09-21-2017, 05:43 PM
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"What do you want?" Why was it Praxis always wound up in these situations first? He never wanted to be the greeter for all the people who showed up and then disappeared after they were allowed in- honestly, Praxis had tried to keep tabs on them, just in case, but that was difficult to do when they vanished completely. Maybe it was his great sense of hospitality that did it; if that were true, he should greet them all more often, to keep them from thinking they could settle in cozily. He supposed that wasn't the shared mindset of the others, even though in many ways, Jason was worse than he was about talking to the people at their barriers. He was definitely a bigger asshole, unfortunately, but Praxis was learning. It was the only option he had, if he wanted to make it further than his family did in this world, however productive they'd been on their small farm out in the middle of nowhere. In the end, being soft and approachable got them murdered in their own home.
Folding his arms across his chest, he glared at the cowboy through the fence, but there was a faint shimmer when he looked to the mare, uncomfortably reminded of their own animals they'd had roaming around. They'd had an old gelding named Bud, and he'd died when Praxis was twelve. He didn't dwell on it, sharpening his frown. "You're either here to trade or stay, so be quick about it. I've wasted enough time on you already."
[spoiler=I RAN SO FAR AWAY (INFO; 9/14)][size=8pt]GENERAL
-Praxis Terzi | Cisgender male, male pronouns | 18 years old | Born June 13
-Unknown sexuality | Single; not looking to grow close with anyone like that
-Resident of NorthStar District (for now; may choose to wander off later)
PHYSICALITY
-Shaggy, curly black hair; perpetually messy | Sharp, vivid green eyes; almond-rectangular shape
-Willowy and slender | Weighs in around 105 pounds, so he's a bit underweight, but not greatly
-Stands at 5'6 | Gains a few inches from the heels of his combat boots (5'8 while worn)
-Unblemished for the most part, but has faint scars all along the knuckles of both hands
-Tends to wear baggier clothing in layers, to seem both more muscular and larger than he is
-Owns a Smith & Wesson Model 642 kept in his pocket | Also owns a small combat knife
PERSONALITY
-Convinced he needs to be the "bad guy" to survive, so many traits are faked/forced
-Sharp-tongued and typically hostile | Keeps to himself and rarely socializes willingly
-More timid than he reveals | Self-serving, though with his own strain of sympathy
-Honestly just a mess with a shit-ton of guilt and confusion (with morality, especially)
"What do you want?" Why was it Praxis always wound up in these situations first? He never wanted to be the greeter for all the people who showed up and then disappeared after they were allowed in- honestly, Praxis had tried to keep tabs on them, just in case, but that was difficult to do when they vanished completely. Maybe it was his great sense of hospitality that did it; if that were true, he should greet them all more often, to keep them from thinking they could settle in cozily. He supposed that wasn't the shared mindset of the others, even though in many ways, Jason was worse than he was about talking to the people at their barriers. He was definitely a bigger asshole, unfortunately, but Praxis was learning. It was the only option he had, if he wanted to make it further than his family did in this world, however productive they'd been on their small farm out in the middle of nowhere. In the end, being soft and approachable got them murdered in their own home.
Folding his arms across his chest, he glared at the cowboy through the fence, but there was a faint shimmer when he looked to the mare, uncomfortably reminded of their own animals they'd had roaming around. They'd had an old gelding named Bud, and he'd died when Praxis was twelve. He didn't dwell on it, sharpening his frown. "You're either here to trade or stay, so be quick about it. I've wasted enough time on you already."
[spoiler=I RAN SO FAR AWAY (INFO; 9/14)][size=8pt]GENERAL
-Praxis Terzi | Cisgender male, male pronouns | 18 years old | Born June 13
-Unknown sexuality | Single; not looking to grow close with anyone like that
-Resident of NorthStar District (for now; may choose to wander off later)
PHYSICALITY
-Shaggy, curly black hair; perpetually messy | Sharp, vivid green eyes; almond-rectangular shape
-Willowy and slender | Weighs in around 105 pounds, so he's a bit underweight, but not greatly
-Stands at 5'6 | Gains a few inches from the heels of his combat boots (5'8 while worn)
-Unblemished for the most part, but has faint scars all along the knuckles of both hands
-Tends to wear baggier clothing in layers, to seem both more muscular and larger than he is
-Owns a Smith & Wesson Model 642 kept in his pocket | Also owns a small combat knife
PERSONALITY
-Convinced he needs to be the "bad guy" to survive, so many traits are faked/forced
-Sharp-tongued and typically hostile | Keeps to himself and rarely socializes willingly
-More timid than he reveals | Self-serving, though with his own strain of sympathy
-Honestly just a mess with a shit-ton of guilt and confusion (with morality, especially)
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