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Author Topic: Pilot Royal Row Paeterson  (Read 45 times)

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Pilot Royal Row Paeterson
« on: January 07, 2018, 08:37:17 PM »

Art by meeee

__________________QUICK STATS
Name Rowan "Row" Paeterson
Age 63
Gender Male
Sexuality ?
Species Human
Ethnicity Aedolian
Height 6'5"
Occupation Pilot Royal; World History teacher in the ATC
Residence Haviah
Voice Jeff Bridges
Themesong You've Got Another Thing Comin' by Judas Priest

__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description
Rowan was never nearly as broad as he is tall, even when he was a young man. Always in possession of a somewhat willowy figure, Row is lithe and taught, with a farmer's tan that makes peach skin several shades more golden and golden-brunette hair that's starting to mix with grays. He's long since given up on trying to keep a clean shaven face and goes for the rough 'I don't give a shit' look now, which seems to suit him well enough. His hair is a tad bit longer than shoulder length, but it's not like he'll be hopping into his flight suit again any time soon (if it even still fits) so he just doesn't care. Perhaps the most striking features about him are his eyes, a pretty jade green from some random DNA strand in a lineage littered with all kinds of breeds found in Aedolis several generations old.

Row is a man who's seen a lot of shit. And he doesn't have any fucks to give about it anymore. You see that look, on his face? That unimpressed one? Yeah. He's absolutely done with you and your garbage. He'll be having none of it, none. Mmm wait. Wait--no, still doesn't give even a single fuck.

I mean come on the guy teaches a bunch of 15-16 year olds going through puberty and thinking they're the best thing since sliced bread because they all think they're going to become Aedolis's next prized Pilot celebrity, can you blame him?

He's incredibly dry, sarcastic, easy to dismiss when it comes to irritation, and overall seems to be fairly jaded and rough around the edges. He doesn't care about your problems, doesn't really care about most of his students because so many of them end up TRIMMed anyways, and generally doesn't 'reach out' anymore to try to connect with people. He's of the mindset that if someone is worth his time, they'll come to him--a student who wants to learn more will approach him with questions, and he will happily devote as much time as he possibly can then to helping them since they've sought out his attention. It's not that he thinks he's above others or that he shouldn't put out effort into relationships--it's just rare that he takes the first step. Too many times of being burned after putting in so much effort, too many times getting hurt watching good people die and get sent off to become lab rats. World sucks, and he's gotten used to it. Just the way things are.

He's also a crazy cat lady he's got like 8 cats. Dumpy the Pissninja, Moist Jowls, Nipple, Clunky Muffler, Cryptid, Friar Brown, Chewchew McFuckstick and Bozo. Pissninja is the one you'll hear about most, for obvious reasons.

Telepathy- pretty damn good. Rock solid. 9/10.
Telekinesis- Meh.
Retrocognition- fairly strong, although his is a little more twisted; when he touches someone who has a reincarnated soul, he can see their past lives. Obviously, for this reason he doesn't generally like touching people. He can get similar images and feelings from things worn directly on people, such as clothing or armor, but it tends to be less clear. If you ask him to tell you who else touched a cup though he's just gonna pick up the cup, look at it thoughtfully with a nod and brows furrowed, then throw it at your face and point and say "You did." And pretend to be very shocked by this revelation.
Something else- ????

Caesar-- Best friend, bros for life. Caesar loves teasing and tormenting Row, and to a point (though he'll never admit it) Row kind of likes the attention. They can joke about awful depressing things together because they're two grizzly old guys who have seen it all and know sometimes the only way to cope is by laughing it off.

Sazharia-- Row's dragon. She rarely if ever speaks, an ever watchful and observant creature who finds Row's ways of skirting around the system, giving Candidates morsels and tidbits they technically shouldn't have, to be fascinating. Not that he ever gives away anything dangerous--and she agrees with him that a smarter Pilot means more lives saved and less idiots lost. She's long and sleek, a dark slate gray with rather dull scales and metal plating along her backside. One of her wings was replaced entirely with a mechanical one, so she is still capable of flight.

The war was no kinder to Rowan than it was to any other soldier who participated in it. Sometimes in his dreams he hears the faint echoes of gunfire and the dying screams of good people lying in the red barren sands. It was on Edanith that he became best friends with Caesar, and it was through the most bizarre, haphazard friendship that he honestly believes the two of them were barely able to survive.

Before the war Row's time at home had been relatively simple and quiet; he grew up in Margad, lived with his grandpa and was set to be a mechanic or a banker, or whatever job would take him basically, until he was caught in a screening and tossed into Candidacy. It was there he learned his jaded ways, as before he'd had a rather open-minded outlook. He never talks about his days in Candyland, and in an odd turn of events it seems like now he can never escape it. Yes, those years that influenced him so strongly for the rest of his life came back full circle and pulled him right back in.

After the war he'd written up a few books about history and all that, and some of the war stories he'd shared with Caesar and some of their other friends, compiled them together for anyone with proper clearances to read, and he was approached by the higher ups who told him he should be a teacher. So he went with that, because the war had sapped all the bright-eyed energy he'd had left in him right out, and now here he stands, miserable in front of a projection as he teaches classrooms full of angsty teenagers who might die the next day and could care less because they're too busy sticking gum to the undersides of the desks.

He really hates life.

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