Griffith, Christopher

Of course I live in a house.
Where else would I live? The streets? Your mother's closet?
I really don't see why I have to answer this shite; and if you're just going to ask me such a load of bollocks, then I shall be taking my leave now.

Yes, I will leave.
Because, I have better things to do.
Now, what say you?

...
Oh, I'm just messing with you.
Don't be such a boring stick in the mud, mate.
Really, even I feel stiff just looking at you.

Now house, you say?
Silverhollow. I am working for them, am I not?
Besides, it was either that or the pricks in Whitestag and the barmpots in Goldsbloom. Quite frankly, I’d rather not be surrounded by a room of nancies or a group of sweaty gits who think they’re the law.

I have more dignity than that.

What about me catches attention, you say?
Good question.
If you asked me, I’d say everything. Because, no one else is as fit as me, agreed?

No?
Then let’s pretend I care about how you feel, shall we?

Fine. Think about it this way, you're asking me about what makes me look different from you. For one, we are not related. Meaning, we have different genetics and DNA. So obviously with all the different hereditary traits that we inherit from our mummies and daddies (who most probably look different from one another), I completely and totally look like you. Because genetics work that way, yes?

Furthermore, let’s be serious for a moment.
One of the most distinguishing features that I may have from you is speech.

Yes, dear chaps, speech and pronunciation.

For example, you say po-tay-toe; I say po-tah-to. You say to-may-to; I say to-mah-to. You say pajamas; I say pyjamas. We spell colour with a u; and you went and removed a letter to prove a bollocks point about your independence.

"Hey, lads! Listen up! I've got another idea!"
" Again? This better not be like your Red Indian idea... "
"No, no! It's better than that! But you do have to admit, it did work. We sure got those Brits big time, didn't we?"
" Yes, I suppose that's a fair argument. Now, what is this idea of yours?"

"Since we're independent and all, let's boycott the usage of u's in all their words! It'll show them just how bloody free we are! 'Sides, it'll be just like a kick-'n-the-bloody-nuts to those Brits! We don't need your bloody spelling rules! We can make some of our own!"

"Lad, what does that have to do with our independence? I thought we were fighting due to taxes, not their grammar."

Now let’s call the whole thing off.

Clothes, obviously.

What do I wear on a daily basis?
Clothes.

Hmmm? Am I expected to go out stark naked now? Though I have the urge to retort with a quick “Keep dreaming, mate”, I can’t help but feel suspicious about why you’d want to see otherwise.

In terms of dress choice, I personally prefer to dress simply but smartly.

That is what I would say, if I were a highstrung and stereotypical Brit. ( I mean, you all probably know it, and you all probably thought of it. "Fitted clothing", "scruffy hair", "drinks like a bloody Irishman", "swears like a sailor", and "swims and bathes in tea whilst laughing at the sad bastards down the lane from the safe view of his castle window." Because Brits are viewed as such nice and caring bastards like that; aren't they? Oh, but luv, you forgot that we also kick puppies out into the cold on winter days and 'guffaw' as they slowly turn over and freeze to death on the pavement.

Silly you, how could you have forgotten?)

A white shirt and a vest for me would be more preferable than a heavy coat or… being stark. Honestly, I have never really thought long and hard about my style of dressing. Personally, I’ve always believed that comfort should be placed over style in terms of importance. If the event is important, then I'll agree to dress formally. But what is the point of going all out if the only place you are planning on going to is a pub? People will be too pissed to even notice what their payment added up to, let alone what one is wearing. So in that scenario, anything goes really.

Though good luck in keeping those personally fitted and tailored pants clean from the vomit of the drunkards.
You'll probably be needing it.

Why would you want to know?
Oh. Attracted already, hmmm?

Alright, I'll bite.

Yours truly is pansexual.
No, it's not being sexually attracted or aroused by kitchen utensils or implements.

When they say don't bang the pans, I highly doubt they mean it in that way.

Instead, have a definition from a book; you can read, can't you?
Here:

Pansexuality (sometimes referred to as omnisexuality[1]) is a sexual orientation characterized by the potential for aesthetic attraction, romantic love and/or sexual desire for people regardless of their gender identity or biological sex. This includes potential attraction to people who do not fit into the gender binary of male/female implied by bisexual attraction. Pansexuality is sometimes described as the capacity to love a person romantically irrespective of gender. Some pansexuals also assert that gender and sex are meaningless to them. The word pansexual is derived from the Greek prefix pan-, meaning "all".

The adjective pansexual may also be applied to organizations or events. In this context, the term usually indicates an openness to the involvement of people of all genders and sexual orientations in said organization/event, not that everyone involved is, or should be, themselves pansexual.

Personally, I believe anything can be banged loved; no matter what or who it is. Whether it be male, female, inbetween, plant, or whatever, it doesn't really matter. The main difference between those bi-folk and me though are, they go after two genders. Bi, from definition, means containing or relating to two. So, we have bicubic, binocular, bicentennial, and bi one; take one.

Oh... Scratch out the last.
The latter was a horrid attempt at being witty.

But as a pansexual, I go after personality. Now for this reason, I'm called gender-blind by some friends. Meaning, if you don't bore me to death or have the character of sandpaper, then maybe you stand a chance at hitting it off. That doesn't mean I have no taste though, don't even go there. (At least, I believe I have rather good taste. )

Personally, I do enjoy flirting overall though; especially in bars and pubs. It's a great way to release steam or relax from the strain of being surrounded by uptight gits. So if I flirt with a few lads and ladies, don't be shocked. It's all harmless fun anyway. And besides, if all else fails...


These little buggers are cheap to buy.
They're quite cute as well, if I do say so myself.

Twenty-five

A young and laidback lad, Christopher has the work ethics of an eternally drunken college student. Hailing from the country of Great Britain, the twenty-five-year-old is the younger brother of two siblings. He has quite a good ability to invent which comes as a result of tinkering and disassembling any object he could get his hands on when he was younger. When exposed to the horrid and sadistic thing known as paperwork and research, he will also do his very best to complete it as quickly as possible for the sake of being able to get to the pub before the night ends. Even when working in the morning, he’s prone to slacking and procrastinating if he doesn’t find what he’s doing as worth a shite. He’s fond of drinking, flirting, partying, and being right (the latter because he truly loves having bragging rights over people). Chris is extremely sarcastic, to the point where it’s actually pretty hard to tell when the things he says are genuine or not.

Have you ever met that person whose ‘compliments’ sound strangely like they may have offensive undertones?

Yeah, he’s pretty much like that.

Christopher is blunt in what he says, with the habit of saying things exactly as they appear to be. In other words, “he calls them like he sees them.” Because of this, he tends to have little to no tact in what he says. He’s arrogant and self-centered, owing to his opinion of himself being the greatest genius in the whole sea of barmpots that he’s surrounded by. When attempting to be persuasive, he can actually be very articulate and eloquent (though he does try to hide the information in normal situations by looking like a lazy git who can’t go through a sentence without saying ‘bloody’ or ‘idiot’). He’s passive in the face of death or pain, but does occasionally feel guilt when it comes to the people that his brother and he directly and indirectly respectively dictate upon. He has a morbid(to the point of being cruel) sense of humour and a snarky personality, often speaking in quips and comments containing brutal sarcasm and irony. He often finds faults in what others do as a result of his pride and abnormally high expectations of the people around him, further distancing himself from making long-lasting friendships and relationships. He’s extremely cynical, believing that people are motivated by self-interest and as such are all hypocritical wankers. He can also become volatile and moody, with a habit of snapping out of the blue if he isn’t happy with how things are working out.

Though he has high expectations of others in terms of their work and overall demeanor, he’s lackadaisical and apathetic in terms of his own work (unless compelled to do so). He’s impatient when things aren’t done fast and made more irritable when they don’t exceed his (abnormally high) expectations of them, though he does snap when people hover, rush or watch over him when in the opposite scenario. He tends to be skeptical of excuses and people, though he commonly makes these false ‘half-truths’ and reasons himself.

As you probably could guess, the greatest way to describe the Brit is being a hypocritical asshole.

Being fair, he does have good traits going on for him. For example, he’s innovative and resourceful when it comes to building. As a result, he make a good strategist (albeit a very impulsive one at times). To some, his snarky and eccentric personality may be refreshing to see and interesting to experience. If you can manage to form a relationship with him in terms or friendship, then you’ll see that he can be loyal in his own…strange… way. Though he still taunts and mocks them for his own entertainment, he does try to please the people he becomes attached to.

When he’s in the mood, he does try to be more open and friendly (though his definition of friendly still goes along the lines of playful insults and being overall still an arse) to the people he finds amusing or interesting.

But if you try to form a more intimate relationship with him, you may get a different reaction than what was expected. If done for fun (eg. Flirting), he will be playful and but enthusiastic. If it develops into more than that, he will grow colder and more brash than usual. He’s suspicious of the latter because, well... When you're in war, there's no person you can really trust. Right? He’s bitter about some past experiences and often drinks in order to forget about it, the stress, and the burden placed upon his shoulders, so that shows how well he took it before; right? He’s prone to mumbling around the people that show genuine concern for him, making it appear that he actually loathes them to those who don’t know him.

He often speaks in British slang as a result of mainly communing and talking with his fellow guerillas, though he can speak more formally when absolutely necessary. He was raised with formal speech, resulting in him sometimes reverting back to his old ways of speaking. Interestingly enough, he was the youngest among his fellow revolutionaries and also the most inexperienced. While his brother learned how to fight with a sword before joining the revolution, Chris mainly stayed at home and invented. But by doing so, he became more flexible and adept when it came to technology.

He’s actually quite a good shot when necessary, though he hasn’t really been driven to such a scenario yet while in Silverhollow.

Able to use rifles and some types of guns, Chris isn’t just the little, secluded boy he was when he was younger.

-----------------

Strangely enough though, he held no animosity for his sibling during the rebellion. Though he's the younger of the two, he's never felt the need to have the prove himself. Perhaps it was his already swelling ego?

Maybe.

When asked about if he felt jealous about his sibling and his controversy ( it was said by some that his brother worked harder because he fought in close combat ), Chris merely replied in his usual snarky tone.

" No, not really. I mean, if the git wants to go kill himself in close combat, how's that my problem? But if you'll excuse me, I'll just be standing here and shooting my mark in the vital regions now; Alright, mate?"

Though the two tend to argue though, their relationship is still rather strong. After all, they say that the time you learn to know each other the best is when you fight on the field of battle. At one point during the Pauper's rebellion, they became known as the "Yin and Yang" by their allies (from the ancient chinese concept that one of their companions told them about. It was meant to be a joke, but it managed to stick.) or the "Revolutionary Duo" by the public.

His brother, with his quick blade, became known as the "Yang (White)". Yang represented fire and hope, something Reagan gave to his troops in times of war. He on the other hand became the "Yin (Black)". Yin represented the ice, dark, and shadows, cold and passive in its essence. Yang spread out and brought others into its light; Yin contracted and crushed, pushing others away. The life of a sniper, his role in the revolution, stated that he worked in the darkness. A sniper shot from far away, taking down opponents without facing them head on. It wasn't much of an honourable job, but there wasn't really much point to honor in death.

But, it also had another meaning to it.

While Yang stood for peace and serenity, it also stood for destruction and disintegration. Yin on the other hand stood for creation.

His brother's judgement would lead to the deaths of many people.
But his judgement would lead to the invention of something new, something useable, and something alive.

Complete bullocks, really. The whole thing was meant to be a joke to scare off the British nobles.
But it made sense not really.

SPOILER: Click to show

*For this reason, letters between the two brothers are signed with either 'White' or 'Black'.

Besides, it's not like anyone in the City knew about his background. When he came to Silverhollow, he merely stated that he was a simple envoy and scientist. There was no point in saying " Hey, guys! I'm a revolutionary and/or killer! Now, go kill me off!"

And when people did get suspicious or catch word, he'd just have to act like he was too drunk or lazy to figure out how a gun worked.

[Drinking]
There are a million and one reasons that he loves this.
But none of them are completely logical.

The Brit is fond of alcohol because of the relaxing effect it has. You see, alcohol is a depressant. When one takes it, the liquor or beverage has an effect on the human brain by slowing down its functions and process. This creates a sensation of comfort and mental repose. Alcohol is also a powerful and potent legal hallucinogenic drug. By taking the alcohol, it masks any former traumas or heartbreaks experienced in the past. It acts an escape route not only from reality but also from the pain that may have haunted one so.

Now for the less… meaningful reasons.

Alcohol, to the Brit, just tastes so good. He enjoys the taste of it and as a result likes to spoil himself by taking pint after pint until he’s completely and totally arseholed (drunk). Also, you have to admit that it can make the most boring git in the world seem decent. When one is drunk, it makes for some humorous and entertaining events that one would normally not even be caught dead doing while sober. Have you ever seen an abstinent man dance on top of the tables with all his clothes off?

Alcohol also has its wonderful, wonderful stages to enjoy (and not remember the next day). First, you feel relaxed; then as you gulp down more and more you grow more excitable and energized. As your body begins to adjust to the alcohol, your excitement gradually slows a tad bit down and then everything is bloody hilarious for you. See that man who just tripped on his own foot? Hysterical! See the two rowdy eejits break out into a drunken brawl? Riotous!

And that old man drinking light beer?
What a sad excuse for a human being.

Next, you begin to grow quite aware and as a result self-conscious over that pathetic little image you’re projecting. But that feeling is short-lived because soon, you’ll grow to be pissed to the point of falling over without even attempting to walk (which of course, you’ll find funny). You begin waffling and yakking about your dead dog and your unimportant childhood to the point where someone has to gag you; then you’re thrown out into the streets for rude misconduct in a sea of other chaps arseholed out of their minds (as if they’ll remember it an hour later.) You then attempt to journey back home where you fall unconscious at the nearest crossing and wake up robbed off your money, clothes, and possibly even virginity.

Rinse, repeat, and do it again the next night.

[Flirting]

Now, flirting.

Why do people like doing so?
Well, because it’s a blast, of course. There is a science to romance, you know. There was a book on it, but no one could be arsed to actually pull it out of their shelves and read it.

Flirting is something that human beings are programmed to do. They flirt so that their lonely and isolated little genes can hit it off with a partner and so their genomes can survive to live another generation. It’s a way of reproducing and populating the earth with both decent men and barmpots alike. For the latter, they normally live in small little hordes on the western side of Europe bordered by Belgium and Luxembourg to the north; Germany, Switzerland, and Italy to the east; and the Atlantic ocean to the west. But worry not, just allow them to inbreed and grow and they’ll eventually kill one another off.

“Before you claim, whether single or married, that you never flirt, bear in mind that it's not just talk we're dealing with here. It's gestures, stance, eye movement. Notice how you lean forward to the person you're talking to and tip up your heels? Notice the quick little eyebrow raise you make, the sidelong glance coupled with the weak smile you give, the slightly sustained gaze you offer? If you're a woman, do you feel your head tilting to the side a bit, exposing either your soft, sensuous neck or, looking at it another way, your jugular? If you're a guy, are you keeping your body in an open, come-on-attack-me position, arms positioned to draw the eye to your impressive lower abdomen?

Scientists call all these little acts "contact-readiness" cues, because they indicate, nonverbally, that you're prepared for physical engagement. (More general body language is known as "nonverbal leakage." Deep in their souls, all scientists are poets.) These cues are a crucial part of what's known in human-ethology circles as the "heterosexual relationship initiation process" and elsewhere, often on the selfsame college campuses, as "coming on to someone." In primal terms, they're physical signals that you don't intend to dominate, nor do you intend to flee--both useful messages potential mates need to send before they can proceed to that awkward talking phase. They're the opening line, so to speak, for the opening line.” (Belinda Luscombe)

Yes, that awkward little talking phase where you tell your potential partner that your dog smells like salami or you live in your parent’s basement. Good luck with that. But from what we can see, human truly are compelled by nature to flirt. And why should we go against our natures?

[Languages]
Zeta's modes were originally given Russian names to be original.

Too bad no one could pronounce them.

[Being right.]
Because bragging rights are always a blast to have, aren't they?

[Interruptions]
Have you ever had this awesome idea only to have some stupid git interrupt you with a “ But wait! What about--?” Then you probably know exactly how Chris feel about being interrupted. An average conversation goes like this:

Our favourite asshole: And then, we can install this here, here and here for the sole reason that they seem like very good spots to insert them in, thus helping in-

Person 1: But what do we do about the next part? What happens then? Are we going to work on that?

Our favourite asshole: I was just getting to that.

Person 1: Oh. Err… Sorry for the interruption. You don’t mind, do you?

Our favourite asshole: …

Person 1: Sir?

Our favourite asshole: Why, I’m afraid I don’t feel like talking anymore. Would you like to explain the rest of what we shall do?

Person 1: … but I don’t know what’s next.

Our favourite asshole: Exactly. Now respectfully I say to you, shut it or sod off.


[Masquerades and Masks]
For reasons soon to be explained in fears, Chris loathes masks with a fiery passion. They remind him of things related to the occult, such as the damned pastors that would approach his house every night for lord knows what reasons.

Though he'll never admit it aloud, he freezes on the spot when he sees them. Depending on how may of them there are or not, he'll panic and react. So if an attacker of his is wearing a venetian mask in the middle of nowhere, the guy is screwed.

*Well in terms of masquerade balls, good luck in getting him to go. If you force him, he probably eventually will. But early warning, he won't be very happy.

On the contrary, he'll be as paranoid as a fugitive in a police convention.


[Killjoys]
But don't we all?


[Smartasses (except for himself)]
-Though admittedly he finds them a ton better than killjoys.
-And he does enjoy a smartass comment from others once in a while.

[Wimps who allow themselves to be used and hypocrites]

[Overtime]
Oh, come on.
This has to be understandable.

When one goes on overtime, one has less time to go to parties and get pissed. When one has less time to get pissed, one will become pissed off. When one is pissed off, everyone nearby will hear about it.

When it comes to inventing, he prefers to work at his own pace. But when it comes to researching, paper work, and meetings, he'll attempt to squeeze out of it or accomplish the task as quickly as humanly possible (even if its quality is absolutely craptastic).

“Hello, missus~” the Briton purred slyly, brushing back his hair “ is it just you, or is it getting hotter in here?“ Watching as the group of girls giggled bashfully, the young man turned to face his companion. “ And that, lad, is how you do it.”

“Chris, we came here to work. Not flirt with women. And can you please refrain from flirting with the prostitutes? Not only are you encouraging them, but that’s picking from the bottom of the barrel right there.”

“What?” he grinned, “It’s their job, mate; don’t get your knickers in a twist. ‘Sides I’m just giving the slags what they signed up for. Now, here’s something I’ve been dying to ask you.” Leaning back, the Englishman yawned. “What’s your type, lad? Ya’ like the cute, bright-eyed and bushytailed ones? Or do ya’ prefer the sexy, more voluptuous ones? Hmm..? Maybe the more adventurous men fit your tastes? The shyer, puppy-like ones? Spit it out, lad! You can’t tell me you don’t swing for any of ‘em.”

“ I don’t think this is the right place to talk about this—“

“Wanker.”
“What?”

“Nothing,” he said lightly, “ But really. This is a bloody pub; can’t get more informal than that.”

“… That depends. Are we talking about that kind of like…? Or just… like?

“ … Would you like to be more bloody specific?” he frowned, “Remember, I’m not a mind reader. And, I don’t speak ‘hopeless.’”

“…”

“ Ok, mate,” the Briton smirked, placing his feet on top of the bar’s shiny brown table, “ I’ll start it off. If you’re too much of a big girl's blouse (coward) to talk about what you find attractive in a little bird, then tell me what you like. It’s not so hard, and I think even your incompetent brain can manage.

Do you like light beer or hard beer?
Do you like drinking?
Do you like breathing?

I’m sure even you can’t cock-up on something as simple this.”

“For example: personally, I like watching those who can play their cards right.” he smiled, grabbing the pint of heaven placed with a loud thump at his feet“ ‘Specially those with that professional air to them. Always a pleasure seeing someone who isn’t a barmpot or a git. Next, I like drinking. Hard beer, light beer, vodka, whiskey, ale, anything with alcohol in it is good enough for me. Call me a drunkard if you will, but I’ll die a happy drunk. Yes, yes, you’ll probably give me that shite about my kidneys and liver and all that other bollocks, but do I look like I really give a damn? I’ve been holding my liquor even before you were born, lad. “

“ Sir… I’m two-years-older than you.”

“ And you think I give a crap? Well done, lad, you counted properly. You must be absolutely chuffed.

Would you like a prize now?
Perhaps some candy and a bottle of warm milk?

Now, where was I before your rudely interrupted me?
Oh, yes.
Drinking.

Alcohol is the gift from whatever gods may exist up there. Without it, we’d all be illiterate cavemen flinging rocks at one another. Why? Because I said so. Do you follow?

Besides, it’s like what the Irish say:
‘When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to Heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven.’

Total duffers those gits are, but at least they got something right.
Now, let’s see if they can pull their heads out of their barrels, then maybe we’ll talk.”

“Next,” he continued, “ I’ve always been fond of other languages. You know, English, Russian, Greek, the like. Except French, no,
I’ve never been compelled to learn that.

Language of the sweaty, unwashed, and cowardly muppets, it is. Next you’ll be telling me to try speaking Irish.

In particular, I found Russian to sound very interesting. You know, I had a dear, dear friend from Russia back in jolly ol’ England. She brought me so much joy and pleasure that I could never get enough!

Her name was vodka.
And she was much better company than you.

Though, really, I did know someone from there and that’s where I got the names for Zeta’s modes. Though the idea did sound better on paper or discussed with a real Russian. Would you like to try pronouncing emotsiĭ without sounding like you’re being possessed by some unknown demonic spirit from the blazes of hell? I just use the English versions but still, it would sound much more impressive if the Russian names were spoken.

But if I wanted to sound like a dying cat gagging on my own tongue, I would learn French. “

“Furthermore,” he grinned, “I do enjoy flirting very, very much as—

“ Well, what don’t you like?”

Pausing from the sudden question, the Briton frowned. “I beg your pardon?” he asked “What don’t I like?”

“Well, quite frankly I’m not fond of people who interrupt me while I’m talking, mate. That’s a good start.

I’d like to be able to finish what I’m saying before someone else interjects with another opinion.

But since we’ve reached this topic, I see no point in holding it off any longer. The things I’m not fond off aside from that are masquerades and masks. Creepy little buggers, yeah? I’ll tell you about it some other time.

I also don’t enjoy having to do overtime*ahem*.
It gets in the way of my free time to drink and party as well it makes me a very irritable little Briton. I mean, I go to the bar to relax, drink, and flirt with women.

Not to babysit the weapon of ultimate destruction or a nancy-boy who can’t even take light beer without getting pissed.

Now, can we wrap this up?
Those dollymops over there are getting impatient, and if you aren’t going to be entertaining company then I may as well try my luck with them.”

-He wants to be... the very best. That no one ever was.

-[His brother wanted to use his ideals to make Britain the beautiful and magical place that they always wanted it to be when they were children.

He just wanted it to survive. But his brother turned out to be a tool, so now it's his job to ensure Britain's safety. One can't be too hasty though. First, he needs to make sure that the City doesn't mess around with his plans or attack his lovely country before they manage to overthrow the new, shiny puppet. The last thing he needs is Goldsbloom, Silverhollow, or Whitestag breathing down their necks.]

-[He'd like to find out about what happened to their mum and dad, though quite honestly he can't say he really cares about them.

This is rather low on his priority list]

-[He wants to live a life with no regrets and remorse. This is one of the reasons that he drinks and parties so often.]

-[On his deathbed, he wants to be able to brag about being right about anything over someone. One last ego-stroker can't hurt, can it?]

-[ Call it stupid and out of character. But if he can, he'd like to make sure that no other Briton has to die. He's did his fair share of killing his own people... and quite frankly he'd prefer not to do it again. Before they had the nation in their hands, everyone felt like a stranger. But gradually, he grew to see these people as... human beings? You know, beings with faces and souls.

"What do you want?" he was once asked by his brother.
" I want this land to survive... But to survive, we need the people."
"I thought they meant nothing to you."
"I thought so as well."

Any others though? They can all kiss the grave.]

-[Maybe meet up with his childhood friend once more before he dies?... Nah, bollocks.]

-
= Insubordination
= Masquerades and Occult
- Black magic and curses
=His little background story getting out. He'll be skinned alive if it does.

“What is fear?”

Turning to face Zeta, the young Briton frowned.

“Hmmm…? What was that, luv?”

“ I want to know. What is fear?”

“Ah, fear? Why would you want to know that?”

“What is fear?”

“ Alright; alright” Chris muttered, brushing back his hair, “ Let’s see. Fear is an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat. You experience it when you are unsure of what is about to occur or feel that you are at a dead end. Fear itself is one of the greatest obstacles a human being experience due to the fact that it exist in everyone. Because of this obstacle, progress is hindered and stopped. Unless someone manages to surpass their fear, they will be as useless as a child locked in a cage in front of a candy store’s cash register trying to do his schoolwork. Fear affects the decisions and actions that humans can make. For example, a man afraid of heights would less likely want to travel by air in comparison to taking a boat. As a result, he would agree to take more time but still manage to feel comfortable by choosing the latter than doing the easier but more traumatizing option of the former. Have you got that?”

“Processing: Negative.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Zeta,” the Brit muttered, ”I’m busy.”
“What is fear?”

“Why in the lord’s good name is this happening today of all days? I have a rendezvous with a fit missus to prepare for… Ok then, fear is caused by misconceptions and misjudgment of a situation. It stops you from thinking logically and sensibly as well limits you from performing as well as you do at other times of better, laxer conditions. It can be real or imaginary, ranging from factors that are scene to factors created from one’s mind out of stress. The body has a fight or flight mechanism as well though located in the form of the sympathetic nervous system that allows one to perform actions normally not capably done in normal scenarios.

For example, your house is on fire. This response allows you to push a refrigerator out of the doorway.“

“Processing information: Fear is an aid?”

“No. As I mentioned earlier, it’s a hindrance. Now, human fear many things: disease, old age, loneliness, insecurity, victimization, ridicule, poverty, death, accident, ghosts, mistakes, inferiority, becoming forgotten, rejection, and the like. Because of these fears, it causes humans to be paranoid. When someone is overly paranoid, they allow good opportunities for development and growth to slip past them. Do you understand now?”

“Concluding: Fear must be deleted.”

“ Exactly. Fear must be removed to grow. But at the same time, one needs fear to know where and how to improve. Without fear, people will form more stupid decisions and actions more easily, which is bad for not only them but us. Their stupidity affects every person in range one way or another.”

“Initiating new inquiry: What is your fear?”

“My fear?” Chris shrugged, “ Oh. My fear is that I may leave you charging all night, thus leading the house to burn down from energy consumption. If that happens, I’ll have to pay for the damage. Again.”

“Concluding: Answer has been rejected.
Reinitiating inquiry: What is your fear?”

“ You’re a stubborn one, are you not?” the Briton frowned, “My fear would have to be insubordination from a certain someone. If one person goes against what I say, she might lead others to think that they can so the same. If that happens, no progress will be done and growth will be hindered. Anarchy spreads like a flame. Once one thing is engulfed by it, the nearby villages and houses will be turned to ash just as soon as the first.

I like having things in order, more or less, though my desk may not look so.

Laugh at me if you’d like, but I fear and dislike masquerades as
well. Those masks that they wear unnerve me greatly, with their permanent smiles or eternal frowns. It makes people look too much like dolls and puppets for my comfort; it begins to seem to unrealistic and unnatural that one can’t help but shiver a bit in his boots. If you’d like, I can show you an example.”

Walking over to a chest, the young Brit dug his hand into its depths. Pulling out a strange multi-coloured object, he winced slightly as a frown tugged gently at his lips.

helfyre.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/masquerade-trifaccia-dipinta-mask.jpg

-Ability to Invent →
• He’s always enjoyed tinkering with things.
• Even when he was little, he liked disassembling and reassembling trinkets and toys.
• That obviously led to some awkward moments with aunties and uncles though that went along the lines of “ Hey, honey? Have you seen that very, very expensive toy car I gave Chris? All I can find are scrap parts and a miniature Big Ben.”


-Intellect →
• He's intelligent and he bloody knows it.
• That coloured cube shite everyone’s been playing? He can disassemble and reassemble the bloody thing faster than you can move one of the sides.
• He can probably do it with his bloody feet. Wearing a blindfold.


-Zeta →
• For obvious reasons.


-Great company at the pub→
• Ever need someone to laugh at with in a pub? Ever want to try dragging someone out by the legs onto the cobblestone floor? Ever want to try and stop a bloody (literally) catfight between a drunk Brit and a Frenchman/American/any living thing that moves? I don’t know why you’d want to, but you’ve got your man!
• It doesn’t really take a lot of effort to watch him. Leave him be and he’ll eventually blackout. Just make sure to bring him some pants when you come back for him.
• And more alcohol would be nice.
• Need convincing on why you should never drink? Just go pissing with him one and you’ll never want to take a sip again.
• Ever.


-Certainly eccentric, in his own special way→
• Is this a good or bad thing, nobody knows. And quite frankly, nobody really cares.
• He’s British, it’s excusable.


-Loyal to those he actually grows close to→
• Well, loyal meaning he won’t have Zeta rip out your guts any time soon.
• What? Loyalty’s objective, isn’t it?
• And give or take. That’s the closet he’ll get to being nice.



-Sense of humour/Witty → (though you either love it or loathe it)
• Technically, this can be labeled under asshole.
• But those details don’t matter.
• If you’re fine with being insulted and mocked, you’ll love it though.


-Blunt →
• Need someone to tell your kid that Santa doesn’t exist? Need someone to break the news to your son that his pet turtle didn’t actually run away? Need a kind, caring soul to painfully announce that the puppy you found on the road didn’t got to heaven? Then here’s the guy for you!
• Warning; we are not responsible for broken dreams or ruined childhoods.
• Or intense crying.


-Strategist →
• He can probably make a plan on how to murder someone with a sock.
• Yes, along with all the possible holes and flaws in the plot.
• Because in the future, wars shall be fought with socks, hooker boots, and flying food.
• And sticks.
• Because knowing how to kill with these things is such an important skill to survival.

-Innovative

-Resourceful

-Unconventional/Non-conformist

-Skilled at using guns

-Articulate →
• He can be very eloquent when he needs to be.
• But then you see him in the pub and you begin to question his mental state or sanity.

-And you have to admit, he's not boring or dull.

My flaws? But mistakes are attractive, don't you think?
No?
Well, no one asked for your opinion.

Personality-wise:
-Alcoholic (extremely)
-Arrogant (extremely)
-Blasé in the face of death and pain (unimpressed or indifferent to something because one has experienced or seen it so often before )
-Cynical
-Extremely proud
-Sense of humour
-Jaded
-Volatile (extremely)
-Manipulative ( Then again, isn't everyone?)
-Swears like a sailor (extremely)
-Skeptical
-Violent when drunk (extremely)
-Infertile
-Probably flirts with the lord knows how many people in the span of one week.
-Suspicious
-Impatient
-Hard to please or satisfy
-Irritable (extremely)
-Extremely blunt
-High standards to the point of being unrealistic (extremely)
-Little tact
-Bitter
-Spoiled
-Morbid
-Too laid back/lackadaisical
-Little to no empathy
-Little to no sympathy
-He can't even lift a bloody sword for his life
-He can't spar
-He's a bloody Womaniser. Enough said.
-Cruel in humour
-Sarcastic (extremely)
- British

In relationships: (for fun)
-Tease
-Player
-Unfaithful

In relationships: (reciprocated)
-Cold
-Brash
-Irritable (Yes, it can get worse)
-Defensive

-Overall, quite hard to get along with. ._. But that's not much different from how he normally is.

-When he doesn't know an answer to a question or tries to think, he brushes his hair back with his hand. (Then again, he also does this when he flirts; so I guess we can conclude that this is a habit he does very often.)

-If you try to pet him or place your hand on his head, he'll punch you in the shoulder. He doesn't really enjoy physical contact without being warned first.

-He swears. A lot.
He also speaks in British slang.

In particular, he enjoys calling people barmpots (idiots) which isn't actually a swear word but more of goading fun. You can guess that any 'offensive'-seeming british word that comes out of his mouth means idiot.

-He probably drinks more alcohol than a human being has liquid in their body.

- He thinks everyone is an idiot.

London, England.

Isabel Marie Silverhollow- 39, Deceased
A pretty woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes, Isabel was a former duchess in Great Britain before the Great Revolution (also known as the Pauper's Rebellion). She was known for a scar on her palm due to an accident when she was a child. Isabel was supposed to have three children, those being Christopher, Reagan and Allison but the latter died as a result of a miscarriage. Isabel was left with two children, both boys, and her husband. As a result of the earlier stages of the revolution, her mother and father were brutally murdered on February the 3, marking the beginning of the Pauper's rebellion. She enjoyed cooking sweets and tortes before the events of the revolution.

Birthplace: London, England
Nationality: British
Birthdate: February 14
Date of death: unknown
Siblings: Alice Mayenne Hughes, Christine Maryanne Perkins

Adrian Taylor Silverhollow- 45, Deceased
A nobleman of Silverhollow and the husband of Isabel. Accompanied his wife as she fled from her home in Great Britain. Before Isabel, he had many mistresses (and was rumoured to even be seeing young soldier men). In terms of physical appearance, he was rather decent. He had stormy grey eyes and a limp, making him rather scary to meet in an alleyway. He was said to have met Isabel while she was visiting the town. According to him, she dropped her hat while rushing through the crowd. Picking it up quickly and returning it to the the young lady, it was love at first sight for the two of them. Hopelessly infatuated with one another, they would often write and send notes to one another before they married in the spring.

Birthplace: Silverhollow Sector, The City
Birthdate: February 14

Date of death: unknown