Peter Kirkland || Sealand [Complete]

These streets so fixed and solid
Were shimming with hate

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"I sometimes feel like my whole life is some kind of dream…
If I’m right, whose is it? Are they enjoying it?"[/center][/size]

And everything that I relied on
Disappeared

Country: The Principality of Sealand
Name: Peter Kirkland
Gender: Male
Age: Twelve
Profession: Student / Odd jobs
Highlander or Lowlander?: Lowlander

All the strangers look like family
All the family look so strange

Appearance: Standing at a short four feet, nine inches, Peter looks just like a normal child. As a Lowlander, he appears a little scrawny, his cheeks sallow and his skin a little pale. His eyes, which are always bright with his constant smiles, are the blue color of the sky. His face is round or childlike, not having reached any measure of adulthood. His face is framed by pale blonde hair falling just past his ears. Peter's skin is usually covered with dirt smudges and scratches, though he never bothers to clean his face since it looks "more mature". A blue hat is ever-present on his head, though a little tattered and sporting a few holes. For some reason, he feels inexplicably attached to it, and he treasures it as much as his life. The other thing he has on him at all times is a gold locket, probably the only thing of real value that he owns. It contains a picture of a stranger. Part of the photo is burnt, so he can't quite make out their face, but it reminds him of someone he thinks he remembers.

Peter wears a wide variety of outfits, mostly second-hand and none in very good condition. Mostly, he wears a white sailor's shirt, accompanied by some sort of blue shorts or capris, and a fairly decent pair of work boots. On school days, this is changed to the normal uniform. The one thing that is always with him is a dark green backpack, usually containing anything he might need. This normally consists of a bottle of water, a few day's worth of rations, a compass, and a pair of black leather gloves. Common sense would declare that he keep his school books in his backpack, but he just carries them. No need to waste valuable space just for books. He keeps the backpack on at all times, awake or in sleep, just in the event of having to leave his relative comfort. Most other students consider him weird for doing so, but he no longer cares.

Personality: At first glance, Peter seems to be just like any other twelve-year-old kid. He's hyperactive and has a bit of a reckless streak to him. He loves to pull pranks on people he doesn't like, and he loves just playing around. It does show, though, that he hasn't always been this way. He still doesn't completely open up to others. He's a bit of a wallflower, not really throwing himself into the middle of anything. Though he doesn't put himself into conversations, he can keep one going. Generally, he has an almost contagious smile on his face, and has the valuable attribute of wanting to cheer his friends up no matter what. This can often get on people's nerves, though he doesn't seem to notice. Peter also has a bit of difficulty recognizing the atmosphere. Though he can almost tell when someone is moody, he can't really recognize when he should just stop trying to cheer them up.

As people tend to not realize, Peter never really did have friends when he was younger. As such, he's a bit awkward in social situations, though it doesn't show until a conversation has gone on for too long. When he gets really comfortable with someone (which hasn't ever happened yet), it takes a bit of pressing to get him to pause, as his hyperactive tendencies take over at that point. He almost has the patience of a saint, but while he won't lash out at many things, when he does it takes quite some time to get him calmed down again. He tends to take his anger out on his best friend, the ocean. He'll stomp on the sand, kick the waves, and break shells once he gets the chance. Thankfully, this doesn't happen often, and he holds it in until he can let it out all the way.

When it comes to his own opinion of himself, Peter thinks one of two ways depending on how good of a mood he's in. Usually, he thinks he's fairly cheery. He's not really brooding, and he's a normal, average person with an average past. But when he thinks too much about his past, about his family that abandoned him... He starts sulking. And not just a regular sulk. Not just a few moments of sob-story thinking. He goes at it for quite some time. He has a new little rowboat within his belongings, and when he starts sulking he goes to sit in it. He stares at the wood grain and at the ocean and wonders who'd miss him. This doesn't happen often, not in the slightest. But it does happen. He knows he'd regret it, though. He hasn't actually attempted to kill himself since the first time.

In the world of Solus, Peter has a sole friend that he can confide in. It's not a person. He can't trust people, not ever. His best friend is the sea. He doesn't know why, but he just feels connected to it. When he isn't in school, he's spending the time just sitting on the shore, staring at the blue-green waves. For some reason, he feels indebted to it. A debt that he can never repay. Not because it's a large amount, but because it doesn't feel like... Like it's his debt to repay. It's odd, he knows, but that's what it feels like. He just satisfies this feeling by speaking to the ocean. Telling it of his dreams, his fears, his experiences... It's his best way of keeping calm and cheerful.

His ultimate fear is being forgotten. Peter Kirkland isn't exactly the most popular kid on Solus, and he knows that people don't always pay attention to him, but he knows that they do sometimes. People would notice if he was gone. And his only legitimate fear is that shred of recognition disappearing. He's also petrified of blood, but he won't admit it. Eventually, Peter dreams of having a family. Someone to care for him and love him forever, who would never leave him. He knows that's impossible, though, so he has a more realistic goal in mind: To finally leave Solus, and to discover a new land that nobody's ever heard of, that was never mentioned in their books. He sometimes wonders what would happen. Would he be hailed as a hero? The first inhabitant of a brand new land? It's wishful thinking and childish, he knows, but it can't hurt to dream.
((His verbal tic, "desu yo", is changed to various versions of "y'know" and "don'tcha think", for the sake of not sounding silly.))

History: Peter's past hasn't exactly been the best one. At the age of five, he was left at an orphanage, and his parents' faces have been blurred through the years and his mind trying to block them out. What he can remember from those terrible years is that he didn't feel like anyone wanted him. Peter stayed out of the other children's affairs, and they stayed well away from his. He sat in the building alone, gathering dust like a broken doll. He asked himself basic questions over and over. Why do I deserve this? Why does nobody want me? Why? Why?

Why?

Though he wasn't neglected in any respect, - quite the contrary, he was doted on by the old caretaker - he asked incessantly for someone to play with. For someone to light his face with a smile, like he remembered from his younger years. For someone to care for him. To love him. But no one came. Not for that first year, or the year after that. When Peter Kirkland passed his third year in the old orphanage, he decided. He'd had enough.

It was to the edge of Solus that he went, away from the people who never had cared and never would. It was in a boat that he traveled, in the midst of the storm. An eight year old boy, alone on the sea, ready to die. Wanting to die. In the middle of the storm, he left the island in a tiny boat. The boat was crushed between waves and rocks. His ship had sunk.

He had floated in and out of consciousness, above and below the thrashing waves, and by some miracle he found himself in Solus once again. The chain of events had changed the boy, somehow. He felt some connection to the sea. Something... Something he couldn't quite place. But it was important. His world brightened in the next several years. Peter cheered up dramatically. He made friends at his school, became a little less of a wallflower.

The sea became his home, his best friend, and his companion. He spent the hours speaking his mind to his friend, who would always listen. Sometimes he even slept on the sand, calmed by the steady crash of distant waves. He now owns a makeshift house by the beach, away from the dangerous waves, but close enough that he can still call the ocean his home. Several people called him crazy. He called himself Peter, and he liked it that way.

Recurring nightmare: ((The fire of 2006.))
All he can see is smoke. All he can breathe in is the scalding tongues of flame. He’s dying, he realizes. A quickly paced set of footsteps grasps his attention. He turns, squinting through his eyelids and the smoke to see whoever it is. He coughs, falling to the ground. His back feels like it’s on fire, though he knows the actual fire has been out for some time. Pain. Footsteps. A pair of arms around him. Coughing. Yelling. Scattered senses. A sound here. A flash of light there. He twists violently, coughing and shouting in pain as his back rubs against his shirt. He screams for someone.

Anyone.

But no one else can help him.

The only constant I am sure of
Is this accelerating rate of change

Likes:
The Ocean - It's his best friend. Literally. As you've probably gathered, he spends every shred of his free time just talking to it. It's almost as though it's his home, and he has some strange attachment to it that no one can explain.
His Hat - Another thing he has a strange attachment to. He stumbled upon it while perusing stores when he was littler. It seemed familiar, so he bought it. It's been on his head ever since, whether or not he's supposed to. His teachers have given up on getting him to take it off. The colour reminds him of the ocean, and it's tattered and beaten up, something like him.
Winter - It's the season when no one is at the beach. A wonderful time to spend with his friend, and the cold doesn't bother him like it should. Though he isn't a huge fan of ice and snow, he still likes being able to be alone with his good friend.
Sketching - It's the one form of a creative outlet he's found. when he's bored, he can just start doodling, and eventually a beautiful piece of artwork will spring out at him from the lines. He's actually fairly good at it, and he has a decent sketchbook, but he never really shows anyone.

Dislikes:
Thinking about his past - It depresses him, sometimes to the point that he'll have a lapse and thinks he's back in his older brother's home.
Storms - After his close call when he was eight (however willing it was), he really just doesn't like storms. Any sort of thunder, lightning, or combination of the two makes him unnerved. It's not that he's scared of them so much as he just hates them.
Social situations - He just is really awkward. He can't keep a conversation going for very long, and he tends to resort back to being withdrawn and quiet if someone gets to be too "up in his face".
Blood - It's one of his fears, and he generally can't stand it. The copper-laden scent it gives off, its terrible shade of maroon... He avoids it when he can, and when he can't, he'll just close his eyes and plug his nose and pretend that nothing's wrong.

Downside up, upside down
Take my weight from the ground

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Roleplay Sample:
The Great HM Fort Roughs stood, a silent watcher of the seas. He stared out into the blue expanse, either ignoring or unaware of the bustle behind him. Soldiers carried with them boxes of materials and bags of their things, laughing with each other, ready to leave this stinking metal island in the middle of the ocean. Peter, seven years old at the time, suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his eyes just a fraction to see his brother.

"It isn't true. Right?" His elder brother averted his eyes.

"Tell me it isn't true! ... Please." England finally spoke, his voice quiet and monotone.
"I can't lie to you." The boy's eyes, normally bright and blue like the sea, hardened as he realized what Arthur was saying. He would be... Alone? A tiny child, alone on an abandoned sea fort? What was their boss thinking?

"I won't... I won't be alone, will I?"

His eyes became like storms, oceans ready to burst at any moment. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes.

"I don't have a choice, Peter."

He... He has a choice. After all this time, after a metal little fort had created the boy. After the fifteen years that Peter had been alive? England had a choice. He could take the boy back with him. He could care for him. Treat him as the little brother he was. But it didn't work like that. It never did.

"You have a choice and you know it. Just go. Leave like everyone else." England attempted to console his brother, brushing the tears away. The golden-haired child spun around, smacking the hand away.

"Leave!" He shoved past his brother, sprinting across the platform and down into the tower. After too long, he reached the room that belonged to him. He started sobbing again when he realized how many of his things were gone. Peter slammed the door behind him, sliding down against the cold metal.

Since his creation, he had felt needed. Wanted. Fort Roughs was important; He kept the Germans at bay during the war. But now... Now it was over. Just ten years later, and everyone was leaving him again.

He let the tears fall to the floor, letting the steady tapping calm him down. There was a banging on the metal door. Yells of "Peter". But the boy ignored them, overcome with sadness and frustration.

Soon, the banging ceased, and he was lulled into sleep by the sounds of movement above him. His dreams were filled with the terror of betrayal and loneliness.

When he woke again, Fort Roughs was silent.

Falling deep in the sky
Slipping into the unknown

Out of Character
Name/Nickname: Tainn, or Britt
Timezone: EST (-5)
Any other information: Not that I know of.

You pull me in…
P u l l

m e i n.[/size][/i][/right][/b]