Berwald Oxenstierna
☆ Konungariket Sverige
Posts : 2
Join date : 2009-11-14
Age : 35
Location : Sweden
 |  Subject: Berwald Oxenstierna /ACCPTD/  Mon Nov 30, 2009 7:20 am | |
| ACCEPTEDName //Berwald OxenstiernaAge //Twenty OneBirthplace //Kiruna, SwedenPower //ReaderHeight //Six feet one inchWeight //One hundred forty four poundsDivision //Member ofAppearance // PICTURE // Berwald, standing at just over six feet, is an obviously rather tall man. His exagerrated height, coupled with a perpetually serious looking glare make him appear to be rather intimidating. Even those who have known him for years sometimes flinch when he even so much as glances at them. Setting his fearsome face aside, the Swede has light blond hair, cut short and parted slightly to his right. His eyes are a bright shade of turquoise, appearing rather piercing. Rarely does he exude any outer emotion, although his anger would be the most readily apparant- his normally apathetic glare darkens several times over when angered.
Concerning clothes, his wardrobe has a rather wide range. Some days you'll find him wearing just a simple pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt, and on others he might be dressed as if he were attending a formal business party- even though he most likely is not attending such an event.Personality //He is a very quiet, introverted man. Very rarely does he speak and when he does, the words spoken are short and to the point- he does not like beating around the bush. He takes his work seriously and he doesn't really have any sense of humor- anything said to him will be taken literally. Underneath all of the seriousness and cold exterior is a mostly gentle soul- he'd rather not have to hurt anyone, but he can, and will, kill in cold blood at the drop of a hat if he wants to.History //June 6th; Kiruna, Sweden; Birth
Born in the early morning hours- though one wouldn't be able to tell as the sun sat low in the sky during the summer months, waiting to set at summer's end- was one Berwald Oxenstierna. The baby boy's father had long since passed, killed in a car crash, or so the man's wife was told. The child would live his first years here in Kiruna with his mother and grandmother.
August 20th; Kiruna, Sweden; Age Three
Hit by a bout of influenza, his grandmother suffers the ultimate fate and Berwald himself was bedridden for several weeks, nearly experiencing the same fate. After the near loss of her son, his mother decides it's time to move south and moves in with her brother.
January; Stockholm, Sweden; Age Six
He's known about his power for a few years now, though he had never understood them. His uncle, however, had quite the knowledge about his powers and would often take him aside, teaching him how to use them. Increasingly, his uncle grew more demanding and dominant, and Berwald listened to him out of fear, though that didn't quite stop the hitting. Slowly, Berwald grew to distrust others and stopped talking.
June 6th; Stockholm, Sweden; Age Eleven
As ordered by his uncle, Berwald's mother dies by his own hands, though he would later claim otherwise. No one had known about the woman's death aside from himself and his uncle- she had no job and she had no friend's in Stockholm. It was almost as if she never existed. The incident brings the child further into his shell.
July; ???; Age Fourteen
Berwald's uncle decides it's time for him to officially join the Division. He trusts no one, however, and keeps to himself at all times, though he's always learning. Always working on his powers. Though he stays away from all weapons- the memories from them too painful for him to handle just yet. He grows attached to one weapon though- a small gun he found with no memories, at least as far as he could tell. The gun becomes an extension of him, never leaving his side.
December; ???; Age Fourteen
Even after being with the Division for half a year, Berwald has still managed to keep mostly to himself, save interacting with his superiors. However, Mathias Køhler, another Division member just two years older than he, had managed to push his way through the boy's outer shell. Had Berwald found someone he could finally trust?
???; Age Twenty-one
He's lost all track of time. Just how long had he been here, living under the watchful eye of the Division? How many people had he killed along the way? Why was he here, following the Division's rules and orders, doing their bidding and obeying their every command? Just how much had his powers grown that he could use them the way he did? These were all questions Berwald had stopped trying to find an answer for years ago.RP Sample //Time was certainly not on Berwald's side today. Of all the things that could go wrong, his plane being delayed was the worst. He'd had his day planned out down to the minute, but the plane delay had set him back by three hours. He couldn't stand that his meticulous schedule had been thrown off, and now, as he sat in a taxi stuck in the crowded streets of Hong Kong, he had to quickly re-plan everything. At this rate, he'd have to skip over a few things- eating dinner now was certainly out of the question. He had a job to take care of.
With a heavy sigh, frustrated that taking a taxi had also set him back another thirty minutes, he tapped the driver's shoulder and handed him a small stack of bills before grabbing his suitcase and exiting the cab, making sure to slam the door as he closed it. He should have just walked in the first place, but he really didn't know Hong Kong very well and would rather not get lost forever, though he didn't have much of a choice now- his patience was running thin. It couldn't be too hard to find where he needed to be, could it?
As he walked along, he reached into his pocket. His gun sat there quietly, the cold metallic always a reassurance to the man that he could still feel. The gun wasn't what he was poking around for, though. No, he pulled out a small carton and smacked it against the palm of his hand, popping out a cigarette from within and took it, setting it between his lips as he fiddled around for his lighter. Not the best habit in the world, but he'd picked it up some time ago as a stress reliever and never quite stopped doing it. Finally, he was able to coerce his lighter into sparking and light the 'cancer stick' (as so many people called them) and took a long first drag. Immediately, the effects of the cigarette went to work on him, calming him greatly. Maybe now he could get his work started and end the day properly by actually getting some sleep for once.
Now as far as he could tell, he was in the right area at least. All he had to do was continue in the direction that the taxi he had been in was going and he was sure to find the place eventually. After all, how hard could the dive he was supposed to go to be to find? If anything, he could just ask someone for the street he was looking f- never mind. He'd found the place, and just as he expected, it looked pretty seedy. Not that he hadn't been in worse places, he observed as he walked into the bar, but he could easily say this place was a dump. Dim blue lighting, a dank smell and creaky floor, and water stains on the walls thanks to the leaky ceiling.
He wasn't here for pleasure, though, no. If he were here for a drink he'd have certainly picked a much nicer, most likely fancy place to go. He was here strictly for business. He scanned the small bar, noting that despite it's appearance, it had quite a few people crowded inside- none of which looked like the person he was looking for. Unwilling to believe he had missed them, he marched over to the bar, shoving a photo into the bartender's face, silently asking if the man had seen this person. Startled at first, but understanding, the bartender nodded and pointed at a door he hadn't noticed before- a back room, most likely. With no words spoken, Berwald shoved the photo back into his pocket and headed for the door.
There were three people behind the door, all crowded around a small circular table. He paid the other two people no mind, however, only heading straight for his target- a small, just beginning to bald man, with thick black glasses resting on his nose. Really, how such a plain person as he had come to be a bother to the Division he wouldn't know, but it wasn't his place to ask questions. He'd just follow orders like he always did and do his job, get it over with, and try his damndest to forget about the entire thing when it was over. The other two had immediately backed off, scattering in two different directions as he charged in on the man, who in a shocked panic had fallen out of his chair and scrambled backwards to the wall behind him, only cornerning himself.
Still as poker faced as ever, he set his suitcase on the table and pulled out a folder from it's contents and hurled it at the man, who just stared at him incredulously for a few moments before quickly rifling through the contents of the folder (that he ended up dropping when he'd finished). Knowing what was going to happen next, the man threw himself into a fit, quickly standing and kicking over the chair he had been sitting in. He apparantly didn't want to go down without a fight. Berwald, on the other hand, was quite finished with listening to the man rage on about how he was innocent (or whatever, the Swede wasn't paying much attention to him) and reached back into his pocket, ignoring the package of smokes and gripping quite firmly onto the gun he had become so attatched to.
The gun shot rang through the room, echoing for several moments, followed by a shuddering thud as the man's body collapsed to the ground. The bullet had passed quite cleanly through the man's head and into the wall behind him, along with a generous amount of blood sprayed and flecked onto the hard surface. Quick and easy was the way he preferred killing someone- unlike someone he knew that enjoyed dragging the process out and taking their time. Sometime during the several moments between him entering the room and shooting the man, the other two had rushed out of the room, too afraid to aid their business partner. Not that he cared what happened to them, his business was done.
This job was nothing more than another memory etched forever into his gun's past.Other //Though he'd stopped talking for the majority of his childhood, Mathias managed to squeeze words out of him... he's still rather untalkative, however, and prefers to let his body language do the talking. Although, not a lot of people are able to read him, correctly. The Swede is also an avid learner, absorbing information constantly. | |
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