Muse Information
Name: Bryson Monti
Nickname: Monti.
Age: 22
Sexuality: He keeps that information confidential. (naturallyhe'saclosethomo. :c )
Birthday: 12-15-1986
Characteristics
Hair Color: Platinum blonde with a single black streak and a black under tuft. (Does that naturally.)
Eye Color: Light blue eyes with hints of green at the pupil.
Height: 5'6
Weight: 163lbs
Special Characteristics: Has a pierced tongue. (He got drunk one night a few years back. He wanted to put it...somewhere else, but his friends kindly stopped him. ) Also has a tattoo of the American flag on his hip.
Personality
Likes: Smoking, quiet, getting straight to the point, guns, sweet things, and playing the Theremin.
Dislikes: Italians, lots of noise,
Justin.
Strengths: He's smart and assesses the situation. He has a good handle of a gun, and is not afraid to kill someone if necessary.
Weaknesses: Has a bad temper. When around an Italian he gets irritable, and if he knows they can do him harm, he's ready to blow their brains out.
He's actually terrified of spiders.
He has mild OCD and germaphobia.
Personality Description:
Cold. That is the easiest way to describe Bryson. He's quiet and distant. He's serious about the things he does, and hardly,
hardly ever cracks a joke. He has a lot of pride though, and hates being talked down to. You can visibly see the irritation on his face, and he'll speak through clenched teeth (Metaphorically and literally) if it's a superior, and he might snap and punch you if you aren't higher up than him.
Bryson has been described as trigger happy. If you irritate him enough, he will put a gun to your head and count to three. And if you're lucky, he won't shoot. But only if. And if you're Italian, the chances of that are 1/10000000000. ( One of the only people to have survived was his friend Justin. )
Due to his germaphobia, he always wears a pair of white bulter-gloves, and carried a little bottle of sanitizer in his pocket.
Bryson comes off as arrogant and haughty to those who do not know him well enough. Well, even to those who do know him well enough. He knows he has skills, and he won't be modest about it when someone speaks about it. He isn't the obnoxious arrogant type. Just . . .silent.
History
Affliation: Interpol
Nationality: American. ( Italian-Mother's side, Father's side unknown. )
History: In the late 80's the daughter of a Chicago-based Italian crime family Godfather, and a cop from New York met. The officer had not known about her relation to the family, and they fell in mutual love. About 9 months later, a baby boy was born, and the mother ran off to New York with her child and his father. After explaining the situation to her lover, the woman situated herself with him. The two later got married that year, and lived happily and peacefully in their flat with their child. A few years later they moved into a nice home in a nice neighborhood. On the Boy's 7th birthday, two men came into the home. They walked casually through the rooms into the kitchen as if they were
friends of the family. Bryson was sitting at the kitchen island sipping a cup of Pepsi when they barged in. His mother was refilling a bowl of Cheetohs. She heard the steps and turned, and in that second, a gun was pointed at her head. She pleaded for her life. Bryson saw the weakness and desperation on her face as they shot her down. The bowl crashed to the ground, breaking into tiny pieces everywhere. Blood splashed onto Bryson, his eyes wide in terror. He let out a heart-stopping scream, as the men ran away.
They were not caught.
Afterwards, Bryson became silent. Not the awkward silent where he only said one thing here or there, but honest-to-god mute. He did not say a word to any one. His father, his friends, his teachers. No one. It wasn't up until middle school where he final began to speak again.
After that, he became cold. His speech was rude, and any woman who came near his father was the enemy, and his father remained single. Any of his friends with Italian ancestry became the devils, and he refused to associate with them.
Eventually, he graduated college, and instantly was picked up by Interpol. He has sworn to get vengeance on the entire Italian race. . . despite the fact that he himself is Italian.
Personal Information
Name: Trin, Popo, Niko, Sparta
Age: 16
Rule Check:
I am a ninja that can control milk with my eyes. I am a pirate that can control milk with me. . . ;D well, let's use our imagination.
Roleplay Sample:
- Quote :
- Rain pitter-pattered against his window as he glared out it. A cigarette lazily hung from his lips, a habit he had picked up from his father. He flicked the silver lighter, it's black details carved into the sleek metal. The green flame (it was one of those lighters, yes) rose up and sparked onto the deathly tobacco mix inside the nicely rolled paper. His blue-green eyes wandered across his empty apartment. Clean. Perfectly clean. No sign of a clutter, no obvious spots where the shoes dragged in (he vacuumed it every time he walked into the door). Nothing. There was his TV, a bland, black 60” wide screen LCD, perfectly center on the shining black book-stand.
Inside the book-stand were the other electronics. A DVD, BLU-RAY, CD player, satellite box. Equally spaced between the black couch was the coffee table, which had the ever organized magazine stack beneath it, and the remotes perfectly spaced out between each other. It was peaceful.
But. . .once that moron Justin came in, everything turned to chaos. Which was one simple reason why he rarely let Justin into his home. Bryson's lips twitched at the thought, and he took his cigarette out of his mouth so that it wouldn't fall and damage his floor.
. . .That moron.
Mon Dec 21, 2009 12:24 am by 
Subject: OC: Bryson Monti 
