Post by alexia on May 31, 2010 20:53:56 GMT -5
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HELLO MY NAME IS EYJA HEDDA KRISTIANSEN AND I AM ONE-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE YEARS OLD BUT I LOOK TWENTY-SEVEN. I'M A SHIFTER AND RANK AS A NOBODY AND I WAS BORN ON 13/SEPTEMBER/1877 IN NORWAY. MY NATIONALITY IS NORWEGIAN. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE ALEXZ JOHNSON. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM SELF-INFLICTING, A GLUTTON, ADORABLE, SPIRITUAL, PRONE TO MOOD SWINGS, HAS A NATURAL INQUISITIVE NATURE AND VULNERABLE. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY ALEXIA [ALexiXia].CODEWORD: ivory
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:Aiden Gallagher, necktie lose and hanging, threw his jacket across his desk only to have it land on his computer chair. His desk, although cluttered with everything imagined, was rarely used by the professor because of his interest in walking around the room to view each student’s work.
Messy, mahogany hair dropped below his hazel eyes as he looked down at the student before him. Every student, from the beginning of the class to the rear, were all in deep thought. He chuckled as the male student in the front row began to rhyme orange, only to have his mind straining to come up with all the possible ways to rhyme orange from a real word with an actual definition. Aiden knew when his students were struggling with their assignment because as the months passed, he began to understand each of their habits and different usage of words and actions. Besides, the male student beside him was leaning on more of the mathematical type who rarely used the right side of his brain. The notebook paper was disarrayed with other objects, including mechanical pencil and random binders. The song written by student, apparently a rap song, was written in sloppy handwriting, almost unreadable; but considering Aiden wrote the exact same, he was able to make out most of the word.
“I’m almost certain there is no real word that rhymes orange, buddy.” Aiden confessed, kneeling so that he may look at the male student from a clear view. “I suggest instead of writing a song about fruit, why not try a more subtle approach. Think of something you love, like basketball. Write about how it feels to score or even win.” His suggestion obviously made more sense than writing poetry about fruit because the athletic brute tore out a new notebook and began scribbling down terms that would fall under the sport category. Aiden only watched from the side, guiding the student along; feeding him ideas until he was able to express the rush of physical exhaustion on his own.
Mr. Gallagher nodded his head in approval and patted the student on the back with praise. Standing now in full height, he finished his rounds, helping each student as he either saw fit or it one needed. By the time he reached the front of the room, he saw one of his students raise her hand followed by a reasonable question. Immediately, his lips were drawn to a smile and eyes literally glimmered with excitement. With a sudden movement as he pointed a finger to the female student, Aiden spoke out loud. “Ah-ha! I like your style, Aria.” He snapped his fingers and jogged to his seat; searching through his disorganized mess, clearly looking for something as he had yet to answered the poor girl’s question.
“Class, you need to rest now.” Mr. G remarked, fishing out randomly a set of speakers. There might have been groans of reluctance, he wasn’t sure as the professor happily set up the set of speaks accordingly. “Why, you might ask? Because, I think Ms. Hynes has a brilliant idea that might get those creative minds of yours working.” Now turning to face his class, some with questioning looks, Aiden glanced at Aria specifically. “I have a favor to ask; with your permission. If you don’t object, I would like to hear some music from your I-pod. But you can say no, if you feel if I’m singling you out.” His voice thick with humor, jokingly added the last part; perhaps to ease the conscious he felt by asking Aria to listen to her personal Ip-od “You have permission to chuck your school bag at me, if you think I deserved it.”
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