Name: Ceriene Journal:ceriene Email: ceriene.moth@gmail.com Character Name: Sora
Background: Within the walls of three small towns that had decided to combine for the sake of the people's safety, Sora was brought up by his single mom in a suburban seaside town at a relatively small highschool. Arriving at this new school, he'll be greeted with classes a lot larger than he's previously dealt with, and be introduced to a variety of new people. Away from the sea and his family, he's likely to think often of them, but adapts easily, and is rarely homesick. He's had minimal contact with Zombies, having only fought one off with a wooden sword the one time he'd manage to get outside of the walls in his old home. Sora has a generally friendly and optimistic nature. He doesn't see the point in doubting oneself or one's abilities, and this spurs him on to accomplish everything to the best he can do. Despite this, he's not particularly good at school work or academics, preferring to put his energy and perseverance into school sports. His friendliness stretches to everyone and anyone, no matter how introverted they might be; unless they insult him or rebuke him directly, he's unlikely to dislike them. He doesn't hold grudges easily, often forgetting arguments the next day. He's honest, trusting and good-natured almost to a fault. Immensely loyal to and protective of his friends, he's willing to go to great lengths for them.
Physical Description: 15-years old, and 5'4", Sora's shorter than your average freshman. He has no control whatsoever over his spiky brown hair that seems to defy gravity, even when wet. With a relatively childish face and a lanky build, he does look a little younger than he is. He has bright blue eyes and is often seen smiling. He wears a chain necklace with a crown pendant on the end of it, and is rarely seen without it.
RP Example: For the twentieth time that afternoon, Sora looked out the window with no little yearning, to see blue skies, green grass, and even an abandoned soccer ball that was just itching to be played with. Turning his gaze back to his math teacher with a quiet sigh, not bothering to try and make out what he was saying in his monotone voice, he jotted down his notes, occasionally doodling in the margins. Frowning down at a particular problem, the school bell caught him by surprise as people began to leave the classroom. Beaming, he started to pick up his things, hitching his bag up on his shoulder and darting through the crowd, intent on being the first in the lunch line.