Post by Baldr on Nov 7, 2017 11:50:09 GMT -5
BALDR
SETtheSCENE
Name: Baldr
Nickname: beloved of all
Gender: Male
Age: Youthful (about 16-17, in human years)
Sexuality: Straightish
Fairytale: Norse Mythology
Year: 6th year
Face Claim: Alexander Ludwig
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Personality: Baldr was once said to be the wisest of the gods, but someone might have been exaggerating, because he’s about as naive as they come. He has not a mean bone in his body; he is gracious and kind-hearted and generally assumes everyone else is as well.
He is brave, sometimes recklessly so, never backing down from a challenge, especially when it means protecting someone weaker. He also has an unshakeable sense of justice, and if he thinks something is unfair, he will speak out, even if it’s something incredibly stupid, like someone not getting a full portion of chicken nuggets at lunch. He is clumsy as all heck, and is frequently frustrated by his limited set of physical abilities in this world, namely the loss of his ability to do absolutely anything and emerge unharmed.
Despite his lack of invincibility here, he still has a couple of his lesser powers; he can create light, and he still has dreams of the future, although they are more vague than they used to be, and sometimes they're very misleading (like movie trailers, where they try to make you think one thing is going to happen and it turns out to be strategically edited and something completely different happens).
Appearance: Baldr, since coming here, looks remarkably human. He doesn’t radiate light the way he used to in Breidablik, he just looks like an ordinary human young man. He is tall and muscular (it wouldn’t do for the lord of warriors to be a weakling, after all) and has hair so blonde it is almost white.
In his world, he’s invincible, although everybody knows you can get at him with mistletoe (thanks, Loki), but here, he seems to be without that particular power, and is continually getting banged up due to the kind of carelessness that can only be caused by getting used to invincibility and then being thrust into an unforgiving world without it. He is almost always wearing some kind of bandage somewhere.
He has a sort of anxiousness about him; it's not clear whether this is because of his eternal sense of impending doom, or just because he's living in a world where he can actually get hurt now, but either way, he usually seems to be dreading something that's about to happen.
History: Baldr is the second son of Odin, and is used to being adored. Let it not be said, however, that this has gone to his head, because he has always been much more preoccupied with his horrible, dark dreams than worrying about what anybody thinks of him. Since he was very small, he has had prophetic dreams of things yet to come, and they are generally very accurate. This grew especially distressing when he began having dreams of his own death, which were shared with his mother, Frigg. Frigg was so concerned for her son’s well-being that she made everyone and everything on earth promise never to hurt him, with the exception of Mistletoe.
Well, that turned out to be enough. Loki, the pesky troublemaker that he was, made a spear out of mistletoe, and gave it to Baldr’s own brother Höðr (who, regrettably, was blind, and could not see what exactly it was Loki was handing him). Why, you ask, would Höðr even throw an arrow at his brother in the first place? Well, since everything in nature vowed never to harm Baldr, all the other gods found it incredibly amusing to throw anything and everything at him, since none of it could hurt him. It was a great time, really. Until Loki ruined it, like he ruins everything. Baldr died, and was burned on his magnificent ship along with his horse.
Frigg was beside herself, and begged for Baldr to be released from the underworld. Hel, apparently feeling quite generous, agreed to send him back to his mother if everything on earth would mourn for him. And because Baldr was so well-loved (or maybe because it was so much fun to throw things at him), everyone did, except for Loki. That wasn’t quite fair, Baldr pointed out, because Loki was the one who got him killed in the first place, so of course he wasn’t going to mourn, giantess disguise or not, but his protests could not convince Hel to let him return to his world. The conditions were not met, and Baldr could not be allowed to return to his world until after Ragnarök…but since almost everyone did seem fairly upset that he died, Hel allowed him to go somewhere else instead. He could go through this portal…a portal to a place where he could spend his time until the end of days.
Other: hey my name is tibby and i have no self-control.
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Sample Post:
Baldr was bleeding again. Why did that happen so much here? He hissed discontentedly at the little slice in his finger. Who knew paper was so sharp? Why was paper so sharp? It was no good as a weapon, there was literally no reason at all for it to be like this.
“You have displeased me,” he said, to the piece of paper, before jamming the stack back into the printer. Maybe one slice of it had his blood on it, but he was tired of wrestling with it. Printers were another thing that frequently confounded him. Baldr, wisest of all the gods, susceptible only to the bite of mistletoe and also paper jams. The printer rattled a little, then spat out the document he had been trying to print for the past half hour.
He was going to be late for class, which also did not please him (both the class itself and the tardiness), but at least he’d gotten his paper printed. Grabbing the four sheets on which his essay had been printed out, he stapled them together. To his finger. The essay was attached to his left index finger, because of course it was, because nothing ever went right here. Nothing.
Baldr swore loudly, earning him a disapproving shush from the girl who was monitoring the writing lab, and wondered if he could get extra credit for the amount of his own blood that was now adorning his essay. Extracting the staple from his finger and managing to flatten it against the paper the way it was intended to be used, he shoved the whole essay into his binder, which he in turn pushed into his backpack, and rushed off towards the humanities building.
