ENGLAND APPLICATION || ACCEPTED
Name: Kittz
Age: 18
Availability: I run by GMT time and I’m usually available after lesson time though exam season is coming soon so I may not be able to do long RPs (though I’ll keep the blog occupied- I’m going to incorporate his dairy writing to a daily post thing) until late june.
Personal Tumblr: I’m hardly on my personal tumblr (coskitt) but I’m always on my independent RP blog (kirkland-ot-the-seas) Facebook page Which ever one is fine
Ships: For England, FrUk, UsUk, UkSpa, and so forth haha.
Your favorite something: My favourite out of traditional British cuisine errr would be yorkshire pudding
Anything you’d like to add?: English weather is painfully unpredictable, I went outside yesterday and it was bright and sunny and suddenly it chucks down. Never trust the weather reports here.
Password: Noted (The picture was a nice touch)
Name: Arthur Kirkland
Representing: England
Age: 23 (Well in two days time)
Birth Date: 23rd April 1991
He’s a blunt, cynical young man, often unintentionally rude due to his use of colourful language when aggravated. He likes to think of himself to be more mature, composed and gentlemanly than most people of his age range and will act like so, looking down at any childish behaviour and criticising any inappropriate activity- and his first impressions of people he meets tend to stick with him. Arthur likes to mind his own business and keep to himself believing that interacting with others about his own problems will cause more harm than good. Though he would never admit it, he does feels lonely in such a active city (though he’s still an introvert and won’t go out and socialise unless made to). He enjoys nothing more than to be sitting at a quiet cafe reading books, especially those which include either fairy tales or fantasies. He’s stresses himself on punctuality and order- any mishap will get to his nerves very quickly which in turn makes him incredibly irritable snappy. He gives off a rather unfriendly aura, though really, he’s quite a kind hearted man, who takes words more seriously than he really should.
The only time one would see him being an active parrot, would be when he’s taken a few more drinks than he should have (He’s able to take a good amount, but he just binges) in which he will be incredibly honest and talkative- though sacrificing how coherent his speech is. He does remember every single word spoken when he’s completely out. Another instance would be when you engage him in talk about various books and plays, he will become excited (he won’t physically show it though) as he enjoys conversing about subjects like so.
Arthur is one of four brothers whom as children used to fight as if there were no tomorrow. In due time through his punk phase (There are still puncture holes on his ears) where he rebelled to a point he was sent to London to be educated into a proper man, and years later he cleaned up after himself, becoming independent from the pressure of his upper-class family expectations. He completed his education in Oxford in English literature before being stuck without a job for a year. During this time he wrote mock plays and novels, filling out complex diaries that fill out his shelves describing his everyday experiences as well as researched on alchemy in which he became interested in the subject.
After a year of idling, Arthur decided to get out and experience new environments. God knows why he decided to move to New York city, maybe he should have moved somewhere nicer, somewhere perhaps less littered with noisy people. He got himself a studio flat between the suburbs and the centre of the city where he stored his vast collection of books and his own growing collection of dairies and forgotten play scripts. Soon he realised he wasn’t gonna be able to survive in the city without getting a job of some kind- after all his family had pretty much released him to the wild ever since he had graduated. An English literature degree was hard to land him any kind of job- like Arthur was going to be a office grunt. His dream and aspirations were still cloudy at the moment, unsure if he wanted to go into script-writing or to be a novelist. Either way he needed a job and fast. During his time trying to figure his life out, he often visited a small cafe on the same block as his flat, befriending the owner with idle chit-chat about various books both have read. After telling the owner about his financial problems, he got offered a job as a waiter- he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. Between his afternoon to evening shifts he spends his time visiting the new york library where he spends hours sitting quietly reading.
Arthur has contemplated going to agencies to present his various works to get them published but never did as he never really ever had a second opinion and the fear of being told he was rubbish more or less deterred him from ever doing so. Though still he continues to write things regardless. But as his room became compact with his daily diaries, he had to move onto a digital type of diary- an online blog. He keeps the blog to himself (only getting a few random followers that he does not know their identities) writes his daily entries. He still writes diary entries on paper though, when it’s something particularly embarrassing and he does not want anyone to see them.
Quote: “If the riches of the Indies, or the crowns of all the kingdom of Europe, were laid at my feet in exchange for my love of reading, I would spurn them all.” Francois Fenelon
Arthur laid his lukewarm cup of earl grey onto the saucer as he watched the sun slowly disappear in the jungle of tall extravagant buildings of central New York. It somewhat reminded him of Oxford street back in London. Except for the fact the noise of the commuters on a friday after work hours was far worst than anything he would ever experience in his own country. From every corner of his eye he could see something he was not used to just yet- it’s only been a week since he had settled in the states. One side vendors selling oversized hotdogs to hungry girls and boys ‘no wonder they are so large’ Arthur wondered in his mind, lips curving into a light smirk amused by his own insult. To another corner were performers, playing rather enjoyable jazz for somewhere so crowded. He reclined further into his chair, flicking another page of his book about to continue his somewhat peaceful reading. And then the sound of a crying baby pretty much deafened one side of his ear.
"Oh for God’s sake" He groaned out loud to himself as he turned his head to face the child in the pram with his parent turned away busy on the phone. ‘Why would you bring a bloody small child out at this time’ Arthur mentally complained as he tried to coo the child to stop him crying and screeching. He looked to the tables around him, wondering if he would get any help but surprising to him no one paid any attention to the baby, as if their ears were immune to such noise. Finding it no avail to calm the rampaging child, the Englishman gave up and called for the bill.
Putting down a few bills for the cup of tea and the required tip (‘Why the is there a required tip? That defeats the point of gratitude” Arthur keeps thinking every time) He gets up and leaves the cafe, noting that this one was too loud for his liking and that American infants were unbelievably nosy. He lets out a retired sigh, gripping his beloved book as he walked down the block towards the place he called home.
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