Simon C. Lockwood

[Psyche]

Simon Cade Lockwood

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NEVER WENT OUT CHASIN’ RAINBOWS

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‘cause there can’t be that much to it [/font][/i][/color][/center]

•• full name: Simon Cade Lockwood
•• nicknames: Simon does't like being addressed by anything other than his given name.
•• age: 24
•• birth era: Victorian
•• date of birth: June 13
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BABY WHERE YOU GONNA GO

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what you gonna do when you get there [/font][/i][/center]

•• your character’s body: Simon stands just over six feet tall, and, due to his upright posture and lanky physique, looks every inch of it. His eyes, like glinting orbs of obsidian, are the only points of his face, as white and emotionless as a mask, that would suggest the subdued intelligence and bitterness hidden within him. His hair, a similar shade of black, is kept short and parted with acute precision to preserve the appearance of perfection. In every matter, he is careful to look his best: every inch cleaned and manicured to the minutest detail before any appearance can be made. His face his always clean-shaven.
Whenever he is in public, Simon always takes care to appear at ease: never putting himself into any position that would force him out of his element. Most often he can be found reclining, indifferently attending to some idle hobby, or simply watching the pursuits of his master and mistress. Whatever the situation, his expression rarely ever deviates from a cool stare or the occasional haughty smirk.
Simon holds his head high in all society and refrains from bowing to anyone when it can at all be avoided. He isn’t afraid to hold the stare of any soul, inferior or superior, and some have even suggested that his face is incapable of displaying any sign of shame or shyness. While he often slips into the background, as is expected of him, when beheld individually he has an appearance that commands some sort of respect, even uneasiness when he wishes it.
In every aspect of his appearance, Simon aims for perfection. This is his greatest advancement in both conformity and rebellion.
•• clothes: Simon has a great inclination toward fashion and will spend a good deal of time searching for clothes that suit him, always trying to stay in the current trends. He dresses most often in black for its sleekness, and prefers long waistcoats that accentuate his already tall and slender figure. He takes great care to eliminate any blemish or wrinkle from his clothing, refusing to wear anything with even the slightest imperfection. His shoes are brought to an almost glassy shine.
All of his attire is formal and modest, covering as much of his form as is reasonable. He willingly dons the white gloves of his trade, but refuses beyond any urging to wear a bowtie, only opting for a simple black tie when occasion deems it necessary. He dislikes most hats for the clumsiness they inspire and therefore owns a very limited number of them which he will submit to wearing.
•• other details: Simon is going prematurely grey, though it is not very noticeable yet.
•• as portrayed by: Harry Lloyd
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LOOKING BACK ON MY YOUNGER DAYS

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life was a play and the world a stage [/font][/i][/center]

•• likes: Nathaniel and Nora, Andrew Lockwood Jr., Fashion, Architecture, Reading, Music, Drawing, Artwork, Horses, Dogs, Freedom, Fresh air, Mind games, Being in control, Being left alone, Logic & Strategy, Walking, Forests, The sea
•• dislikes: Hypocrisy, Stupidity, Gossip, Loud women, Being forced into conversation, Prying questions, Condescension, Parties, People acting too familiar, Being expected to behave like the lower class, Ill will toward his family or friends
•• fears: Being viewed as weak, Driving away his close friends, Losing his loved ones, Being controlled
•• hopes: To gain Nora's esteem, To prove himself, To be independent, To see his little brother grow up to be great
•• hobbies: Reading, Drawing, Playing Music (Piano, Cello, and Flute), Horseback riding
•• general personality: Simon is a fairly difficult individual to figure out, even for those who have known him all of his life. He rarely ever says just what he is thinking or does just what he wants. He is calculating and cold, always planning out his words and actions hundreds of times before he actually goes through with them, always searching for the option that will put him in the best light. Due to the cold, arrogant front he puts up, many people eventually grow to dislike him almost as much as he dislikes them. Simon has a disdain for people in general, guarding himself against the advancements of any stranger and meeting any interest in himself with redoubled iciness.
He has a hard time accepting people with any amount of trust and considers Nathaniel his only true friend. While he keeps up civil relations with everyone else, for the most part, he has a habit of subtly mocking and playing with individuals he considers particularly dull or annoying. He is a bit sharper than he leads others to believe, but has a hard time holding back cold or witty remarks when they present themselves. He loves anything to do with strategy or logic and relishes any sort of competition. Simon never turns down an opportunity to prove himself and puts on airs of perfection to cover up any faults he may have. He despises the class system and a great deal of the upper class. He believes only in actions, and refuses to show respect to anyone he deems undeserving no matter their rank in society.
Despite his appearance of pride and perfection, Simon lacks talent in a good many things. For this, he often refrains from participation in any situation which will highlight a gap in his abilities. In order to always appear collected, Simon will avoid most strenuous sports or activities. The only exception to this rule is at the request of Nathaniel whom he is happy to oblige. Simon spends most of his time indoors practicing more refined hobbies. One of his favorite ways to pass the time is through reading, often of history or biographies. It is in these books that he finds most of his ideals, revering the noble figures he finds within the pages so much that the people and situations he finds in life serve only as a disappointment.
In all the world, he has only tried to gain the respect of one person: Nora Ashton. Though appearances would say his relationship with Nathaniel is much closer, Simon secretly prizes the woman’s opinion more than that of anyone else. While he spends most of his day attending to the needs and plots of Nate, he regards Nora for being exactly what he pretends to be. These two alone constitute most of Simon’s world, and are the only people he confides in or respects. He feels himself indebted to them for their father’s kindness and willingly does all he can to make them happy. It is only around them that he shows somewhat of his true nature. He loves to participate in Nathaniel’s happy pursuits and gladly takes Nora’s criticism for the chance to play music with her (a hobby he only undertook when he realized how much it meant to his mistress). Though he spends very little time with his brother, Simon loves his younger sibling more than any other member of his family. He sees himself as a mentor to the boy and wishes more than anything to see him break free of the restraints of their poverty to do something truly great.
When he is not with them, Simon spends his free time in his little room where everything is clean and organized. He builds around himself a tiny world of perfection and treasures this home more than any other. It is in this solitude that he practices a good many hobbies, such as drawing, which he is too self-conscious to try openly due to his lack of skill. He loves the silence and freedom of these few hours to himself and the space it gives him to think.
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SEARCHING MY HEART I KNOW WHAT I HAVE TO DO

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gonna stop hanging on to something I can’t hold onto [/font][/i][/center]

•• hometown: Born in Brighton, raised in London (Ashton household)
•• important family members: Corrine Lockwood (Mother), Andrew Lockwood (Father-Deceased), Stephen Hugo (Maternal Uncle), Anna Lancing (Older Sister), Andrew Lockwood Jr. (Younger Brother)
•• other important figures: Nathaniel Ashton (Master), Nora Ashton (Mistress)
•• general history: Simon’s father was 34 years old and a practicing surgeon when he married. Having lived to such a ripe age without even the hint of a serious relationship, many of his friends had family had simply given up on the notion of the man’s ever marrying. So, when he announced his engagement to the young Corrine, it created quite a stir. The girl was just over ten years younger, and Andrew—having always been ailing—was well past his prime. He had spent a fair amount of time in America at the beginning of his medical career and had gathered a small sum of money. Apparently this, in addition to his wasting health, was enough to convince Andrew to retire from his bachelor life.
If it weren’t for this money, the marriage may never have taken place. It wasn’t merely the issue of age that had deterred Corrine’s mother from accepting, for then such a thing was hardly a rarity. What concerned her more was the man’s lack of status and his outrageous habits. While in “The West” as she liked to call it with a sneer, the man had seemingly been robbed of any elegance that may have been bred into him. However, Corrine’s insistence and her daughter’s impending age finally won the mother over. Corrine herself had, in her day, been quite the prospect. Her entire family had been stunned when, after turning away suitor after suitor, she was threatening to become a spinster at the age of 24. Therefore, this offer of marriage was regarded more kindly by her family in light of their recently limited options.
Andrew and Corrine married mere months after the proposal was accepted and had their first child, a daughter, less than a year later. A son soon followed, and the family lived for several years in their own happy way. When Andrew was 42, he died of tuberculosis. Shortly after his death, Corrine had a third child, a boy she named in honor of his deceased father, and fell into illness herself. With their sole source of income gone, the family was forced to rely on savings and soon ran into poverty.
When her eldest son, Simon, turned seven, Corrine’s brother—a butler at a prominent house in London—offered to apprentice the boy. Here he grew up alongside the estate’s children, Nora and a boy his own age named Nate. By the grace of his master, Simon was allowed to attend lessons with the two, and proved to be a quick and able learner. He sent his money home every month (as all of his expenses were provided for) to attend to his mother and two siblings.
Simon’s older sister eloped at the age of sixteen, leaving her mother to raise the younger boy on her own. Now in failing health of her own, Corrine and her son move to London to be closer to Simon, now the only one of the family keeping them afloat. Despite their closeness, however, either business or embarrassment kept the eldest son from visiting very often. It was only when their mother's health took a turn for the worst that Simon really began reconnecting with the family he had lost years ago. With this, he took up the task of taking care of his brother and coming home from time to time to look after their affairs.
•• job(s): Butler in the Ashton Household
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I DON’T CARE WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS

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and I don’t care about what you’ve been told [/font][/i][/center]

•• your alias: Psyche (Psych0tic)
•• other characters: None Yet
•• roleplay sample:

*Taken from a former forum... Because I am lazy*
Russell took a long drag on the cigarette as the last of the stars faded into the burgeoning sunlight and tapped his finger absently against the arm of the flimsy, plastic chair, ashes settling to the ground like tiny snowflakes at his feet. The muscles of his arm relaxed as, watching the rising sun, he gradually lost track of his surroundings and slipped into a quiet daze. Weariness drew over his limbs like a heavy shadow, and they were suddenly grateful for the blessing of rest. Thoughts of the previous day flitted through his mind like short clips of film as his drooping lids slipped shut. He sat in this fashion some time before grasping at the chair and pushing it backward to lean his head against the wall. The grating noise of its feet against the cement roused him slightly before he again began drifting off to sleep. His cigarette, now entirely forgotten, remained passively between his fingers, dropping whitened ashes on the pavement and issuing tendrils of silver smoke that wove and danced mesmerizingly through the morning air.
The sun, now proudly seated atop a throne of trees on the horizon, shone a glistening orange across the landscape and dispelled the coolness of night, reclaiming its domain for yet another day from the clutches of darkness. Russell, reminded of his companions by the sound of muffled movements from within, wondered vaguely if he should call them out before deciding to take advantage the current state of stillness to sort out his current quandary. Going back was not an option, but did he really have a place among these two? He glimpsed Rika through the glass door and was struck by how differently he perceived her in the light of day and a clearness of mind. For obvious reasons, he hadn't been too observant on such a topic in the calamity of their first meeting, but he had to admit that she was rather pretty. Kyte passed into his frame of vision from behind the wall, and Russell turned his eyes on the ground in slight embarrassment. If there was something between them, did he have any right forcing his presence upon them as he was now contemplating? Sure, he was doing so with the pretense of helping, but did they really need him after the bike was repaired? He hadn't set out with the purpose of leaving them so soon.
Russell stood and stretched, tossing the remainder of his dead cigarette into a trashcan as he prepared himself to go inside. He supposed he would have to decide soon enough where he was to go from here... Though he didn't want to continue alone, it was better than being where his presence wasn't wanted. Passing into the room once more, his eye fell on the menu, unmoved from its place on the bed, and resolved to discuss it with them over breakfast.

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