Post by Upenyu Naykutse on Mar 25, 2011 16:56:30 GMT -6
Name and Number: Upenyu Naykutse // Number 1980
Nation: Republic of Zimbabwe
Gender: Female
Age: 14
Year: First Year
Birthday: April 18
Team: Blue
Personality: Callous, cynical and cautious. Those are the three words used to describe the Zimbabwean’s usual attitude towards her peers. This, of course, is just used as a defensive shield, effectively pushing away the majority of the people who approach her.
In all actuality, the tall girl is kind, funny and sometimes silent. She loves competitions and will bring it her all even if she’s at a disadvantage. If provoked far enough, she’ll just show how fiery she can get. And yes, if she’s given the chance she will most likely laugh and poke fun at someone.
History: Upenyu was born to in the capital of her country, Harare. She wasn’t born into a “golden crib” per se, even though her life is much better than the many other Zimbabweans. With the still new country in an economic and political turmoil, simple tasks such as getting groceries had become arduous as she had to cross the border into South Africa on a weekly basis.
The rest of her family (excluding her mother’s side) own a small plot of land and continue to follow the customs of the Shona. Her parents thought that prohibiting Upenyu to fully embrace her native heritage and perhaps having a more British upbringing would be best. Her father’s family wasn’t quite on board with the idea and began to argue which threw them into a family feud.
Months later, her parents informed her that they would be receiving a group of “very special guests” in the country. Why they were “very special guest” her parents didn’t fully explain, leaving her to ponder and worry.
Their guests arrived later that same month, revealing to be a British couple with a slightly older boy in tow. Surprised but rather relieved, her own parents “assigned” her to the older Brit, instructing her to entertain and show him around while they talked about “business matters”. Up was pleased with this, seeing it as a grand opportunity to make a new friend.
She was horribly wrong.
Whatever the abuse she suffered during their guest’s visit and however much the severity of it was, the Zimbabwean prefers to not remember the specifics nor speak of it. But, even with the lack of information given to anyone, it’s obvious that she harbors an intense dislike for the (now) British “gentleman”.
School Identity: Around school, the Zimbabwean is known to be dedicated to her studies (and awfully busy). That unfortunately doesn’t mean she gets perfect grades. Rivaling her dedication for her studies is her love for physical activity in which, if she could, would take up the rest of her afternoon. She’s joined the track, swim and polocrosse teams and also the Art Club. On top of that, she holds a part time job in a small café down at Harbor Springs.
Yes, very busy indeed.
Skills: “Uppy” is fluent in three languages, English, Shona and Afrikaans. She also has great speed and endurance (how couldn’t she with the help of those long legs?) and is an adept stone and wood sculptor.
RP Sample: Upenyu was one of the last to walk into the auditorium. While everyone else walked with such confidence and cheer, congregating in their cliques, the young girl would separate herself and when approached, would greet with such caution it just turned people away.
There was a sense of dread slowly creeping up on the girl, as if something unpleasant would happen soon. She sat down next to a couple of chattering and giggling girls, ignoring the feeling momentarily before sighing. Perhaps she should take it as a sign from the ancestral spirits warning her that something was off. Or maybe it was her jet lagged stomach growling, tricked into thinking that it was past lunch time. She turned around and leaned against the chair, scanning the large auditorium for anything she might have considered not to belong.
No, no, no... Every time she looked and deemed it safe, she would cross it off her mental checklist. Everything seemed fine. Why did the feelings continue though was unknown by her. Continuing her search, her gaze soon stopped on an eerily familiar sight. Emerald eyes, messy, blond hair and those eyebrows
Dhodhi…
A pathetic whimper escaped her throat. Bhaudha, just bhaudha. She'd recognize that face anywhere even after all the years. Ugh, it was her childhood prick of a tormentor: Arthur Kirkland. Upenyu narrowed her eyes and gave him the dirtiest, threatening look she could muster. Yeah, like he saw her anyway.
The voice of the headmaster, or Principal Rome as he introduce himself earlier, one of the only things the Zimbabwean managed to catch in her busy state, was yet a low hum to her ears. It seemed like nothing would get her attention now except-
"Female, Zimbabwe."
Upenyu blinked several times, snapping out of her train of thought, looking lost. She quickly glanced around the now silent auditorium, watching, waiting and soon blushing faintly as she realized they were calling her. Carefully, she pulled herself together and stood, staring the headmaster in the eyes for a second before looking from the corner of her eyes as both of her giggly neighbors gasped. After that, the girls were quiet, probably due to her stature, staring in either intimidation or amazement, she couldn't tell. Either way it was rather annoying that they stared. Didn't they have any manners? Or at least be discreet about it?
"Number 1980.” The headmaster announced into the microphone, looking at the tall dark girl with an expectant eye.
Alright, Upenyu. Just take a deep breath and- "Excuse me..." One of the girls’s interrupted her mental reaffirmations, stopping her from taking her first step towards the stage. "Are you a senior?"
What an unimportant question. "First year." she responded with her usual dose of caution, walking away as the pair of girls began their excited chatter once more. Each stride was confident and steady, not like earlier today. But, once on stage, her mind went blank.
“Ek is nie seker watter kant te kies meneer.” she murmured, getting a confused look from Headmaster Rome.
Engels! Engels!
The Zimbabwean cleared her throat, “Pardon me,” she stated apologetically, “What I meant to say was that I'm not sure which side to choose, sir..." How embarrassing, could things be any worse?
“Don’t worry. Just take your time~” The several groans from the audience depicted otherwise. Of course the students had to make it worse. She closed her eyes and leaned towards the microphone, muttering "Blue" before walking out of the spotlight and back to her seat.
Other: Recycling applications is good for the soul (and brain)~
...Yeah, no. I'll definitely edit the recycled parts later.
