Hydroxylapatite Version (OOC/SU)
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August 27th, 2011 (1:41 PM).
Riley, or Rile as his friends call him, is of average height and build, though he is a bit on the skinny side. His hair is a mess of unruly black locks and tangled spikes, looking as though it hasn't been properly brushed in ages. His eyes are ash gray, cool and dimmed except for the tiny spark of intelligence behind them that quickly disappears when he looks away. His clothing varies wildly, as though he simply throws together 'whatever works'. For his journey, though, his mother has put together something decent: a slightly blue gray and white light jacket with hood, permanently unzipped, over a navy blue T-shirt. The popular Pokéball insignias are emblazoned in white on the gray part of his jacket, just above the black Pokéball holder belt (currently empty) strapped on his waist. Riley's mother has thrown in a pair of white jeans she found buried somewhere in his closet and some brand new sneakers (navy, white at the edges and soles, white shoelaces and lining), because, as she put it, 'he's certainly going to have to walk a lot'. Finally, she threw him a dark blue, almost black, and gray cap (the cheap kind, the one every single kid out there has, only in different colors) to keep the sun out of his eyes.
Rile's elementary school grades were quite horrible, to tell the truth. He constantly barely missed repeating a grade. But miraculously, he always scraped a pass, getting into a mediocre middle school, and then high school. The entire time, though, he never failed a single assignment: he only did them very, very poorly. He never took an active role in discussions, and participated very little in class, so teachers often had nothing to say about him. His parents have their suspicions about him, though, especially after he scored surprisingly well in a math exam (which has, by far, been one of his worst subjects) at the end of the year, when he had been on the brink of failing the subject. Another doubtful thing is how his close friends keep pestering him to help them with their homework, despite knowing about his academic failure.
Rile, on the other hand, doesn't really care. School has always been just a bore to him, and he sees no reason to bother, especially since he knows he'll eventually set out on a journey to become a Pokémon breeder someday. And as far as he knew, you needed no specific qualifications to become a breeder (except basic breeding skills, of course; then again, Rile has always been more interested in the care and raising part, rather than the actual breeding one). There are really just two things he's interested in: Pokémon and cooking. The two are often intertwined, seeing has how the majority of the 'food' he cooks is for Pokémon. His life has been pretty much uneventful, and, as far as he's concerned, boring. Two days after graduating high school, Rile decided it was as good a time as any to start his all-teenager must-have, life-changing Pokémon journey.
Rile is not only lazy, as most people call him, but unmotivated. He feels no urge to participate, to discover, or to better himself. It's like he simply possesses no enthusiasm or natural curiosity; like he is satisfied with whatever he has. His teachers say he lacks ambition. But everyone knows that you'll never improve if you content yourself with what you have, which, for Rile, doesn't seem to be a lot.
But Rile isn't stupid. He knows what they think of him: halfhearted, uncommitted. And he thinks it's true; he simply doesn't feel any desire to learn more when his companion's rant is cut off and he needs to rush away: it was none of his business, and he should feel grateful that his friend confided in him in the first place. He's certain he won't enjoy this sport, even if he hasn't tried it¡--he knows himself better than that. He doesn't dream of being Gym Leader or Champion of the Pokémon League, like all these adults seem to think all children do; he knows he would dislike the extra attention those titles would bring. After all, who would want to have reporters telling the world about what he wore or what he ate for supper last Sunday? He's read enough dreary articles concerning celebrities' private lives¡--which other people had no right to know, anyhow--to spare those who would come after him the pain.
They think he shows no excitement, even when it comes to his passions: mainly, Pokémon. But Rile knows, and he knows that only his best friend can tell when the uninterested, dull look is gone and when, behind his dim eyes, there is a spark of life, and that only he can catch the quiet glimmer of interest that shows briefly, and then is gone with the next blink of an eye.
However, Rile does laze around often, and sometimes not only because he has nothing better to do than lie on his back and watch the clouds drift. He finds schoolwork tedious, and some days he feels like giving up altogether, because he's the only one that sees that there's no point in it--but dropping out of school would disappoint his parents greatly, so he perseveres and hangs in there¡...but just barely. His friends accuse him of pretending to be stupid. But he's not, not really, because even when he does make an effort, it's hard, because when the material is this boring, he can't concentrate on it properly. He
smart, he's simply
not wanted to
for so long that he's nearly forgotten how to.
Rile enjoys deadpan humor and sarcasm, and likes making snarky comments, which often earn him a bonk on the head. He complains a lot, because he likes to poke holes in theories and ideas, which also earns him a bonk on the head. He thinks logically, but he fully admits that in a world full of creatures that can breathe fire, water, and balls of energy, logic has its limits. He thinks imagination is worth just as much as pure fact; after all, it takes the same amount of effort to memorize something you've made up and something you haven't.
Joined Nov 2008
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