Angelo Winters (finished) Jun 28, 2010 20:03:38 GMT -5
Post by crescendo on Jun 28, 2010 20:03:38 GMT -5
Name: Michelangelo Winters, but he prefers Michel (Mik-kale) or Angelo.
Rank: Breeder, and he used to intern under a nurse joy, so he has 'veterinary skills' in his pocket.
Who's side is he on?: Neutral
Angelo is naturally quiet, preferring to be the listening side of any and all conversations- unless there is something that peaks his interest. He is both silent and shy, tending to dart away from others and keep away from most social events. If a pokemon he likes is present though he changes entirely. Being a breeder, beautiful and well-fit pokemon catch his eye immediately. Sick pokemon do as well, since Angel often carries around a medical kit in case of anything ever happening. He's the type to feed strays and wild pokemon with many of the bowls and canisters of home-made pokefood he carries on his person. With a hand for cooking poffins and pokeblocks, one could cay he has a talent for making pokemon come to him. But Angelo would never take advantage of this fact- oh no. His pokemon were caught the old fashioned way, with clean battles. If he lost, he lost, and that was that, but on the occasions he won the second his new pokemon was secure in its pokeball he'd take it out and heal the little beast. It can be noted his pokemon are always happy and in peak physical form.
He is very nice if you can hold a conversation with him, and incredibly passionate about pokemon and their treatment. Angelo seems to lose all his shyness if abuse or neglect of a pokemon can be seen by his eyes, often marching up to the trainer and shouting about their lack of care for their partners. He has gotten himself into many a scrape doing this, usually against the darker influenced people... not that he cares about trouble, as long as pokemon are safe. This young man has such a passion for feline pokemon that he is known to tag after owners of such creatures for hours, pestering them on their charges. His overwhelming like for the cat-like has gotten him into many an awkward jam, but his intentions are good and his luck high, so Angelo gets his way out of such sticky situations. While he does love the feline persuasion of creatures a large amount, he is more attracted to the four-legged than the actual cat pokemon. He is afraid of two-legged pokemon, as he finds they resemble humans in their ways. he would not, despite this strange fear, ever leave a pokemon in a bad environment if he could help it, even if it didn't have four legs.
All in all, Michel Winters is a whirlwind of conflicts, but it can be sure that his strong passion in his profession and pokemon always bring him through.
Standing at about 6"0 with an approximate weight of 130 or perhaps a pound lighter, it is easy to say this young man seems to be a bit on the slender side. He is built tall and wiry, as a basketball player or runner would be, and he is certainly one of the latter. He came from a colder region years ago, bundled up in a dark green fur-lined jacket and tight black pants, pokeballs at his waste, backpack slung on one shoulder, and a shaky smile on his pallid face. He has bright blue eyes, accenting his hair which is an even darker shade of azure. Said hair is about ear length and as shaggy as a wild animals fur. He keeps it uneven and messy, layered despite his not ever feeling the need to com it straight. Above his eyes and occasionally hidden by his mess of hair are a pair of two elegant thin eyebrows. They hover above his effeminate eyes, accenting the coal-black eyelashes that even the guys in his family seem to obtain. He has the hands of a piano player- small, long-fingered, and quick. While Angelo does have an unending love for the piano, he would never admit to playing it, though he will openly admit his love for the flute. He keeps a flute with him at all times, piping melodies when he's sure he's alone. His pokemon love the musical sound, as does he, and it has a calming effect on his team.
Despite the change in climate from his cold country to this warmer one, Michelangelo has never lost his endless supply of jackets. He seems to always be covered in pants, and if not a jacket, a long sleeved collared shirt. He seems very formal in the way he dresses, but it is a style he likes and rarely gives any other word about it than that. Preferring the clothes he arrived in though, Michel seems to wear fur-lined jackets and 'skinny jeans' more often tan anything else.
A black belt on his similarly dark pants chains his pokeballs to his figure, along with the small case for the wooden flute he so treasures. each ball seems to be painted over, the red shell taking on a symbol of whatever lives inside. Michelangelo is a painter above all else, and though he might not be the best, he is steady enough to add his own personal touch to his belongings, as he does often. The black backpack he carries about, that lugs all his food, brushes, and supplies is actually painted onto, blue swirls accenting the dark coal shade. This backpack never parts with him, as it contains everything he needs to be as good a breeder as he is.
[Done in first person because I was bored. c:]
"I didn't always live in Tonoka. I'm from a region farther to the north, a place without much of a name but the one we 'natives' gave it- Wauna. I was born to a lovely mother and father, and an awaiting brother and sister. We were a tight-knit family, and surprisingly enough none of us kids ever fought. I'm serious, no word of disagreement or grumbling ever passed between Arctura, Arthur, or I. It was a beautiful balance of playful children and working, easy-going parents. Things were blissful. Life was blissful.
This is where everyone usually asks what huge tragedy arose to make me leave such a wonderful land. The truthful answer is- nothing. No problem happened, I didn't lose anyone, life went on as usual after I left. There was no rhyme or reason for me setting off when I was ten with only my cyndaquil, my clothes, and a backpack to my name. I wasn't provoked into leaving, or asked, or forced. they cared, naturally, but no one tried to stop me. It was simply a whim leading me out of the land of snow and ice, and I... despite my silent nature... am a creature who moves on whim.
So I was ten when I left and nineteen upon arrival in Tonoka. I've heard the same question 'What did you do for nine years?' asked over and over, and before anyone here asks, I will tell.
There was another region I had to pass through to get her, a large industrialized one where the pokemon are workers more than friends. I stopped there, learned there, and established myself there. I worked in a pokecenter, despite the fact joys seem to be the only ones ever there. I was a doctor, despite my young age, and I specialized in extreme injuries. In other words, I was the 'disaster doctor'. But my job was no disaster, oh no- I had a high success rate in my surgeries and healings, and earned myself quite a bit of money that way. some was sent back to my family, as I didn't need it but I have a lot squirreled away. Secretly of course. So anyway, during my time in this other region as a 'pokemon veterinarian', I picked up on quite a few other aspects. Battling was not my thing, was never my thing, and I dropped it after the first try. Coordinating was alright- I had a knack for performance, but it didn't suit me either. Breeding became the thing for me, after a friend of mines' persian had a litter. I actually helped with the birthing, surprisingly, and a meowth was my reward for this. Not that I wanted a reward but I didn't turn the tiny egg down- Jazper is very much the heart of my team. Btu I was fascinated with the aspect of breeding pokemon for stats and temperament, and took up another internship, under my medical one, as a worked in a daycare. It was much more technical than that sounds, as people who needed an egg produced came to me for that reason, but it was a very intriguing job. I got the knack of suiting pokemon to each other quicker than some, and it became my calling, in a sense. I dropped my medical career, despite success in it, though I do still practice what i did when its needed.
Now, liking to breed pokemon sounds odd. I like caring for them is what it is, working up their stats, leveling them, working out the kinks in their personalities and fitting a plan for them to help their strengths. Admittedly I did use to trade my well-trained pokemon for eggs- it got me further in the training and developing of new pokemon. It wasn't profitable, or anything, but I loved it. I still love it.
So, after nine years of work with those alternating jobs, I decided to pack up my backpack and start my wandering again. With a decent amount of money in my pockets, plenty of supplies and instruments, I set out with my pokemon and stumble into Tonoka. I'm an outsider, a foreigner, and though they seem welcome I'm always nervous in a new country. I've lapsed into more silence than is usual for me, retreating into my room at a pokecenter to escape conversation. When I'm alone though, at night or early in the morning, we will all go out, my pokemon and I, and train ourselves. I will pipe away on the flute, they will dance and frolic after, and we'll simply... relax. After the training, that is. even breeders like to keep their pokemon strong."
Angelika Winters - Mother
Riccardo Winters- Father
Arthur Winters- Brother
Arcta Winters- Sister
- Playing the flute
- Painting on pokeballs
- Being helpful
- Getting his pokemon in top form
- Being alone
- Rude people
- Those who abuse or use their pokemon
- Being unable to do anything
- Loud people
- Being yelled at
It was cold today. cold and dark, the blue sky being overshadowed by approaching thunderous clouds. The silvery gray of the incoming storm was a beautiful color- the dangerous sparks of gold lightning licking down from the heavy cloud cover to light the earth. Angelo, settled comfortably in his room in the pokecenter, watched the approaching storm with interest, hand absently patting the persian who had forced his way onto the young mans lap. The purring coming off the content feline pokemon was almost as loud as the rumbling thunder in the distance, starting up like a motor and fading into deep roaring breathing. A quilava stretched out next to him, in the little alcove of the window in his room. Across the lush little balcony seat lay the fire pokemon, kicking the air occasionally as he chased something in his smoky dreams. As the persians tail flickered down in his sleep onto the quilavas belly, the smaller pokemon clutched it and whined in his sleep, as if afraid of something and clinging to a lifeline. The small claws, which did no damage to his tail, alerted the cat pokemon, and his eyelids slide slowly up. Angelo found his own blue eyes held contact with the cats gray, and he grinned amusedly as the persian yawned, exposing its pink tongue and sharp canine teeth. It glanced down at the quilava, not moving its tail, and merely shrugged as if at ease in the world. Reaching over a hand to scratch Jazper behind his black-tinted ears, the blue-haired young man chuckled as the feline leaned up his muzzle to intercept. /Cats are such willful creatures/ he thought, tickling the beast under his muzzle and listening intently to the deep purring. The persian, As f sensing his thoughts, cast him a bemused expression, and kneaded the young mans chest with sheathed claws, before curling back up under the petting hands of his owner. All was peaceful, all was bright. A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance, but none of the pokemon, nor even their owner stirred a hand. This was going to be a very silent night, thought Angelo as his own pallid eyelids descended over his bright blue eyes, noting the clouds as they seemed to recede back toward the east. A very silent night.