Name: Orlando "Orland" Reed
Age: 19
Race-Nationality: White/Caucasian, Irish
Eye color: Green
Description: Standing at an intimidating 6'3, Orland doesn't seem too active in noticing your presence. He's usually hunched over onto himself, a body language that he prefers solitude than company. Lanky, but strong, he looks to be more of a track runner than anything else. He used to have a brightly lit mo-hawk atop his head, but lately it's faded into a faint mint color over the bleached hair. The shaved hair on the sides of his head had grown out, giving away his true hair color. There are too many piercings littering his body to name them all, and even more tattoos.
Reason: There isn't really a great reason just for the fact that he was afraid of getting stuck in that town. Men continued to enter and leave their home, and his mother was always cooped up in the bedroom. She was a whore, with no intentions of making a better life. Orland, however, had anger problems, so his mother told him to either get the hell outta her home or get some help, because he was driving all her customers away. He chose the former.
Personality: Orland hardly ever smiles, and because of that, when he does, he looks immensely different, like a whole another person. He's cynical and sarcastic, and it seems that he doesn't mind making people uncomfortable or angry at him. Hell, he takes pleasure in pissing people off to the point that they want to fight him, and what's a fight here and there? Orland doesn't always win those, but the pain makes him realize he's still alive, and not a numb body of consciousness. Much like a cutter cuts. He's a smart-ass and greatly narcissistic, but not because he's got high self-esteem, it's quite the opposite.
Background: Born in Ireland, it wasn't too long before the family picked up and left for America, Orland was fifteen then. A new atmosphere was bound to do good for the family, but the lack of jobs, and his father's departure back to Ireland resulted in a messy divorce, no money, and Orland's mom's choice of career. Day and night, men left and entered their apartment, all of them dirty, and seemingly poor. She charged cheap, so she got many customers and enough to pay rent and for food. Orland had dropped out of school, worked at a local grocery store until he was fired for assaulting a customer, now he was on his own. This was the first time, he had actually lashed out on his mother, and her words hadn't even phased him enough to realize he's got no family anymore. He knew those words were coming.
Plans: He wants to head out west and make it big playing guitar.
Items You Brought With You: A ragged backpack of clothes, a few necessities, his paperwork: Ireland passport and his green card. Marijuana and a few questionable pills. As well as the guitar he has strapped on his back.
Money: Half of his mother's earnings of this past month, which is around $175.
Age: 19
Race-Nationality: White/Caucasian, Irish
Eye color: Green
Description: Standing at an intimidating 6'3, Orland doesn't seem too active in noticing your presence. He's usually hunched over onto himself, a body language that he prefers solitude than company. Lanky, but strong, he looks to be more of a track runner than anything else. He used to have a brightly lit mo-hawk atop his head, but lately it's faded into a faint mint color over the bleached hair. The shaved hair on the sides of his head had grown out, giving away his true hair color. There are too many piercings littering his body to name them all, and even more tattoos.
Reason: There isn't really a great reason just for the fact that he was afraid of getting stuck in that town. Men continued to enter and leave their home, and his mother was always cooped up in the bedroom. She was a whore, with no intentions of making a better life. Orland, however, had anger problems, so his mother told him to either get the hell outta her home or get some help, because he was driving all her customers away. He chose the former.
Personality: Orland hardly ever smiles, and because of that, when he does, he looks immensely different, like a whole another person. He's cynical and sarcastic, and it seems that he doesn't mind making people uncomfortable or angry at him. Hell, he takes pleasure in pissing people off to the point that they want to fight him, and what's a fight here and there? Orland doesn't always win those, but the pain makes him realize he's still alive, and not a numb body of consciousness. Much like a cutter cuts. He's a smart-ass and greatly narcissistic, but not because he's got high self-esteem, it's quite the opposite.
Background: Born in Ireland, it wasn't too long before the family picked up and left for America, Orland was fifteen then. A new atmosphere was bound to do good for the family, but the lack of jobs, and his father's departure back to Ireland resulted in a messy divorce, no money, and Orland's mom's choice of career. Day and night, men left and entered their apartment, all of them dirty, and seemingly poor. She charged cheap, so she got many customers and enough to pay rent and for food. Orland had dropped out of school, worked at a local grocery store until he was fired for assaulting a customer, now he was on his own. This was the first time, he had actually lashed out on his mother, and her words hadn't even phased him enough to realize he's got no family anymore. He knew those words were coming.
Plans: He wants to head out west and make it big playing guitar.
Items You Brought With You: A ragged backpack of clothes, a few necessities, his paperwork: Ireland passport and his green card. Marijuana and a few questionable pills. As well as the guitar he has strapped on his back.
Money: Half of his mother's earnings of this past month, which is around $175.