Name: AnNika
LJ: 
breadmantic E-Mail: anime_leet (at) hotmail (dot) com
IM: Maypie LordCharacter Name: Bri-tan
Series: Afuganis-tan
Timeline: Present day
Canon Resource Link: The United Kingdom ;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_KingdomThe Wikipedia ;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afghanis-tanAfghanis-tan ;
http://www.pbase.com/darkbeat/afganisu-tanBri-tan ;
http://cheesewithwine.livejournal.com/2840.html (description at the bottom of the post)
Character Background: Give us a brief description of their role in their canon; this may include their origins, interactions with other characters, and their role in future events-- if you plan on taking them from an earlier point in their series. While we don't require a novel, we ask that you show an understanding of where the character is coming from. This is especially important for minor characters, where information may be limited. For the purposes of the application, please stick to CANON history, or what has officially been mentioned. (ie. creator interviews, additional material, etc).
Abilites/Special Powers: Like hetalia characters, Bri-tan is semi-immortal. She regenerates from wounds quickly and its extremely hard to kill. Also, she has amazing creeper abilities--DONT ASK MAN, she is just extremely good at hiding and listening in on conversation. It's crazy man
Third-Person Sample: "Well, looks like another dreadful day for the book," Bri-tan remarked as she tapped the window pane. Her mood matched the weather, deary, tired, old, dismal and rainy. It wasn't that rain made her sad, but she always had a tendancy to be very calm and quiet when the thunder rolled over head. "I couldn't imagine the streets if they lacked their usual luster."
She frowned, noting in her mind that the 'luster' she spoke of was merely the shine of puddles, hunkered under the side walk and contaminated with oil. "Although complaining about it isn't going to make it better, hmm?" She struck the window a final time, turning away from it and into her lofty little home. She was not so extravagant to purchase only that which proved her wealth, but owned simple, pleasant furniture for her home. To the English, one's home is her castle. For her, a single woman living in London, it was all the same.
"Not that it really matters if it rains," she remarked. "I'm sure my roses will turn three shades of red for the rain. Pretty little things want only to be sun kissed and showered with adoration." As she muttered, her slippers lead her into the kitchen, and her dainty little hands began to fuss with a tea kettle and leaves. "I always hear 'you can never have too much love', but if the sky fondles them too much, I fear they'll be drowned or smothered. Hmh. Pretty little things... Petty little things."
She feel quiet. Why in earth was it that she was so down today? Looking around she expected an answer, but heard or saw none. Not that it mattered, but normally she wasn't this dreary. "Well, dear, what do you suppose? Maybe I'm not drinking enough tea. Then again it's not like
you like tea anymore. Oh, but you're perfectly alright with stealing all my other things, aren't you?"
The teapot was on, and Bri-tan put her hands on her hips and let out a puff. "Well," she remarked, "I'll just read a book then." She cast her eyes to a near by shelf, decorated with photos of friends and memories. Tucked away in it all was a picture of Meriken, looking triumphant and proud, as she normally did. Bri-tan gave a little frown, considering her options again.
She stuffled over to the phone and dialed. A pause...
"Hello? Could you give me Meriken, please? It's Bri-tan. No, nothing like that. I'd like to speak with her about the
woopie cushion she put under my seat the last Summit meeting."
First-Person Sample:
"Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.
He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"
((The End. She breathes quietly a moment before putting in her own word.))
What... Awful things you witnessed... I'm sure are truth in some respects. If you don't change your ways now, they are sure to come in your future.
I hope the ghosts of Christmas Past and Future have taught you a lesson.
((Pause to sip tea.))
To those of you who celebrate it, A Merry Christmas.
((ooc; The italicized section is a direct extracted from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. She has her literature memorized, man!!))
fruitstyle
