Played by Dae

Name: Christopher Seelie

Nickname: Chris

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Birth Date: October 13

Birthplace: Lancaster, California

Blood Type: O

Family: Chris has always been an only child. His mother, Andrea, and father, Daniel are both hardworking, loving parents, and occasional Churchgoers.

Hair: Naturally a dark red colour, Chris's hair falls thick and straight almost to his chin, and is streaked throughout with haphazard, random patches of colour.

Eyes: Bright gold

Body: Lithe and almost catlike in both form and movement, Chris is a natural acrobat. His hands bear the burn and laceration scars that come with working with theatrical equipment.

Marks: His hands are pale with scarring halfway up his forearms, and thus occasionally covered with gloves of one sort or another.

Clothing: Given his flair for the dramatic, Chris favours long coats and dark colours. His favoured coat hangs halfway down his calves, and is rather mudstained around the hemline. His pockets are full of random peculiar objects, which he can be found playing with whenever left to his own devices.

Most Prized Possession: Miniature Magic 8-Ball keychain

Hobbies: Performing, attending the theatre, playing cards, Philosophy, "Pondering".

Occupation: Bookstore Clerk, part-time.

Food: Fruit salad, fried rice

Fears: Being alone, closed spaces, firearms

Goals: Surprisingly, Chris has barely thought beyond college-- Something which still hangs rather tentatively, as he can never seem to make up his mind on which one he wants to attend. He talks occasionally of Screenplaying, selling his scripts to the Hollywood directors, though his tastes often run somewhat peculiar for the big screen.

Positive Characteristics: Easy to get along with, outgoing, mannerly, a deep thinker and dedicated worker.

Negative Characteristics: Easily gets lost in his own thoughts, plans things, tends be rebellious to his employers & teachers.

Personality: Easy-going, loquacious, charming and friendly, Chris makes and keeps friends easily. Addicted to the stage life, his dramatic interests show clearly in his mannerisms-- Flamboyant gesticulations, speech peculiarities and manners of dress are par for the course with this one. Witty and generally very charismatic, he only occasionally lets his rebellious streak run rampant--But when he does, he doesn't do it by halves.

History: Past - Cast out of heaven for his prideful assault on the Throne of God, Lucifer was the first of the Fallen. More than a little annoyed by the way things transpired, he turned spiteful and petty, taking small victories against God, and waiting for his chance at revenge.

Present - Born in Northern California, Chris's parents loved and nurtured their son from day one. When he was 18 and felt himself well old enough, he moved out to be on his own. By now more than bored with his hometown, he decided to chase a longtime dream, and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana, and quickly got involved with a local Drama Troupe. Less than a year later, Chris finds himself head of the Troupe, well-liked and loving what he does, yet longing for something more.

Writing Sample:

Sundown is supposedly a very dramatic time. All the good romantic scenes you ever see in a movie have some kind of glorious, scene-setting explosion of colour occurring in the background. It's tradition. It works. There is drama in a sunset.

As he felt the blade slip home, the scruffy, dashing-looking young man seemed inclined to agree. Clutching at the blade of the Rapier upon which he found himself impaled, he staggered backwards against a tree. A thick crimson stain spread rapidly over his hands as he tried frantically to cover the wound in his side, the expression he wore transcending "shock" altogether. Finally yanking the slender blade free, he stared at it disbelievingly. Almost accusingly. With a metallic clatter, it dropped to the ground at his side as he sank to his knees. The grass was healthy here, dark green, and damp--Not that it mattered to him. He looked down again, as if refusing to believe the dark liquid issuing forth from his side was real. Raising his bloodsoaked hands imploringly to the sky, he fell forward and lay still.

Before him, he heard his friend raise his voice once more.

"Romeo, away, be gone!"

Timing his breathing, shallow and imperceptable, he whispered along.

"The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain."

'Yes,' he thought to himself as the other man continued. 'And Tybalt slain.'

"Chris?" 'Romeo's voice broke through his musing. Grinning, the youth sat up once more, and wiped his hands free of imaginary blood on his dirty black jeans. Seeing he was all right, the other actor chuckled. "Good practice, man."

"Yeah, you too."