Project Purity Application.
☣ Player
Name: Momo.
Personal LJ: ..I don't have one.
Age: 17!
Contact: LJ PMs or email -> erable.rouge@live.com.
Current Characters: Don't got none.
Are you fine with your application being unscreened? Sure.
[Optional] Where did you hear about PP? paysdelamour .
☣ Character
Character Name: Canada / Matthew Williams.
Character Age: Around 18.
Canon + Format: Axis Powers Hetalia; web comic/manga/anime.
Background: Here (historical) and here (Hetalia canon).
Canon Point: 07 December 2010.
Personality:
Canada is a very shy, reserved character. He's soft-spoken and easily over-looked, and has a very passive personality. Well, passive-aggressive if you squint very hard or get him angry. But either way, it takes a lot to get him angry, and that would most notably be anything that's loud, obnoxious, and annoying [America] or anything that gets in his way. He was raised by England and France, and he's the younger brother of America, and that combined makes him a very strong character.
Because he's easily missed and even mistaken for his older brother [even though they don't really look anything alike], he tends to shy away from people he doesn't know. He's polite enough not to blatantly ask someone to leave him alone if they're not doing any harm. Or even then, he might just not want to hurt their feelings. But despite this anti-social bug, he's a pretty friendly and open guy, if you can get him to open up.
When he's friends with someone, he will go to great extents to ensure that his friends are safe and happy. He gets that from his papa France. He even recently lost his security council seat in the UN for continuing to support Israel's nationhood. If he supports you, then he'll support you all the way and refuse to back down. He gets that from his father England.
He loves to cook. Anything from pancakes to escargot, he loves to mix the ingredients, bake, and the finished product of said steps. However, he's been criticised for having a very bland kind of food, and as such doesn't like to cook for others very often. He does his best to go along with what others are saying so they don't feel bad and tends to bend over backwards for others just so he won't be blamed for something that went wrong.
However, he can stand up for himself. He can be adamant in his beliefs and persistent in making his views known. His persistence usually goes unrewarded due to his invisible gene, though. Even being invisible won't make him any less determined in his beliefs. He can be a bit judgmental at times, especially towards someone who's annoyed him or who he doesn't particularly like. Even if you annoy him, you can get back on his good side. He's very forgiving. And a bit of a pushover. He tends to get flustered easily, and tries to refuse compliments, even if they're few and far between.
Since he has culture in both English and French, he can speak both languages fluently, but his habit of saying "eh" at the end of a statement crops up rather irregularly. He's been trying to get over that habit, but hasn't quite managed to suppress it, especially when he's nervous or agitated. Another item that crops up in his speech a lot when he's under stress is the word "maple". He's a lot smarter than his older brother and has worse eyes. Although he dislikes confrontation, if it's something important or if it bothers him enough, he can confront people about problems he has or questions. He usually only shares the important information with people he considers as friends.
He doesn't finish his sentences all the time, especially if he's talking to himself or with someone he thinks really isn't listening. He likes classical music, but also heavy metal. He has a tendency to land himself into trouble and have to fight his way out of it. His three favourite foods in the world are maple, pancakes, and ice cream, with poutin making a close fourth. He's not afraid of swearing, though uses it as sparingly as possible and only in French.
[Optional] Previous RP History: Nothing to take note of here.
Abilities: He has what should be considered super-human strength for his thin frame. Said thin frame renders that strength pretty much useless against anyone who's thicker/bigger than he is, though. His body takes less time to heal than an average person's, even if the wound is life-threatening. And he ages pretty slowly, being hundreds of years old and still appearing only eighteen. He also has this annoying habit of turning invisible, but it's a very gradual shift.
He's a good cook and sings [though he never would aloud around someone].
He's a pretty good fighter, and is able to put his inherent invisibility to good use on the battle field. The battle of Vimy Ridge against Germany during World War I kinda proved that. Poor training and being too moe is what really devastated him on the battlefield, not his fighting skill. Other than that, he learned techniques from England and France, but might be a little on the lazy or rusty side. Or he could just be too thin to properly assert himself against burly opponents. Which is almost everyone excluding him.
Appearance: This might help. And this one for the outfit.
He has violet eyes and wavy blond hair that goes down to his shoulders. He also has a baby face of sorts.
Items/Weapons: A jar of his own natural maple syrup, a smaller stuffed version of Kumawhat'shisfacejirou, and his glasses [-6 prescription].
☣ Samples
First Person Sample: [Scene.]
[Looking around the streets, stuck in the middle of the flow of the crowd. Being passed and given glances, but not for very long. Most of the time.]
Where am I..? This can't really be America..
[Knocked into and shoved out of the middle to the side. Wraps his arms around himself and curls inward.]
..Can it? America was.. [Pauses. Shakes his head.] No, I can't think like that. Stop thinking about that. Start thinking of a way to get around here. There isn't much, but.. [Smiles slightly, uncurling slowly.] ..It doesn't look too bad. At least, eh. Maybe there's someone who could give me directions..
[Walks up to someone and bows politely.]
Hello, eh. Um, would you mind telling me how to get to the nearest.. [Frowns. Then deadpans.] ..You're not.. listening to me. Are you? [Sighs. Takes a step back away from the person and looks up to the sky.] Maybe I should have taken one of those pamphlets. Maybe things would make a lot more sense then. It's so dark..
[Blinks, then looks over his shoulder. Meets eyes with someone glaring at him. They walk off, and he faces forward again.]
That's.. peculiar. Someone was actually staring at me. Maybe I did something wrong..? But what did I do? I don't know anyone here..
[Turns to follow that person. Managing to catch them and stop them without making direct contact.]
Excuse me, sir. Why were you glaring at me earlier..? [Pauses.] A mutant? I.. I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean by that. Could you..? [Pauses again. Takes a step back.] I-I'm sorry..? I-I don't know what I did, but.. Je suis désolé, I didn't mean to cause you any harm or inconvenience.. Wait! [Holds out his hand, but they're already gone. Lowers his hand and reaches a hand to his neck, rubbing.]
..Take a look at my neck? What could be..
[Looks into the glass of a window. Pales and rubs at the mark there with his fingers.]
What is this..? Is this why they said.. I'm a mutant..? M-Maple..
Third Person Sample: [Waking up.]
Everything was black. And splitting. Dieu, his head was going to crack right in half if that beating continued any longer. No, not beating. Whisking. He tried to shake his head. His head wouldn't move. So he opened his eyes.
Gray. A flickering light. Was that a computer monitor? His fingers twitched. So did his legs. He sat up, and the world swayed around him. Everything moving, moving. He was going to throw up. The spinning was wobbling around, flashing, and came to a stop. His stomach decided to stop practicing back flips and settled in. His eyes focused, unfocused. Big, empty room.
The world was standing still. He put out a foot, then the other. Stood up. His inner ear swayed for a moment, then stilled. He breathed in, and out. His eyes were definitely unfocused. Nothing but a blur and fuzzy lights. Were they forming an arrow? He took a step. Slapping on the floor. His skin was tingling, the goop sliding down off his chest. He shuddered. Walked towards that light until he hit the wall right next to the door. He shut his eyes, walked through the open doorway.
It zipped shut behind him, and he jumped. A voice scratched out around the room. Clawing on the metal walls with an insistence rivaled only by his brother. America. Where was he? Better not be some kind of elaborate prank, that's what it couldn't be.
He coughed into his slimy fist. Shuddered again. Wrapping his slick arms around his slimy body as best he could. Decontamination? It sounded like one of America's games he was so proud of. Like a fallout had happened and this was the result. People in chambers going through amnesia.
The voice wouldn't stop scratching. He squinted, reached out a hand. Ran it along the walls and following the blurred signs he was apparently supposed to follow. That's what the scratching voice was telling him to do. And he wasn't about to stand around and wait to freeze to death in this slime.
His nose bumped hard against the frame of the next doorway. He stepped back, rubbed it. Clenching his eyes shut. Didn't open them as he reached out and felt for the doorway. He ran his hand down the cool metal, and stepped through. Opening his eyes to the rush of air as it zooped shut.
The scratching started a countdown. His feet were glued to the floor. Four, three, two..
"Merde."
He raised up his hands like papa France did when being held at sword point and clenched his eyes against the burst of air. A blast, more like it. He shivered against the cold.
The jets cut off, and he lowered his arms. Gradually. Then opened his eyes. Just a blur of vision again. Looked like the other side of the doorway opened. The voice kept scratching the walls, but at least not counting down.
Boston, Massachusetts. Formerly a state.
"America." He looked up, around him. Nothing but the blurred gray. He narrowed his eyes and walked out into the next room. "What do you mean my memory's been scanned? Where's America? Boston still exists, it can't be a formerly."
His voice shook. So much for all those lessons from father England. He was spinning, spinning. Going to make himself vomit. He jammed his toe against something hard, something wood. Looked down as he held his toe. Squinted. A coffin? Were they already planning to bury him?
One way to find out.
He pried the lid off, and pressed a hand inside. One red mass of cloth, familiar and cold in his fingers. Dark jean-like fabric with two cylinders attached. Shoes, black, like the ones he was wearing while staring through the window of a store the other day. Catching a bit of the hockey game on his way home. His team was ahead by three points, and pulling away it looked. He had groceries in hand.
Everything had gone black. And now he was here, holding his clothes in his hand out of a wooden coffin.
He reached inside, moving his hand around some more. Something warm and fuzzy, and two glass shaped items. One smaller than the other. He pulled that out first. Thick lenses. They had to be his. He placed them on, and the world came to focus. He picked up the bear that looked a lot like Kumakichi and the jar of maple, and set them down beside the pile of clothes. He picked up the red hoodie. Exactly like the one he had at home. Down to the faint sent of tulips and pancake batter.
America was so dead when he could get this sorted out.
He pulled the hoodie on, along with the jeans and shoes. Slipped the jar of maple in the pocket of his hoodie, along with the bear like Kumahisha. Like him, only less fat. That scratching voice said something about a lift. He found it easier with the world turning to clarity.
His vision was fogging as the doors closed. The lift beginning its ascent.
America. Was so. Dead.