Post by Spyke on Aug 20, 2008 17:20:11 GMT -5
CC Applying For: Simba ke
Why?: Why? Why? It’s Simba for Pete sake! No seriously I’ve always loved Simba; he inspired me when I was a kid. I know it sounds retarded but he helped me get through a lot of stuff in my life. He’s just deep you know and his character was never molested by Disney, like some characters are. He stayed true to who he was in both TLK films. Even though he was Simba the true king he was still prejudice and flawed – which is something I always liked about him but he was smart enough to see that actually things can change maintaining his good-guy image.
Has Read The CC Profile?: Twice n.n
Roleplay Example: Simba yawned. The days seemed to get longer as the years passed by, the aging lion had seen more sunrises than as a cub he thought he ever would. There was a time in his past when he had wanted to die, to see his last sunrise – and now it terrified him. Everyday he woke with the prospect hanging over him like a storm cloud, and everyday he would face his mate and his daughter with a smile. There were parts of his father that stood out strong inside him, one of those things was his resolve and courage. His father had been the type of lion who didn’t allow others to fear for him and Simba was sure as hell not going to let his pride down. Not again.
Sometimes the retired feline had nightmares. He would wake up panting and terrified, his father’s final cry echoing in his mind. It had been so long since he had felt that guilt crashing on his shoulders and weighing him down, but when he woke from those dreams it was there hanging in the humid night air. Today he had woken feeling fresh. No dreams had haunted him and Scar’s cold eyes hadn’t stared back at him through the dust kicked up by stampeding herds, but standing at the threshold of the den he couldn’t help but wonder was Scar really completely to blame for his father’s death. Sure, Simba knew he hadn’t played a paw in the act and perhaps had Scar been the loving brother they all thought he was he may have saved Mufasa, but if Simba hadn’t been there – if he hadn’t been so foolish then his father would never have been forced in to that situation. Maybe it was guilt and maybe it was just some regression into the terrified mind of a cub, whatever it was it made the lion feel burdened because after all the pain Scar had caused him as a child had carried on to many other lions even after his death.
Stretching and shaking his mane the ex-king padded out toward the peninsula. His brown eyes caught sight of his daughter and happiness filled his heart, it pushed the dark thoughts from his mind and he was once again glad to face the great sun. There were so many things he had kept secret from those he loved and in hindsight perhaps he shouldn’t have. Then again they were things he wasn’t sure he could face telling them, he hadn’t killed Scar with his own paws just as he hadn’t killed his father but somehow the death still weighed on his heart and pressed on his conscience. Scar was cruel but Simba had never intended for him to die, even in his rage he hadn’t wanted to kill his uncle. It was strange, when he had leaped from the cliff edge to aid his daughter he had seen so much of Scar in Zira and had hoped Kiara would succeed where he himself had failed. Now though he looked at his daughter and he saw that same burden on her shoulders, the knowledge that you failed that a life was lost because you weren’t quick enough or smart enough.
“Kiara.” Simba called his daughter’s name, his voice still strong and gentle as it had ever been. Age had been kind to him, he wasn’t as adept a hunter anymore but his body was still lithe and strong. At times there were twinges in his muscles and long journeys caused him pain but never once did the lion complain, for he had no-one to complain to. Simba would die before he burdened anyone with his suffering and he would die again before he accepted their help. He was strong and he was proud, but more than that he felt he had to protect his pride from the knowledge that he was growing weak. The retired ruler may no longer be their king but he was still a respected member of the pride and until that changed he would not let his age become a weakness. “Kiara, there you are. I was hoping to speak to you before morning patrol.” It was easier when there were things he could do with his time. The claws of death that edged closer every sunset seemed to flee to the shadows and Simba felt young again. Being needed made each day a little easier and made his demons hide their faces.
Why?: Why? Why? It’s Simba for Pete sake! No seriously I’ve always loved Simba; he inspired me when I was a kid. I know it sounds retarded but he helped me get through a lot of stuff in my life. He’s just deep you know and his character was never molested by Disney, like some characters are. He stayed true to who he was in both TLK films. Even though he was Simba the true king he was still prejudice and flawed – which is something I always liked about him but he was smart enough to see that actually things can change maintaining his good-guy image.
Has Read The CC Profile?: Twice n.n
Roleplay Example: Simba yawned. The days seemed to get longer as the years passed by, the aging lion had seen more sunrises than as a cub he thought he ever would. There was a time in his past when he had wanted to die, to see his last sunrise – and now it terrified him. Everyday he woke with the prospect hanging over him like a storm cloud, and everyday he would face his mate and his daughter with a smile. There were parts of his father that stood out strong inside him, one of those things was his resolve and courage. His father had been the type of lion who didn’t allow others to fear for him and Simba was sure as hell not going to let his pride down. Not again.
Sometimes the retired feline had nightmares. He would wake up panting and terrified, his father’s final cry echoing in his mind. It had been so long since he had felt that guilt crashing on his shoulders and weighing him down, but when he woke from those dreams it was there hanging in the humid night air. Today he had woken feeling fresh. No dreams had haunted him and Scar’s cold eyes hadn’t stared back at him through the dust kicked up by stampeding herds, but standing at the threshold of the den he couldn’t help but wonder was Scar really completely to blame for his father’s death. Sure, Simba knew he hadn’t played a paw in the act and perhaps had Scar been the loving brother they all thought he was he may have saved Mufasa, but if Simba hadn’t been there – if he hadn’t been so foolish then his father would never have been forced in to that situation. Maybe it was guilt and maybe it was just some regression into the terrified mind of a cub, whatever it was it made the lion feel burdened because after all the pain Scar had caused him as a child had carried on to many other lions even after his death.
Stretching and shaking his mane the ex-king padded out toward the peninsula. His brown eyes caught sight of his daughter and happiness filled his heart, it pushed the dark thoughts from his mind and he was once again glad to face the great sun. There were so many things he had kept secret from those he loved and in hindsight perhaps he shouldn’t have. Then again they were things he wasn’t sure he could face telling them, he hadn’t killed Scar with his own paws just as he hadn’t killed his father but somehow the death still weighed on his heart and pressed on his conscience. Scar was cruel but Simba had never intended for him to die, even in his rage he hadn’t wanted to kill his uncle. It was strange, when he had leaped from the cliff edge to aid his daughter he had seen so much of Scar in Zira and had hoped Kiara would succeed where he himself had failed. Now though he looked at his daughter and he saw that same burden on her shoulders, the knowledge that you failed that a life was lost because you weren’t quick enough or smart enough.
“Kiara.” Simba called his daughter’s name, his voice still strong and gentle as it had ever been. Age had been kind to him, he wasn’t as adept a hunter anymore but his body was still lithe and strong. At times there were twinges in his muscles and long journeys caused him pain but never once did the lion complain, for he had no-one to complain to. Simba would die before he burdened anyone with his suffering and he would die again before he accepted their help. He was strong and he was proud, but more than that he felt he had to protect his pride from the knowledge that he was growing weak. The retired ruler may no longer be their king but he was still a respected member of the pride and until that changed he would not let his age become a weakness. “Kiara, there you are. I was hoping to speak to you before morning patrol.” It was easier when there were things he could do with his time. The claws of death that edged closer every sunset seemed to flee to the shadows and Simba felt young again. Being needed made each day a little easier and made his demons hide their faces.
Thank you.