WARREN, jackson

[jackson warren]

jackson joseph warren

[/b][/color][/size] A Mr. Jackson Joseph Warren at the dear age of twenty-three has found himself upon the most curious of situations - entering into London's most tantalizing gossip. "[/i][/color][/font][/size][/ul][/blockquote]

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W R I T E R .

name: brianna
RP experience: since honest abe
how did you find us?: ask kate
age: almost 21
gender: lady

P O R T R A I T .

eye color: blue
hair color: dark brown
height: 6’ 1”
body type: athletic, broad shoulders
distinguishing features: small scar across his cheekbone - larger scar across his collarbone and chest, nearly deaf in his left ear, spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks
fashion style:

M A N N E R S .

profession: shoe cobbler

adoration for:

distaste for:

dreams:

fears:

secrets:

main:

P A S T .

family:

main:

[/i] His cousin - dead. He killed him. It could have been by another's bullet, but for Jackson - he was the one. It was at last, too much.

With most of the regiment taking care of their wounded and clearing the battlefield, Jackson slipped effortlessly out of their ramshackle barracks. For weeks he hid in the forests as he survived on stolen goods and withered to nothing. He reached Boston eventually; he's unsure how long it took him, days blended together as he continued pushing forward. He knew he couldn't return to his family and endanger them. He knew he couldn't face them either. And he knew he couldn't stay in America any longer. It no longer held the same sway over his heart. He hid in the luggage on the next boat out as he attempted to leave everything behind.

The boat landed in London, England. After a month on board, stealing what he could find, Jackson came to London little more than a skeleton. Over the next few months, he took to the back streets of the city and began to become familiar with all its shadows. He gained his health back eventually as he ran through a series of odd jobs and slept wherever he could find a dry, warm place. He's remained a little emaciated however, without his mother's home cooking to keep his edges round. After nearly five months of living on the streets, Jackson found a shoe cobbler that was hiring. Jackson had begun to learn the trade from his father before the war had set in. His father had always prided himself on the fine leather boots he made for him and his sons. After a bit of convincing on Jackson's part, he landed the job of apprentice to the cobbler. And a warm bed above the shop that he could always count on to be there.

The shoe cobbler has never asked any questions about Jackson, and it's the way he prefers it. He keeps entirely to himself in hopes that one day, some day, a semblance of a life will return to him. Though that hope has faded to little more than a dying wish now...[/ul]

E T C .

play-by: jamie dornan
password:
rp sample:
hardy har har[/blockquote][/size]