000101010111011001010010101110100[digital_doom_death_destruction_destiny]0010101000100101001001010010010110010001 (original) (raw)

[	mood	|	thoughtful	]

[

OOC

: Okay. Uhm. Hello, all. My name is Emily. I'll be your uhh...Newbie-RP'er for this morning/evening/whatever-the-hell-time-it-is. So, here goes? Yeah. First let me give you the low-down on Sammy-kins....and then his post...or...something. >>; Don't hate me for sucking. ]

*** Samuel is an angel who hates humans and loves God. Despite his undying love for his creator, he has a certain jealousy for his angel-brethren, and tends to feel inferior to them. Thus, he is of the bitter sort, and is often quiet and reserved to himself. Nevertheless, Samuel is determined to prove to God that he is worthy of his love, and that he exists more than in just a mass of the Lord's heavenly masses.
He knows little of humans, given his distaste for them, and refuses to accept their worship of God as he sees them as undeserving of his presence, let alone his gift of life.
But Samuel has come to Earth to survey what exactly is being done with God's gracious gift, and knowingly, to find a way of showing God his hatred of humans as well as his affections for the Lord (in other words, he wants to start killing some monkeys off instead of carrying their prayers up to the ears of God).
Samuel is unprepared for the human world, although he is determined to observe and punish where need be. ***

[ Okay. Yeah. Uhm, objections? Fire away, just...take it easy. This might not be what you want here for this community, and, well, if it isn't, then let me know so I can change some stuff around. So. Here's my post for Sam as of now. Laa. ]

Sitting up on a park bench, from looking out onto a paralyzed sheet of stars, he retracted, body 'splayed out like a pile of artistically placed bones, woven all along a flagrant red scarf and bundles of knotted blonde. Frosted cerulean eyes surveyed masses sprinkled in swarthy shadows, near and far, lit occasionally by dim streetlights. Given his territorial area, not much light from the surrounding city seeped through, and certainly not at this hour.
The mangled heel of a vintage boot tapped on the bench's foreleg, one of those hollow pangs, while grinning beneath his mussed veil and humming a low tune of no one's recognition.
He was positioned quite awkwardly, given the capacity of each dirtied pinion's joint spanned over coiled blades on his stiffened back, giving them jagged features instead of their fluidly elegant nature.
Swinging up to stare fixedly at a nook of questionable existence, due to a sudden rustle, he brushed back each sandy strand with care and fumbled with the frayed ends of his beloved crimson scarf, leather-bound shoulders tensed up around a thinned neck.

Samuel was not one to take kindly to surprises, and he most certainly wouldn't have them in times where he felt most at a disadvantage.