LAW ENFORCEMENT, quintin kaverly
posted Jun 11, 2019 0:30:39 GMT -6
Walker DuVall and HEINRICH E. MANN like this
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[attr="class","omapponetop2"]revolution calling
[attr="class","omapponetop1"]FILES LOCATED UNDER
LEANDRE QUINTIN KAVERLY
LEANDRE QUINTIN KAVERLY
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QUINTIN KAVERLY
LOOKS LIKE R. DANEEL OLIVAW FROM THE CAVES OF STEEL
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FILE NAVIGATION
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ABOUT QUINTIN
ABOUT QUINTIN
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QUINCY, QUINT, LEANDRE
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QUINCY, QUINT, LEANDRE
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36 YEARS OLD
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36 YEARS OLD
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CIS MALE
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CIS MALE
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HE / HIM
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HE / HIM
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BISEXUAL
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BISEXUAL
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BIROMANTIC
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BIROMANTIC
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SINGLE
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SINGLE
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DECEMBER 29
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DECEMBER 29
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CAPRICORN
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CAPRICORN
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LAWYER
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LAWYER
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[attr="class","omapponetabs1"]SUBJECT TEMPERAMENT
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RECENT STATUS
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leave me here to waste, i once was a man with dignity and grace.
leave me here to waste, i once was a man with dignity and grace.
[attr="class","omapponepersonality1"]SUBJECT TEMPERAMENT
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A stoic mask set upon a beautiful face. Every smile is scarcely there and every chuckle barely makes a sound. The picture of poise and sophistication. The ideal gentleman, polite and well-spoken. The model of a high-class man born of high-class parents who lives a naturally high-class life. A natural born lawyer, he’s good at what he does, with plenty of case wins under his belt. He’s succinct, persuasive -- exactly how people would expect him to be. And he’s good at meeting people’s expectations. [break][break]
Most of the time anyway. [break][break]
Quincy is intelligent, that’s no lie. And he can talk himself out of almost anything. But the combination of elegance, sugar-coated words and quiet smiles isn’t real. He’s like a counterfeit piece of art, made to appear almost identical to the masterpiece he’s portraying. It’s an image he’s good at maintaining, for the most part. It is a facade that he cannot break, not in front of his family.
[break][break]
Kaverly men suffer from a curse; one that is entirely self-made and shows no signs of breaking. It is a vice that they hold onto so desperately, one would think they value it more than their masses of wealth and success. Pride is this family’s vice. This single trait is instilled into every Kaverly -- but especially every heir -- and has led to a line of prideful gentlemen with cold eyes and venomous snake-like mouths. Quintin has witnessed it happened first hand, and even he is not entirely unaffected. ‘Perfection’ is the role he plays, one he did not have to audition for. One that was forced upon him. Childishly afraid of the man who raised him, yet desperate for his approval.
[break][break]
Only away from judgement, does Quincy soften, like freshly made marshmallow fluff. A man that is unafraid and free from watchful eyes, is one that is patient and accommodating -- with a horrible sense of humour and a laugh that’s far too loud to belong to a refined gentleman. A toothy smile, and blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Perpetually curious and needlessly caring. That's who he is.
A stoic mask set upon a beautiful face. Every smile is scarcely there and every chuckle barely makes a sound. The picture of poise and sophistication. The ideal gentleman, polite and well-spoken. The model of a high-class man born of high-class parents who lives a naturally high-class life. A natural born lawyer, he’s good at what he does, with plenty of case wins under his belt. He’s succinct, persuasive -- exactly how people would expect him to be. And he’s good at meeting people’s expectations. [break][break]
Most of the time anyway. [break][break]
Quincy is intelligent, that’s no lie. And he can talk himself out of almost anything. But the combination of elegance, sugar-coated words and quiet smiles isn’t real. He’s like a counterfeit piece of art, made to appear almost identical to the masterpiece he’s portraying. It’s an image he’s good at maintaining, for the most part. It is a facade that he cannot break, not in front of his family.
[break][break]
Kaverly men suffer from a curse; one that is entirely self-made and shows no signs of breaking. It is a vice that they hold onto so desperately, one would think they value it more than their masses of wealth and success. Pride is this family’s vice. This single trait is instilled into every Kaverly -- but especially every heir -- and has led to a line of prideful gentlemen with cold eyes and venomous snake-like mouths. Quintin has witnessed it happened first hand, and even he is not entirely unaffected. ‘Perfection’ is the role he plays, one he did not have to audition for. One that was forced upon him. Childishly afraid of the man who raised him, yet desperate for his approval.
[break][break]
Only away from judgement, does Quincy soften, like freshly made marshmallow fluff. A man that is unafraid and free from watchful eyes, is one that is patient and accommodating -- with a horrible sense of humour and a laugh that’s far too loud to belong to a refined gentleman. A toothy smile, and blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Perpetually curious and needlessly caring. That's who he is.
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[attr="class","omapponetabs2"]MISCELLANEOUS
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MISCELLANEOUS INFO
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+ He has two first names, simply because his parents couldn’t decide on one. His mother’s choice was ‘Quintin’ and his father’s was ‘Leandre’. [break][break]
+ His given name, Leandre, is pronounced ‘lee + an + der’. People often mispronounce it and while it doesn’t bother him too much, it got particularly tiring after the nineteenth time. So, he often goes by Quintin. There are several people - mostly co-workers and recent friends - who’ve never even heard or seen his real name before. [break][break]
+ If he could go back and do anything he wanted -- a career to pursue, a subject to study -- do whatever he wanted without consequence, he would probably want to become a teacher. [break][break]
+ He often looks after his father’s dogs whenever he’s out of town. He could easily leave the task to one of the cleaners who maintain his father's house, but he likes to spend time with the guard dogs when he can. They’re both very well-trained dobermans, named Bijou ( french for jewel ) and Bisou ( french for kiss ). Quincy was responsible for naming them. [break][break]
+ Despite the fact that Quincy is a grown man, he remains deathly afraid of his father. [break][break]
+ He has two first names, simply because his parents couldn’t decide on one. His mother’s choice was ‘Quintin’ and his father’s was ‘Leandre’. [break][break]
+ His given name, Leandre, is pronounced ‘lee + an + der’. People often mispronounce it and while it doesn’t bother him too much, it got particularly tiring after the nineteenth time. So, he often goes by Quintin. There are several people - mostly co-workers and recent friends - who’ve never even heard or seen his real name before. [break][break]
+ If he could go back and do anything he wanted -- a career to pursue, a subject to study -- do whatever he wanted without consequence, he would probably want to become a teacher. [break][break]
+ He often looks after his father’s dogs whenever he’s out of town. He could easily leave the task to one of the cleaners who maintain his father's house, but he likes to spend time with the guard dogs when he can. They’re both very well-trained dobermans, named Bijou ( french for jewel ) and Bisou ( french for kiss ). Quincy was responsible for naming them. [break][break]
+ Despite the fact that Quincy is a grown man, he remains deathly afraid of his father. [break][break]
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+art history
+work
+rain
+trying new things
+authenticity
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-familial expectations
-society
-bugs
-wine
-perfectionism
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[attr="class","omapponetabs3"]SUBJECT BIOGRAPHY
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your father is an icicle of a man. silent and stoic, cold and brutal. [break][break]
like ice, absolutely flawless. perfection. [break][break]
his bitter eyes meet yours, unimpressed and impatient. he expects to look and see a mirror image staring back at him. or on particularly bad days, he expects to look at you and see something better. [break][break]
he is the ice king and you are his child. he is the commander and you are his soldier. he is your father and you are his son. [break][break]
you are to serve, you are to obey and you are to love him. [break][break]
you are his to rule, his to command and his to mould into whatever he wishes. [break][break]
the marks he leaves behind are dark black and blue. they stain skin like wine on white fabric, like paint on a blank page. you are simply a canvas, of purple water colour and pain. [break][break]
the bruises he makes always disappear. their stay -- while painful -- is ultimately fleeting. blood is never spilt, no scars are ever made and there is no evidence they ever existed in the first place. yet you still feel them. [break][break]
they are lessons, and you are supposed to learn from them. [break][break]
there is to be no warmth, no tenderness. no raging flame or heated words. [break][break]
only ice. cold… and perfect.[break][break]
he raised you to be perfect. analytical, intuitive, smart. he wouldn’t tolerate a stupid son. he would only tolerate excellence. it was your role to be impressive, something your father could boast about. look at that over there, it’s mine. it’s that way because i’m the one who made it.[break][break]
you’re like a well-trained dog.[break][break]
even now, when he is on the other side of the country, the chill of his gaze still lingers. [break][break]
no matter how big you grow, no matter how far away he is… he is never truly gone and you are never truly free. you remember, because it is a lesson he has taught before.
your father is an icicle of a man. silent and stoic, cold and brutal. [break][break]
like ice, absolutely flawless. perfection. [break][break]
his bitter eyes meet yours, unimpressed and impatient. he expects to look and see a mirror image staring back at him. or on particularly bad days, he expects to look at you and see something better. [break][break]
he is the ice king and you are his child. he is the commander and you are his soldier. he is your father and you are his son. [break][break]
you are to serve, you are to obey and you are to love him. [break][break]
you are his to rule, his to command and his to mould into whatever he wishes. [break][break]
the marks he leaves behind are dark black and blue. they stain skin like wine on white fabric, like paint on a blank page. you are simply a canvas, of purple water colour and pain. [break][break]
the bruises he makes always disappear. their stay -- while painful -- is ultimately fleeting. blood is never spilt, no scars are ever made and there is no evidence they ever existed in the first place. yet you still feel them. [break][break]
they are lessons, and you are supposed to learn from them. [break][break]
there is to be no warmth, no tenderness. no raging flame or heated words. [break][break]
only ice. cold… and perfect.[break][break]
he raised you to be perfect. analytical, intuitive, smart. he wouldn’t tolerate a stupid son. he would only tolerate excellence. it was your role to be impressive, something your father could boast about. look at that over there, it’s mine. it’s that way because i’m the one who made it.[break][break]
you’re like a well-trained dog.[break][break]
even now, when he is on the other side of the country, the chill of his gaze still lingers. [break][break]
no matter how big you grow, no matter how far away he is… he is never truly gone and you are never truly free. you remember, because it is a lesson he has taught before.
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call me
KILEO
call me
KILEO
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DISCORD
19 YEARS OLD | SHE / HER | AEST |
DISCORD
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15%
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