Post by kale on Oct 25, 2012 20:12:55 GMT -5
[/style][style=width: 386px; border-top: 1px dashed #bbb;]
[style=width:350px; font-family: josefin sans; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align:center; color: #000; line-height: 80%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 5px;]KALE WILLIAM ARBISON
THE LAW. TWENTY-FIVE. SECRET AGENT/TEACHER. STUDIOUS. EASY-GOING. INTELLIGENT. LOYAL. HONEST.
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,386,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width:130px; height: 200px; background-image: url(http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m0smsclhTw1r4w5ae.gif);][/style] | [style=height: 180px; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px;]it's ironic, really, how kale arbison got to this place; this world where he teaches kids who aren't much younger than him and pretends to be a normal guy. it's been his job long enough that he forgets who he really is: an agent for the british government sent to secretly guard the prime minister's daughter. several months before his boss agreed to allow his daughter to leave the country, to travel to an american city with only two bodyguards to protect her, kale was ordered to travel to the states and set up a groundwork. he became a teacher at the local community college, teaching british literature of all things. it's funny how he always loved literature even though he took a job as a secret service agent. anyway, in anticipation for his daughter's departure to boston, the prime minister sent kale and a few others on ahead, in secret, to watch over her once she arrived. this was all without her knowing of course. so kale fell into his routine, teaching british literature every monday, wednesday, and friday, and spending his free time wakeboarding off the shore in the atlantic. his skin became a golden tan color, except in the winter months when the cold kept him out of the sea, and his brown hair took on a golden tint that sent the girls in his class swooning. he almost forgot his task in the year he lived in massachusetts before the minister's daughter's formal arrival. constantly, he fended off advances from female students and facility alike, but he did take out ladies from time to time, always the gentleman. his british accent was too strong to hide, and he didn't try. a year after living in the states, he still hadn't lost it. even if the girl had suspicions when she arrived, he had proof he'd been in the states long enough that she wouldn't suspect anything. still, if his looks didn't make women fall for him, then his husky british voice would. however, he had only ever loved one girl, and she was so far in his past, so much a part of him, that he couldn't move fully past her. he'd lost her on a cold, cold night back in his homeland. when he entered the academy that would progress him to the status of secret agent, he'd been forced to let her go. he still remembered the night when he'd told her it was over, and she'd cried until her nose turned red with sorrow. he'd kissed her, the last time, and held her until he knew he was past his time to leave. the pain in her eyes was almost too much for him to bear, but it had been necessary. he would never be able to live with himself if she died as some casualty of war because of him. he couldn't stomach the idea of someone targeting her to get to him, so he ended it. so he threw himself into his work. he had no family save for his brother and sister (twins), who were younger than him. their parents had died in a house fire when kale was just out of high school, sparking his desire to join the government. he had raised his two younger siblings, although they lived with an aunt and uncle outside of london. apart from them, he had no one else he remained close to; not after he'd turned his life away from the one love he felt in his life. his brother lives in los angeles, working as an intern on a movie set, while his sister works with her blooming clothing line in new york. at peace with his life in boston, now kale prepares himself to face the prime minister's daughter, and hopes she won't just be another brat he's paid to babysit. |
