Post by zanereznor on Dec 10, 2010 19:03:34 GMT -5
ZANE ROSCOE REZNOR
Click for human image (Benicio del Toro).
* YOU BELONG WITH ME.
Click for canine image (Kangal dog).
Click for human image (Benicio del Toro).
* YOU BELONG WITH ME.
Click for canine image (Kangal dog).
* SHE WEARS SHORT SKIRTS, I WEAR T-SHIRTS.
ABOUT YOU!
[/font]ABOUT YOU!
* FULL NAME Zane Roscoe Reznor.
* NICK NAMES Zane, Roscoe, Razor.
* AGE Forty-five years of age.
* BIRTHDAY October 7.
* FAVORITE THINGS Pain. Death. Depressing movies. Alchohol abuse. Metal and industrial music. Homosexuals and transgenders. Poetry.
* LEAST FAVORITE THINGS Sex. Smoking. Druggies. Pop music. Reading (besides poetry). Religion, politics, gender expections, etc. Profanity. Demeaning "superior" figures. Life. Himself.
* FEARS Immortality. Simplicity. Peer pressure. Loving somebody who refuses to love back.
* GOALS Die having loved. Find his warm place. Get over this depression. Lose himself entirely or fully regain his old child-like self.
* BIGGEST SECRET Despite the impression Zane leaves upon people, he honestly does care what others think about him. This act he does, pretending not to care what you say behind his back and all, is entirely fake; in fact, your opinions hurt him more than anything. This is considered a secret because he does everything within his power to with hold others from knowing he cares about something.
* WALKIN' THE STREETS WITH YOU
YOUR HISTORY!
[/font]YOUR HISTORY!
* MOTHER Liesel Reznor. Thirty-one years. Deceased. "He wasn't worth my valuable time."
* FATHER Richard Reznor. Forty-seven years. Deceased. "I... I honestly don't know what to say about the poor boy."
* SIBLINGS Was an only child. "I guess it was okay."
* HOMETOWN Seattle, Washington. "Honestly, I like New York's food more."
* WHY CAN'T YOU SEE.
BEHIND THE MASK!
[/font]BEHIND THE MASK!
hey, i'm zane! i'm currently thirteen years young and living it up in the central timezone. i've been on the scene for four years, and i'm loving it! you can PM me requesting additional contact information and we'll chat the night away! oh and by the way, i also play no other characters.!
* I KNOW YOU BETTER THAN THAT.
THE SAMPLE!
[/font]THE SAMPLE!
"Bludgeon the mind, diverge into fantasy... Alas!"
One. Two. Three... Each sickening thud of raw meat being pounded upon echoed off of the tightly-enclosed walls. The words had been spoken so softly, so meticulously even the bats resting their small forms above could only just detect the faintest of syllables as the echo sounded upward.
It made one wonder how many times the figure had done this as he (or she, though the probability of a woman doing such a deed during this time period was extremely unlikely so it is safe to assume this mysterious figure was masculine though his voice offers no support to the conclusion) gracefully towered to his full extent, gently patting his robe as if to brush away maybe that single shroud of regret or melancholy that dared to linger.
Pulling out a small, rounded vial from a breast pocket, the man uncapped it and took a hearty swig. "My sweet, sweet nepenthe," he murmured to himself, his eyes flickering in what appeared to be pleasure or at the most he feeling of hope being restored to his chest, where all men harbored their darker secrets and feelings. He now swayed to and fro as if drunk, slowly making way through the darkness that enveloped everything entirely. Not bothering to extend his hand in search for an seemingly unfathomable exit to show how confident he felt of his navigational skills, he merely walked onward and occasionally stopped to restore lost balance.
Soon the dreary shuffling sound of his feet staggering quieted ever so slightly, so slightly that only the most trained of hearers could detect the subtle change. He promptly stuck his fist out and rapped once, twice, on the wall that revealed its self to be an extremely well-concealed door which opened up to a dimly litted – candles were spread throughout the ledges bordering the chamber, offering the man some supporting light – room. A smile played played at the corner of his lips as his unusual assortment of trophies came into view, hanging askew and limply draped on top one another.
This collection was odd to see indeed, a collection one would not expect to see in the chamber of a priest for this is what the man's profession revealed to be from the various bibles scattered across the floor. Decayed organs and bodily parts of the human anatomy were prominently displayed, as if this madman was proud of them. Why would a man be proud of such ghastly things such as arms with ivory bones protruding, skin stained with a mixture of black and maroon blood, decapitated heads with eyes staring blankly forth at you, not seeing but seeing all?
"My dear Kane, you really shouldn't have adopted this habit of drinking this so-called nepenthe. Why do you mourn the loss of me when I am still hear? Can you not hear me? Can you not see me? Surely you see me, even if you merely see me as a sheer white film darting about your chamber."
Kane paused, his shoulder twitching as if the whisper irked him and pulled at his strings. An expression of deep thought suddenly fell upon his face as he lifted his chin to stare at the top wall covering his chamber, protecting it from the rain and hell that threatens to destroy much.
Silver darted across the ceiling, just as the voice had said, and danced about. The candlelight cast an eerie glow up making the scene entirely too supernatural. Then again, is this natural? he thought. He was seeing ghosts, hearing ghosts, talking to ghosts... No, this certainly wasn't natural.
Taking one more moment to contemplate his words, he slowly drawled out what he managed to come up with in an gruff bark, "Mind your own business about what I do. Women shouldn't bother themselves with things such as worrying about what a man spends his time doing."
"Don't you dare pull the woman card on me!" The spirit shrieked, bulleting downward and slamming into the mans back. Before he could properly regain his already low balance, he was knocked flat onto his face, his cranium smacking against the floor as a moan escaped his lips and blood trickled down his forehead.
"My God, I thought we got over this."
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Kane, so sorry!"
The spirits voice lowered down to a mere whisper as it bent down. The smoke-like form shimmered and for a moment disappear before it became visible to the eye, this time in the form of a female that didn't quite look solid with her bones showing through translucent skin. Yet somehow this ghost woman was still beautiful and appealing to Kane's eye as she kneeled down and caressed his head gently, using her dress – which was somehow solid and effective – to wipe away the blood.
Kane fount it hard, having to avoid looking at her bosom. He couldn't help it, how his perverted instincts were wired. But he managed to look her into the eyes and mumble something like okay. She nodded and reached into her dress's breast pouch (unavoidably causing her patient to take another lingering glance) and pulled out a clean napkin, probably so that she wouldn't soil her dress any further than it had to be with its current status of ragged tears and blood-stained cloth.
Gently pressing the cloth on Kane's wounds, she spoke. "My dear, dear. I really should stop overreacting to such little things, yes? I truly am sorry though my dear. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, even if it is my hundredth time asking?" Kane nodded grimly and smiled, reaching out a hand to lay it on her breast in a casual matter as if saying it was okay.
Besides, she may be dead but we are still husband and wife, are we not, he mildly questioned.
"You are soiled with blood that couldn't be from this wound, dear."
Dear. Such an aggravating word. But he let it ago. No sense in berating her for it right now, especially when one was in such a vulnerable position.
"You know what I did."
"Why did you do it?"
"He deserved it."
"He had family."
"He was a bastard to his family."
She couldn't argue with that; the man truly had been a bastard to his wife and two young daughters. Though she still fount herself wanting to defend the man; the plague had held his only son captive for a time much longer than it should have, causing the entire family much pain. Besides, what Kane did was not needed to give this man therapy or to relieve his family.
Bludgeoning a man with a club was no something she approved of nor would she ever.
"Besides, you have to confess, neither of us were partial to him." Kane piped up, further pressing his argument. The woman before him shimmered faintly as if she would disappear any moment now bu neither of them worried; they had grown used to it.
The pain in his head subsided to a dull throb, amplifying inside his ears as if somebody was making the sounds within his eardrums. Dum. Dum. Dum. He decided it would be best to ignore it.
"Sarah, you really should be gathering your... Well, leaving. How has your power sustained this long? Your typical span is only about thirty minutes." No clock was in sight; Kane simply went by what he felt like had passed. This technique proved to be unreliable at times but nonetheless. He had grown up using this and wasn't about to break away from anything that could bring him closer to his desceased mother. If only his father wasn't holding her spirit back. If only. "Then she could visit my chamber," he glumly whispered.
Sarah, her form now becoming quite faint and increasingly translucent, smiled in sympathy. Wrapping her arms around her husband – Could he still be considered her husband, despite the fact she had passed on and he had remained on earth to roam forever more?
I'll make sure to include Zane's history, personality, etc. inside of my future posts.
One. Two. Three... Each sickening thud of raw meat being pounded upon echoed off of the tightly-enclosed walls. The words had been spoken so softly, so meticulously even the bats resting their small forms above could only just detect the faintest of syllables as the echo sounded upward.
It made one wonder how many times the figure had done this as he (or she, though the probability of a woman doing such a deed during this time period was extremely unlikely so it is safe to assume this mysterious figure was masculine though his voice offers no support to the conclusion) gracefully towered to his full extent, gently patting his robe as if to brush away maybe that single shroud of regret or melancholy that dared to linger.
Pulling out a small, rounded vial from a breast pocket, the man uncapped it and took a hearty swig. "My sweet, sweet nepenthe," he murmured to himself, his eyes flickering in what appeared to be pleasure or at the most he feeling of hope being restored to his chest, where all men harbored their darker secrets and feelings. He now swayed to and fro as if drunk, slowly making way through the darkness that enveloped everything entirely. Not bothering to extend his hand in search for an seemingly unfathomable exit to show how confident he felt of his navigational skills, he merely walked onward and occasionally stopped to restore lost balance.
Soon the dreary shuffling sound of his feet staggering quieted ever so slightly, so slightly that only the most trained of hearers could detect the subtle change. He promptly stuck his fist out and rapped once, twice, on the wall that revealed its self to be an extremely well-concealed door which opened up to a dimly litted – candles were spread throughout the ledges bordering the chamber, offering the man some supporting light – room. A smile played played at the corner of his lips as his unusual assortment of trophies came into view, hanging askew and limply draped on top one another.
This collection was odd to see indeed, a collection one would not expect to see in the chamber of a priest for this is what the man's profession revealed to be from the various bibles scattered across the floor. Decayed organs and bodily parts of the human anatomy were prominently displayed, as if this madman was proud of them. Why would a man be proud of such ghastly things such as arms with ivory bones protruding, skin stained with a mixture of black and maroon blood, decapitated heads with eyes staring blankly forth at you, not seeing but seeing all?
"My dear Kane, you really shouldn't have adopted this habit of drinking this so-called nepenthe. Why do you mourn the loss of me when I am still hear? Can you not hear me? Can you not see me? Surely you see me, even if you merely see me as a sheer white film darting about your chamber."
Kane paused, his shoulder twitching as if the whisper irked him and pulled at his strings. An expression of deep thought suddenly fell upon his face as he lifted his chin to stare at the top wall covering his chamber, protecting it from the rain and hell that threatens to destroy much.
Silver darted across the ceiling, just as the voice had said, and danced about. The candlelight cast an eerie glow up making the scene entirely too supernatural. Then again, is this natural? he thought. He was seeing ghosts, hearing ghosts, talking to ghosts... No, this certainly wasn't natural.
Taking one more moment to contemplate his words, he slowly drawled out what he managed to come up with in an gruff bark, "Mind your own business about what I do. Women shouldn't bother themselves with things such as worrying about what a man spends his time doing."
"Don't you dare pull the woman card on me!" The spirit shrieked, bulleting downward and slamming into the mans back. Before he could properly regain his already low balance, he was knocked flat onto his face, his cranium smacking against the floor as a moan escaped his lips and blood trickled down his forehead.
"My God, I thought we got over this."
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Kane, so sorry!"
The spirits voice lowered down to a mere whisper as it bent down. The smoke-like form shimmered and for a moment disappear before it became visible to the eye, this time in the form of a female that didn't quite look solid with her bones showing through translucent skin. Yet somehow this ghost woman was still beautiful and appealing to Kane's eye as she kneeled down and caressed his head gently, using her dress – which was somehow solid and effective – to wipe away the blood.
Kane fount it hard, having to avoid looking at her bosom. He couldn't help it, how his perverted instincts were wired. But he managed to look her into the eyes and mumble something like okay. She nodded and reached into her dress's breast pouch (unavoidably causing her patient to take another lingering glance) and pulled out a clean napkin, probably so that she wouldn't soil her dress any further than it had to be with its current status of ragged tears and blood-stained cloth.
Gently pressing the cloth on Kane's wounds, she spoke. "My dear, dear. I really should stop overreacting to such little things, yes? I truly am sorry though my dear. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, even if it is my hundredth time asking?" Kane nodded grimly and smiled, reaching out a hand to lay it on her breast in a casual matter as if saying it was okay.
Besides, she may be dead but we are still husband and wife, are we not, he mildly questioned.
"You are soiled with blood that couldn't be from this wound, dear."
Dear. Such an aggravating word. But he let it ago. No sense in berating her for it right now, especially when one was in such a vulnerable position.
"You know what I did."
"Why did you do it?"
"He deserved it."
"He had family."
"He was a bastard to his family."
She couldn't argue with that; the man truly had been a bastard to his wife and two young daughters. Though she still fount herself wanting to defend the man; the plague had held his only son captive for a time much longer than it should have, causing the entire family much pain. Besides, what Kane did was not needed to give this man therapy or to relieve his family.
Bludgeoning a man with a club was no something she approved of nor would she ever.
"Besides, you have to confess, neither of us were partial to him." Kane piped up, further pressing his argument. The woman before him shimmered faintly as if she would disappear any moment now bu neither of them worried; they had grown used to it.
The pain in his head subsided to a dull throb, amplifying inside his ears as if somebody was making the sounds within his eardrums. Dum. Dum. Dum. He decided it would be best to ignore it.
"Sarah, you really should be gathering your... Well, leaving. How has your power sustained this long? Your typical span is only about thirty minutes." No clock was in sight; Kane simply went by what he felt like had passed. This technique proved to be unreliable at times but nonetheless. He had grown up using this and wasn't about to break away from anything that could bring him closer to his desceased mother. If only his father wasn't holding her spirit back. If only. "Then she could visit my chamber," he glumly whispered.
Sarah, her form now becoming quite faint and increasingly translucent, smiled in sympathy. Wrapping her arms around her husband – Could he still be considered her husband, despite the fact she had passed on and he had remained on earth to roam forever more?
I'll make sure to include Zane's history, personality, etc. inside of my future posts.
* YOU BELONG WITH ME.
THE CREDITS!
[/font]THE CREDITS!
so SAM BAM?! of CAUTION 2.0! made this application template,
that was inspired by CARLEE BARLEY?! also of CAUTION,
and sam worked really hard on it, so don't take
this off or she'll send her spork army after you! <3
fill out a face claim! And you're ready to go. All you need is an avatar and signature!