Post by mccoy on Jul 4, 2012 15:58:09 GMT -5
Basics
Name: Nash Kieran McCoy
Nicknames: McCoy, Coy, or Mick
Age: Sixteen
Birthday: 11/01/1995
Grade: Eleventh
Power: Enhanced senses and psychometry
Member Group: Prefect
Canon or not: Original
Appearance: Unlike some prefects, there's not much in the way of intimidating about Nash McCoy's appearance or visible demeanor. With his bashful reactions and the color that lights his features when he blushes, he'd more likely be labeled shy or naive just by looking at him. He sports a pale complexion and grey eyes to accentuate his five foot, eight inch frame. His weight is a bit below average at one hundred and thirty six pounds, but that says more about the life he lived before becoming a student than it does about him or his eating habits. Equally telling is the appearance of his hair. Choppy, clearly not professionally cut, with stray pieces hanging about his face-lift his father cut it to save what money they had.
His clothing bore no resemblance to that of his peers who knew the life of status. McCoy settled on loose fitting, worn out secondhand clothing for the bulk of his wardrobe, though there was, on occasion, a newly purchased outfit in the mix. While not picky by any stretch, McCoy tends to like cargo pants and the colors of camouflage- greens, browns, ect. His favorite outfit would be a pair of camouflage cargo pants and a simple black t-shirt or sleeveless tanktop type shirt. His shoes are equally unimpressive- a pair of solid grey vans seems to settle fine with him.
Personality
Likes:
Dislikes:
Fears:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Goals:
Overall Personality: Nash McCoy is bright. Witty, even sometimes funny, he's as quick with his thoughts as he is on his feet. But he's also analytical and cautious. He can be downright fearful of strangers that focus their attention on him. If it was up to him, relationships would form slowly and naturally, driven by habitual encounters instead of people's other motivations. Because of this, he keeps most of his thoughts to himself, giving the impression that he's quiet or quite shy.
Around trusted friends or family, McCoy can be ... well, fairly carefree. He has a very peculiar sense of the world because of his enhanced senses. He notices minute variations, like if the light in a room has dulled and might soon burn out, to a pale or glossy appearance to people that don't yet know they'll soon be ill. These usually unnoticed aspects of the world take center stage with McCoy and often lead to anxiety or fixation. Still, he has redeeming traits, such as compassion, loyalty, the ability to listen, optimism, and his determination to make up for his oddities.
History
Family Members/guardians: Gabriel Isaiah McCoy- father, police officer
Elizabeth Claire Porter McCoy- mother, attorney, deceased.
History: Dull gray eyes were reflected back to the boy as he stared at the rounded clear plastic dome. Under the plastic, there was a cake with gleaming, melty chocolate frosting with a pastel hue of green as the accents and the script in the center that read, 'Happy Birthday, Nash!' in girlish handwriting of the unknown baker. There would be no candles for the cake this eleventh year. It was probably for the best, though. McCoy didn't like the number eleven, anyway. Fire depressed his already sorrowful dad and it had sent McCoy into a panic for several months after the fire that engulfed his family home shortly after his tenth birthday.
"Nash?" his father's voice startled him, causing him to jump in his seat before he turned to his dad with a forced smile.
"This is so cool, dad! How about we try some?" Nash suggested. The tired smile he received in reply was all he needed. He'd already lost count of the 'lies' he told to keep his father happy since his mother's death by that point.
Nash McCoy lived a happy life. He was the only child of Elizabeth McCoy, formally Elizabeth Porter, who was known widely for her prowess as a practicing attorney as well as her proficiency in the kitchen as a neighborhood cook when holidays came around. His father was Gabriel McCoy, a friendly, passionate police officer who never failed to lend a helping hand in the community, whether you were moving in, moving out, or just overwhelmed with household duties. With his son by his side, he patrolled the streets of Paisley, Scotland, on foot. He never seemed to fail to greet every person he passed and he rarely refused a conversation if that said person was bored or lonely.
Nash himself, often given credit for helping his mother with the preparation of holiday goodies and for being every bit as willing to help out in the community when with his father, was noted most for his intelligence. A bit anxious about insignificant things and perhaps odd at times, not to mention easily distracted, he was still sharp from a very young age. His parents couldn't seem to buy him books fast enough so it became a tradition for him to borrow books from the people in the community both after providing some service for them and at random just to be kind.
The family was middle class. They saved their money and dreamed of a nice home in America, which had always held a certain appeal for Nash's mother. Arsonists [they ended up being teenagers] robbed the McCoy family of that when they started a fire too close to the neighborhood where their home was. Nash's family and several others found their life in shambles. More significant than the houses was the loss of Elizabeth McCoy. Gabriel never recovered emotionally. Depression haunted him every waking moment. He seemed lost, unable to function in a world where his wife was simply gone.
So Nash picked up the pieces and kept them together. His father's depression kept him from being anything more than a liability at the police station, yet he made his rounds without being paid. Nash was able to find jobs around the community to help them get by, all the while secretly saving a portion of his earnings so that one day, they might once again have a chance of realizing a dream or the ability to enjoy life, even for a brief moment.
Nash's ability was officially noted when he was fifteen. It reached the government after his sixteenth birthday. In no time at all, he was whisked away from his father to the island and the academy, forced into being a prefect in part because he was passive enough to be controlled, and partially because his ability to see the past of people and objects was intrusive enough to prove useful. Coupled with his shy personality, he wasn't one that would be suspected of something sinister. Hardly anyone knows him as Nash, though his name is known to the public. His fellow prefects call him McCoy. He doesn't bother to correct them or anyone else that follows suit in calling him that.
Behind the Character
Name: Decimus
RP Experience: Seven, almost eight years.
How did you find us: Angels vs Demons' admin, Foxxy
RP Sample:Mercifully, the final tears cascaded down the sixteen year old's cheeks, leaving visible trails in the dirt that layered his cheeks from the day's work. Nash wiped them away with a quick, angry swipe of his right forearm before that same arm fell to his side, brushing by the itchy fabric of his sleeveless shirt. The tips of his fingers settled just outside of the pockets one of his finer pair of faded tan shorts as his eyes traveled to the ground, enabling him to glimpse the tops of his equally dirty, solidly light grey tennis shoes. He hardly noticed them.
Instead, he focused on the long blades of grass that occupied this patch of ground. The grass in this said section was visibly longer than the surrounding grass. Instinctively, Nash looked up for any structures that might cast an offending shadow over this area. None were visibly providing any shadow at all under the scrutiny of the dull orange glare of the sun, aside from the hospital he'd just left. His eyes rose from their intended task to search the window of the room he'd left minutes earlier, straining to see the father that wouldn't rise to greet him even if he were somehow aware of the attention being dutifully displayed from the ground below.
It was just a simple incident of his father being short of breath. They only went to the hospital because he needed his inhaler. The fire left his lungs scarred, and anyway, it wasn't a long walk, really... oh, how easily the numerous lies assembled in Nash's mind during the journey out of Sadonia and into angel's territory. It didn't ease his worry but he remained hopeful.
Nash shook his head, ignoring the pesky stray hair that the action misplaced. He turned his back to the hospital, wishing there was somewhere to go. He couldn't bear the thought of returning to Sadonia without his father by his side.Nash gave a sigh after a few moments of rather blank staring, casting his gaze to the grass once again as he stood without purpose just a few feet from the hospital entryway. Each time a nurse or citizen with white wings passed him, Nash McCoy found reason anew to feel out of place with the dark wings of the death angels. This gave him all the excuse he needed to shrink into a sitting position on the grass. Maybe no one would notice him if he kept perfectly still and ignored his nagging thoughts about the bugs who could be making their own journey from their home to the uncharted territory that was Nash's pale flesh.
