Post by amir on Jan 23, 2013 15:57:27 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #7a9aa9, bTable][tr][cs=2] Amir ibn Badr ibn Sharif al-Miraj. 15. citizen. Avan Jorgia. | |
[rs=2] | We learn to trust, we climb, we fall, It's hard to live life here. Eyes closed I'm safe, home, Memories still so clear. ‘Ey up! Amir here, though some tend to call me Coal tit! Why you might be askin? Well it’s kind of on account of an accident I had with something staining a part of me otherwise luscious black hair white, much like a coal tit. Or at least that’s what I got told. I’m skinny as anything – though that might be on part of me living it rough on the streets, with as I already mentioned black hair that tends to be loosely curled – unless it’s wet in which case it hangs down about my face. People reckon that besides from my tanned skin my most striking feature are my eyes, I don’t know what they’re going on about personally however. Sometimes I use a scrap of fabric to tie my hair back out my face, though I couldn’t tell you what colour it was meant to be, I think it was a sky blue when I picked it up though. On the right side there’s a small bit of gold in shape of coin that I earnt laced into my hair. The Rom Baro of the Romany group I travelled with briefly chiv’d it for me all nice and neat. It were the first bit of money I earnt meself you see, and I wanted to treasure it. His name was Luca, the Rom Baro was, and he was a nice fellow. Saved me from certain death and allowed me to travel with the group, even letting the arab horses join the herd of vanners that I had to take with me to Paris. Me father, Badr, had died on route you see. His health had been ailing to start with but the attack by bandits did it for him, and he died in my arms. I’d have loved to have carried his sword but it’s too big and unwieldy for me to carry. However I do have his dagger, and his prayer beads. Originally I wore just Arabic traditional robes, however upon getting to Paris I learnt to adapt. Travelling with the Romany did teach me some tricks on how to earn money honestly and give me some wood and I’m pretty good at carving all sorts of forms from it – including flowers – however I also learnt some less than appropriate means, now that I used the money that I got for providing such fine stock for breeding in with French lines. I’m relatively short still having not hit my growth spurt, however I keep getting told there’s all that ahead of me. Now days I normally wear a dark blue waistcoat over the tatty remains of my robes, and a belt that carries the dagger that I’ve taught meself how to use – though I try not to too much. The only other thing you see me carrying is a mat that I use when I can to do me prayers, 5 times daily facing towards Mecca as I was taught by my father as he was taught by his father before him as is appropriate for the worship of Allah, and as we were taught by Muhammad (s.a.w) countless years ago. Many people seem to think I'm quite outgoing and cocky as if I don't care about anything no more, indeed after 2 years living it rough it is kind of hard to care about much but to say I don't care is the biggest lie out there. I just believe that Allah is testing me during this time, and that eventually I will see my baba in heaven. Besides one’s worth is not measured in gold and silver that you possess, but in the quality of the horses that you own. Oh yeh that reminds me, with baba and mother being Bedouin I’d like to think I’m good with horses, told you – resourceful that’s me. Anyway I guess you’ll be wanting to know a more chronological order of me history, rather than scattered information littered throughout this little dialogue. I was born to a Bedouin camp, life was pretty normal. Travelling with the horses and camels between oasis’ in the desert, sometimes we ventured near cities to do trade. It was both terrifying and awesome at once, and the sandstorms used to terrify me. I were pretty sure that it was some roaring monster come to gobble us all up, but as I grew older it just became a part of life. When we were in the cities proper father taught me to give to the poor, those less wealthy a part of my wealth for it would bring far more blessings from Allah than hoarding coin. ‘sides we had no use for it in the desert, we didn’t often barter goods for coin, instead we would barter horses, and physical goods. Things we’d have use for. Anyway, one point of time visiting a city we found out that there had been a request for Arabian horses from a far off country of France. Me and Baba immediately gave what we could to the poor, and gathered our horses starting to travel. We’d hit France only to be attacked by bandits. On the route Baba’s health had been failing already, and while he managed to fight off the bandits it took his toll. He died in me arms, having demanded I keep going on. I travelled alone for a while, getting more and more lost – baba was better at reading maps then me – however there was a small stroke of luck, Allah was lookin’ over us that day, and had mercy on our plight. I came across a band of Romany, and they were willing to let me travel with them and the horses. In Paris I managed to deliver the horses to who had requested them, to the king himself, and was even paid well. It didn’t last long however, as I gave to the poor. I made some coin meself though using trades I’d learnt with the Romany, and I couldn’t complain. This would be just one more challenge from Allah, just another test. As the nightmares come, I recall the sun Show me light, just a glimpse of hope Show me light, I need a miracle, a miracle tonight, Tonight I'll try to find, as the darkness dies, If you could just show me... Show me light.... RP Sample "I... I wash just looking for a home for the night," Grantaire stated, too drunk to realise how much of a downer. "I don't.... remember.... where my shleeping.... quaartersssh are," he shrugged blinking slowly up at Marius. He staggered against the other student as he was helped to his feet his sense of balance shot. "Whhhy no wine?" he asked suddenly glancing at Marius. He frowned at the idea that they both should be somewhere. "Ma...maybe you. Not me. I... I know where they don't want me! Trying to keep shome p.... per..... pershpective on thingsh!" he was protesting loudly at that. It was partly what had brought on such his strong bout of drinking. The fact that he couldn't fit in with the dreamers that made up the majority of the friends. He knew he didn't fit in but he couldn't stay away either. His admiration for the leader wouldn't let him. He couldn't help the groan as he staggered slightly again trying to keep his feet under him. "I'm not drunk!" he protested suddenly at random as he was reminded of the students jibing. "I Shwear to drunk I'm not God!" he added on in a rather feeble protest, the word order mixing up as he spoke, it had been perfectly straight in his head. He'd suddenly realised that Marius had been missing from the meeting. No one had been there to protest against the jibes and torment the other students had been tossing his way. No one had been able to call them off. Enjolras for the most part had ignored them, only calling them to order again if they got too rowdy. "He.. didn't nooticeee your ab... ab..." he gave up on the word absence when he realised he could work out how to say it any more "your not being there," he amended quickly, as if trying to reassure the other student. He looked around suddenly blinking some more as if the world had cleared faintly "got awful foggy shuddenly," he added on. "Wheresh the buildingsh gone?" he added on trying to work out why they'd disappeared from his limited view of the world, which was still spinning slightly. "How can I shleep if the buildingsh have vanished!" he protested making as if he was about to stagger away in search of missing buildings. . |
Robin. 23. -points at Javert and R-. |
