Arlo Remalis - Weapon - Student Aug 15, 2015 23:59:07 GMT -5
Post by Arlo Remalis on Aug 15, 2015 23:59:07 GMT -5
Remalis; Arlo; Weapon
Name: Arlo Remalis
Nickname: Arlo's the only name he has. Right now. He's still debating whether or not he wants a stage name.
Class: One Star
A Strong Body
Appearance: Honestly, Arlo could be described to have an interesting appearance. Messy white hair over his head, to the extent of long bangs falling just above his eyebrows, with the side locks often tucked behind his ears and the back reaching just to the nape of his neck. Usually described as disorderly in an almost endearing way, it's rare for the flock of white to be completely clean and smooth, free of knots and not having bits sticking up from either being under a hood or a hat. Heterochromic eyes are set upon his sharp features, adding an almost startling detail with his blood red iris in the left eye, with his other eye holding only a grey iris. His facial features hold a sharp nose and chin, with that pair of eyes round, not almond shaped.
Many would consider Arlo to have more of a lean and lanky build-and they would be correct. Long, nimble limbs, especially his fingers, make up his body. A relatively muscled build makes Arlo up as well, but not to the extent to disrupt his signature build-more of give his body actual muscle definition. The white-haired teenager is usually seen in hoodies and long sleeved shirts, with the spin of usually baggy, dark jeans held up by a belt-if he feels like it, that is. Sometimes, on days where he wakes up late or stays up too late, he doesn't even bother. For his own reasons that he will likely not reveal to anyone that asks, he has painted his nails a pitch black, which contrasts greatly to his tanish skin tone and snowy white hair-but it also could be stated as 'fitting'.
Weight: 138 pounds
Fighting Style: With his ability to be clumsy enough to fall or lose his balance a lot during fights, his fighting usually consists of him attempting to stand his ground, throwing punches and kicks like an angry toddler with only slightly more refine abilities and organization then a toddler-just barely, though. It's one of the reasons he is more of a range weapon, because his fighting skills could be considered not entirely up to par-mainly, he's good at placing well aimed punches (the physical fighting technique he prefers) but one slip up and he could land directly upon his face. The actual fighting style he prefers is to stand quite a ways away from the target, before shooting the hell out of the bastard-but unfortunately, that's not always the option in these situations.
Personality: The biggest thing you notice about Arlo is just how socially awkward he is. It's not that he doesn't like people or interacting with people-it's just that he sucks at it. Even though, for the last few years, he has tried quite hard to break the habit of being unintentionally awkward with every new person that comes across and even takes the chance to talk to him, Arlo has been quite unsuccessful at that little goal. Surprisingly, he's actually gotten better at it, as it used to be that he literally could not speak to anybody, rather then mutter a quiet 'bye' or 'hi' (the former was always the most likely) before staying in unjustifiable silence, where as now, he can at least speak with a small shred of confidence-a small shred, though. Not enough to keep a proper conversation for that long, unless the person keeps him talking by some miracle. What he really needs is someone to break him out this, though, as he has not had that many people in his life that have gotten close enough to help him through this very awkward stage of his life.
Another big thing about Arlo is that he values honesty. His trust his already very low, as he can only hope that people at least tell him something near the real truth, instead of lies that get his hopes up. He wants honesty, whether it is to tell him that he's a freak or that he's a great guy-Arlo just wants people to be honest with him. This also links to the next bit of his personality; the fact that he can be a bit of hypocrite, when it comes to his own effect. If someone were to ask if he was okay when he was down and sad for whatever reason, his automatic reaction would be to fake a smile and state a simple 'Yeah, I'm fine' (a lie), before quickly moving away. It's more of the fact that he doesn't have much trust in that many people-but if he were to ever tell anyone that he wasn't okay, that is the assured sign that he trusts that person with his emotions and maybe even his life, as it takes a lot to break down those trust issues and problems, the lies that he's okay.
On a more positive note, this 15-year-old has always been more kind kid, who would sometimes bring up some courage and go through with an act of kindness. A little thing he does just to help someone or something out that deserves it-though, if someone were to help him out, he'd be more hesitant. Usually, he has this facade of cool and calm, a calm, shy smile to hide the inner turmoil over the fact that he may be talking to someone, or that he may be doing something for a stranger, or just anything that could cause such a reaction. Surprisingly enough, Arlo can actually be a funny guy, cracking quality jokes or remarks if he's up to speaking to a person.
For the last bit devolved so far, Arlo has an uncanny sense of bravery. A cliche, yes, but even with how socially awkward he is, how some might consider him almost cowardly (wrong) because of how shy he may be, when the time comes, he will step in and take the hit without a second thought, or hit the opponent without hesitation. If he feels it to be needed, or that it's part of his duty as a weapon, he will do it. No hesitation needed-unless it was something advanced, like going against a Kichin. Then he'd be far from reckless-careful, considerate, and especially protective over his meister. The shy, socially awkward teenager may not look like it, but he would do anything for his meister or one of his few friends. Loyalty is always good.
Fear is something that Arlo rarely feels-even in the midst of his awkwardness and his outcast ways and the fact that he shoulder be scared of somethings, he just isn't. He sees bugs as nothing more than other living creatures, to the extent of seeing centipedes as fascinating and just interesting to examine, until he moves on. It's hard for anyone to try to scare him, as no jump scare of any sorts would affect him, as his reaction would probably a laugh and a brush to the side before he just moved on.
Inside the Soul
Weapon form: Flintlock Pistol
Arlo can take the form of a flintlock pistol-but a very signature flintlock. Base of an ebony black with swirls of white (a similar shade to his hair) stretching across it, followed by the silver hilt, with the sphere like creation adding even more signature detail to him. Bits of gold appear across the weapon, most of the etched golden designs focused upon the top of the barrel, while a bit also drawn upon the lock of it. An interesting weapon indeed.
Partial Form: Arlo's partial form is relatively simply, with the quick transformation of either one of his index fingers into a small black barrel of a gun, usually followed by the quirky and ironic raise of his thumb in the usual gun symbol, just to add some pizzazz and humor to his partial form.
Abilities: The abilities of Arlo's flintlock are relatively simple, currently-just the ability to shoot energy at an opponent out of the barrel of the gun. Simple as that.
Out of your Mind
Strengths: Intelligent, Psychologically Strong, Quick Reflexes
Weaknesses: Clumsy/horrendous balance, Low Stamina, Lack of Combat Skills
Hobbies: If Arlo is not sleeping, he's probably either reading or doodling centipedes on a piece of paper, or on more rare occasions, actually getting up and taking a walk through Shibusen to see if people might take a chance and talk to him.
Likes: Sleep, Honesty, Food, Centipedes (Just a strange fascination in the insect), The color Black, Sketching/Doodling, Reading
Dislikes: Laundry, Falling (even though it practically defines him), Lies, His own social awkwardness (he's trying to get rid of it, but obviously, he's a bit unsuccessful right now.), Romance (honestly he currently doesn't understand the concept),
Aspirations: Arlo is one of those people who doesn't know what they want to do right now-he's mainly trying to go through life, find a meister, and see what happens from there. If anything, he has a single shred of the cliche dream 'to be the best' but it's more of a crack dream to give him a bit of motivation aside from wanting to actually learn to interact with actual people and to bring down evil-only more cliches that he does not entirely want to accept, except for the bring down evil thing. That's a given.
History: It was a dark, dreary day in September when Arlo joined the world, but his parents couldn't be more rejoiced. A healthy baby boy with black hair and mismatched eyes that made him seem so special, so innocent-a beautiful thing for the two weapons to witness. Rain pattered against the window of the hospital room as two parents stared down upon their new baby boy, debating upon the perfect name for such a perfect, odd creation. Everybody seemed pent up with excitement to see what the odd boy would be named, the boy with the mismatched eyes and the parents who were strange by themselves, and in minutes it was decided. On September 13th, at 9:16 PM, on a rainy day with the leaves just starting to fall, Arlo Remalis was born into this world. The son of two weapons, with two godfathers (his parents meisters) and quite the family there for him. His life was set to be perfect.
It wasn't, though. Oh no.
Arlo was always the quiet, shy boy on the playground, setting himself in his own little world and just letting the other kids run past him without a second thought. Shaggy black hair and odd eyes, he was strange, an outcast almost-but he had friends, though. A small group (three people, to be exact) that would talk to him, back then, in Kindergarten. It was in the small town of Arcata, California, where Arlo gained his first few friends, the first people to really spoke to the shy, quiet little 6-year-old. Three friends that stayed with him right up to the moment that he left for Shibusen, where he left his life behind to protect the world, to protect those few friends from all the horrors by becoming a protector. Their three names were Ashton, Sera, and Greyson-the three people that kept him far from being lonely.
Back then he didn't need any other friends, except for them. That's the reason why he's so awkward around new people-he never really socialized with anyone but them for years, the four musketeers that were always together. If they were separated, the second they got a chance they would be reunited, whether it was in pairs or all of them together-it was the safest defense. All of them were more socially awkward, more anti-social than normal kids. The great Arlo had more reasons than one to be excluded from the rest-to the fact that he looked like a freak, to the fact that he didn't want to get to get too close to anyone in case his weapon suddenly appeared and he accidentally hurt them, but those three? They just didn't like to socialize with anyone but the people within their group, and what they did for Arlo was a one time thing, to allow a person in their group. Everyone else in their grades were just stare at the close knit group in wonder, wondering how such a group could stay together from Kindergarten all the way to the 9th grade. It was not like they could give you answer, though-it just happened. That group that only really talked to each other, only really hung around each other, was about to lose a member though.
It was a random day at school when the weapon blood pumping through Arlo's veins kicked in, and out of nowhere his pointer finger transformed into the barrel of a gun, and the rest of the class could only stare in astonishment. It was the boy's time to leave, after 10 years of being the introvert, only speaking to those friends-he would have to leave them. But for a purpose. So with that, the 15-year-old Arlo, with hair freshly died white (Greyson and Sera thought it would look cool) headed straight to Shibusen, where his parents had gone before him, and probably even more generations he didn't know of. He was ready though.
At least, kind of.
Extra Notes: sloppy, makeouts,
Behind the strings
Alias: Hi my name is Roselocke or Rose or Coke or Cokelocke and I'm a Tokyo Ghoul addict
Other characters: I don't have anymore characters...as of yet.
Face Claim: Kaneki Ken from Tokyo Ghoul
RP Sample: Every pair of eyes in the classroom seemed to be on him in that moment.
Why were they all on him? It was not like he had ever raised his hand (like he would ever do that) but they were staring at him, boring into his skull and features as if he was an alien. It couldn't be the hair, could it? He had died it almost two weeks ago, so that was in no way excuse-but why the fuck were they all looking at him, in that moment? A drop of sweat sliding down his face as his mismatched eyes glanced around, searching for the friend's that always seemed to calm him down. The ones that had always been there for him in these brief moments of panic, with strangers' eyes right upon him and making him feel uncomfortable, even anxious-god he hated it. With a shut of his eyes, Arlo tried to erase those thoughts from his mind. They were not staring at him. They were not staring at him.
He didn't even believe himself anymore.
That was when a brave soul muttered his name, his name being stated from a stranger-someone in his class he didn't know at all."Arlo...W-what..." Mismatched eyes flew open to meet the person's gaze, pale green staring right back at him. Moments passed, before those eyes dropped briefly, staring at something...something on his chair. Before those eyes returned back to meet his own, the odd eyes that his group of friends had grown accustomed of, even started to enjoy. With an almost fearful glance as another drip of sweat dropped, Arlo's eyes flew to the back of the chair he was sitting in-right where he hand was currently resting upon, gripping onto the chair for almost dear life-and that was when it dawned upon the teenager. It had happened, the event his parents had told him about. His index finger was now the barrel of a gun-and for once, even in the midst of all the staring, a small smile appeared across the white-haired boy's features.
"I'm...a weapon." A simple, soft mutter escaping his lips, smile drifting away back into a straight, emotion-less line-though that was what it looked like. Really, his eyes were dancing in joy, as it was finally time for him to claim his birthright as a weapon Arlo was going to get to go to the school where his parents set foot in years and years ago, and he would get the chance to maybe even start over. But even getting the chance to start over, he would have to leave his best friends...but he had to do this. In a brash act of forgetfulness, the fact that all eyes were on him disappearing from his mind, the boy raised his hand to catch the teacher's attention-which didn't take more than a second. Everybody was focused on him, after all.
"May I call my parents?" A grin ghosting Arlo's features, with all eyes blinking in shock-before the teacher merely nodded, still in shock from the sudden transformation. In that moment, the 15-year-old was already moving away, eyes flashing with a determined look that nobody but the three closest to him could catch.
Arlo was ready to be a weapon.