09-04-2018, 02:29 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: verdana; color: black;"](i'm so sleepy i'm sorry in advance ik this is in no way going to be coherent or capture ringo's personality appropriately lmaoo)
Ringo was by no means a people person. But that didn't exactly write him off as antisocial either. He was like a perfect balance of the two. He could be aware and social when it was required, but it would never kill him to be alone and sometimes he even needed it. Although his adventurous spirit had gotten ahold of him a couple of years ago, causing him to become akin to a voyager or a hitchhiker. At least, that's what his excuse was.
The truth was that he'd been the head of a small group. They had lived and gotten on together, even built a tradition of communing with ghosts and spirits of that nature. They were solid, almost like teflon. But they had crumbled, collapsed under Ringo's unwatchful eye. He could still remember the sounds of their home collapsing- how could he forget when they lingered in his dreams? When the ghosts they'd once called their friends now permanently trailed on his heels. Invisible, but always present.
It had shaken Ringo to the core. In a sense, he believed it had been a sign from the universe that he belonged anywhere that wasn't within a group.
But Ringo wasn't as young as he used to be. Sometimes if he got up too quickly, he'd black out, and his lungs betrayed him if he tried to travel too short of a distance too quick. He'd have bought of unexplainable pain, radiating from different parts of his body. He wasn't quite old, per se, but he was getting there. As bitter as he was about his lengthening age, Ringo did have a sense of pride about how long he'd been harbored in this body though. He hated to admit that if he wanted to keep it any longer, he'd need to settle down somewhere.
Ringo had spent some time scouting around for a group that would suit his personality and needs, and after asking a large number of other loners and simply eavesdropping he'd decided The Ascendants seemed to be similar to his own home. Not in appearance, of course- no one chose to live in a sanatorium- but in beliefs and practices. Ringo had always fancied more spiritual and astral-based beliefs; maybe they could even get rid of his ghost issue.
No matter how familiar he was with interrelations and meeting strangers, Ringo still felt unsure of himself as he stood at the edge of The Ascendants' territory. He shifted from foot to foot nervously and his gaze occasionally swung to try and see if he could catch anything in his vision he hadn't heard. Anxiety had got the best of him, but he'd just have to wait and see where it went from here.
Ringo was by no means a people person. But that didn't exactly write him off as antisocial either. He was like a perfect balance of the two. He could be aware and social when it was required, but it would never kill him to be alone and sometimes he even needed it. Although his adventurous spirit had gotten ahold of him a couple of years ago, causing him to become akin to a voyager or a hitchhiker. At least, that's what his excuse was.
The truth was that he'd been the head of a small group. They had lived and gotten on together, even built a tradition of communing with ghosts and spirits of that nature. They were solid, almost like teflon. But they had crumbled, collapsed under Ringo's unwatchful eye. He could still remember the sounds of their home collapsing- how could he forget when they lingered in his dreams? When the ghosts they'd once called their friends now permanently trailed on his heels. Invisible, but always present.
It had shaken Ringo to the core. In a sense, he believed it had been a sign from the universe that he belonged anywhere that wasn't within a group.
But Ringo wasn't as young as he used to be. Sometimes if he got up too quickly, he'd black out, and his lungs betrayed him if he tried to travel too short of a distance too quick. He'd have bought of unexplainable pain, radiating from different parts of his body. He wasn't quite old, per se, but he was getting there. As bitter as he was about his lengthening age, Ringo did have a sense of pride about how long he'd been harbored in this body though. He hated to admit that if he wanted to keep it any longer, he'd need to settle down somewhere.
Ringo had spent some time scouting around for a group that would suit his personality and needs, and after asking a large number of other loners and simply eavesdropping he'd decided The Ascendants seemed to be similar to his own home. Not in appearance, of course- no one chose to live in a sanatorium- but in beliefs and practices. Ringo had always fancied more spiritual and astral-based beliefs; maybe they could even get rid of his ghost issue.
No matter how familiar he was with interrelations and meeting strangers, Ringo still felt unsure of himself as he stood at the edge of The Ascendants' territory. He shifted from foot to foot nervously and his gaze occasionally swung to try and see if he could catch anything in his vision he hadn't heard. Anxiety had got the best of him, but he'd just have to wait and see where it went from here.
POWER UP !
lydia k. ★ gabriel h. ★ storage