roque urbano abney

[mel6]

-- ROQUE URBANO ABNEY !

-- NAME: Roque Urbano Abney
-- NICKNAMES: Rock, Row Boat, Abs
-- AGE & BIRTHDAY: Thirty-three, December Twenty-sixth
-- BIRTH PLACE: Barcelona
-- ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
-- OCCUPATION & SCHOOL GRADE: Retired Soccer player
-- PLAYED BY: Joe Mnaganiello

-- PERSONALITY !

-- FAUX-COCKY: Being famous, handsome and rich out the wazoo, it's no surprise that Roque can come off as... well, an ass. He never seems to be lacking for confidence and ego, though really, this believable front just hides the boy afraid of being alone. Simply put, he doesn't know how to be honest, sincere. What doesn't help is that the concept scares him. So instead of letting himself be vulnerable, he covers his weaknesses with a selfish, narcissistic veneer.
-- COWARDLY: Despite his girth, strength, and seemingly unrelenting courage, one could aptly describe Roque as cowardly. This doesn't mean he cowers, or backs away from a fight; he does neither. What it means is that when a situation calls for him to be mature, to be vulnerable, to be open, he always runs. The thought of trusting anyone with any part of himself is terrifying to the spaniard. Needless to say, he's more of the flee before it gets serious than the fight for what feels right kind of guy.
-- COMPULSIVE LIAR: There are a lot of things Roque is not. A thief, a cheater, a con artist. However, he does have a nasty habit of lying. Things sort of.. slip, he supposed. Life happened. He wasn't perfect. Was he really on the July edition of GQ last year? No, but it got him in bed with the model. Roque sticks to small lies only, keep in mind. Though he normally runs, if given the chance and forced to talk about his emotions and such, he would be honest. Little white lies, however, did no harm, right?
-- RELIGIOUS: Yes, the lying man-whore is religious. Big surprise, I know. Still, Roque loves him some God. He'd pray before games, before he slept, when he awoke. He thanked and thought about God almost daily. Giving him up, even after breaking God's own rules, was impossible. Roque doesn't attend church on sundays or read from a bible by-nightly, but simply having faith is a comfort to him. Being able to look to someone he knew was completely private, and being up to actually tell them what was wrong, was both foreign and very much needed in his life.

-- LOVES: futbol, cats, dark chocolate, summer, big cities, cooking, jogging in the mist, socializing, sing-song birds, himself
-- HATES: hospitals, losing, people stealing his glory, not understanding something, asian cuisine, reading, the morning after, sloppy penmanship, being alone, soup of essentially any kind

-- HISTORY !

Born in Barcelona to a spanish mother and an english father in the cold months of 1977, Roque was destined to be something of a miracle. He grew up in the streets of middle class suburbia, his parents both honest, hard working people. Learning from their example, Roque was determined from an early age to do good, honest work. Maybe a doctor, or a teacher like his father.
As he grew older, however, this seemed to prove harder and harder. Roque had a tendency to get himself in trouble, be it from staying out past curfew, finding and crashing parties with illicit substances inside and even being known to break a heart or two. The only thing that seemed to keep him honest was the school futbol team, which, due to being associated with drugs and parties, he was inevitably kicked off of. His parents worried about him, and with no reason not to, quickly moved Roque to England to finish his school. He had only just started his junior year, and yet was thrust into a whole new world.
Roque grew cold to his parents after they removed him from his home. He was seventeen and alone in the school, which lacked his one, honest comfort; futbol.
Much to his parents dismay, after Roque graduated, he returned to Barcelona to pursue his futbol career. Though exceptionally talented, he still had the bad habit of hanging out on the fringes, taking pleasure in the form of women and drink. He was just eighteen when he came back to his homeland, after all, so what did you expect?
Due to his absurd talent on the field, teams bickered over him senselessly. Though he was a PR nightmare, his ability to kick a goal from anywhere on the field was practically legendary, even though he was still so young. Eventually, he simply picked one name out of a hat, saying that it didn't matter where he started-- so long as he got to nationals.
Sure enough, but the time he was twenty-five, he'd made it to the national team. He played a vicious and intimidating forward for La Furja Roja, Spain's national football team. He was loved by many, but also hated by many.
In the midst of the world championships, La Furja Roja was tied for first place with Sbornaya, the Russian national futbol team. Their were barely minutes left in the game, and Spain was losing.
In a daring move, they fell back on their last resort; giving Roque complete control of the ball. He was more than halfway down the Russian's side of the field when the defensive player pulled a cheap move. In an illegal collision, Roque was sent flying backwards, and landed on his leg. The doctors said he'd never play again.
Torn apart by sorrow, he moved back to England to stay with his parents, who, despite his misgivings, welcomed him with open arms. He couldn't, however, handle their pity. Seeing it day in and day out killed him. So, one year after the accident, he moved from England to the United States; the land of opportunities.
Capeside was a small, quaint town. Beautiful, in a sense, and just what Roque was looking for. Not many americans truly followed european sports, so he doubted he'd be recognized here. He built a house on a bluff above the city, and settled in for a mediocre life of nothing. With out futbol, with out his soul, what was he?
He spent almost four whole years in this terrible, destructive mindset. It wasn't uncommon for Roque, whose leg was healed enough to the point where he could run with only varying degrees of pain, to volunteer as a fireman or any other sort of dangerous work that people would let him do. It was the only way he could keep his blood flowing.
What he didn't account for was Eliza; the young, beautiful school teacher from Boston. Though she was american, she was vivacious and happy and so gorgeous. She didn't look at him with pity; she looked at him with fire. In a word, she made him feel alive.
For three years, they danced around they're semi-relationship. When they came together, it was like combustion, and when they were apart, it felt almost glacial. Still, due to differences of opinions, the two bickered constantly and unceasingly. Though he feared finding any kind of bliss with Eliza (he was always the love-em-and-leave-em type), he trusted her. Despite all the fighting and arguments, he trusted her.
That fragile connection didn't last long. A couple of months ago, Eliza put an end to their on-again, off-again relationship. She was done with him, just like his parents had been when he was a child, just like his school teachers had been, just like La Furja Roja had been.
And once again, he was all alone.

-- SAMPLE !

-- OOC !

-- NAME OR ALIAS: Mel
-- AGE: Sixteen
-- THREE WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOU: SUCK SEH SSS
-- HOW YOU FOUND US: IDKYO.

[* NIKKI THE PEACOCK QUEEN]

let me love you

-- ACCEPTED !

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