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 Viva I'Italia! (That's me!)

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Viva I'Italia! (That's me!) Empty
PostSubject: Viva I'Italia! (That's me!)   Viva I'Italia! (That's me!) EmptySeptember 4th 2013, 8:43 pm

OOC: (About me? Well...Imma derp. I'll just tell you that from the start. My name's Abi, I love to draw (I take requests if you'd like) and my favorite anime is...well...you know. :3 I tend to write a lot, look down for an example, because I love writing too. I hope I can get to know you all and that we can be good friends!)

Country/Province/State/City: Northern Italy
Human First/Last Names: Feliciano Vargas

Roleplay Sample: The day was a bright one, the sun's rays beating mercilessly against the small Italian home. Everything was quiet; it seemed almost as if the entire world slipped into siesta. Not even the chirping of the birds could be heard among the trees. However, there was still one man either brave or foolish enough (most likely the latter) to sit outside. Feliciano Vargas resided on his piazza, jars of paint littering the step beside him and various, stained brushes scattered among them. His hands were streaked with the vibrant greens and pastel blues, almost matching those that covered his shirt. Deep, shadowy rings circled his underarms, and his brow was dappled with sweat. But he noticed none of these things; his focus lay on the painting in his lap. He had been working hard with his paints for the better part of an hour, trying to capture the beauty of his front yard in this time of day. He had never noticed it before thanks to siesta, but now that he had, he was struck with a compelling, overwhelming urge to make sure he had a way to see it more often (he doubted he would skip his sleep like this again). For some reason, it was also necessary to paint it, instead of use a camera; a mere photograph did nothing to display the serenity and beauty that he saw, not the way artwork could. The Italian paid no mind to the rivulet of sweat trickling down his temple, but what did bring him back to the real world was a significant change in detail. A friend was walking in his direction. He wiped the perspiration from his face, leaving a streak of chartreuse in its wake, in a feeble attempt to look as if he had not been sitting outside for so long. "Oh, ciao!" he exclaimed, as the heat left not even the slightest dent in his cheery demeanor.
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