Title: Thursday Lark
I Find You Dashing - August 31, 2007 05:06 AM (GMT)
Name-James
Age- 17
Email- SprigOfLime@aol.com
Name- Thursday Lark; Consequently, he goes by both.
Sex- Male
Age- 19
Loyalty- Polish Empire
Current location-Warsaw, Poland. Some prestigious music intitute that may or may not be of consequence in the future.
Current Occupation- Student, musician, musical engineer(His engineering skills branch far beyond instruments but he has yet to seriously explore this. Perhaps in the future?)
Appearence-
Personality- Not overly out going or overly shy. He won't approach you but if you do him, he'll smile and say in quiet words. "I'm just here to play.", his small smirk projecting louder than his words every would be able to.
History-Thursday Lark. Parents both in jail for massive debt, his grandfather who raised him was a musical junkman. Money never came in great excess as the small shop his grandfather owned was constantly cluttered with antique, broken, and spliced/mutant instrument. Thursday or Lark, which ever you prefer, watched, listened, and learned to play them all.
After his grandfather passed on when he was 12, he was pushed to live on the streets, building and playing instruments just as his grandfather had before him. This was until an aristocrat, a Lady in passing and in all honesty, mockery told him he was so skilled, he should attend [Insert school name here, prestigious music school]. He took this to heart and went to seek an audience with the admissions bureau but they wouldn't see him, he was, after all, a simple ragamuffin. So, naturally, he stood outside the institute for a month, playing all the instruments his cold, youth splattered fingers could acquire until they finally allowed him an interview and upon hearing him play classical violin, let him in without question.
Some regard him as brilliant but most just consider him nothing more than a Junkman's grandson. Often at night, not to be rebellious or for the thrill of deviance, he sneaks out of the institute solely because he is so deeply addicted to the cool night's air and loves to see how the lights from the stars seem a reflection of the city below.
Age- 17
Email- SprigOfLime@aol.com
Name- Thursday Lark; Consequently, he goes by both.
Sex- Male
Age- 19
Loyalty- Polish Empire
Current location-Warsaw, Poland. Some prestigious music intitute that may or may not be of consequence in the future.
Current Occupation- Student, musician, musical engineer(His engineering skills branch far beyond instruments but he has yet to seriously explore this. Perhaps in the future?)
Appearence-
Personality- Not overly out going or overly shy. He won't approach you but if you do him, he'll smile and say in quiet words. "I'm just here to play.", his small smirk projecting louder than his words every would be able to.
History-Thursday Lark. Parents both in jail for massive debt, his grandfather who raised him was a musical junkman. Money never came in great excess as the small shop his grandfather owned was constantly cluttered with antique, broken, and spliced/mutant instrument. Thursday or Lark, which ever you prefer, watched, listened, and learned to play them all.
After his grandfather passed on when he was 12, he was pushed to live on the streets, building and playing instruments just as his grandfather had before him. This was until an aristocrat, a Lady in passing and in all honesty, mockery told him he was so skilled, he should attend [Insert school name here, prestigious music school]. He took this to heart and went to seek an audience with the admissions bureau but they wouldn't see him, he was, after all, a simple ragamuffin. So, naturally, he stood outside the institute for a month, playing all the instruments his cold, youth splattered fingers could acquire until they finally allowed him an interview and upon hearing him play classical violin, let him in without question.
Some regard him as brilliant but most just consider him nothing more than a Junkman's grandson. Often at night, not to be rebellious or for the thrill of deviance, he sneaks out of the institute solely because he is so deeply addicted to the cool night's air and loves to see how the lights from the stars seem a reflection of the city below.