Applying for: Skoll
Personality: ((What? Small! D8 *clings to her overly complex personalities*)) At first he was something of a disappointment to his family. They saw Fabian Asplin as something of a wash out, a little naive, almost feminine at times. Much unlike the cunning and ambitious eldest son, Axel. He's an intelligent young man and he always sees the best in everybody, despite how dark they really are. Naturally this makes him a magnet for trouble. Not to say he's unintelligent, infact he's quite the opposite! His grounding in literature surpasses most, infact he's probably a decent part more intelligent than Arthur on some subjects. Fabian writes alot of poetry and he's there's no doubt he's very good at what he does. He's almost acts a little lost at times, he knows almost everything there is to know about being social, manners and etiquette, though he seems to be completely hopeless around people. That nervous stutter he's developed doesn't help either. All in all he;s a very compassionate, intelligent individual with no social skills whatsoever and a naive attitude that gets him into alot of troublesome situations that could have easily been avoided.
Note: He would be the brother of one of my important plot lucain. Who goes my the name of Axel Asplin, so just to clarify the fact that I've already gotten his 'brother' and everything. xD;; <3 You can read more about his plot
here. :3
Roleplay Opening:After the incident, he still could recall the bitter chill of the wind on his face, how the blistering cold bit his bones and burnt his fingers as he walked through the filthy streets. Sandwiched together slum on stinking slum, even this close to Christmas the mood was grim. Children shivered in the shadows of the long gone buildings, even in the days of them being new they hadn't been built for the rich, these had been poor man's houses, and now when only the skeletons remained, calling them houses for the poor was a severe overstatement, these were hovels for those that clung to their existence like limpets on a rock face. Those were the lucky ones, not that it seemed like it, neither had they found themselves in the Workhouse (even the sound of that place brought chills down any respectable man's spine. Those that didn't fear that place were mad) nor were they dead. Not to say that death wouldn't be a kinder fate than suffering this bleak, unforgiving winter.
His breath rose in steamy clouds as the man walked. After a moment or two he pulled his hat further down his face and sighed, fretting over the fate of those children that had to sleep under leaking roofs, with windows bare and doors broken. Those children that suffered and would suffer until they could scrape enough money to leave that god forsaken place, most never made it that far. Cholera had hit this place harder than even the coldest of winters, it had taken many, leaving the wives without husbands and the children without parents. No one had not felt the grief it caused.
He wove through the dark back streets, no one gave the man a glance, no one gave him a second thought. It was much easier this way, dressed like this; a thin frayed coat covered his lanky frame and a filthy once-brown flat cap covered his face, which was also smothered with soot. Had anyone taken a closer look at him, they would have noticed the fact his nails were spotless. A trivial thing perhaps? But, how would a simple chimney sweep have the hands of a well-to-do sort, eh? Beneath the muck, filth and grime of his costume was Fabian Asplin, the second son of one Daniel Asplin, the cunning, fast talking business man that was one of the most well respected in his business. Right now, the young man was congratulating himself on fitting in with a crowd very different to the one he'd been brought up in. Fabian's life had been all show and elegance, everything in his time had been done for effect. Whether it was the fact the Christmas cards were printed or how much gold leafing the servants could cover the food in, his life was miles away from the dying in the slums of the city.
There was a good few inches of snow beneath his feet, it muffled any sounds his worn out boots made. There was barely a soft crunch as he walked, infact the whole place was unnervingly silent. Without noticing he quickened his pace, the empty broken windows and the filthy streets suddenly seemed more threatening, they seemed to be closing in on him, blocking out any light from the quickly darkening sky. Houses set upon house leaned in, leering at the man. It was unwise to be out after dark in an area such as this, disguise or not. Clearly he had underestimated how long his detour was going to take. Every shadow seemed to contain something dark in nature, the street he was now walking along was empty, that in itself didn't bode well. The thin, tattered coat he was wearing made him fit in with every other seemingly penniless beggar out there, but it did little to protect him from the cold
Why? Why had that stupid man picked this place out of all others? Surely there had been other choices. Fabian would have to be a fool not to think that this place was the only option for this meeting. There had been others, the man could afford to buy from Tiffany's for god's sake! Why was he asking the young heir to meet him at the lowest and filthiest place there was. A place with more drunkards and beggars than anywhere else, a shady establishment full of gambling, and questionable substances. There had to be a good reason for it. Strangely Fabian hoped the man was just blissfully ignorant of the place's reputation. The only other reason for taking him here that sprang to mind was that drunk witnesses aren't much good. Shuddering, he pushed the thought from his mind and continued down street after darkening street. As he turned the corner there was the sound of raised voices and raucous laughter. Drawing closer, the heavy smell of tobacco and unwashed bodies, meant he'd found where he was headed. The inn itself was an old place, but age had done nothing to enhance it's beauty, not that it had any beauty to begin with. Fabian closed his eyes for a moment and hoped that he'd make it out alive in one piece. By the looks of things, coming out of that inn in one piece was a rarity in itself.
Taking a deep breath, the young man entered the building. From some out-dated grammar phone some stilted, oddly cheery music played. Not that you could hear it, you couldn't even hear yourself think, drinks were flying, tables over turned. Chairs, plates even barmaids were thrown across the tiny room. The place was utter chaos, there was barely a table or chair standing, most had been reduced to mere splinters in the sheer amount of bar fights that were taking place. Fabian couldn't work out if it was several different fights or if it was a fight involving the whole inn. In some of the shadier corners, there were people taking bets and cheating at card games. Laughter, shouting, screaming it all seemed to collide under that roof.
For a moment his thoughts strayed from that awful place to his eldest brother, who was no doubt in another awful place, prison. The logical side of him, understood why he found himself there and hated him for bringing shame onto their highly respected family. At the end of the day he was still his brother, a brother that he hadn't seen for four years and hadn't spoken to properly for much longer.
'So this is what he lived like everyday...' Somehow he just couldn't imagine, his ambitious and sharp witted brother in a place like this, but he hadn't known the people he'd gotten involved with, nor had he really seen his brother much before he'd been arrested. Fabian sighed, pushing all thoughts of his sibling to the back of his mind, he really didn't need thoughts like that clouding his judgement. The letter he'd gotten to make him venture here had been cryptic, the only thing he'd managed to gather from it was the fact this person was desperate to see him urgently, and that he'd been an acquaintance of his brother during their school days. Odd to say the least.
He flinched and spun around as there was a tap on his shoulder, caught by surprise. He was surprised further by the fact a well dressed gentleman, of which he recognised vaguely, standing before him.
"Fabian Asplin." The man greeted, his accent was very slight and was of the best side of London.
"H-how?" He stuttered, too taken aback to realize how silly he sounded.
"You have clearly come in disguise, clearly, no other man who was used to coming here would walk in with such an air of apprehension, not only that, most men that set foot here go straight to the bar. Finally there is the small matter of both your hands and your shoes.""M-my shoes?""Those are finest quality boots made for hunting and the such-like, a simply chimney sweep would have never been able to afford something as grand." The man stated plainly.
Stunned into silence Fabian only gawked at the dark-haired man. His green eyes were rather sorrowful and his expression gave away nothing as to what the purpose of their strange meeting could be.
"
I am afraid that I am the bearer of bad news." At those words Fabian looked up, fear tinting his surprised gaze. "
Scotland Yard believe you responsible for murder." The blunt tone of his voice made everything seem a little more real, Fabian's eyes widened a little and he put a hand to the wall, as if trying to grip it for support.
"I, however do not believe you to be responsible. Infact, despite myself not being a gambling man, I'd bet more than my fortune on it." "Don't go betting what you haven't got to lose." Snapped a harsh voice.
"Don't forget to introduce yourself, Maycott. It's very bad manners, your superior upbringing should have told you that much." Choosing to ignore the second voice's scathing comment, he turned from the shadows back to Fabian.
"I apologise, I am Arthur Maycott, I have recently taken over from my father's antique business though I am known for helping out idiots in trouble occasionally.""By that, brother dearest, Our insufferable friend means you an I." Once again speechless his head turned lightly to the left, as a figure stepped forward, he was a few inches shorter than Maycott, though his frame had a certain lankiness that almost made him appear taller. There was a wide smirk on his face and his dark brown eyes sparkled with the insults he had yet to tell. Axel Asplin, older brother to Fabian Asplin placed a pipe to his lips before filling the surrounding area with the distinctive smell of cherry tobacco. He should have really stopped with that years ago.
"So, I here you murdered a man? I'm curious, you never seemed like the type." Fabian stepped back, swaying slightly as he stood. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he his feet were going to collapse beneath him, what his brain had forgotten to comprehend was the fact that the rest of him would go down with them.
((Obviously Skoll/Fabian's text is blue, Arthur's purple and Axel's is red. :3 )
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