Post by Ace Ellsberg on Jun 19, 2011 2:15:19 GMT -5
ACE|ELLSBERG
THE|BASICS
AGE|Barely twenty-one
GENDER|A male
SEXUALITY|He’s a womanizing heterosexual!
GROUP/ALLIANCE|Staunchly with the World Adunctio.
OCCUPATION| The best damn plane pilot serving aboard the AFSS Freiheit, but not by any means a dogfighter, only a bomber and occasionally an errand-runner. He’s only been on the job for two months now, however.[/ul]
THE|CHARACTER
[/b][/size][/font][/left]When it comes to clothing Ace wears whatever he thinks flaunts himself off the best without being tacky. He isn’t flamboyant. But as oxymoronic as it sounds, he is a subtle show-off. He is generally in uniform which he has others keep well-cleaned and ironed because he is in love with the idea of being a man of position and accomplishment, which shines through in every choice of apparel he makes.
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But when Ace was fourteen, the old man made his last visit to the Bostonia house. He had an argument with Ace’s father, who Ace was sour towards, and the boy overheard every word. The old man was also sour, sour that his offspring were so well taken care of, so pampered, so far from the common adversity every man had to face, in his opinion, to be a worthwhile man. He was disillusioned with the government—though Ace had no idea—and he was going slowly insane keeping his strong opinions about everything bottled up. He called his own son scum. Ace’s father, after their argument, crudely kicked the old man out of the house. And that was the only time, too, that Ace didn’t see his grandfather’s gorgeous watch glimmering with pride from his pants pocket. A week or so later, Ace heard his grandfather was dead. He didn’t cry. He wasn’t sure what to think.
His parents didn’t let him go to the funeral.
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Ace is an impatient, somewhat flamboyant young man with nearly no sense of justice. He's spoiled and used to attention, and will do almost anything to get attention from someone else-- good attention or a spotlight too heated, he doesn't care as long as it's there. He fears rejection next to death, but wears a cool, careless exterior so that no one will know. He hides his insecurities and failings, and flaunts his pride and accomplishments. He's the sort of person to feel better when he brings someone else down, so that's what he does most of the time. He dislikes someone until they prove to him that they're likable, either with wittiness, badassery or generally being a good person. He doesn't mind good people too much; he enjoys being around them, hoping their morals might rub off on him. Ace is mildly envious of people who can live innocently and openly without covering up their mistakes and shortcomings, and people who are kind and ethical. But all the same, he claims he was either born or raised the way he was, and that he can't stop himself from going down that road of the unrighteous. He's no evil genius, and he has absolutely no agenda-- he is horrible at planning things out, after all-- but when it comes to taking the right path or the easy one, he takes the easy, immoral road and lives with it with generally no guilt. He's not one to be disgusted by something heinously wrong-- he might never see himself doing something so horrible, but he doesn't feel the need to constantly reproach someone for doing what they thought was necessary, be it rape or murder. To him, it's useless anyway.
Being so insecure with himself, and unsure of his worth as a person, he does his best do be useful to who he thinks counts-- friends and superiors. But don't count on being his friend too long if you can't give him some kind of personal satisfaction. He likes thrills and taking risks, yet he's a coward and hides from fights. If someone calls him out on it, he just brings up some other kind of reason why he's better, or some excuse for why he didn't want to participate. He quite enjoys insulting people, and admires a forgiving person-- he himself never forgets an offense from another person, though he may act civil around that person afterwards. He doesn't hide his dislike of people in most cases, or he will passive-aggressively talk about them behind their back. At the same time, he can be confrontational if the situation calls for it, and no blows will be exchanged. He's rather blunt and likes to tease and have a good time-- he's trying to live his life after all, but he wants to be a worthwhile person too. He's educated, but easily bored by booksmarts and intelligent people piss him off because he's constantly comparing himself to everyone else, trying to find the crack in everyone he knows so he doesn't have to bear his own imperfection alone.
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With a grunt audible even in the thundering rain, Ace felt his legs finally lose that firm control and tumble down into the wet earth—he hardly felt it, but when he looked down his knees and the upper part of his shin were covered in mud. Hurriedly before anyone could notice he’d fallen, he swatted at the mud clinging to his reddened knees, and attempted to get up despite the rain, the dirt, the fatigue…. It was too late anyway; to the side of him, Ace heard those heavy, breathy snickers and knew they were aimed at him. Idly, he figured he would’ve laughed at the fallen loser if he’d been in their position, too—at training camp, there simply was not enough to laugh about. Ace slowly lifted himself up, feeling rather disillusioned as he stared fiercely up at the raining sky. A raindrop got in his eyeball—he yelped and rubbed at it, then patted at his knees again with the free hand. He was being sulky and he knew it. And he knew that there was no room for sullenness at World Militia training.
“Why’re you lookin’ so sad?” Some uneducated prick yelled from ahead of him, easily jogging backwards and wearing a jovial smile. “You don’t even have to do as many as us, flyboy!” Ace was startled they’d even taken a notice to him and the fact that he’d enrolled in the flight course, but had that familiar surge of satisfaction at being acknowledged for his achievements. The other soldier-to-be was right; Ace didn’t have to run as many laps as those looking to go into ground, combat forces, and for that he was supremely grateful to whatever forces of fate were forcing him through this. But he did have to do some laps, and that was enough cause for dissatisfaction in his opinion.
His gaze flickered upwards again, wanting to yell something back at the man, but he was long gone with a small group of soaked men flocking around him. At least they could talk as they ran. Ace couldn’t keep up with people so they left him behind… He paused then, feeling a vague foreboding sense...
The drill sergeant had his face in the mud within two seconds, he swore; the brute’s hand was holding his head down, his fingersoles pressing hard against Ace’s scalp as his raucous voice rang in the pilot’s ears. “Think you can just sit around ‘cause it’s raining?” He shouted uncomfortably close to his face, “Or maybe ‘cause you fly those planes, huh?! Oh, no, I get it… it’s ‘cause you’re so used to sittin’ pretty on that high horse of yours, ain’t it? You think you’re better than us ‘cause you’re rich? Do you?!” He shoved his face harder into the soil, and Ace struggled to turn his head to the side while he kept the rest of his exhausted body limp and motionless.
“No, sir,” he drawled after he’d spit out dirt and drawn a breath of frigid, wet air in. Ace would’ve glared at his drill sergeant with enough resentment to kill a horse at that moment, but he couldn’t manage to meet his eyes. Still, his voice held enough venom to suffice. “Don’t think I’m better because of my heritage!” He gasped out, “Only because I’m smarter and better-looking than all of you!” The words had just come out, but he didn’t feel shame. He always meant what he said. He heard ugly laughter above him, and he seethed in silence, his teeth clenched even as the drill sergeant casually released his hold on him, looking smug when Ace drew himself to sit up, rubbing at his mud-covered face.
“Don’t think you’re gonna go far, kid.” The sergeant murmured behind the crashing sounds of water hitting the ground—Ace detected this note of a sneer, and yet also of warning. Ace made his voice sugary sweet, docile, innocent when he replied, but that edgy self-confidence was still blaring boldly.
“Oh no, sir, I won’t make the same mistake you did. I’m actually going to go far.”
THE|PUPPETEER
[/b][/size][/font][/left]EXPERIENCE|Six years!
HAVE YOU READ THE RULES AND WORLD THREAD?|I wrote them. So. That counts, right?
ANYTHING ELSE?|I am the admin, so you can talk to me about site things on this account too. Thank you~[/ul]
