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Rude
Just a Job
Created on 2006-01-13 21:48:59 (#9252180), last updated 2007-02-05
120 comments received, 192 comments posted
Plus Account [Gift]
7 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 6 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Rude of the Turks |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 03-01 |
BioALERT: THIS IS A CHARACTER JOURNAL Maintained for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
_catchphrase_
Player Name: Amanda
Player Journal:![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
fathoms_deep
Player AIM: Fallen Inoue
Character Name: Rude
Series: Final Fantasy VII
Status: Alive and well.
Personality: Rude is a strong and quiet man, but no one knows his true inner workings aside from that he does his job, and does it well, and if he can't do it, he tries anyway. Usually, the imaginative ways around a certain obstacle are left up to Reno. Rude thinks in a very linear fashion, in rapid-fire succession, and almost machine-like manner. It's likely that he doesn't like to talk about his personal emotions because he doesn't like to admit to them. He's loyal, almost blindly so, and follows orders without letting his feelings get in the way.
Sample RP post/Journal entry: (This is a friend's post, as Reno. She'sshinysilvercoin)
Reno's head cocked to one side, and he rested his jaw in one upturned palm, fingers edging their way across the well-worn tabletop as he slowly blinked his agreement to the other. His fingertips found the box of matches kept in center with the ashtray, thumb sliding the box out so that he could snatch one match up, and he leaned back to wrestle a cigarette from the pack in one rumpled pocket, chucking the rest onto the table for his friend. Flicking the match alight, he held it to the off-white stick as it protruded from his thin lips.
Once it was lit he inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in before breathing it out through his nostrils. "Just wish he'd 've shut up. 'Oh no, I have a family, please don't I beg you'.. Gave me a headache. I mean, what's the deal? It's not our fault he didn't think of that before he fucked around with ShinRa accounts. Like he really thought I would give a toss.." He waved the waitress away once she had brought their drinks, ash from his cigarette drifting to the floor. Until he was done talking, it seemed, he had little interest in her.
(And here is my post)
"Have a drink. It'll go away." He closed his eyes, leaning forehead on his palm. He was still, respectably, more blood-spattered than Reno. I mean, really, he had been standing right next to him when it happened. In fact, sometimes, Rude held the people down and let Reno have away with 'em. His eyes peered for a second across the tops of his shades, finding Reno's eyes pinned to his drink, his scowl firmly in place. He gently reached his foot under the table and tapped his shin. "....Cheer up. At least he's dead."
He picked up his drink, sipped it, put it down, keeping his gloved fingers curled around the glass and drumming his fingers against the sides lightly. He retracted his foot, silent for a few seconds, and wondering just how much damage was done on the part of that swindling son of a bitch whose remains were now floating down somewhere in the sewers. And he thought a little about the family who was now short one husband/dad. In short, it was slightly invigorating the sort of power the Turks had over people's lives - angels of death, maybe. No, that was too poetic. Reno might have said that once, in a burst of drunken inspiration.
Anything Else You Might Want To Add: He has a tattoo of a dragon on his back.
_catchphrase_Player Name: Amanda
Player Journal:
fathoms_deepPlayer AIM: Fallen Inoue
Character Name: Rude
Series: Final Fantasy VII
Status: Alive and well.
Personality: Rude is a strong and quiet man, but no one knows his true inner workings aside from that he does his job, and does it well, and if he can't do it, he tries anyway. Usually, the imaginative ways around a certain obstacle are left up to Reno. Rude thinks in a very linear fashion, in rapid-fire succession, and almost machine-like manner. It's likely that he doesn't like to talk about his personal emotions because he doesn't like to admit to them. He's loyal, almost blindly so, and follows orders without letting his feelings get in the way.
Sample RP post/Journal entry: (This is a friend's post, as Reno. She's
shinysilvercoin)Reno's head cocked to one side, and he rested his jaw in one upturned palm, fingers edging their way across the well-worn tabletop as he slowly blinked his agreement to the other. His fingertips found the box of matches kept in center with the ashtray, thumb sliding the box out so that he could snatch one match up, and he leaned back to wrestle a cigarette from the pack in one rumpled pocket, chucking the rest onto the table for his friend. Flicking the match alight, he held it to the off-white stick as it protruded from his thin lips.
Once it was lit he inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in before breathing it out through his nostrils. "Just wish he'd 've shut up. 'Oh no, I have a family, please don't I beg you'.. Gave me a headache. I mean, what's the deal? It's not our fault he didn't think of that before he fucked around with ShinRa accounts. Like he really thought I would give a toss.." He waved the waitress away once she had brought their drinks, ash from his cigarette drifting to the floor. Until he was done talking, it seemed, he had little interest in her.
(And here is my post)
"Have a drink. It'll go away." He closed his eyes, leaning forehead on his palm. He was still, respectably, more blood-spattered than Reno. I mean, really, he had been standing right next to him when it happened. In fact, sometimes, Rude held the people down and let Reno have away with 'em. His eyes peered for a second across the tops of his shades, finding Reno's eyes pinned to his drink, his scowl firmly in place. He gently reached his foot under the table and tapped his shin. "....Cheer up. At least he's dead."
He picked up his drink, sipped it, put it down, keeping his gloved fingers curled around the glass and drumming his fingers against the sides lightly. He retracted his foot, silent for a few seconds, and wondering just how much damage was done on the part of that swindling son of a bitch whose remains were now floating down somewhere in the sewers. And he thought a little about the family who was now short one husband/dad. In short, it was slightly invigorating the sort of power the Turks had over people's lives - angels of death, maybe. No, that was too poetic. Reno might have said that once, in a burst of drunken inspiration.
Anything Else You Might Want To Add: He has a tattoo of a dragon on his back.
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