Post by Emmett Calloway on Apr 6, 2014 1:40:26 GMT -8
EMMETT SEBASTIAN CALLOWAY
Oh, do you know what you got into?
Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do?
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment
You want to know 'bout me?
* Full Name: Emmett Sebastian Gideon Calloway
* Age: Twenty Six
* Gender: Male
* Species: Demi-God
* Olympian Parent: Eros
* Sexuality: Bisexual
* What region would you like to live in? Colchian
Well, I think I'm Sexy.
* Eyes: Bright Blue
* Hair: Dark Brown he usually wears is messy
* Birthmark: The mark of Eros on his upper right arm
* Distinguishing Features: His eyes; they are almost mesmerizing.
* Play By: Ian Somerhalder
* Personality:
Emmett is an extremely warm individual who is gifted with the ability to love without cause. He always has a compassionate ache in his soul which is why he is able to open his heart to any poor soul to walk into the place where he works. Using his charm and looks he is able to make all those around him feel at complete ease, which is something he always strives for. When he isn’t playing host at the local bar, he is usually found playing with children who always flock to him like a moth to a flame. Whatever money he does get from his job goes to his mother’s health and looking after the local orphans.
He loves his mother and sister dearly and is very protective of them. When his mother became very ill Emmett knew he had to do whatever it took to keep her alive, even if that meant degrading himself to something which a lot of people snigger at. If he could make just one person happy, then he had done something right. Whispers say he has an approval dependence but Emmett completely disagrees, to the point that no one has mentioned it since. He did start young, younger than most of his fellow hosts, but he has slowly managed to work his way through the ranks and into a role that people have now started to recognise him on the streets. Other hosts would move towns but not Emmett; he finds it heart-warming to be approached by his clients in the middle of the street.
Emmett doesn’t like to claim that he is better than other people and he generally shies away from talking himself up. He is also tender-hearted and compassionate, feeling the pain of others vicariously and is easily moved to pity. However Emmett still generally sees others as selfish, devious, and sometimes potentially dangerous. All thanks to their lack of support when he needed them the most. He has a very strong sense of duty and obligation, and feels a moral obligation to do the right thing all the time. Even if it hurts himself in the process.
The Rest Might Be A Blur.
* What do you look for in a spouse? Someone who will understand that his clients will still be a huge part of his life but that he is able to put his spouse first if s/he so wishes. Someone who can see past his appearance and love him for who he is.
* Likes: Reading, Hosting, Laughing, Match-Making, Conversations, Children and Cooking
* Dislikes: Bullies, Selfish people, the colour orange, liars and the odd strike of lightening.
* What color hair and eyes would you prefer? He isn’t very picky.
* Turn-ons and offs: Turn-Ons: that one special smile given when truly happy, Laughing so much that it turns into a snort, and being able to give complete and undivided attention to him. Turn-Offs: Drunks, Narcissists, preachers and those who don’t put family first.
The Rest Might Be A Blur.
The Rest Might Be A Blur.
* Family: Mother: Melissa Calloway (Changed back to her maiden name after her husband’s death)
Father: Nathanial Tempest (Deceased)
Sister: Anastasia {Anya} Jessica Calloway
* Abilities: His ability to match-make? Emmett always jokingly tells people they would be great together but not long after they end up together. If it’s a gift from his father or just his ability to know if two people belong together is something no one quite knows.
* Pets: A few stray dogs that hang around his work.
* Anything Else:
* History: Melissa Calloway thought she had married her perfect match, thought he was the man of her dreams. When her husband was in company he was warm and affection, the perfect husband and host. The moment they were alone together something changed, it was if the air was suddenly made of ice. A single look was enough for Melissa to know he was nothing like his hosting self. He wasn’t physically abusive to her but his silence was enough to make her feel physically sick. There would be weeks where he wouldn’t speak to her and when he finally did, it was only out of necessity and not choice. It was if he resented her entire existence somehow.
At first she thought she had done something wrong to cause him to act so cold towards her. She had spent those first few months trying to make him happy but it was no avail; everything she did he hated. No one believed her when she tried to tell them, how could this charming man be such a heartless man? Even her own mother refused to believe her story and that hurt more than anything. So she gave up trying to expect him to be a loving husband. She did what she needed to do and that was it. Melissa went back to work in her family’s shop, acting like the perfect housewife. The couple was social enough for their friends to think they were such a perfect loving couple, it wasn’t of course, but then what sort of marriage was that perfect?
This was the way things had been for nearly two years until something suddenly changed. Melissa, for the first time in months had the afternoon off and the house was completely empty. Nathanial wasn’t due home for at least three hours and Melissa knew that the moment he walked through those doors her smile would disappear again. For this reason alone, Melissa decided to do whatever she wanted in those few precious hours. Melissa was in the middle of reading a much loved book when the front door slammed open and her husband appeared. She was up off the couch in a manner of seconds, dropping the book on the floor in her haste. Her eyes went to the floor instantly, she never made eye contact with him until he spoke to her, and this time was no different. Melissa didn’t even see his expression, the soft smile that played at his lips; she didn’t even hear him approach until she saw his shoes in front of her eyes. Her heart was in her throat and it was life time had frozen in place.
For the first time since their marriage she felt him touch her skin. A thumb was gently pressed against her lips while the rest of his hand curled around her chin. Startled she tried stepping away but was suddenly face with the inability to move. Her eyes snapped up to his face and she looked into the smile she had only seen at their wedding. A small gasp escaped her lips as she recognized that expression, something she had longed to seen, more than anything else in the world. One moment they were staring at one another, the next they were glued like magnets. All coherent thoughts faded away as she melted in the arms of the man she had married. Of course, it wasn’t her husband, her brain worked out later on, but at that time it really didn’t matter.
The next few days were a blur. Her husband wasn’t exactly the same man she was with that night, but there were enough traits for her to realize that he was still her husband. Eros may have decided to give Nathanial back the love for his wife or maybe he was always her husband henceforth, whatever you believe, Nathanial and Melissa were now husband and wife in both body and soul. It didn’t take too long for her to work out she was with child, she had read up on everything in those years where nothing happened, much the amusement of her husband. She was over the moon when it was finally confirmed by their local doctor, enough to start bragging to her mother who had finally began speaking to her again.
On the dark evening where the moonlight glistened through the bedroom window, Melissa gave birth to her first and only son, who she named Emmett Sebastian Gideon Calloway, Universal, Revered, Powerful Warrior. Nathanial nearly missed the birth of his son as he was....
Time to see, the real me.
* Name: Sarah
* Age: Nineteen
* Where did you hear about us?: Was linked by a friend
* Rp Sample:
Was it too much alcohol that drove her to such an insane level of stupidity, or maybe some dark part of her wanted to see what the scum would do when they realised their main source of attention was something that they despised more than anything else in the world? This was her first time inside the city as a Master of Healing, not a child apprentice who would follow every command given to her. Her first assignment the day was to go and heal some idiot child who thought it would be fun to fall off his parent’s stone wall. Many tears and tantrums later, Idril had healed the whiny child and was on her way with a heavier purse of coins. This went on for a few hours, until Idril found herself weakened to the point that her own source of power ached for a rest. This is what led her to the tavern, which was offering a rest while her powers recharged again. Whatever the reason, Idril had really pushed her luck, and surely couldn’t have been a surprise when one drunken man took it a step too close for her liking.
Idril had been abused by hundreds of people before, and it didn’t come as a shock when this drunken man reacted the way he did, spitting at her like she was some animal. She had been abused by the scariest person she had ever laid eyes upon, their knight commander, and this man was not going to come anywhere close to his fear factor. Her glass was back on the bench before she turned her gaze onto her accuser, her blue eyes darkening slightly in the light. His poke was hard against her skin, a burning sensation ached across her chest, reminding her of the past abused she had received. She held steady, so use to being pushed over by her elders that it came as habit, and clenched her teeth together in anger. When she had thought he had finished his rumble, Idril spoke harshly, her words still stung with how drunk she was. “Oh because having us all locked away will makes your lives so much better.” she snapped angrily in an undertone, knowing her voice wouldn’t be heard over the cries of the others. Never had she come across such an opinionated bunch of drunks.
The sword caught her eye and Idril’s well known confidence faulted dramatically. Warning bells sounded in her head, voices telling her to try and make a break for it, but as she looked out of the corner of her eye, there was no hope of escape. It was if this man sensed her fear for his words took on strength, something she had always strived to keep hidden even when her whole body went into panic. To look weak was one thing; it was another to admit fear. Looking back on it then, Idril decided she probably deserved to die for such an offence, and wouldn’t say otherwise. At the time, however, her mind tried to piece together why on earth it had to be her of all people. At his words, Idril glanced up; trying to look unnerved by what he just suggested doing, and allowed a daring smile on her lips. “I would like to see you try.” she dared, some part of her believed he would be too drunk to raise his blade to cut her down. Hidden beneath her mask however, she could still hear her quicken heartbeat.
Movement blocked her vision, and she found herself staring at the back of a young man. She noticed he had a very smart looking bow on his back, which meant he had some sort of active job. How she knew things, Idril wasn’t too sure. But for the moment she was content with her first judgement. Her bind was buzzing, trying to work out what on earth was going on. Maybe she had already died, and was just reliving the moment over and over again. Her lips quivered at that thought, but a quick pinch later discarded that belief aside. Okay so she wasn’t dead, but what else could explain this random person from standing between her and death. Her mind then went to another judgement, one she liked the idea of: the goddess Armarmana had given her a chance to amend herself, enough luck to last through the event. She took note to thank the Goddess when she had a chance, mentally preparing the ritual she would make. Idril stared, slightly curious but still deeply angry for the interruption. Was this man going to be her help, or condemn her?
The moment he spoke, as if familiar with this man, Idril’s hopes hit rock bottom. If he was on friendly terms with this drunken man, why on earth was he trying to help her? She bit her lip, suddenly really angry at the false hope her drunken mind have given her. Why would anyone want to help her, unless they wanted something from her? They always wanted something from her. Idril wanted to see what he looked like, but held back her curiously as the scene played out in front of her, trying to work out what side this guy was on. The comfort from the hours of drinking alcohol was starting to wear thin, and she look a quick glance at the bartender, who of course knew her secret as she had only healed his daughter a few hours before. He didn’t meet her gaze, which saddened her slightly, but she couldn’t blame him. Her attention went back to the man standing between her and the sword wielding buffoon, who had spoken again. Her eyes narrowed in anger as he went on to excuse her behaviour, and then add insult to injury he went on to say that she was prone to such behaviour. Did he want her to start on him as well, because he was really pushing his luck. Idril’s suspicion faded as he turned to face her for a brief second, a flash of agitation across his face. Her mind raced, so he was trying to help after all.
Contrary to the words he spoke, Idril could find herself bearing to listen to him speak so badly of her, but some part of her still wanted to run at the first chance she got. It was just that Fight or Flight instinct that was built into her. She glanced up from her dazed state, her mind taking most of her energy to work out how on earth she could escape this. The drinks still had fuzzy warmth in her soul, and it gradually started to fade as her body went into overdrive to try and rid herself of the toxin. He turned her way again, and she studied him appearance for the briefest moment trying to recognise anything that would give away why he was helping her. Before she had a real chance to take it all in, he had her gripped her arm and pressed something cold against her skin. She sensed magic; a quick glance confirmed the man protecting her didn’t have magic through his veins, but something about him suggested something magical was at play. His touch was warm against her skin, but she didn’t dwell as a sharp pain drew her attention to the fact his ring was pressing hard against her cold skin. Idril’s surprise increased when she felt power beneath that ring, magic, the thing she sensed only moments before. Was he even aware of the magic inside that ring? His thoughts confirmed it a moment later.
His voice was inside her head, scowling her for speaking out against their Sovereign. If she hadn’t been a mage, or had experienced it before, Idril would have reacted in shock and even dismay, crying out in shock. But she didn’t even visually acknowledge this new voice; she knew he was taking a pretty big risk to use this sort of ring in the presence of drunks who wanted her blood. “Well I’m bloody drunk. Do you think it’s really wise to use that ring right in front of him?” she counted, her eyes showing just a hint of amusement before it faded once again. Idril could see something was being planned right in front of her, but as she listened to him talk, her attention faded, the drink taking it last shot before her body killed the remains. Something about taking her up to the Sovereign filtered through her mind, but didn’t really hit home, as she closed her eyes, long enough for the sickness to pass. Idril heard his voice again, inside her head, revealing his name and then something that surprised her. The Soarail Trodarie. A deep annoyance curled in her heart, anger mixed with sadness, she had given up on them after eight years, and now wasn’t the time to bring that faith back again. “For what it’s worth, my name is Idril. If you’re planning to recruit me into the cause then I’d rather deal with the wrath of this drunken idiot.” she replied coldly, trying her best to hide the hate she had for the cause. For years she had waited for their help, and for them to come to her aid now didn’t seem worth it at all.
“I will do as you ask.” She had been given a choice, one that could end with her dead, and the other without. But her mind couldn’t lay at ease with following after Ceryni’s command. She had been taught to question everything, to the last degree, until there was nothing else to be question. But as the seconds trickled past, Idril quickly realised she didn’t have that option. She was going to have to agree to his terms, but there was still something that she needed to ask. “Why are you helping me?”
The sincerity of the question still showed just how much self worth she retained after years of abuse. Idril couldn’t see why anyone, especially a stranger, would jump to her defence. Another question developed, one that she didn’t want to ask, and was slightly too embarrassed to voice. What was she suppose to offer him as thanks after his timely rescue. Her mind played over the possibilities, images of money came and went as she tried to work it out, and then came down to one thing, which she wasn’t too happy about. The Gods had granted her more than magic, it was time she finally allowed herself to use her other appealing aspect.
All too late, she remembered her thoughts could be heard by Ceryni.
Idril had been abused by hundreds of people before, and it didn’t come as a shock when this drunken man reacted the way he did, spitting at her like she was some animal. She had been abused by the scariest person she had ever laid eyes upon, their knight commander, and this man was not going to come anywhere close to his fear factor. Her glass was back on the bench before she turned her gaze onto her accuser, her blue eyes darkening slightly in the light. His poke was hard against her skin, a burning sensation ached across her chest, reminding her of the past abused she had received. She held steady, so use to being pushed over by her elders that it came as habit, and clenched her teeth together in anger. When she had thought he had finished his rumble, Idril spoke harshly, her words still stung with how drunk she was. “Oh because having us all locked away will makes your lives so much better.” she snapped angrily in an undertone, knowing her voice wouldn’t be heard over the cries of the others. Never had she come across such an opinionated bunch of drunks.
The sword caught her eye and Idril’s well known confidence faulted dramatically. Warning bells sounded in her head, voices telling her to try and make a break for it, but as she looked out of the corner of her eye, there was no hope of escape. It was if this man sensed her fear for his words took on strength, something she had always strived to keep hidden even when her whole body went into panic. To look weak was one thing; it was another to admit fear. Looking back on it then, Idril decided she probably deserved to die for such an offence, and wouldn’t say otherwise. At the time, however, her mind tried to piece together why on earth it had to be her of all people. At his words, Idril glanced up; trying to look unnerved by what he just suggested doing, and allowed a daring smile on her lips. “I would like to see you try.” she dared, some part of her believed he would be too drunk to raise his blade to cut her down. Hidden beneath her mask however, she could still hear her quicken heartbeat.
Movement blocked her vision, and she found herself staring at the back of a young man. She noticed he had a very smart looking bow on his back, which meant he had some sort of active job. How she knew things, Idril wasn’t too sure. But for the moment she was content with her first judgement. Her bind was buzzing, trying to work out what on earth was going on. Maybe she had already died, and was just reliving the moment over and over again. Her lips quivered at that thought, but a quick pinch later discarded that belief aside. Okay so she wasn’t dead, but what else could explain this random person from standing between her and death. Her mind then went to another judgement, one she liked the idea of: the goddess Armarmana had given her a chance to amend herself, enough luck to last through the event. She took note to thank the Goddess when she had a chance, mentally preparing the ritual she would make. Idril stared, slightly curious but still deeply angry for the interruption. Was this man going to be her help, or condemn her?
The moment he spoke, as if familiar with this man, Idril’s hopes hit rock bottom. If he was on friendly terms with this drunken man, why on earth was he trying to help her? She bit her lip, suddenly really angry at the false hope her drunken mind have given her. Why would anyone want to help her, unless they wanted something from her? They always wanted something from her. Idril wanted to see what he looked like, but held back her curiously as the scene played out in front of her, trying to work out what side this guy was on. The comfort from the hours of drinking alcohol was starting to wear thin, and she look a quick glance at the bartender, who of course knew her secret as she had only healed his daughter a few hours before. He didn’t meet her gaze, which saddened her slightly, but she couldn’t blame him. Her attention went back to the man standing between her and the sword wielding buffoon, who had spoken again. Her eyes narrowed in anger as he went on to excuse her behaviour, and then add insult to injury he went on to say that she was prone to such behaviour. Did he want her to start on him as well, because he was really pushing his luck. Idril’s suspicion faded as he turned to face her for a brief second, a flash of agitation across his face. Her mind raced, so he was trying to help after all.
Contrary to the words he spoke, Idril could find herself bearing to listen to him speak so badly of her, but some part of her still wanted to run at the first chance she got. It was just that Fight or Flight instinct that was built into her. She glanced up from her dazed state, her mind taking most of her energy to work out how on earth she could escape this. The drinks still had fuzzy warmth in her soul, and it gradually started to fade as her body went into overdrive to try and rid herself of the toxin. He turned her way again, and she studied him appearance for the briefest moment trying to recognise anything that would give away why he was helping her. Before she had a real chance to take it all in, he had her gripped her arm and pressed something cold against her skin. She sensed magic; a quick glance confirmed the man protecting her didn’t have magic through his veins, but something about him suggested something magical was at play. His touch was warm against her skin, but she didn’t dwell as a sharp pain drew her attention to the fact his ring was pressing hard against her cold skin. Idril’s surprise increased when she felt power beneath that ring, magic, the thing she sensed only moments before. Was he even aware of the magic inside that ring? His thoughts confirmed it a moment later.
His voice was inside her head, scowling her for speaking out against their Sovereign. If she hadn’t been a mage, or had experienced it before, Idril would have reacted in shock and even dismay, crying out in shock. But she didn’t even visually acknowledge this new voice; she knew he was taking a pretty big risk to use this sort of ring in the presence of drunks who wanted her blood. “Well I’m bloody drunk. Do you think it’s really wise to use that ring right in front of him?” she counted, her eyes showing just a hint of amusement before it faded once again. Idril could see something was being planned right in front of her, but as she listened to him talk, her attention faded, the drink taking it last shot before her body killed the remains. Something about taking her up to the Sovereign filtered through her mind, but didn’t really hit home, as she closed her eyes, long enough for the sickness to pass. Idril heard his voice again, inside her head, revealing his name and then something that surprised her. The Soarail Trodarie. A deep annoyance curled in her heart, anger mixed with sadness, she had given up on them after eight years, and now wasn’t the time to bring that faith back again. “For what it’s worth, my name is Idril. If you’re planning to recruit me into the cause then I’d rather deal with the wrath of this drunken idiot.” she replied coldly, trying her best to hide the hate she had for the cause. For years she had waited for their help, and for them to come to her aid now didn’t seem worth it at all.
“I will do as you ask.” She had been given a choice, one that could end with her dead, and the other without. But her mind couldn’t lay at ease with following after Ceryni’s command. She had been taught to question everything, to the last degree, until there was nothing else to be question. But as the seconds trickled past, Idril quickly realised she didn’t have that option. She was going to have to agree to his terms, but there was still something that she needed to ask. “Why are you helping me?”
The sincerity of the question still showed just how much self worth she retained after years of abuse. Idril couldn’t see why anyone, especially a stranger, would jump to her defence. Another question developed, one that she didn’t want to ask, and was slightly too embarrassed to voice. What was she suppose to offer him as thanks after his timely rescue. Her mind played over the possibilities, images of money came and went as she tried to work it out, and then came down to one thing, which she wasn’t too happy about. The Gods had granted her more than magic, it was time she finally allowed herself to use her other appealing aspect.
All too late, she remembered her thoughts could be heard by Ceryni.
The credits YO!.
This was all made by Cvdude86, You steal, I will hunt you down, and fucking beat you to the ground.