Set in the original region of Arciel, Legends Rising is a route-inspired, but not strictly route-based, Pokemon roleplay. Pick a faction, pick a class, and strike out into the wild to take on the League, master Contest coordination, research the mysteries of Pokemon and Arciel, and much, much more. Will you be a classic trainer? A criminal? A farmer? Choose your destiny on Legends Rising.
Post by Alistair Innova on Nov 15, 2019 23:54:34 GMT
Jan 4th, 1992
Castelia City, Unova
Tell us a little about yourself. How would you describe yourself?
Alistair sat uncomfortably upright in his chair -- padded, better than a plain wood or plastic chair, but not exactly comfortable. The plasticky fake leather was probably easier to clean than cloth would be, but Alistair felt like he was already starting to sweat. Incredibly auspicious start, that.
"I suppose my physical description isn't quite what you're asking for?" Alistair finally said.
The interviewer shook their head.
With a sigh, Alistair said, "All right, fine. I'm a p--" He let out another breath as he stopped himself short. Whether it was because he was trying not to put himself down, or he was too ashamed to admit the truth, that he was a pathetic failure, not worth the name he bore, he couldn't tell.
He tried again. A deep breath, then he looked his interviewer in the eyes with resolve, and a grimace painting his features. "I'm a historian, a cook, and detail-oriented. I make some of the best period-accurate foods, drinks, herbal remedies and poultices that I'm aware of. Perhaps the only person who has the skills to create what I do."
Why are you interested in the class you've chosen?
Alistair sniffed a laugh. "I suppose the questions are pre-determined? Given I literally just answered that." He drummed his fingers on his knee for a moment, but as the interviewer was about to answer him, he cut them off. "Well, I suppose you still need an answer. I have a passion for meticulous creation, recreation, that doesn't just please but has a purpose outside of itself to exist. My creations are educational, on multiple levels, and of course, can be eaten or otherwise used just as they were back when they were the modern technology. Others may say the same of their craft, but this is mine."
Why are you interested in training in Arciel? Why not another region?
Alistair's posture relaxed a little, though his unpleasant expression didn't. "I have family here. He helped connect me with a place to live after--" Alistair coughed and looked away for a moment. "Family issues." There was a pause, then, "Family issues other than him. Obviously. Or is that obvious? I'd hope it would be, but--" He shook his head. "At any rate, it's a good time to emigrate here, with the tournament and all. I'm not really interested in battling pokémon, but the tourism industry is geared towards newcomers -- taking advantage of, mostly, but with an in, it's not too difficult to be on the other end of that equation."
It didn't hurt that Innova Pharmaceuticals wasn't a large brand here, the name didn't hold much weight -- which was a weight off his shoulders.
What do you consider your best attributes? They can be physical, mental, social, or anything else.
This, at least, was expected. Alistair smiled now, finally, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, what isn't there to love?" he said, evidently unable to resist the sarcasm. It had been very hard to put together this list, after all, even if he already borrowed from it for the first question. "I am passionate about my interests, and capable in said fields. I synthesize these interests into new fields, not really tapped. I have a good head for creativity, able to apply ideas in ways others haven't tried yet."
Because he'd had to come up with this list on his own, he didn't consider the fact that he's quite intelligent -- because with his issues, he has had trouble thinking of himself as such. There was also a point in time where he'd have called himself loyal. It's still relatively true, but he no longer believes it of himself.
On that note, he responds well to genuine positive attention. He doesn't know how to socialize very well, but his hunger for positive interaction means that once someone does manage to gain his trust, they'll keep it for a good while -- and he'll do his best to return that positive attention.
He's a huge nerd, though, and at least manages to connect halfway decently through shared interests, especially if discussion is largely kept to those interests, and doesn't stray far into personal matters. Even when he vehemently disagrees with someone on fandom, even if he argues with them to the point of a shouting match -- he still feels like this person is his nerd-friend, even if he'd never admit it aloud, and regardless of what the other party feels.
What do you consider your worst attributes? Be honest, now!
Another expected question -- and a trick question, of course. Time to stick to the script. "I'm not interested in the office gossip, I'd much rather just stick to the task than socialize." The trick to it was finding faults, framing them as good things, but still believable as something someone would perceive as a fault. "And, well. This," Alistair gestured broadly at himself with his hand, "isn't exactly picture perfect to begin with." Then he held his bangs out of the way of his face, and took off the leather eyepatch he wore under it-- revealing the scarred and bloodshot eye underneath. It had been years, and still the sight of it in the mirror turned Alistair's stomach if he lingered on it for any length of time with his one good eye. "I'm not getting any unearned promotions due to looks," he said, replacing the eyepatch.
Things that Alistair was aware of and considered faults didn't entirely align with reality, so the watered down version he gave the interviewer was hardly useful. True, he was grumpy, and didn't engage much in social activities. He didn't understand how to socialize, and this tended to turn into meanness. He's also slow to trust and, combined with his untreated anxiety, this has turned into a kind of paranoia.
His comment about his body was another point -- but not the way he'd made it. Alistair is trans, and went on testosterone at 18 -- the moment he was legally able to without parental consent and able to push the issue with his doctors. Having a double dose of puberty and an overbearing, transphobic mother unsurprisingly did a number on his body image. In his younger twenties, others would have agreed that Alistair was gangly and not particularly attractive, but he'd finally hit his prime, but over twenty years of multiply reinforced ideas wouldn't be easy to banish.
What was your childhood like? How was school?
There was a pause, before the interviewer asked hesitantly, "Care to elaborate...?"
Alistair knew that probably wasn't wise, even as he answered, but he couldn't. For one, he knew many would have little sympathy -- he was never physically hurt, and he grew up in the lap of luxury. A penthouse apartment in the middle of Castelia City wasn't cheap. Neither was the school he'd been sent to.
His mother was a piece of fucking work, but he couldn't describe it, even if he'd wanted to. First and foremost, she was transphobic, which was obvious enough. The way that nothing was ever good enough for her was similar enough to other peoples' parents, though, it didn't sound too bad. It didn't cover the contempt that nearly anything he did garnered from her.
It didn't cover how he tried more and more, he pushed himself past his limit to try to please her. How he had issues, he knew he had problems, with focusing, with physical and mental energy. It didn't cover how asking for help was tantamount to weakness.
It didn't cover how she'd chosen Rhia to shadow her for a summer internship directly out of high school, which of course didn't sound too bad. It didn't cover how that was a direct slap in his face, a clear indication she was being groomed as the heir to the corporation in his stead.
It really didn't cover much at all.
How is your relationship with your family?
Alistair stared at the interviewer, silent.
They cleared their throat, and started again, "How is your rel--"
"I heard you," Alistair interrupted.
"Can't you just put that I refused to answer? Honestly, I'm not sure what this has to do with anything, and if I'm denied a license due to not wanting to discuss such personal matters on record, I'm not sure I want such a dubious honor in the first place."
"No," the interviewer said, "that's not really what these are for."
"Then we can move on then." It wasn't a question.
What do you like to do for fun?
Alistair let out a sigh and visibly slackened. "Read, a lot. Fiction -- fantasy, largely, especially that with a mythological bent. I am a history nerd, after all." Alistair stared into the middle distance -- no longer seeming hostile, just tired. "Game, similar genre. Grow a small herb garden."
What are your feelings on romance?
Alistair grimaced again, but without much conviction. "The adage is 'it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,' but... well, I think that depends a great deal on how the love is lost."
Rhia had 'stolen' his birthright out from under him. He'd broken a wine glass and attacked her. Wolf had stepped in the way, and in Alistair's shocked state, somehow took that to mean he'd been in cahoots with Rhia from the start, that while both were dating him they were secretly plotting against him. Alistair had attacked Wolf instead, and both boys ended up in the hospital and missing an eye. Wolf, his sunshine, his pillar of strength, had very nearly died.
At first, he'd felt like he was betrayed. Now... he still felt like he'd been betrayed, if he were being honest -- not that he ever was -- but also felt the guilt, knew that nothing he'd done had been called for. That he'd ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Rhia, somehow, got off basically scot-free. Just because he knew, logically, that she'd intended nothing, it still hurt.
What are your goals for the future? Short-term and long-term.
"Short term, I'd like to find a stable status quo where I can work on my projects, both professional and hobby, without worrying about..." Alistair tried not to show his anxiety. "Food on the table, and a roof over my head." He'd never had to worry about either, before. And yes, he had the rental lease signed already, but uncle Jules was hardly around, wasn't very helpful as a guiding hand. Alistair felt like he was flying blind.
"In the long term, I'd like to have a sustainable business, I think." He took a deep breath, then continued, "A... tea shop, I think. Both dry blends, and with a few tables and chairs to dine in. I'd offer foods, too. My historically accurate pastries and lunch foods."
The interviewer had almost started the next question by the time Alistair added, "I understand that's not exactly, ah, financially feasible, though. So... I'll settle for a career I don't hate with a modicum of job security."
If you could be a Pokemon, what species or typing would you choose and why?
"Murkrow immediately springs to mind," Alistair said, "though the fact that I've had my Monkshood one since childhood does leave me a bit biased."
What do Pokemon mean to you?
Alistair shrugged. "They're helpful, I suppose? I don't know that I follow the question."
"How do you feel about them?" the interviewer added. "I... don't want to ask more specific questions, as nearly anything else I can think of would bias the results."
Alistair shrugged again.
Anything else you'd like to tell us about before you go?
Alistair shook his head. "No, I don't believe so." As he was starting to gather his things to go, someone moved outside the office door-- but didn't knock, and after some shuffling of paper, were soon gone. "I wonder what that was about," Alistair mused aloud.
The interviewer answered, "Oh, that was probably just someone dropping off typed answers to these questions, either because they are absentee or have some disability that makes an interview prohibitively difficult."
Alistair blinked. "Typed...?"
5'06" / 168cm
Ginger/red, natural white streak
Alistair dresses comfortably in dark colors. He appreciates a lot of goth aesthetic, but just doesn't have the energy to maintain that, and the clothes give him sensory issues sometimes.
Notably different from his face claim, his re hair has a natural white streak above his left temple. Slightly different is that Alistair's right eye is somewhat more disfigured than Julian Devorak's, with scarring around the eye as well as the sclera's red discoloration/constantly bloodshot status. Finally, Alistair is trans, and has not had any gender-affirming surgeries, so wears a binder instead. As such, he doesn't really wear open front shirts like is common in Devorak's art.
No single color seems to dominate Alistair's aura, exactly, though they're always muted colors and the whole thing seems to have had a sepia filter lain over the top. Muddy reds, dull blues, and wilting greens are the most common, with streaks of black sometimes peeking through. There also doesn't seem to be much shape to the aura, kind of a limp amorphous blob.
Congratulations Alistair Innova ! Your profile has been accepted, locked, and moved to the appropriate forum. Staff will update the member directory and face claim list. Next, you should make a PC. Then you are free to begin RPing!
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