#dsrenly

↳ CLASS SCHEDULE

Reading, Writing and Critical thinking about Literature

Psychology

Modern World History

Ancient World History

Painting

↳ CLUBS & SPORTS

Co-captain of swim team

↳ TRAITS OF THE PARENT

Feisty & Hot tempered: It is known Tinkerbell has a fierce hot head, triggered by minuscule things that cause for a sharp tongue to throw daggers at whoever comes in her way, Renly, like his mother is easily angered. Quick to fluster through things that most would find laughable. His fits, though harmless have been known to raise a few eyebrows since he is quite dorky and innocuous.

Fearless & Adventurous: He takes daily risks, finding that living on the edge is much more entertaining.

↳ TRAITS OF THE HEART

Though he’s a near carbon copy of his mother:

Curious: His heart is much bigger than he’d like it to be, though he dislikes the thought of the isles children, he finds himself attempting to figure out of psychologically there could be s o m e good within a d e m o n.

Captivating: Tends to be center of attention, unlike his mother before him who attempted to keep a tight knit circle and was distrusting, he ventures out to make friends with the children of Escoria.

↳ ‘ TELL EVERYBODY I’M ON MY WAY— ’

The pool heats up his soaked legs, vibrations of annoyance trembling him with every word harshly spat at him; a lecture bickered into an eardrum he attempted to clear from the remaining liquid with a tiny ivory towel. Sighs of boiling irritation followed by a click of the tongue allows for a pause of the other’s raging allegations. With a flick of the wrist he attempts to make her disappear, gaining him a brash strike to his left cheek.

“That kid didn’t do anything to you!” she recites once more in her peeved delicate tone, though she seems heedless to the fact that she’s crossed a significantly thin line, erased the trust he had embroiled her with, blurred his rationality.

As a glare is set upon her with the equivalent might she reddened his features with.

“I’d suggest—” he begins in a husk whisper “that you go..”

He warns, standing from the edge he had found relaxation in moments before she arrived; the rose tint her petite digits had imprinted him with now furiously painted the entirety of his dignity. Face blotching with pure insolence of whatever insignificant disrespect she would feel.

“Or I’ll make you feel, what you’ve just made me feel”

he threatens, any variable of self composure tossed into a metaphorical trash bin as she steps away from him, the first time she must’ve seen his hues dark. Usually half crescent like orbs above a bright smile now replaced by heavy breathes and a scrunched scowl towering over her much smaller frame.

Her back facing him now as she inched away from him in hurried steps.

“They don’t belong here, you know it like I do!”