday, when he had an epiphany: he could pretend. It would make his life so much easier to just do what was asked and think snide things to himself at the same time. Once he was older, he thought, he'd be able to act however he wanted. This was just something that he needed to bear with until then. Unfortunately, that is simply not how things work.
After that decision Ronan was better behaved, but definitely easier for the Brothers to mold into what they wanted him to be. No amount of cleverness seemed to save him; instead, he retreated inward. He put on the face he knew the Brothers wanted to see, but even as they lectured his mind was miles away, thinking about what he'd read in their books. He was moved up to the status of Young Brother shortly after his 13th birthday - they wanted to be sure he wasn't going to revert to his old ways anytime soon. He showed himself to be strong and quick when trained, though none of them were quite prepared for when he exhibited what he could do with his element. For the first several years he had stifled it, not wanting to show them what he could do: it felt like the best secret - I could blow you away, and you don't even know it. Of course, he couldn't have at that point, but he let it comfort him anyway.
After one particularly successful day in the sparring ring for him, he was taken aside by the Brother teaching them and told that he was to report for extra Wind training from then on. He achieved the power level of a Consular by 14 and was showing no sign of slowing down. This, once again, bred a certain level of malcontent in the other Young Brothers, who felt that they were constantly compared to him. The older ones got over it more quickly, as they had more important things to be thinking about and envy was one of the emotions they were told to stamp out. But several of the boys around Ronan's same age spent quite a bit of time poking and prodding him behind the Brothers' backs. This eventually lead to retaliation on Ronan's part, a quick flash of temper that left his tormentors with broken ribs and other fractured bones from how hard Ronan's Wind slammed them against the stone walls of the Discipline. He was taken away and punished, but no one felt like needling him after that.
At 18 he officially became a Master of the Wind and requested to take his Final Test. The Brothers denied him, citing that he was still too emotional to be a full Brother. Ronan still smiled, still laughed, and while he was never covetous of people or objects, never lusted, he wasn't quite what they wanted him to be. It had been a long few years for him, going from a child that hated everything about the Brotherhood to slowly coming to consider them his family, to want to please them and do good work for them. He was hurt when they denied him, mainly because he wanted them to accept him as he was, but turned all his energy toward training. It was becoming increasingly clear that he was no longer as adept at small workings: his power had been trained to work large and that was what suited it best. This made the Wind Walking that was second nature to most Brothers an impossibility to him: by instinct he put too much power into it and would be several feet off the ground instead of mere centimeters. Any jealousy anyone felt for him was soon alleviated by the fact that he had to walk everywhere directly on the ground.
At 19 they called him forward to take his Test, considering him ready. How much of that was actual growth on his behalf and how much of it was him carefully tailoring his actions to fit what they wanted, who can say. He walked out to the plateau for his Test with a feeling of great excitement and satisfaction: as per his ability, when he pressed back against the winds that came hurtling toward him, they were deflected or rerouted far out of his way. A part of him felt like this was cheating, but honestly the only other option would be to not use his Winds at all, which wouldn't work out very well for him. Taking a seat in the middle of the plain, he slipped into a meditative state that allowed him to rein his power in slightly, causing the tearing winds to come through as firm breezes instead. Ronan meditated, absorbing the feeling of the winds around him and their flow, their patterns. He allowed his mind to soar on them, viewing the ground from the sky, a feather on the breeze. It was at once both calming and exhilarating: he felt the air within and without him, touching and caressing and filling him up. When he knew enough time had passed he slowly clambered to his feet and walked back off the plateau, a look of serenity on his face. Even if he hadn't quite been ready emotionally for the Test, in the Brothers eyes, he had achieved it during.
Since the Test he has been assigned to several small things, and killed only a handful of times. He does not relish it, but it does not bother him the way it might another. At 22 he was requested to be an instructor at the Discipline of Ahearne and he went back with pleasure. Teaching the Wind to students also helped him improve once more, and at 24 he achieved the status of Grand Master, to the slight alarm of many of the other Brothers. Being an instructor of his element has allowed him to go back and re-examine some of the things that are now difficult for him to do. By in large he taught the more advanced students, but even simply trying to teach someone to Wind Walk could be complicated when it is so difficult for him. He was a little off-kilter as an instructor, friendlier to his students than they expected: more than once his affable nature made his students suspicious that they were being tricked in some way. Respond to his smile and another Brother will pop out of the wall and tell you to stop showing emotions. When it became clear that that wasn't going to happen, he formed close bonds with several of his students, considering them almost as younger cousins.
Recently, he received a letter from the King's Aide, requesting him for a mission to Valetudo. He was to go with three other Brothers as good-will emissaries to the royal family there, part of one ruler showing support to another. Once there, however, the other Brothers were to investigate which member of the royal family was allowing Glacies and Unda people across the border, which could be seen as an attempt to unbalance the Queen's power. Ronan, however, was tasked with taking care of his Brothers if things should not go to plan: if they were discovered to be more than they seemed, or if things went badly with the family member they uncovered, he was to make sure they left with everyone they came in with. His other task was to keep an open ear to rumors about the Relic, no matter how small. He was to keep files of this information, research it as best he could, and decide which bits of information seemed the most credible before even thinking about pursuing anything. Saying goodbye to his students, Ronan set out to fulfill his new orders.
Family:Mother - Aislin Cary, Ice Consular Father - Bran Cary, Wind Citizen Siblings - Ashling Cary, Ice Apprentice, & Reagan Cary, Wind Apprentice OOC RP Sample:It had been a rushed morning for Ezra. The soft pre-summer sun through his curtains had lulled him into a lazy doze, sprawled on his bed with one leg hanging off the side, but a glance at the clock had shattered his calm. Flinging himself out of bed, he made his way hastily to the bathroom and went through his morning ritual at top speed, pulling on a pair of black jeans and a light weight button up shirt without even looking at them. Lacing up his Oxfords, he looked to the clock again and relaxed a little. As long as he walked quickly, he’d still get there on time. And honestly, there weren’t going to be people lined up outside the door to get into his shop. It was more a matter of principal than practicality. He patted down his pockets to make sure he had everything before leaving, locking the door behind himself.
He set off at a brisk pace down the sidewalk, the morning breeze reminding him that his hair was still damp. As he walked he unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll up his sleeves, each one folding neatly up to just below his elbows. If it was too warm for this shirt now, he was concerned about what the rest of the way would feel like. He wasn’t the sort of wear short sleeves to work: he wasn’t hiding anything, the idea of it just made him uncomfortable. It felt unprofessional, but that was a funny idea since he wasn’t exactly the most traditional of men. Still, something about the buttons and the collar made him feel more at home in the book shop; maybe he just felt more sophisticated wearing them. He grinned sheepishly to himself, waving at a car that let him cross the street in front of them, and half-jogged to the other side of the street.
Twenty minutes later he found himself in front of Liminality Books, just as he had left it. The storefront was mostly glass and it was easy to see all the way to the back of the store; it wasn't a particularly large place. No broken windows, no one waiting to go in, just a rolled up newspaper on the doorstep. Tucking it under his arm, he fumbled with his keys and unlocked the wooden door, taking note of the fact that the paint was starting to curl. He should probably take care of that, but not right now. Right now, it was time for breakfast. Propping the front door open with a rock to get some air flowing, he left the lights off and relied on the morning sun to light the rows and stacks of books. Heading into the back room, he filled the electric kettle and turned it on, rooting around in the cupboard for a mug and the tin of teabags he had filled with his own mixes of herbs. Locating the ones he wanted, he set them on the counter and snagged the container of Greek yogurt from the minifridge. Eating it out of the container with a spoon, he leaned against the counter and waited for the kettle to go off.
It had been slow here lately, not many people in or out. There were a few regulars, people who came by more to chat and simply be there than to actually buy anything, but other than that most of his walk-ins were people who didn’t actually understand what kind of bookstore it was. They came in, picked up a few things, flipped through them, came to something with WITCHCRAFT in curling letters, set it back down, and left as quickly as they could. Sometimes laughing, sometimes extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t mind, as long as they weren’t stealing anything. Some of the books here were funny, either by design or because it was ridiculously clear that the author didn’t know anything about anything. When he found those books he usually pulled them from the shelves and didn’t order them, or buy them from people who wanted to sell their old books. There was the occasional stinker, but for the most part he prided himself on stocking a reasonably qualified set of books.
After licking both sides of the spoon and setting it to the side, he put the yogurt away and poured the steaming water into the mug. Realizing as he was doing it the issue with drinking hot tea on a day that was already shaping up to be hot, he sighed and kept pouring; no point in wasting it. He carried it gingerly to the desk-come-register, set it down to cool and picked up an armful of books that needed to be reshelved. Stepping into the shade of the shelves, out of sight of the front door, he began setting the books back where they belonged.
Alias: Saeyer
Last edited by Ronan Cary on Fri Nov 02, 2012 8:51 pm; edited 10 times in total | |
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