First Name: Sasha
Middle Name(s): Ignatius
Surname: Nicodemus

Age: 18
Birthday: August 2nd
Year: Fourth
Nationality: American

Major: Acting
Minor 1: -
Minor 2: -

Appearance: Sasha has the body of a dancer, all graceful limbs, that lend themselves to graceful movements. Though he's on the skinny side, there's a softness to him that just emphasizes his feminine cast. He’s around 5’8.5” and weighs (according to Sasha) 130 lbs. Add about fifteen pounds to that and you’ll be closer to the truth. Sasha's skin is permanently tanned. Sasha's eyes are a surprising blue. A light washed-out blue, that when hit with the right light look like they light up and seem like their endless. And when Sasha is in a good mood, they almost appear to brighten. Likewise, when he's angry they seem to darken. Though that can be all the glaring. Sasha's hair is long, falling a bit below his shoulder blades. It's dark brown and is made up of loose curls naturally. Though he usually wears it straight since it's easier to manage that way,

This is what most people notice about Sasha first. At least if they know that he is a guy. If they don't they just mistake him for a very flat chested girl. Sasha has a penchant for skirts of all shapes and sizes and not to mention the high heels. That's not to say he abstains from male clothing, it's more that feminine clothing dots his wardrobe. The only tattoo he has is of a stylized star on the back of his neck. He sports single earrings in both ears and has a fondness for bracelets. On special occasions, he'll wear makeup, nothing outlandish, most often just eye shadow.

Personality: Sasha has too much confidence for his own good. It makes him very outspoken, not to mention downright blunt, and never afraid to voice his opinions. Which he'll do even if no one wants to hear them. Sasha really doesn't give a wit what people think about him, and it shows, not only in the way he dresses, but in how he's always himself for better or worse.

Despite his slightly abrasive nature, Sasha truly does care about those he calls his friends. You'll have a hard time getting him to admit it, though. Sasha very much dislikes owning up to his warm fuzzy feelings, preferring to show his cocky and colder side to most people. He gets horribly embarrassed when caught doing a good deed. He also likes the role of sage advice dispenser, which he is actually good at. Except when he thinks the problem at hand is a load of crap or the product of cowardice. Sasha simply doesn't understand cowards. But we won't go into that. It just boils down to an hour long rant that doesn't really make sense at the end.

Speaking of not making sense, it has almost become a sort of hobby to the actor. When annoyed enough he has the tendency to just spout out anything that sounds suitably degrading whether it makes sense or not. Case in point, his liking to claim polka dots (which he loathes) are only suited for idolaters and sewer rats. Does it sound like an insult? Yeah. Does it make any logical sense? None at all, my good friends. But that's just how Sasha is. And he'll never clarify when you ask him about it, declaring the world according to Sasha has no glossary.

Sasha has a playful side that is twinged with friendly joking most of the time. He loves to poke fun at his friends. And enemies, come to think of it. And generally anyone he meets, really. Sasha can't help himself. Or at least, that's what he claims. He also has a very studious side and is very serious about his grades and researching roles.

He's a bit of a perfectionist. Which translates to spats involving Sasha and whoever he told was doing a less than perfect job. Though he doesn't really mind as the actor enjoys a good fight. But he doesn't go out of his way to start them. Okay. tries not to. There are just some people that annoy him to no end, and he rarely ever passes up the chance to bother them. If Sasha doesn't like you, he's like an annoying, waspish, horribly sarcastic shadow.

Sasha, surprisingly enough, is kinda a prude. He simply won't tolerate any advances made towards him. In fact, they only serve to piss him off. Sasha is at his most mean when he feels someone is disapproving of his lifestyle. Which makes him a bit of a hypocrite since he's not very tolerant of really conservative people. He also detests when people assume he wants to become a woman just because he wears their clothes. To Sasha, society and its rules about who can wear what are just idiotic.

History: Sasha was born into old money with an even older name. You would think that this would mean that his life would be all peaches and cream, right? If you said no, you’ve seen this Lifetime movie before. Sasha was the fourth child to be born to retired model Nevia Nicodemus. By that time, what little bit of parental skill she has possessed has dissolved completely, leaving only her spoiled selfishness behind. And so Sasha was left to the wolves, the wolves being the rest of his conservative, slightly evil family. Since a very young age the boy had been the proverbial black sheep.

Now do you think that would keep someone like Sasha down? No way. As he grew older, Sasha turned getting into very public and pretty embarrassing (to his family anyway) situations into a favorite hobby. And when he realized having a girlfriend was out of the question, he rubbed the fact in his family’s collective faces (at the annual Nicodemus reunion no less). Despite what they think, his liking of wearing skirts didn’t stem from his love of irritating his family. He simply discovered that he liked wearing them and the deal was done.

Around the age of fifteen, Sasha had a really hard choice to make, eat shit and actually ask his mother for something or let his dream of pursuing an acting career (a dream that had developed after seeing a play for the first time around the age of five) fade away. In the end, Sasha gritted his teeth hard enough to break his jaw and asked his mother to send him away to Finesse, stressing the away part. Fortunately for Sasha’s rather large ego, his mother wasn’t at all adverse to sending her only son away to a foreign school. Yeah, she liked the away part.

So now, Sasha’s starting his fourth year at Finesse, very, very glad to be back.

Roleplay Sample: Sage stopped short at the shout, leaving him standing on the threshold of his room. “What?” The disgruntled Sidhe demanded even though he had plainly heard the order. That ‘what’ more accurately meant something in the vein of ‘who the hell do you think you are’. Not caring to translate that little bit of Sage-ese, he continued on his way into the room, shoes still on.

He was in no mood to play nice (was he ever?). After classes he had once again made a trip to the gardens, they were so huge that he hadn’t walked the entire thing the day before. That wasn’t what had gotten his panties in a twist. It was the giant red orange and yellow flower with it’s long stem twined about his left hand, it’s exposed roots dropping small clumps of dirt as he moved. The flower had been a bit too affectionate to say the least. As he struggled to release his arm from it’s grip a group of giggling girls passing through had pointed and laughed as he fought with his power. He had told them to…well it was very rude, and his angry had transferred to the flower causing the thing to painfully squeeze him like an anaconda. Which in turned caused Sage to jerk away ripping the flower from the ground in the process. The flower had strongly refused his efforts to get it back in the ground, and not cold hearted enough (to plants anyway) to let it die for something that was his fault. And that was the tale of the clingy flower.

So here he was, angry and embarrassed, and in no mood to deal with roommates. The flower gave him a light squeeze like a friendly hug. Reminded of the blasted thing, he gave the pixie a glare, then went on his knees in front of his bed to grab one of the small plant pots there. Yeah, most teenaged boys had nudie magazines stashed under their beds. Sage had gardening tools.

Getting up, he threw the pot onto his covers…which were miraculously straight and ordered. Sage didn’t make his bed. Never had, never would. “Did you touch my bed?” He demanded, anger resurfacing as he spun to glare at the pixie once again.

Accepted!

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