Post by Mr Jonathan Keeper on May 25, 2013 14:26:00 GMT -5
MR JONATHAN KEEPER
FULL NAME AND TITLE: Mr Jonathan Michael Keeper
GOES BY: Jonny. His status does not necessarily afford him more formality, though some may call him Jonathan if they wish.
AGE: Twenty-One
CLASS: Serving
OCCUPATION: Groom (stables) at Netherfield
POSITION IN FAMILY: Eldest son
FINANCES: £15/year
FACE CLAIM: Eddie Redmayne
EYE COLOR: Dark green, a sort of muddled color not particularly attractive or unattractive.
HAIR COLOR: Typically a sort of auburn color that lightens considerably in the summer months. Winter turns his hair nearly brown.
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5'11", strong, athletic build
DESCRIPTION: Jonny is a tall, strapping man with a figure muscled from his work in the stables. His work makes him quick of reflex and strong of hold, but his touch is gentle and calm. His work gives reason for his lightly tanned skin and abundance of of freckles over his nose, cheeks and chin, for Jonny is no stranger to the sun. The summer months lighten his hair to show a more vibrant red within the brown strands which hang with little curl or texture over his brow and occasionally into his eyes.
His jaw is strong and his mouth too wide, with lips too full under his freckled nose. Dark green eyes give little information as to his mood, as their color is neither clear and bright nor dark and full. This inbetweeness is a sort of muddled blend of the two, making that particular feature common and plain.
Jonny's hands are well worked and his fingers and palms are calloused from grooming, saddling, and caring for the horses of the house Netherfield. There's usually dirt beneath his fingernails and he smells strongly of horse like the other stablehands, but that's nothing a good scrubbing can't fix when he puts his mind to it (which, to be perfectly plain, is not as often as strictly needed). With a sturdy back and lean legs, Jonny is well built to work in the stables, and his steady occupation keeps him conditioned for such.
PERSONALITY: Jonny is a steady man: he is infinitely patient and slow to anger. He is a gentle soul, perhaps shy but not unambitious. He quiet manner of talking and the way he carries himself in public--a bit withdrawn, head down--may lead some to believe him a solitary and unassuming man, but Jonny is anything but unfriendly. He laughs and jokes with the rest of the staff in the stables at Netherfield, happy to be employed under such an agreeable household. He cares deeply for his work and for the people in his life, and is perfectly willing to meet new people in town, should they take the time to know him past his shyness. He is an amiable fellow who tries to get along with all he meets.
Of course, it is not really possible to genuinely get along with everyone, though if Jonny is uncomfortable or in distaste with a person, he does his best simply not to engage with them. He does, for instance, not wholly like every staffed man in the stables, but if anything, that spurs Jonny's ambition. He hopes to one day take over as Stablemaster at Netherfield--granted the Bingley house decides to stay in Hertfordshire. Should they leave, Jonny will again have to return to blacksmithing work of his Father and brother.
Jonny is not a learned man of society, nor does he adhere to--let alone fully know--the strict manners of the day. He is talented in his work, of course, and he is a hard worker at that. But when it comes to manners and engagements and past times, Jonny of course knows of the fancy balls and summer gatherings of the town, but has never been to anything of higher dignity than whatever public events Meryton offers. He has, once or twice, attended the horses as a sort of makeshift footman for a family of lesser standing while they danced at a public ball, but Jonny found that work more boring than he originally thought--waiting for the family as they make polite noises in a room fairly crowded with people, while he and the rest of the horsemen whittle away the hours (some carousing in a crass or unacceptably drunken manner) was tedium defined. Jonny decided then high society was not a sphere for which he strove.
His experience in both blacksmithing and horsemanship and -care have lent Jonny a great and still expanding knowledge of these crafts. He tries to be the best at what he does to help guarantee his small family business and therefore income, but the demand for his talents have left them wanting very little. He is perfectly happy to work alone or with others, as his focus does not stray from the task at hand. He is not, however, so strict as to deny himself pleasures as they arise, as long as he keeps his nose clean and his family name unmarred. Jonny Keeper is a plain working man of ambition and agreeableness, being quiet amiable. His steady job, pleasant smile, and attentiveness to those in his life make him a worthy man and a well marriage prospect to those within his social class, and currently Jonny is looking to start a life on his own.
RESIDENCE: Netherfield Park, hails from Meryton
FAMILY MEMBERS: Michael Keeper, Father
Ruth Keeper, Mother
Charles Keeper, Younger Brother (17)
HISTORY: Jonathan Michael Keeper is the first born to Michael and Ruth Keeper, and is their first child to make it past infancy. Ruth, being a slight woman of poor health, did not fare pregnancy well, and it was not until four years after Jonny's birth that another child finally survived. Three more children were conceived between that time, but not a one made it past their first year. Charlie, Jonny's younger brother, is now seventeen, and their parents are infinitely grateful for them both.
Jonny, being the first born son, was put to work to learn his father's craft as a blacksmith of Meryton. The work was hard and demanded much focus, so Jonny learned discipline and dedication from an early age. He reaped the benefits from seeing a job well done, and was scolded for his mistakes which cost his family time and money. He learned to work alone and side by side with his father, which nurtured his quiet manner and voice (though obviously the boy had to shout over the clanging of the hammer on anvil, the hiss of the steam and the roaring of the fire). His endurance and hard work aided his father greatly, and the family prospered. Charlie was put to the task of helping their mother within the house, helping her with cooking and cleaning as she tired easily, as well tending their garden. The one horse the Keepers had, however, was Jonny's to tend.
The stable housed a dark brown draft/town hack horse Jonny affectionally called Ike. Ike was an old, gentle creature, the type of horse to only lazily flick his tail as the summer flies tickled his back. Jonny gave that horse every attention, and this fostered a love of the animal he had not yet matched in a love for anything else. Jonny's gentle hands and soft murmurings were calming to the old beast, and he spent countless spare hours tending to his careful feeding, watering, and exercising. It was a great blow to Jonny when Ike finally died.
Jonny is twenty-one now, and Netherfield Park has been let to a man called Bingley and his family. Jonny was able to secure a job as a groomer in the stables, much to his and his family's delight: the work provides him with steady pay and a valuable skill, as well as with a ranked position in an important household. While Jonny has no aim to join "high society," he is eager for this security at Netherfield. He is able to send money home to his family so that they might live well and perhaps pay a lad to help out at the smith when Charlie is unable to do so. The arrangements suit the Keepers, and Jonny, very well, and he can only hope the Bingleys decided to stay at Netherfield Park.
YOUR NAME: Rin
YOUR AGE: 21
YOUR RP EXPERIENCE: 11 years
YOUR SAMPLE:
Mr Wickham had decided that he was going to enjoy Meryton, oh, very much indeed.
Upon his first arriving with his Regiment, Wickham had only moments to take in the people, the shops, and the countryside, caught only by sneaking glances as they marched in. 'Eyes front and keep your composure' were the well-drilled orders, but Wickham was never a man to follow anyone or anything but the own conscious throbbing within him. Wickham would not keep his eyes front; his eyes did not focus on the red of the uniformed man in front of him, but rather the snatches of white and green of lady's dresses. He listened not to orders but to the quiet conversations of the party by the corner. Meryton was fresh and new, and Wickham had only just begun to make himself a study of it.
The Regiment had now been stationed in town long enough that the men were able to finally make their way into the general society. What Wickham found, initially, was an overall air of vulgarity that very highly amused him - the men and women alike fancied themselves important and nothing near plain, and their manners in town were vastly more slack than those to which Wickham had been accustomed. He had not been familiarizing himself with Meryton for more than a day before he was already polishing the details on his to-be-presented persona: He was to be Mr George Wickham, the unashamed son of steward with a less than opportunistic past, despite circumstances. His manners were to be charming, engaging, and significantly deep, but not so proud as to betray his origins and repel the simpler presentations here.
He would not make an outright spectacle of himself, he mused as he walked the path leading to town. Rather, he might reward an appropriate lady with his utmost confidences and draw her in with his sensitivity and relation. Wickham made his way purposefully towards town, fixing his cape and clasp as he went and caring not a whit for the charming prospect the countryside provided. Accompanying him were two younger men who chattered happily about the fine weather and clear air, and often they asked for Wickham's opinion on such things. Deeming it necessary to begin his reputation among his fellow men as the same he would be portraying in Meryton, Wickham amicably reported that it was the finest weather he had seen in near a fortnight. The gentlemen obliged that it was so, and were content.
Upon reaching the town proper, Wickham had the good sense to keep a happy look in his eye and a closed, wondering smile on his lips. He noticed that the proper was supplied more fully with company than when the Regiment first arrived, most probably owing to the fact that their presence here was a bit of a curiosity. Wickham only stored this notion away with the intent to later use his status as "novel" for future occasions, and made sure to touch the brim of his hat in acknowledgement of catching the fleeting eye of every lady who dared chance such an encounter. His smile grew more amused with each occurrence, and was very nearly genuine by the time the two men accompanying him had paused to beg rather forward introductions of themselves to the town.
"Dear fellows," Wickham pressed to them in a voice conveniently loud enough to be overheard by some gentle passers-by, "do not presume to be so bold, even in the happy atmosphere of Meryton! We cannot so blatantly impose upon the kindness we have already been shown." He raised his brows at them and obligingly smiled, so that they were quite sure of his purpose before the expected party had indeed made as if they chanced to overhear.
Upon his first arriving with his Regiment, Wickham had only moments to take in the people, the shops, and the countryside, caught only by sneaking glances as they marched in. 'Eyes front and keep your composure' were the well-drilled orders, but Wickham was never a man to follow anyone or anything but the own conscious throbbing within him. Wickham would not keep his eyes front; his eyes did not focus on the red of the uniformed man in front of him, but rather the snatches of white and green of lady's dresses. He listened not to orders but to the quiet conversations of the party by the corner. Meryton was fresh and new, and Wickham had only just begun to make himself a study of it.
The Regiment had now been stationed in town long enough that the men were able to finally make their way into the general society. What Wickham found, initially, was an overall air of vulgarity that very highly amused him - the men and women alike fancied themselves important and nothing near plain, and their manners in town were vastly more slack than those to which Wickham had been accustomed. He had not been familiarizing himself with Meryton for more than a day before he was already polishing the details on his to-be-presented persona: He was to be Mr George Wickham, the unashamed son of steward with a less than opportunistic past, despite circumstances. His manners were to be charming, engaging, and significantly deep, but not so proud as to betray his origins and repel the simpler presentations here.
He would not make an outright spectacle of himself, he mused as he walked the path leading to town. Rather, he might reward an appropriate lady with his utmost confidences and draw her in with his sensitivity and relation. Wickham made his way purposefully towards town, fixing his cape and clasp as he went and caring not a whit for the charming prospect the countryside provided. Accompanying him were two younger men who chattered happily about the fine weather and clear air, and often they asked for Wickham's opinion on such things. Deeming it necessary to begin his reputation among his fellow men as the same he would be portraying in Meryton, Wickham amicably reported that it was the finest weather he had seen in near a fortnight. The gentlemen obliged that it was so, and were content.
Upon reaching the town proper, Wickham had the good sense to keep a happy look in his eye and a closed, wondering smile on his lips. He noticed that the proper was supplied more fully with company than when the Regiment first arrived, most probably owing to the fact that their presence here was a bit of a curiosity. Wickham only stored this notion away with the intent to later use his status as "novel" for future occasions, and made sure to touch the brim of his hat in acknowledgement of catching the fleeting eye of every lady who dared chance such an encounter. His smile grew more amused with each occurrence, and was very nearly genuine by the time the two men accompanying him had paused to beg rather forward introductions of themselves to the town.
"Dear fellows," Wickham pressed to them in a voice conveniently loud enough to be overheard by some gentle passers-by, "do not presume to be so bold, even in the happy atmosphere of Meryton! We cannot so blatantly impose upon the kindness we have already been shown." He raised his brows at them and obligingly smiled, so that they were quite sure of his purpose before the expected party had indeed made as if they chanced to overhear.
