Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2014 21:40:10 GMT -5
Full Name: Sage Elkin
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Power(s):
Sage was born with the ability to freeze water into ice, which he can then manipulate. He is normally able to freeze water with ease, and can freeze other liquids as well, though the effort required increases considerably as the concentration of water in a liquid lessens. Freezing orange juice or salty ocean water will prove to be more difficult than drinking water. He is unable to manipulate liquids except by freezing liquids into ice. However, he has much freedom with controlling ice; he is able to sort of get a grasp on the solidness of ice that he cannot with liquids, shape it to his will, and send icicles as flying projectiles through the air if he wished.
Due to a scarring event in his past, Sage is tentative to use his power outside of classes. He is wary of the destruction his power can bring, though he also has an admiration for its strength. He does not yet have the control to craft something beautiful, a part of the reason he does not share his power in public if he does not need to. Fragile ice structures snap under his heavy concentration or the elegant design he imagines tends to morph into a bulky, grotesque figure under his shaky hand. If startled by a sudden movement, he may instinctively release his power involuntarily; he fears the day he will hurt accidentally hurt another from this, and works to stabilize his control.
Appearance:
Sage has a lean figure, a bit on the scrawny side, with nimble limbs and a thin waist. His height of 5’8 is simply average for his age. Despite his appearance, he does have some muscle, though it is not very evident. His small frame makes him agile and graceful, a compensation for his lack of brute strength. Sage's hair is a disheveled mop, sitting upon his head in a blonde mess. His hair is full of split ends and wild strands sticking upwards due to his lack of care and his tendency to run a hand through his hair when exasperated [which is quite often]. His liking for tidiness does not apply to himself, apparently, as he does not bother with attempting to tame his pale, punkish mane. Sage’s eyes are a bright shade of light emerald. His emotions are reflected clearly in his expressive eyes, making his feelings easy to read and his piercing glares more intense. His eyes flicker wildly as a first instinct when nervous, or roll when annoyed. One look into his deep green eyes, and his whole essence is on display. His skin is paler than most, perfectly contrasting and bringing out his features. He wears contacts, considering glasses to be a nuisance in addition to his pathetic excuse for hair. When absolutely necessary with no alternatives will he wear his spare pair of black, thin-framed glasses, but they never seem to stay on and sit on the bridge of his nose uncomfortably. Sage's most prominent trait would be his abnormally thick eyebrows, which, he has been so kindly informed, look like dead caterpillars glued onto his forehead. Attempts to trim the monstrosities are futile, the hair growing back at an alarming rate. Unbeknownst to most, he has a crimson electric guitar tattooed up his left ribcage from an unmentioned yet unforgettable night at the bar. Sage’s usual attire consists of a jacket slipped over t-shirt or a collared shirt, and a pair of jeans, though this will be changed accordingly with the weather. He tends to dress in dark, neutral colors, as not to draw particular attention to himself.
Personality:
Sage isn't exactly known for his geniality, quite the contrary, really. He is rather cold, and his sharp sarcastic tongue makes him unpleasant to talk to sometimes. Temperamental and quick to anger, most do not try to probe closer, instead backing away to a comfortable distance. Others typically view him as rude. He is a very cynical person and can be rather pessimistic and critical about things, easily picking out negative traits and able to find fault with even the most promising topics, sometimes even hypocritical. He also has a natural instinct for profanity, which is not appreciated by the teachers.
Despite not being the kindest person, Sage is passionately against abuse, and will not hesitate to step into any situation if it involves someone being pushed around. Be it a kid getting picked on in the hallways, or a person getting mugged without regard for his own safety (perhaps too confident in his abilities), he will stop to help. Though he generally feels contempt towards the majority of people, he does not wish for harm to come to innocent people.
He is very defensive, not taking insults to things he cares about easily, and it doesn't take much to get him riled up. He is easily frustrated when things don't go his way. Sage is opinionated and quick to comment, never hesitating to share his beliefs, especially when others' thoughts do not mirror his own. He is fairly stubborn, and will never admit to being wrong, even if it is clear he is, most likely trying to dismiss the topic nonchalantly. Pride and dignity are very important to him. Sage doesn't have much in life, and is very possessive and jealous as a result. He is constantly denying things, and if mentioned to him, he will probably deny this too.
He is incredibly competitive, never backing out from a challenge no matter the circumstances, and can get very passionate about it when expressing his opinion. Failure is not an option, and he will repeat the same process over and over if necessary to win, no matter how childish. His solid will and determination is admirable, but often lands him in trouble. He doesn't try to pick a fight, but is easily provoked by the smallest details, which results in an all-out battle, granting him plenty of enemies.
Sage is very independent, tending to rely mainly on himself, although he sometimes wishes he mattered enough for someone else to care for him. He is a rebel, following his own schedule; despite that, he always gets his work turned in some way or another. He often turns down assistance from others, refusing to seem weak, isolating himself from the rest of society. He is a social outcast, and though he will never show his true feelings, he secretly longs for friendship, but tends to treat his close ones worse than his enemies. There are a rare few he deems as trustworthy, and to his few friends, his loyalty is undeniable, but he will not follow blindly. He always uses his head and rarely acts recklessly without thinking it over, believing himself to be responsible and sensible; unless of course, his pride is questioned.
Accustomed to the cruelty of the world, he is not one to soften the blow, and will deal it full-on with full force, rather disliking to sugarcoat the truth, finding it a pathetic way to spare feelings. He finds hopeless optimism irritating, His honest words may be blunt and discouraging, but he isn't trying to offend on purpose. He tells it exactly like it is, a down-to-earth realist. Despite this fact, he is a secret romantic and gets flustered quickly, inexperienced at the game of love, and completely adores fairytale endings [only slightly wistful that they only occur in fairytales] no matter how corny or sentimental [mind you, he actually likes how melodramatic they are]. This emotional side, he will not show to anyone.
In his spare time, he enjoys reading, spending hours in the library at a time. He thinks best within a calm environment and finds too much noise irritating, despite his favorite genre of music being punk rock. He is an expert at playing the guitar, having an immense love for the instrument, but his major interest is creative writing. After reading countless works of literature, hours upon hours of stories inked into crisp paper, he has gotten the inspiration to write his own. He appreciates and values the aesthetic beauty of nature, unlike the majority of the teenage population, and enjoys spending time observing the outdoors. Embroidery is another skill of his, his hands quick and precise as a structure starts to form. Although all hobbies listed above are considered peculiar for his age, Sage doesn't really give a damn. He is usually stressed, and finds them to be relaxing and peaceful.
Despite his moody demeanor, Sage can be pleasant, and hold a nice conversation with someone. He is polite around adults and seniors or in public, and tries to be civil when he can with the rest of the population. During his good moods, one may even receive a smile without the usual scorn of his signature sneer. Sage tries to be sophisticated and proper, but normally fails due to his temper. Organization is one of his strong points, though one may not think so from his rugged appearance as he does not care much about his rumpled clothes and messy hair. He is a bit of a perfectionist and a neat freak and frets over the details, although he is not afraid to get his hands dirty when needed. Seeing as he does not communicate with others very well, Sage tends to shy away from awkward social situations, but when in the mood, he knows how to have a good time.
Sage is quite intelligent, able to think outside of the box [pessimistically]. He is fairly creative, and responds quickly to situations. He finds education very important, and is quite serious about his studies. He puts effort into his work, and will complete tasks to the best of his ability. Outside of class, when he is not in the mood for any of his other hobbies, he will practice his powers. He is not a big fan of sports, but he has considerable endurance. He is more suited for activities relying mainly on reaction time, speed, and brains, rather than muscle power.
Picture(optional):
Weaknesses: It is difficult for Sage to freeze any liquid besides water. Controlling the ice for too long at a time or too much ice at a time will sap his energy greatly.
His personality has many weaknesses. He is not a likable person, for he tends to come off as cold and rude since he likes his personal space.
His pride and stubbornness causes him to make foolish decisions.
He refuses to show his true emotions, and is afraid to befriend others.
Strengths: Sage is a clever and quick learner. He is quite passionate when it comes to things he cares about, and will put in his greatest effort.
His power has much potential, and with experience and practice, he will be able to improve his strength greatly.
His loyalty is undeniable to those he cares about, and he will be willing to give up all he can for his loved ones.
History/Family:
Sage Elkin was born into a wealthy family in London, England, the youngest of three boys. His parents were absent from the majority of his childhood. His father was the CEO of a well-sized business increasing in popularity, and his mother a well-known politician. A nanny was hired to care for the boys, as his parents were often off on business trips, rarely returning home. Being the youngest of his siblings, Sage was shoved around by his older brothers incessantly, and his cries only increased their teasing, if anything, until the nanny found them. Fortunately for him, his teenage brothers took great advantage of their freedom and spent most of the time out with their friends in the rougher parts of the town, declaring the rich neighborhood children much too snobby and stuck-up. The nanny had long ago ceased in her attempts to control the pair, and kept silent as long as they returned in one piece.
Sage considered his nanny his best friend. She would read him all sorts of stories, and although at such a young age he did not understand exactly what she was saying, he enjoyed the way her voice flowed smoothly and rose and fluctuated at certain points. His brothers’ teasing had diminished his childish curiosity, for he became cautious of the punishments he would receive if he wandered too close to see what they were doing, like a rough push or a spanking. Sage was not an adventurous child afterwards; he grew more quiet and obedient at a startling young age. As he began to learn to communicate, his brothers spent more and more time from home, and he turned towards his nanny for company. Albeit quiet and undaring, he was clever, and quick to learn. When he reached the age eligible for enrollment in schools, his parents allowed him to be home-schooled, with some influence from his nanny (“he learns faster than the other children, he could accelerate with his potential if he studied independently”). Sage’s parents wished their children to be well-educated and very successful in the future like themselves.
Sage crunched through numbers with ease, and his understanding of the english language became quite sophisticated. He had a basic grasp of his parents’ wishes, and strived to work hard in his studies. He fell in love with literature, and constantly pleaded for his nanny to read to him, until she guided him through his own books. One rainy day, he sat at the window, staring out into the dreary gray streets of England and tracing pathways of raindrops trailing down the glass. Suddenly, the droplets hardened and took on a more solid form until tiny balls of ice stuck to the glass. The raindrops would roll no more than a few inches down the glass to where his fingertips skimmed the glass before freezing over. It was his first encounter with his power, though he had no idea of his power at the time.
A few years passed, until his nanny decided selfishly keeping Sage at home to herself would do much harm for his future, and so enrolled him in a private school for him to gain experience dealing with other teens at age 11. Sage did not get along well with the other children; some were too much like his brothers, some he considered quite simple-minded, and all of them laughed at him. His eyebrows in particular were particularly inviting targets, in addition to his awkwardness. He quickly realized his passive nature was not doing him much good, and gradually began to adapt to the rough demeanors of the others. An edge laced his voice, and his eyes darkened and narrowed. He kept his distance from others and worked alone, and slowly began building a cold barrier around himself. Eventually his nanny noticed these changes, but he too began to shut her out, immune to her pleading. He still regarded his studies to be of utmost importance however.
Another year passed, and he grew increasingly cold and bitter. His brothers started to push him around a bit more, a bit rougher. Sage always fought back now. He’d also started to get in quite a few fights at school. One afternoon as he made his way home, a few older kids surrounded him, and started shoving him around, pushing him. The other day he had apparently upset one of his classmates, and the kid had informed his 14-year-old brother, who ambushed Sage with a few of his friends. Then one of them threw a punch, and caught him in the jaw. He stumbled, and fell, and tried to fend off their kicks the best he could. Then the kids backed off. Sage saw that another group of teens had arrived, a bit older than the ones that had been kicking him around. The new teens fought off the earlier group with well-aimed punches and hooks, while he watched in amazement.
Sage began to find the group of older teens frequently afterwards; they usually hung around the skateboard ramps near the school. They were a rag-tag bunch of high schoolers who smoked and had strange hair and piercings. Apparently they had heard the commotion and came to check out the fight, then decided to help him when they saw he was fighting back, despite being outnumbered. He had some guts, they said, and offered to teach him how to fight, so no one would mess with him; and Sage realized these were the kinds of people his brothers hung out with, the punks lounging in the alleyways and playing tag with the police. He also saw the outstretched hands, the opportunity to have some back-up when he was in trouble, the chance to be accepted for once in his life. He agreed.
He started staying out later and later, and his nanny would often chide him and fretting over what he was becoming, demanding to know where he had been. Sage would ignore her, and to avoid her pestering questions, spent more and more time away from home. In addition to teaching him how to survive on the streets, the teens introduced him to punk rock, and taught him a new way to express himself. When he mentioned that he would love to play something strong like that, one of the teens let him play a few chords on his guitar and taught him a few basic techniques. On his 14th birthday, they took him out and he got his hair dyed green. Afterwards, they spraypainted the sidewalks and ran from the police. Sage would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy every moment of it. He had never known such freedom to do whatever he wanted, the adrenaline flowing through his veins, the feeling of belonging. After the chase, they led him to an alley and presented him with a new guitar. Sage grinned so widely he could have split his lip. Friends. They were his friends.
They started hitting the bars. One of the teens knew a place that would let him in even though he was underage, and Sage got his first taste of alcohol. He didn’t think much of it, but they assured him he would get used to it. His grades started slipping; a small margin at first, then he began dropping percentages. On the occasions he happened to encounter his brothers on the streets, they would argue, they would scream vicious things at each other, and they would fight. Sage held his own surprisingly well, and he presented his black eye the following day to his friends with pride. Months passed. Then one day, recently after his 15th birthday, he returned home to retrieve some more money. To his surprise, his brothers had also returned. They began to swing at him. His nanny had been washing dishes at the time, and when she heard them fighting, tried to step in and protect him. One of his brothers punched her in the face, and she crumpled. Staring at her motionless body, Sage felt a fury unlike any he had felt before, and he screamed. Then the water streaming from the sink exploded and suddenly his brother’s face went blank with surprise. Sage blinked, and then he saw the blood-stained tip of something glimmering sticking from the front of his brother’s chest. His brother dropped to his knees, while the other stared wide-eyed in astonishment. Sage took a step closer, shakingly slightly. It was ice. It was a sharp, pointed dagger of ice that had impaled his brother. Oh god.
He ran out of the house, towards his regular meeting place with his friends. Sage found them easily, and pleaded for them to take him to the bars. Anything. He wanted to get pissed off his ass so he wouldn’t have to think about what had just happened. It was still a mystery in his head as well, but he didn’t like the nagging cold feeling that the ice … After his eighth glass, Sage suddenly lurched forwards and grabbed the male tattoo artist he had been flirting drunkenly with, kissing him hard. He was vaguely aware of a hand travelling up his shirt, and afterwards, everything was a blur.
Sage woke up the next morning, staring into the faces of several policemen, and his furious parents. His side stung with an intense pain, and he looked down to find himself completely naked; a tattoo of a red electric guitar decorated his side. His friends were gone. His parents put in money and paid off his legal consequences as Sage threw up over himself. Then they filled him in on the rest. The force of the blow had caused internal bleeding in his nanny’s brain, and she had died in the hospital two hours before. His brother that had killed her was dead; his other brother claimed as witness to the event that Sage was a murderer. He was apparently one of those mutant freaks everyone heard myths about. Later, the bartender had told him what happened at the bar with much prompting from the police. The tattoo artist had taken his virginity, and his friends had taken some money from Sage’s wallet for the artist to get him a tattoo. When he was passed out, his ‘friends’ had bolted before the police arrived. He never heard from those ‘friends’ again. Sage swore to himself that he would never get close to anyone again.
Sage was tried at court for murder, but with some persuasion of wealth, he would not have to serve time if he attended Foresta Academy to learn to control his powers. For the rest of the year Sage returned to school and tried to continue the way things were, but everyone had heard the news. He got in no more fights; he was completely avoided and isolated. Sage quietly returned to his old hobbies. He washed the dye out of his hair, but he couldn’t bear to have the tattoo removed. His grades soared again. He now put in time every day attempting to control his newfound powers. Months later, Sage was shipped out to Foresta Academy for the new school year and a new start.
In Character sample:
Sage inhaled deeply the fresh cool air, providing a pleasant numbing relief to his heavy head. Breathing out, the air rushed out thickly, his pent-up thoughts and emotion leaking into the exhale, clearing his mind a bit more and reducing the state of unstable mayhem into a somewhat more bearable, dull throbbing. God, he had needed that; every spare second in the past week Sage submerged himself in work, finding ways to occupy his hands and mind until he finally realized that perhaps he should do exactly the opposite and take a break. Reading a novel only picked at that sharp shard of a moment he'd desperately tried to push to the back of his mind, the memory playing throughout the time of only a few minutes but so vivid and capturing that every time he recalled the exchange, glass stabbed at his heart, cold searing the along the outline of the words etched into his thoughts. I hate you too. His fingers, normally gracefully maneuvering the flying needles, were clumsy, and he fumbled with his needles, often snapping the delicate sticks in half or ending up injuring himself, once even poking through his skin, and the completed product of his embroidery resulted in a structureless jumble of misplaced stitches. He tried writing, his pen automatically forming words, but when he read over his creations, he felt as if even an emo kid would cringe.
Now, he felt renewed, refreshed, and after a long stretch, the knots in his muscles started to come loose, but was suddenly reminded how exhausted he was. It could wait, though. Instead of his usual scowl, a small but genuine smile flitted to his lips as he inaudibly shuffled along the rows and rows of flowers, an atmosphere of serenity overcoming Sage as he gazed at the blossoms, his worry replaced by a stunning breathlessness at the flawless beauty of the transcendent blooms. He loved the carnations, especially those of snow white hue, untainted, clean, and pure, though he could tolerate a light dash of green or blue or pink tinting the ruffled petals. Roses, too were his favorites, of course, the tudor rose the national flower of the United Kingdom. Sage also liked roses for they symbolized beauty and specifically love, which took a top priority in his mind, as he was [secretly] a hopeless romantic. His mind wandered, thinking about how ideally this garden could suit a perfect moment shared by lovers... Sage was in a rare mood. For the first time in a while, he was quite content with his surroundings. His shoulders were relaxed, and he softly hummed a familiar tune under his breath. He was a little out of practice, his voice cracking at first, but when he cleared his throat and began again, the breeze carried a smooth flowing melody into the air.
Sage absentmindedly sang to himself as he walked along, gaze still lingering on the flowers - until he walked into someone.
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Power(s):
Sage was born with the ability to freeze water into ice, which he can then manipulate. He is normally able to freeze water with ease, and can freeze other liquids as well, though the effort required increases considerably as the concentration of water in a liquid lessens. Freezing orange juice or salty ocean water will prove to be more difficult than drinking water. He is unable to manipulate liquids except by freezing liquids into ice. However, he has much freedom with controlling ice; he is able to sort of get a grasp on the solidness of ice that he cannot with liquids, shape it to his will, and send icicles as flying projectiles through the air if he wished.
Due to a scarring event in his past, Sage is tentative to use his power outside of classes. He is wary of the destruction his power can bring, though he also has an admiration for its strength. He does not yet have the control to craft something beautiful, a part of the reason he does not share his power in public if he does not need to. Fragile ice structures snap under his heavy concentration or the elegant design he imagines tends to morph into a bulky, grotesque figure under his shaky hand. If startled by a sudden movement, he may instinctively release his power involuntarily; he fears the day he will hurt accidentally hurt another from this, and works to stabilize his control.
Appearance:
Sage has a lean figure, a bit on the scrawny side, with nimble limbs and a thin waist. His height of 5’8 is simply average for his age. Despite his appearance, he does have some muscle, though it is not very evident. His small frame makes him agile and graceful, a compensation for his lack of brute strength. Sage's hair is a disheveled mop, sitting upon his head in a blonde mess. His hair is full of split ends and wild strands sticking upwards due to his lack of care and his tendency to run a hand through his hair when exasperated [which is quite often]. His liking for tidiness does not apply to himself, apparently, as he does not bother with attempting to tame his pale, punkish mane. Sage’s eyes are a bright shade of light emerald. His emotions are reflected clearly in his expressive eyes, making his feelings easy to read and his piercing glares more intense. His eyes flicker wildly as a first instinct when nervous, or roll when annoyed. One look into his deep green eyes, and his whole essence is on display. His skin is paler than most, perfectly contrasting and bringing out his features. He wears contacts, considering glasses to be a nuisance in addition to his pathetic excuse for hair. When absolutely necessary with no alternatives will he wear his spare pair of black, thin-framed glasses, but they never seem to stay on and sit on the bridge of his nose uncomfortably. Sage's most prominent trait would be his abnormally thick eyebrows, which, he has been so kindly informed, look like dead caterpillars glued onto his forehead. Attempts to trim the monstrosities are futile, the hair growing back at an alarming rate. Unbeknownst to most, he has a crimson electric guitar tattooed up his left ribcage from an unmentioned yet unforgettable night at the bar. Sage’s usual attire consists of a jacket slipped over t-shirt or a collared shirt, and a pair of jeans, though this will be changed accordingly with the weather. He tends to dress in dark, neutral colors, as not to draw particular attention to himself.
Personality:
Sage isn't exactly known for his geniality, quite the contrary, really. He is rather cold, and his sharp sarcastic tongue makes him unpleasant to talk to sometimes. Temperamental and quick to anger, most do not try to probe closer, instead backing away to a comfortable distance. Others typically view him as rude. He is a very cynical person and can be rather pessimistic and critical about things, easily picking out negative traits and able to find fault with even the most promising topics, sometimes even hypocritical. He also has a natural instinct for profanity, which is not appreciated by the teachers.
Despite not being the kindest person, Sage is passionately against abuse, and will not hesitate to step into any situation if it involves someone being pushed around. Be it a kid getting picked on in the hallways, or a person getting mugged without regard for his own safety (perhaps too confident in his abilities), he will stop to help. Though he generally feels contempt towards the majority of people, he does not wish for harm to come to innocent people.
He is very defensive, not taking insults to things he cares about easily, and it doesn't take much to get him riled up. He is easily frustrated when things don't go his way. Sage is opinionated and quick to comment, never hesitating to share his beliefs, especially when others' thoughts do not mirror his own. He is fairly stubborn, and will never admit to being wrong, even if it is clear he is, most likely trying to dismiss the topic nonchalantly. Pride and dignity are very important to him. Sage doesn't have much in life, and is very possessive and jealous as a result. He is constantly denying things, and if mentioned to him, he will probably deny this too.
He is incredibly competitive, never backing out from a challenge no matter the circumstances, and can get very passionate about it when expressing his opinion. Failure is not an option, and he will repeat the same process over and over if necessary to win, no matter how childish. His solid will and determination is admirable, but often lands him in trouble. He doesn't try to pick a fight, but is easily provoked by the smallest details, which results in an all-out battle, granting him plenty of enemies.
Sage is very independent, tending to rely mainly on himself, although he sometimes wishes he mattered enough for someone else to care for him. He is a rebel, following his own schedule; despite that, he always gets his work turned in some way or another. He often turns down assistance from others, refusing to seem weak, isolating himself from the rest of society. He is a social outcast, and though he will never show his true feelings, he secretly longs for friendship, but tends to treat his close ones worse than his enemies. There are a rare few he deems as trustworthy, and to his few friends, his loyalty is undeniable, but he will not follow blindly. He always uses his head and rarely acts recklessly without thinking it over, believing himself to be responsible and sensible; unless of course, his pride is questioned.
Accustomed to the cruelty of the world, he is not one to soften the blow, and will deal it full-on with full force, rather disliking to sugarcoat the truth, finding it a pathetic way to spare feelings. He finds hopeless optimism irritating, His honest words may be blunt and discouraging, but he isn't trying to offend on purpose. He tells it exactly like it is, a down-to-earth realist. Despite this fact, he is a secret romantic and gets flustered quickly, inexperienced at the game of love, and completely adores fairytale endings [only slightly wistful that they only occur in fairytales] no matter how corny or sentimental [mind you, he actually likes how melodramatic they are]. This emotional side, he will not show to anyone.
In his spare time, he enjoys reading, spending hours in the library at a time. He thinks best within a calm environment and finds too much noise irritating, despite his favorite genre of music being punk rock. He is an expert at playing the guitar, having an immense love for the instrument, but his major interest is creative writing. After reading countless works of literature, hours upon hours of stories inked into crisp paper, he has gotten the inspiration to write his own. He appreciates and values the aesthetic beauty of nature, unlike the majority of the teenage population, and enjoys spending time observing the outdoors. Embroidery is another skill of his, his hands quick and precise as a structure starts to form. Although all hobbies listed above are considered peculiar for his age, Sage doesn't really give a damn. He is usually stressed, and finds them to be relaxing and peaceful.
Despite his moody demeanor, Sage can be pleasant, and hold a nice conversation with someone. He is polite around adults and seniors or in public, and tries to be civil when he can with the rest of the population. During his good moods, one may even receive a smile without the usual scorn of his signature sneer. Sage tries to be sophisticated and proper, but normally fails due to his temper. Organization is one of his strong points, though one may not think so from his rugged appearance as he does not care much about his rumpled clothes and messy hair. He is a bit of a perfectionist and a neat freak and frets over the details, although he is not afraid to get his hands dirty when needed. Seeing as he does not communicate with others very well, Sage tends to shy away from awkward social situations, but when in the mood, he knows how to have a good time.
Sage is quite intelligent, able to think outside of the box [pessimistically]. He is fairly creative, and responds quickly to situations. He finds education very important, and is quite serious about his studies. He puts effort into his work, and will complete tasks to the best of his ability. Outside of class, when he is not in the mood for any of his other hobbies, he will practice his powers. He is not a big fan of sports, but he has considerable endurance. He is more suited for activities relying mainly on reaction time, speed, and brains, rather than muscle power.
Picture(optional):
Weaknesses: It is difficult for Sage to freeze any liquid besides water. Controlling the ice for too long at a time or too much ice at a time will sap his energy greatly.
His personality has many weaknesses. He is not a likable person, for he tends to come off as cold and rude since he likes his personal space.
His pride and stubbornness causes him to make foolish decisions.
He refuses to show his true emotions, and is afraid to befriend others.
Strengths: Sage is a clever and quick learner. He is quite passionate when it comes to things he cares about, and will put in his greatest effort.
His power has much potential, and with experience and practice, he will be able to improve his strength greatly.
His loyalty is undeniable to those he cares about, and he will be willing to give up all he can for his loved ones.
History/Family:
Sage Elkin was born into a wealthy family in London, England, the youngest of three boys. His parents were absent from the majority of his childhood. His father was the CEO of a well-sized business increasing in popularity, and his mother a well-known politician. A nanny was hired to care for the boys, as his parents were often off on business trips, rarely returning home. Being the youngest of his siblings, Sage was shoved around by his older brothers incessantly, and his cries only increased their teasing, if anything, until the nanny found them. Fortunately for him, his teenage brothers took great advantage of their freedom and spent most of the time out with their friends in the rougher parts of the town, declaring the rich neighborhood children much too snobby and stuck-up. The nanny had long ago ceased in her attempts to control the pair, and kept silent as long as they returned in one piece.
Sage considered his nanny his best friend. She would read him all sorts of stories, and although at such a young age he did not understand exactly what she was saying, he enjoyed the way her voice flowed smoothly and rose and fluctuated at certain points. His brothers’ teasing had diminished his childish curiosity, for he became cautious of the punishments he would receive if he wandered too close to see what they were doing, like a rough push or a spanking. Sage was not an adventurous child afterwards; he grew more quiet and obedient at a startling young age. As he began to learn to communicate, his brothers spent more and more time from home, and he turned towards his nanny for company. Albeit quiet and undaring, he was clever, and quick to learn. When he reached the age eligible for enrollment in schools, his parents allowed him to be home-schooled, with some influence from his nanny (“he learns faster than the other children, he could accelerate with his potential if he studied independently”). Sage’s parents wished their children to be well-educated and very successful in the future like themselves.
Sage crunched through numbers with ease, and his understanding of the english language became quite sophisticated. He had a basic grasp of his parents’ wishes, and strived to work hard in his studies. He fell in love with literature, and constantly pleaded for his nanny to read to him, until she guided him through his own books. One rainy day, he sat at the window, staring out into the dreary gray streets of England and tracing pathways of raindrops trailing down the glass. Suddenly, the droplets hardened and took on a more solid form until tiny balls of ice stuck to the glass. The raindrops would roll no more than a few inches down the glass to where his fingertips skimmed the glass before freezing over. It was his first encounter with his power, though he had no idea of his power at the time.
A few years passed, until his nanny decided selfishly keeping Sage at home to herself would do much harm for his future, and so enrolled him in a private school for him to gain experience dealing with other teens at age 11. Sage did not get along well with the other children; some were too much like his brothers, some he considered quite simple-minded, and all of them laughed at him. His eyebrows in particular were particularly inviting targets, in addition to his awkwardness. He quickly realized his passive nature was not doing him much good, and gradually began to adapt to the rough demeanors of the others. An edge laced his voice, and his eyes darkened and narrowed. He kept his distance from others and worked alone, and slowly began building a cold barrier around himself. Eventually his nanny noticed these changes, but he too began to shut her out, immune to her pleading. He still regarded his studies to be of utmost importance however.
Another year passed, and he grew increasingly cold and bitter. His brothers started to push him around a bit more, a bit rougher. Sage always fought back now. He’d also started to get in quite a few fights at school. One afternoon as he made his way home, a few older kids surrounded him, and started shoving him around, pushing him. The other day he had apparently upset one of his classmates, and the kid had informed his 14-year-old brother, who ambushed Sage with a few of his friends. Then one of them threw a punch, and caught him in the jaw. He stumbled, and fell, and tried to fend off their kicks the best he could. Then the kids backed off. Sage saw that another group of teens had arrived, a bit older than the ones that had been kicking him around. The new teens fought off the earlier group with well-aimed punches and hooks, while he watched in amazement.
Sage began to find the group of older teens frequently afterwards; they usually hung around the skateboard ramps near the school. They were a rag-tag bunch of high schoolers who smoked and had strange hair and piercings. Apparently they had heard the commotion and came to check out the fight, then decided to help him when they saw he was fighting back, despite being outnumbered. He had some guts, they said, and offered to teach him how to fight, so no one would mess with him; and Sage realized these were the kinds of people his brothers hung out with, the punks lounging in the alleyways and playing tag with the police. He also saw the outstretched hands, the opportunity to have some back-up when he was in trouble, the chance to be accepted for once in his life. He agreed.
He started staying out later and later, and his nanny would often chide him and fretting over what he was becoming, demanding to know where he had been. Sage would ignore her, and to avoid her pestering questions, spent more and more time away from home. In addition to teaching him how to survive on the streets, the teens introduced him to punk rock, and taught him a new way to express himself. When he mentioned that he would love to play something strong like that, one of the teens let him play a few chords on his guitar and taught him a few basic techniques. On his 14th birthday, they took him out and he got his hair dyed green. Afterwards, they spraypainted the sidewalks and ran from the police. Sage would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy every moment of it. He had never known such freedom to do whatever he wanted, the adrenaline flowing through his veins, the feeling of belonging. After the chase, they led him to an alley and presented him with a new guitar. Sage grinned so widely he could have split his lip. Friends. They were his friends.
They started hitting the bars. One of the teens knew a place that would let him in even though he was underage, and Sage got his first taste of alcohol. He didn’t think much of it, but they assured him he would get used to it. His grades started slipping; a small margin at first, then he began dropping percentages. On the occasions he happened to encounter his brothers on the streets, they would argue, they would scream vicious things at each other, and they would fight. Sage held his own surprisingly well, and he presented his black eye the following day to his friends with pride. Months passed. Then one day, recently after his 15th birthday, he returned home to retrieve some more money. To his surprise, his brothers had also returned. They began to swing at him. His nanny had been washing dishes at the time, and when she heard them fighting, tried to step in and protect him. One of his brothers punched her in the face, and she crumpled. Staring at her motionless body, Sage felt a fury unlike any he had felt before, and he screamed. Then the water streaming from the sink exploded and suddenly his brother’s face went blank with surprise. Sage blinked, and then he saw the blood-stained tip of something glimmering sticking from the front of his brother’s chest. His brother dropped to his knees, while the other stared wide-eyed in astonishment. Sage took a step closer, shakingly slightly. It was ice. It was a sharp, pointed dagger of ice that had impaled his brother. Oh god.
He ran out of the house, towards his regular meeting place with his friends. Sage found them easily, and pleaded for them to take him to the bars. Anything. He wanted to get pissed off his ass so he wouldn’t have to think about what had just happened. It was still a mystery in his head as well, but he didn’t like the nagging cold feeling that the ice … After his eighth glass, Sage suddenly lurched forwards and grabbed the male tattoo artist he had been flirting drunkenly with, kissing him hard. He was vaguely aware of a hand travelling up his shirt, and afterwards, everything was a blur.
Sage woke up the next morning, staring into the faces of several policemen, and his furious parents. His side stung with an intense pain, and he looked down to find himself completely naked; a tattoo of a red electric guitar decorated his side. His friends were gone. His parents put in money and paid off his legal consequences as Sage threw up over himself. Then they filled him in on the rest. The force of the blow had caused internal bleeding in his nanny’s brain, and she had died in the hospital two hours before. His brother that had killed her was dead; his other brother claimed as witness to the event that Sage was a murderer. He was apparently one of those mutant freaks everyone heard myths about. Later, the bartender had told him what happened at the bar with much prompting from the police. The tattoo artist had taken his virginity, and his friends had taken some money from Sage’s wallet for the artist to get him a tattoo. When he was passed out, his ‘friends’ had bolted before the police arrived. He never heard from those ‘friends’ again. Sage swore to himself that he would never get close to anyone again.
Sage was tried at court for murder, but with some persuasion of wealth, he would not have to serve time if he attended Foresta Academy to learn to control his powers. For the rest of the year Sage returned to school and tried to continue the way things were, but everyone had heard the news. He got in no more fights; he was completely avoided and isolated. Sage quietly returned to his old hobbies. He washed the dye out of his hair, but he couldn’t bear to have the tattoo removed. His grades soared again. He now put in time every day attempting to control his newfound powers. Months later, Sage was shipped out to Foresta Academy for the new school year and a new start.
In Character sample:
Sage inhaled deeply the fresh cool air, providing a pleasant numbing relief to his heavy head. Breathing out, the air rushed out thickly, his pent-up thoughts and emotion leaking into the exhale, clearing his mind a bit more and reducing the state of unstable mayhem into a somewhat more bearable, dull throbbing. God, he had needed that; every spare second in the past week Sage submerged himself in work, finding ways to occupy his hands and mind until he finally realized that perhaps he should do exactly the opposite and take a break. Reading a novel only picked at that sharp shard of a moment he'd desperately tried to push to the back of his mind, the memory playing throughout the time of only a few minutes but so vivid and capturing that every time he recalled the exchange, glass stabbed at his heart, cold searing the along the outline of the words etched into his thoughts. I hate you too. His fingers, normally gracefully maneuvering the flying needles, were clumsy, and he fumbled with his needles, often snapping the delicate sticks in half or ending up injuring himself, once even poking through his skin, and the completed product of his embroidery resulted in a structureless jumble of misplaced stitches. He tried writing, his pen automatically forming words, but when he read over his creations, he felt as if even an emo kid would cringe.
Now, he felt renewed, refreshed, and after a long stretch, the knots in his muscles started to come loose, but was suddenly reminded how exhausted he was. It could wait, though. Instead of his usual scowl, a small but genuine smile flitted to his lips as he inaudibly shuffled along the rows and rows of flowers, an atmosphere of serenity overcoming Sage as he gazed at the blossoms, his worry replaced by a stunning breathlessness at the flawless beauty of the transcendent blooms. He loved the carnations, especially those of snow white hue, untainted, clean, and pure, though he could tolerate a light dash of green or blue or pink tinting the ruffled petals. Roses, too were his favorites, of course, the tudor rose the national flower of the United Kingdom. Sage also liked roses for they symbolized beauty and specifically love, which took a top priority in his mind, as he was [secretly] a hopeless romantic. His mind wandered, thinking about how ideally this garden could suit a perfect moment shared by lovers... Sage was in a rare mood. For the first time in a while, he was quite content with his surroundings. His shoulders were relaxed, and he softly hummed a familiar tune under his breath. He was a little out of practice, his voice cracking at first, but when he cleared his throat and began again, the breeze carried a smooth flowing melody into the air.
Sage absentmindedly sang to himself as he walked along, gaze still lingering on the flowers - until he walked into someone.
