Post by kuchenkitchen on Nov 7, 2011 0:03:26 GMT -5
You want to tell me what this is all about?
Name: Roderich Edelstein
Street Name: Doktor
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
Age: Twenty Eight
Bitch or Homie: Male
Cause I've been blastin' and laughin so long that
Even my ma'ma thinks that my mind is gone[/font][/size][/b]
Where you from?: Wien, Osterreich
Whatchoo do?:
Roderich Edelstein, M.D. He has a private practice. He accepts all major insurances and cash. And his books aren't always 'organized'. Yes, he does make house calls.
Who you be reppin?: Roderich is affiliated to his wallet.
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
How you do:
Roderich Edelstein. He's odd; after all you don't see many people in the srreets wearing cravats, albeit ones that look like they have been put through a saw mill. Anyway, on his personality, Roderich likes complaining. This is obvious. He a bit of a whiner about things not going his way. However, he’s actually good at bargaining and wins in arguments often. At times he can be downright manipulative.
Speaking of behavior, he’s a pretty proud person. Or used to be. But he hates admitting his mistakes. He gets flustered when he’s proven wrong or someone picks on him in public, as his parents told him that public appearance were everything and opinions were there to made favorable to him. Which is why he spends some much time on how he looks or how he acts, making him seem more stuck up than he really is. In reality, he’s very insecure, both about his appearance and his personality. He’s self-controlled and disciplined into not showing as much emotion as he can and he’s fixated on making him self look good, as Roderich considers himself plain.
The Austrian is a bit neurotic about specific things. Things out of place and not going the way he wants them to means that he beings procrastinating. He’s a perfectionist and an artist, and this means that most of his projects end up being done at the last minute. Also, Roderich is a calm person. He’s chill enough to spend a whole day sitting in a starbucks and just reading. He walks slowly because he’s one of those people who want to live their lives, not rush through them.
He's a perfectionist, and that means he's very dedicated to the medical arts. He hates losing patients and tends to go into depressive moods when he does lose a patient, which happens since most of Polaris's criminals seem to go to him for medicine.
You better watch how you talkin, and where you walkin
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Your thing: (likes)
[/li][li]Coffee. Many different types. Most of his clientele as himself meet him in cafes because he’s usually there nursing pastries and empty 40% recycled material coffee cups.
[/li][li]Cravats. Also lacy ascots.
[/li][li]Music. He plays several instruments masterfully and has a whole wall full of cd racks and vinyls.
[/li][li]Schnapps. Roderich isn’t stressed that often but when the excrement hits the fan he turns to nursing bottles of the good stuff.
[/li][li]Cake. Oh gods, cake. Cake everywhere.
[/li][li]Cooking.
[/li][li]Clean houses and well-decorated ones. Don’t invite him to a dirty house.
[/li][li]Non-pushy patients. Especially those who don’t pull guns on him.
[/li][li]Black and white films, particularly Lang’s and Cocteau’s.
[/color]
I really hate to trip, but I gotta loc'-
As they grew I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool
Not your thing: (dislikes)
[/li][li]Cops.
[/li][li]People who ask too many questions about his practice.
[/li][li]People who don’t even take bribes to not ask questions about it.
[/li][li]Idiots who make his job more complicated by screwing up everything.
[/li][li]Patients who don't do what he tells he them to.
[/li][li]Rude behavior or exceptionally crude remarks.
[/li][li]The bloodshed he sees on the streets.
[/li][li]What he sees in the mirror.
[/li][li] Most drug users, since they have stolen some of his medicine before.
[/color]
I'm the kinda G the little homies wanna be like
What you been through:
Roderich was born in a suburb right outside of Vienna to a family of four. His childhood was happy, in a way. Roderich was a late baby, his parents being well into their 40’s (and 50’s in his father’s case). He had two elder siblings, but they were basically adults when he was a baby.
And while his parents loved him, they were too tired to ‘raise’ him or put up with nonsense (not that they were the type to). And thus Roderich became the child who grew up too quickly. His two other siblings were much older than him so Roderich grew up being comfortable around adults.
At some point in his early years he heard a friend of his mother remarking that he was such a plain, sullen child. Being naturally sensitive, Roderich became quite fixated with making himself look good physically and emotionally. That and the fact that he felt out of place with those his age contributed to him having little friends as a child, but Roderich didn’t mind. His wealthy parents indulged him in interests, and expected him to excel in the ones he was proficient in.
When he was nine years old, the Edelsteins (without his siblings) moved to Polaris because Roderich’s father had the opportunity to make a lot of money in certain deals. Roderich adjusted quickly to Polaris, as bustling a metropolis as Vienna. Polaris was also dirtier than the city and the suburb Roderich had grown up in. The highest crime rate in its country, Polaris was an interesting place to continue growing up in. Especially when he realized that this business opportunity of his father’s was working for clients whose ventures were not legal most of the time. Lare night consultations would be eavesdropped by Roderich, the young boy watching his father liason with various criminals, both petty and organized.
Once in a while he'd hear the criminals mention certain problems finding doctors that would treat them, as hospitals tended to ask questions (and drop the patient if they didn't have insurance or enough cash to pay it off). That tidbit of information continued to rest in his brain as he became a medical student and volunteered as a first responder. He doesn't discriminate in his patients, he nurses everyone back to health and does pester them with health calls.
On my knees in the night
Other shit:
Sayin prayers in the street light
Show us what you got: (RP sample)
The caravan belonging to a Herr Roderich Von Edelstein was elegant but not extremely flashy as Roderich disliked gaudiness. No elegance could be achieved in piling things upon things without and limits or design. Over-painting his caravan or adding unnecessary details was like adding unneeded parts to a symphony; the end result was more cacophony then beauty. The caravan did give a strong impression of being one that was cleaned and polished often, often shining brightly in comparison to other caravans. Such was the case on this particular night, the full moon shining down on Roderich's caravan (and the other ones as well) from the heavens seemed to make the caravan glow as soft scratching noises were emitted from it.
The Manager of the Zirkus was currently sitting on the edge of his stool, his back bent over the desk on which he was writing. For once Roderich's caravan wasn't meticulously clean; it was as scattered and messy as it's master's current state of mind. Crumpled scraps of paper dotted the inside of the caravan, mostly strewn carelessly around the little wooden wastepaper bin he kept near his door. The little closet was lazily stuffed, opening enough to show a few of Roderich's petticoats, one being a particularly embarrassing lacy number. The bed was unmade and showed signs of its occupant having tossed around. The desk, usually in pristine condition and neatly organized, had paper and utensils lying unorganized and several coffee rings from the cups on it.
Roderich leaned in further over his desk as he held his un-groomed(therefore straight) hair in place by holding on to it with the hand holding up his head. It was late at night and he resisted the urge to rub at his eyes with ink-stained hands and arms. The contents of the desk were barely visible by the dim candle light Roderich was using, but several crumpled and hastily written letters and notes, a freshly inked entry in his Tagebuch could be seen. Roderich quickly scribbled over a stack of forms, not even bothering to read some of them, intent on finishing before dawn. Due to the letter on his desk from his mother, he had received an even bigger workload than normal. Not that he hadn't expected this, after all sending money back home meant that they had money to make investments and dealings. It was just irritating.
Roderich stopped dead in his writing after hearing a noise outside. Dropping his quill into the inkwell (he didn't feel it necessary to waste money on a pen when he could use a quill. To hell with modern fashion was his response to people who asked why he still used those things) he straightened himself and his cravat, unconsciously getting some ink on it.
"Who could be outside at this time?" thought Roderich. Technically he wasn't even in proper appearance, as he had no shoes on, but Roderich didn't give a damn about his appearance at this time of night. Grabbing the candle dish, Roderich tiptoed softly to the door and peeked through the key hole he had made for himself. Roderich’s eyesight wasn’t bad, but he was barely able to make out the shape of the person outside through his window. Blink. He could see it was a man, not very tall, either. Another blink. He was definitely holding something alive, a dog or a cat perhaps? And what was that odd hair going to the side? After recognizing the man outside, Roderich quickly lifted the latch and poked his head out the door to look at Lovino Vargas.
“Herr Vargas? What in Gott’s name are you doing outside at this hour?”
The Manager of the Zirkus was currently sitting on the edge of his stool, his back bent over the desk on which he was writing. For once Roderich's caravan wasn't meticulously clean; it was as scattered and messy as it's master's current state of mind. Crumpled scraps of paper dotted the inside of the caravan, mostly strewn carelessly around the little wooden wastepaper bin he kept near his door. The little closet was lazily stuffed, opening enough to show a few of Roderich's petticoats, one being a particularly embarrassing lacy number. The bed was unmade and showed signs of its occupant having tossed around. The desk, usually in pristine condition and neatly organized, had paper and utensils lying unorganized and several coffee rings from the cups on it.
Roderich leaned in further over his desk as he held his un-groomed(therefore straight) hair in place by holding on to it with the hand holding up his head. It was late at night and he resisted the urge to rub at his eyes with ink-stained hands and arms. The contents of the desk were barely visible by the dim candle light Roderich was using, but several crumpled and hastily written letters and notes, a freshly inked entry in his Tagebuch could be seen. Roderich quickly scribbled over a stack of forms, not even bothering to read some of them, intent on finishing before dawn. Due to the letter on his desk from his mother, he had received an even bigger workload than normal. Not that he hadn't expected this, after all sending money back home meant that they had money to make investments and dealings. It was just irritating.
Roderich stopped dead in his writing after hearing a noise outside. Dropping his quill into the inkwell (he didn't feel it necessary to waste money on a pen when he could use a quill. To hell with modern fashion was his response to people who asked why he still used those things) he straightened himself and his cravat, unconsciously getting some ink on it.
"Who could be outside at this time?" thought Roderich. Technically he wasn't even in proper appearance, as he had no shoes on, but Roderich didn't give a damn about his appearance at this time of night. Grabbing the candle dish, Roderich tiptoed softly to the door and peeked through the key hole he had made for himself. Roderich’s eyesight wasn’t bad, but he was barely able to make out the shape of the person outside through his window. Blink. He could see it was a man, not very tall, either. Another blink. He was definitely holding something alive, a dog or a cat perhaps? And what was that odd hair going to the side? After recognizing the man outside, Roderich quickly lifted the latch and poked his head out the door to look at Lovino Vargas.
“Herr Vargas? What in Gott’s name are you doing outside at this hour?”
