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Wilbur Shannon

"Romanticism is the abuse of adjectives."

0 · 677 views · located in Arcane University, Michigan

a character in “The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword”, as played by Scarlet Loup

Description



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"I am a kind of burr; I shall stick."
~William Shakespeare


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N A M E
Wilbur Whitney Shannon

N I C K N A M E
Besides the obvious "Will", he often goes by the nickname "Burr". It was given to him by his elder sister who called him "an annoying burr". It has stuck ever since.

G E N D E R
Male

A G E
Nineteen

S E X U A L I T Y
Bisexual

R O L E
William Shakespeare

N A T I O N A L I T Y
Born in England, but lived in America for the past five years.

"What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music."
~ SΓΈren Kierkegaard


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H E I G H T
A very average five feet, ten inches

W E I G H T
A well-balanced one hundred, seventy pounds

H A I R C O L O U R
A deep, nearly ebony, brown

E Y E C O L O U R
A stunning, sky-like blue

S K I N T O N E
A light peachy color that occasionally tans with nearly constant exposure

G E N E R A L__A P P E A R A N C E
Physically, Wilbur is very average. He has an average build and average features, but his eyes are a piercing blue that not many can say they have. His dark hair is nothing more than a disorganized mop, and he often keeps a light mustache and beard going as well as sideburns. His attire is a mixture of nerdy and preppy. He likes wearing cardigans over graphic t-shirts. He is far-sighted, however, and wears thick-rimmed classes to compensate.

"Romanticism is the abuse of adjectives."
~ Alfred de Musset


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P E R S O N A L I T Y
Should you need a single word to describe Wilbur, "romanticist" would work quite well. He loves life and finds it both intriguing and beautiful. Burr was, and still is, known to develop crushes on those who show him even the slightest of care or attention. In general, he vies to find the best in those around him. When true relationships form, he is a passionate lover who strives to prove his love to his lover usually through his poetry. On the flip side, his penchant for falling for just about anyone tends to backfire, for he tends to develop feelings for others even when he is already in a committed relationship. He simply loves people.

Burr has high levels of empathy for others. As previously stated, he likes to look for the best in people, and, unfortunately, he often finds himself blinded by this romanticism of people. Still, he is very mentally quick. Wilbur often makes use of literary and rhetorical devices even when speaking to friends, giving him a witty sort of style even off of the paper. Puns are his favorite. You may even find him utilizing a completely made-up word to achieve the desired effect or words in either French or Latin. Besides his obvious love for poetry and literature, Burr adores history and even foreign language. His preference for both mainly lie within Europe. Monarchs fascinate him, and he'll often spend hours pouring over his textbooks simply to study those he finds fascinating. His truest passion, however, lies in theatre. Give him a role, and he'll play the hell out of it, perhaps moving you to tears. Performance means to world to him, poetry and script-writing coming in at a close second.


"If music be the food of love, play on / Give me excess of it; that surfeiting / The appetite may sicken, and so die."
~ William Shakespeare


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L I K E S
β™₯ Theatre β™₯ Poetry β™₯ European History β™₯ Tea β™₯ Puns β™₯ Classic Rock β™₯ Wearing Hoodies β™₯ Being Warm β™₯ Chocolate β™₯

D I S L I K E S
✘ Soda ✘ Ignorance ✘ His Glasses ✘ Formal Attire ✘ Instrumental Music ✘ Rain ✘ Freezing Temperatures ✘ Math ✘ Brain Teasers ✘

Q U I R K S
๏ Really Likes Literary Devices ๏ Overly Active ๏ Toys with His Hair When Nervous ๏ Still Retains His English Accent ๏

S K I L L S
✯ Quick-witted ✯ Well-Versed in French and Latin ✯ Knowledgeable in European History ✯ Trained actor ✯ Good at Reading People and Offering Advice ✯


"And people flock around the poet and say: 'Sing again soon' - that is, 'May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful'."
~ SΓΈren Kierkegaard


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B A C K S T O R Y
There are others within the school that have certainly faced hardship throughout their lives, but Wilbur had a relatively good childhood himself. Born in Liverpool, England, he was the third child of a minor politician father and a socialite mother. Both were never very rich, but they did manage to provide a comfortable life for their six children, two girls, Wilbur, and three more boys. Life in Liverpool was fun for the young boy. The liveliness of Liverpool exposed the boy to he arts. It began with music, for The Beatles museum was in close proximity with his house. His father's occupation provided him with an excellent early education. In elementary school, he was first exposed to acting. To put it bluntly, he loved it. To put it more elaborately, he found his calling in theatre. Still, words fail to describe his love for it.

For years, his life was quite wonderful. He performed in countless plays for school and in his community, earning a reputation amongst Liverpool's artistic circle. Though the teachers who taught him mathematics and science greatly disliked him, his English teachers and history teachers pushed him to further his knowledge. When he was thirteen, one English teacher pushed him into entering a poetry competition, in which he found his second love. Unfortunately, life in Liverpool would come to a quick end.

When Wilbur was fifteen, his father died from a heart attack while walking home from work. His mother, distraught and jobless, decided the only thing she could do would be to move the entire family to America where her brother lived in New York City. Though Burr was certainly upset by his father's death and the sudden move, he loved the new city, for it provided him with even more opportunities to act and learn from professionals. When it came time to apply to colleges, he decided he would double major in drama and English. His mother, originally, refused to pay for her son to attend college to pursue just theatre. However, when Arcane University offered his scholarship money, she reluctantly allowed it, bringing us to the present.




"I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean."
~ Socrates


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F A C E C L A I M
Aaron Taylor-Johnson

W R I T E R
Scarlet Loup


So begins...

Wilbur Shannon's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nichole d'Mac Ealair Character Portrait: Violet Tremaine Character Portrait: Jane Sibbet Character Portrait: Marie Stonecraft Character Portrait: Sage Chaudhry Character Portrait: Elijah Kravitz
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Sunday.
Predicted forecast: Sunny, with scattered clouds.
Temperature: 28Β°F
Hour: 8:12 A.M.
Term: Recent beginning of the second semester.
Students of Arcane University have no classes today, one of the few days of the week students have entirely free. Some people, procrastinators no doubt, can be found locked in their dorm room, perhaps attempting to accomplish a last-minute paper. Many others can be found outside, enjoying the weather, whether it be in the park or in a local coffee shop. Some simply prefer to remain indoors, lounging with their friends in the living area of their dorm. Today, we focus on the students of the infamous Ink Saber Dorm. How are they spending their hours?




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Outfit



Was there ever anything sadder than watching the sun slowly climb over the horizon, shedding light on skeletal tree branches as it went? Probably. But it didn't seem so at the time.
Eleanor had woken up at five thirty in the morning. A shame since she had only finally managed to drift off to sleep at around one in the morning, but those four and a half hours would be plenty for the day. The misery of it came from that she didn't move from her bed until at least seven. Not wanting to wake Marie, her sleeping roommate, since she knew how little sleep she got as well, she decided simply not to chance it, instead staying in bed for a solid hour and a half, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. After that, she broke. Tiptoeing as quietly as she could manage across the creaky floorboards, she pulled a t-shirt, some leggings, and an over-sized sweater she had picked up from a thrift store earlier that month, and ducked into the bathroom to change and finish her morning routine. It was cold that morning, and the sweater was a comforting source of warmth. It wasn't until she had already changed that she realized her entire outfit was grey scale, and by that point she was too tired to try again.
Careful to open the bathroom door without it squeaking, El nabbed her laptop from her desk and headed into the main kitchen. She had been hoping that given the early hour, there would be no one there, but Rainier was, as well as one or two others.
"Morning," she said quietly, to any of the early risers that may have been listening. It earned her a good morning in return from Rain, along with a ruffling of her hair. She swatted at his arm, ducking underneath it to grab a bowl from the cabinets along with cereal and a spoon. There was a teasing comment from him as she poured the milk, putting it in the microwave. It was a trick she had learned from her mother before she passed, and the warm cereal was always a treat on cold winter days such as this one. She ignored Rain's comment, going out onto the terrace their dorm was fortunate enough to have with her laptop under one arm. The outside air was chilling, and it immediately gave her goosebumps, but it also woke her up. There was a paper still due for one of her classes, and she was hoping to finish it in one go this morning.
But then an hour had passed, and it was past eight already. Her bowl of cereal sat half-finished next to her laptop, and the paper was also only half complete. Frustrated and freezing, she returned inside to dump the bowl in the sink and sit down on the couch with one of the books she had left on the coffee table the night before to take a small breather from the in-depth analysis of Book I of Paradise Lost.








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As far as philosophy goes, "Early to bed, early to rise" is an excellent one. Well, at least in Rainier's opinion it is. He was in bed by eleven last night, out of bed by seven this morning. A solid eight hours of sleep, which was a rare gift these days, considering how much work he was doing for his classes. As a junior, his professors seemed to think he either had more time on his hands, or an increased ability to complete work quickly. Neither of those were true. What he did have, or at least what he developed, was an ability to run competently on fewer hours of sleep.
He was, if nothing else, sensible. So he pulled a sensible outfit out of his closet--a sweater, jeans (it was cold this morning after all)-- and threw it onto his bed for later that day. For the moment, he only tugged a hoodie over his bare torso. A quick morning care routine in the bathroom later, and he was on his way to the kitchen for breakfast.
He arrived only a few minutes before Eleanor stepped into the kitchen as well, returning her good morning with a quick ruffling of her hair as he pulled a bagel from the fridge. Technically, Jackson had bought them, but they were friends, right? Friends shared. "You've got a regular Princess of Darkness thing going for you today, huh?" he teased, as he so often did about her typical wardrobe. She ignored him, as she so often did, and they went their separate ways. Her outside, and him to the couch, a coffee in one hand and a cream cheese bagel in the other. He picked up the remote as he bit into his breakfast, turning on the television to flip through the channels. He settled on a news channel, the most unbiased one he could find, for his morning viewing as he waited for the rest of the dorm to come alive.
It was an hour before El came back in, and by then, a few more people had emerged from the comfort of their dorms. His coffee had since been finished and refilled twice, and his bagel was long gone. He offered El a sip of his coffee, which she refused as she always did, before turning his attention back to the news, which was now running stories on more local events.








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Outfit



Victoria had never been an early riser. Before college, she would sleep until noon on weekends. But there had been a small party on the Saturday, and though she'd come back early, somewhere around midnight, she'd kept sporadically waking throughout the night. She was finally unable to fall back asleep around six thirty, and decided on not even trying to. Her roommate had gotten back later than she had, and was still sleeping, so she decided against going into the kitchen for some breakfast, lest she face the wrath of the sleeping demon. Instead she pulled a book from her nightstand, The Count of Monte Cristo, and flipped to her bookmarked page. Having bought the unabridged version, she was currently clawing her way through a particularly uninteresting bit about a rather unimportant minor character. She briefly debating skipping the entire section, which had actually been cut out in the abridged version, so it couldn't have been that important, but resolved to keep her promise of finishing the book in its entirety.
She read for nearly two hours, forcing her way past the boring part only to fall right into another one, before her stomach began to nag her about getting something to eat. She pulled on a pair of jeans along with a large sweater and knit scarf to protect against the cold, and ducked into the bathroom to wash up before moving to the kitchen. To her surprise, there were already a few people there. She'd figured most people would take the opportunity to sleep in, but in all honesty, she should have figured. So many of these writers and philosophers she was dorming with were early risers. Rainier was already watching the news on the sofa with that other girl, and a few others were scattered around. With a chipper good morning to all the people in the room, she turned to the cabinets to prepare herself a bowl of oatmeal.








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Enzo had to have had the most messed up sleeping schedule now than he had ever had before. He was used to sleeping in on weekends. Until ten at least. But it was only eight when he finally shoved the covers off. He considered himself lucky for being one of the few people in the dorm without a roommate, but he was plenty sure it was really because no one cared to dorm with him. He had a tendency of getting on people's nerves with his personality. He wasn't so much annoying, really, as just frustrating. A devil's advocate, truly. Someone said the sky was blue, he said it was green. It didn't matter what he believed, if someone believed something, he believed the opposite. Plenty of people liked it, but even his friends asked him to stop after a while. He was still working on turning it off sometimes.
Not that he minded the lack of a roommate at all. It gave him free roaming hours. For example, on Friday night he was out until two in the morning and only slept until seven. Adding that to the chronic lack of sleep he had gotten the past week, he was out by midnight on Saturday. Eight hours of sleep was apparently all his mind could handle in one go. Yawning as he pressed his feet to the cold floorboards of the room, he quickly pulled a t-shirt from his floor, smelled it to make sure it was clean, and pulled it over his head. He'd change later into something more presentable for the day ahead, a long sleeved shirt, some dark jeans, but for now, he was more preoccupied with getting to the kitchen for something to eat. He stopped in the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth real quick before sauntering into the kitchen. He stretched and yawned once more as he reached up into the cabinet for a bowl. It wan't until his cereal was safely soaking up milk that he actually greeted everyone through a yawn. The "morning" he intended to say came out slightly garbled and louder than he had anticipated, but he paid it no mind as he pulled up a chair at the kitchen island to dig into his breakfast.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nichole d'Mac Ealair Character Portrait: Violet Tremaine Character Portrait: Jane Sibbet Character Portrait: Marie Stonecraft Character Portrait: Sage Chaudhry Character Portrait: Elijah Kravitz
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Outfit





Jade woke up with the sun.

As to say, she woke up with the sun, and didn't get up for another ten or so minutes. Jade usually woke up early, but as today was a reprieve day, she had no intentions of actually doing something productive. So, looking at the clock that read 8:15 AM, Jade sighed and rolled back over.

After a few more minutes of restful sleep, Jade roused herself and yawned. Padding sleepily into the bathroom, she took a quick, cold shower and dried her hair. She had nowhere to be, but out of habit Jade put on makeup and arranged her hair. Ah, well, no harm done.

She walked over to her closet, pulling out a casual outfit to match the cool weather. She looked through her collection of scarves [she really did love them] and pulled out a simple one. Putting it on as she walked towards the kitchen, she smiled. Jade was so glad today was a restful day.

Her freshman year so far had been fun, but challenging. She'd stayed up all hours of the night to get projects done- and her novel. She was working on a story, a long fantasy about an ancient elvish kingdom. She hadn't decided on a title yet, or shown any of her dormmates, but Jade was intrigued. She'd been pulled into her own story.

As she entered the warm kitchen, she waved to Rainier and grabbed a bag of bread and the toaster. Putting in two slices, she turned back to Rainier.

They were pretty good friends. The older boy had really taken Jade under his wing, and was her soundboard and accomplice. She'd never told him he was her sidekick- he'd probably claim to be the leader of this whole operation. Nonetheless, they were the Three Musketeers- Along with Eleanor.

She pulled the finished toast from the toaster and spread some butter on the warm bread. Placing it on a small plate, she joined Rainier.

"Morning. What are you reading?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nichole d'Mac Ealair Character Portrait: Violet Tremaine Character Portrait: Marie Stonecraft Character Portrait: Sage Chaudhry Character Portrait: Victoria Hughes Character Portrait: Jack Clement
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To tell the truth, Jack held no particular fondness for sleeping in or getting up early. It rather depended on the circumstances, he believed. He could stay up all night working on a story or essay or in a deep discussion with a friend or he could go to bed early and wake up at the crack of dawn. In short, it depended on what he felt like. His only desire was that he'd have a cup of tea waiting for him in the morning.

He was not surprised to see other people in the kitchen. The Ink Saber dorm had a well-earned reputation for early risers. He nodded in greeting to a couple of people as he set himself to making a pot of tea. It was a habit he took from home. It was strange being so far away from home, though the two countries weren't two different. Visiting another Anglophone country was less of a culture shock than visiting, say, Turkey. But while Americans liked coffee in the morning, Jack felt that good Earl Grey tea was a must in the morning.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw a frustrated Eleanor enter the kitchen. He smiled at her friendly. They were as different as night and day, but Jack liked to think that they were friends. He set his cup of tea down and poured Eleanor a cup before placing the tea pot on the counter along with a few empty cups for anyone who wanted one. As he exited he stopped to greet Jade as he walked. It was nice to know someone else from the UK here and he admired her work as much as he did Eleanor's, though his fellow Brit only shared her work in class when she had to.

"Good morning. Excellent story last class."

That was his way. Short and friendly. If she was willing to talk more, he'd love to, but if not, he still had a gloomy Eleanor to cheer up. He took a seat on the couch next to said person and silently offered her a cup of tea. Looking at her laptop, he smiled.

"Paradise Lost is fascinating. I just finished my paper last night. Most people do not understand it, particularly the rhyme and meter. My copy has most of the words on the first few pages underlined, like the owner was expecting gold everywhere until the evidently gave up on reading it and sold it on ebay."

It was an offer to help if there ever was one and honestly, Jack liked this type of stuff. He gave a short nod to Rainier. He knew he was Eleanor's friend, but the two hadn't had the chance to talk that much.

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When John woke up, it was with a slight headache. He had been hard at work the night before shoring up his latest essay's defenses. He and a few of his political science teachers did not exactly see eye to eye on great many of things. It was only natural that they would be more critical of arguments which contradicted their own opinions.

He got dressed, deciding to wear black today based on the fact that he seemed to look good in it, and proceeded towards the dorm's kitchen. Rather than making breakfast from scratch, he opened up the refrigerator and found a container with his name taped across it. Day old pizza was a favorite breakfast food of his. It was only thing his dad knew how to cook in the morning.

As he microwaved a plate full of five cheese pizza, he saw a pot of tea ready for anyone who wanted one and poured himself a cup. As he took it out, he saw Victoria preparing herself some oatmeal and a smiled played at his lips.

"Awfully traditional this morning, aren't we?" John commented playfully. The two of them could not be more different, she an upper-class girl with revolutionary sympathies and he, an adamant capitalist from a working class background. He took a small bite of his pizza before setting his plate down on the counter and taking a sip of tea.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nichole d'Mac Ealair Character Portrait: Violet Tremaine Character Portrait: Marie Stonecraft Character Portrait: Sage Chaudhry Character Portrait: Elijah Kravitz Character Portrait: Victoria Hughes
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The alarm rang at 8 o'clock sharp. After a few jabs at the snooze button, Alec prepared himself mentally for the day ahead. Part of him just wanted to lie in bed for the rest of the day. But as he neatly tucked in the last corner, he thought against it. Instead he dressed in a buttoned up shirt and a sweater vest. But he spoiled the preppy exterior by rolling up his sleeves and leaving his hair a wavy mess. He took his journal with him and stuck a pen behind his ear.

As he headed into the common room, he saw the others going about their morning and took a bracing sigh. Maybe he should have just stayed in bed. He poured himself some coffee and toast and sat near the TV, half-listening to the news. Then he set to work on his latest poem. It was a mess of words on a page, littered with notes and lines, splotches and scribbles. It had to be perfect and yet no matter what he did, perfection slipped through his fingers. The problem was, he lacked inspiration. His immediate world was orderly and neat and all the chaos he left at home was far away. Everything was black and white and left his pages an uninspired mess. What he needed was to break out of his comfort zone but even the idea left him ill at ease.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nichole d'Mac Ealair Character Portrait: Violet Tremaine Character Portrait: Jane Sibbet Character Portrait: Marie Stonecraft Character Portrait: Sage Chaudhry Character Portrait: Elijah Kravitz
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*Beep, Beep, Beep*

Nichole Esme d'Mac Ealair woke to the aggravating sound of her bedside clock. Without rising from the comfort of her bed, instead she dragged her hand out from beneath the heavy mountain of blankets that hovered over her, and hit the 'snooze button.' She grunted to herself as she dismantle the blankets and sat up in a sloppy position.

*Click* There was suddenly a flash from a camera that seemed to stun her.

"This is definitely going on my twitter page." A familiar voice said.

Nichole was startled when she found her best friend, Herman Andrews, lounging at the edge of her bed with a cream cheese bagel in his hand. "What the hell, Herman?" she bellowed as she rubbed her eyes back to reality.

"Dayumm! It wouldn't kill you to at least look presentable even when you wake up. You need Jesus, honey." He then took a huge chunk of the bagel and gorged it down as if he was a deranged savage who hadn't eaten in days; months even.

A low growl escaped Nichole's lips as she charged herself at him, "Herman!" However, he was already running down the hallway and she followed almost tripping as she went. She chased him all the way into the kitchen where students were already hanging out, seeing the two already going at it again early in the morning made everyone turned within a three-standing radius turned to look at them; at Nichole for she was still dressed in her kiddie pajamas.

There was no where to look without meeting curious eyes.

Herman came over to her, his hips swaying side to side and arms spread out. "You're just the cutiest wittle thing," He embraced her, squeezing her hard to the point where she couldn't breath. But of course Nichole didn't mind. Herman was well-known for giving out the best hugs...and kisses. He was a true ladies man at are. If he wasn't strickly dickly that it.

Nichole tried very hard not to be tempted in Herman's affections to the point where she softly nudged him away. "You're such an ass,"

Herman only stuck his tongue out as he scarfed down what was left of his food while at the same time he hoped over the couch and sat next to Rainer. "Hey, at least I'm not the only one who thinks that." he winked at Rainer flirtatiously in a way that told him that he knew what was going on between the two of them.

Nichole was over by the fridge and drinking out of the carton of orange juice when she heard him which made her turn her head towards him as he spoke. "Oh, get a life."

"Not until you get yours." he came over and snatched the carton from Nichole's lips causing her to spill some on her pj's, and went back toward the couch.

"Jerk!" She shouted after him.

He flashed her the finger, "Kiss my ass, bish. Kiss my ass."

Nichole couldn't other than smile at him. He was always such a jokester, but she loved him for that.