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Lawrence Evarrow; Sir-Writes-Alot
Topic Started: Jan 26 2011, 05:51 PM (137 Views)
Lawrence Evarrow

Name: Lawrence Evarrow
Alias(es): N/A

Age : 21
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: Amestrian, Central City

Height: 5'11
Weight: 140 lbs
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Black
Garb:Posted Image

Personality:He tends to be rather quiet, due to the fact that he always is thinking about the next chapter in his book, or which town he should go to, ect. He's not hard to get talking though, and he tends to be a fairly friendly person with just about anyone. Being not easily angered and having no combat training, he tends to avoid dangerous situations if he can. When confronted though, he can be a rather illusive one.

Likes: Lawrence travels alone most of the time, so every now and then company is well accepted, as well as appreciated. Along with that, Lawrence loves a good view that he can write about.

Dislikes: He loves to interview people on his travels, and so one could imagine his disappointment when someone isn't talkative. Beyond the chance of a bad story, there isn't much Lawrence dislikes (besides being broke of course, which he usually is.)

Skills: Due to his love of new, exciting sights, he's taught himself (or rather he is a natural at) free running. He's able to get around the city at amazing speeds, in comparison to walking the streets anyway. In addition, he is by far an extraordinary writer, able to detail a single sight into a whole chapter if he willed. Along with this, he is also very much a people person, able to get information out of nearly anyone. In conclusion, he's a fast moving, fast writing, smooth talker.

Family:Father in Central City, and mother in Risembool. He also has a sister, Emily, age 19, but her whereabouts are unknown.

History:Growing up with an aspiring state alchemist was easy living. Seeing as his father worked odd jobs all around the clock, Lawrence from an early point took books as his mentor. They served their purpose, instilling a permanent love for writing in his life. His father, being a rather strict, rigid man, would always look down on his creative talent, and instead tried to teach him alchemy. Lawrence had tried of course, but it took only weeks to discover he was unable to preform alchemy. His father scolded him, fitting about how Lawrence's weak mind was the cause, and that he couldn't understand a simple equation. Lawrence went back to writing after this, not as a creative release, but as an escape.

The pair continued in this way until he was around seven-teen. By this time, his father was partaking in the State-alchemists exam for the 5th time, and Lawrence had come out with a total of seven books, and could bring more to the table than his father. One night though, there was a terrible fight. His father drunk, Lawrence angry from the years, and thing had simply gone awful. Lawrence took what little things he could in the night, and left his father's home to go and see his mother for the first time.

He was met with open arms, as both his mother and Emily welcomed him to live with them. Not much happened in Risembool, and he soon came to miss the rambling of the streets of Central. Of course, the quiet of Risembool had its perks as well, first being the origin of the Fullmetal Alchemist. After much thought, Lawrence refused to interview the Rockbells. It seemed rude to wish to talk to them only for a story, and so he let the idea go. Beyond that, the scenery was certainly different, and gave Lawrence a new perspective on his writing.

Until he was twenty-one. During the night, Emily had vanished. No locks broken, no noise, no windows. The final conclusion was she had run away, but with what need? She could have left anytime, without leaving their mother to worry about her. After a week of her disappearance, Lawrence promised his mother he would go find Emily. Along the way, he figured, he could see the country, never having seen anything besides Central, Risembool, and what one could see out of the train between the two.

So he was off. His first destination was unclear to him, as he stood at the train station. At last he decided to buy the next ticket to anywhere. He had no clue where to start looking for Emily, so he figured this was as good a plan as any. His hadn't bother to look at the ticket when he purchased it, as he had told the ticket booth worker to "surprise him". He simply wished that the place he wound up would bring clues to his sister's whereabouts.

RP Sample: "Get the hell away from me!" Lawrence yelled out as the desk tumbled down with a vicious blow from his father, "I can smell the damn alcohol on you!" It was true, the stench of a bar filled the small room; one could even taste the stale beer from a few blocks away Lawrence would wager. His father picked up a few pages with, unknowingly to his father, rough ideas for Lawrence's newest project. Shreds of white filled the air as they were ripped between his father's hands.

"You think this means...anything?" His father asked, almost in a confused tone, "I go and try and FIGHT," The word enunciated with a swift kick to the already tipped over desk, "for my country, and you sit in this damn room, for the last seven-teen f*&^in' years, writing make-believe bulls*&^!" His rage echoed in the cramped room, his eyes were flames that intended to burn Lawrence, as well as all the pages that inhabited the room. Lawrence didn't want to argue, but the fact of the matter was that he had been avoiding an argument for his whole life. Maybe an argument was what was needed.

"You know what?!" Lawrence tried to sound angry, upset, even annoyed. It came out as scared. "You've been TRYING to fight for your country for the last five damn years! You need to realize that you AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH! Got it?! At least I'm good at what I do you old, washed up sonofa-" A blow to his throat cut him off mid-stream, and was instantly picked up off his feet. He coughed and wheezed, the jab to the throat nearly making him pass out, yet a vision of his father could barely be made out through the fuzz that his sight was becoming. Yet it looked less like his father, and more like an angry giant. The tattooed circles around his eyes made them look large and threatening, his large arms holding Lawrence up looked as if they could crumble streets. Fear set in, and then adrenaline.

Lawrence brought up a swift knee into his father's stomach. He wasn't strong, but strong enough to make his father release him. His feet met the floor running, as he grabbed a few things in haste, and threw a handful of paper's behind him, leaving a white cloud of paper to momentarily break vision with his father.

He ran for the front door, which had been broken open. Most likely by his father to a rage to locate his key, he assumed. The door swung open, and Lawrence ran off into the cool night air, as the darkness was swallowed behind him, and the light of the street lamps led him to the train station.
Edited by Lawrence Evarrow, Jan 26 2011, 06:09 PM.
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