It's not something he talks about much, though it's something some have cottoned onto by now, between the ever-present circles underneath his eyes and the sheer amount of caffeine he crams into his body on any given day, but it's been a part of his life since he was roughly nine years old. He gets four hours on a good night, but anything else? Out of the question. This habitual, lifelong insomnia coupled with the unthinkable situation of having to sleep alongside a bunch of strangers has only one logical result, which is to sneak out after everyone else has settled in for the night. His presence doesn't make the stories of this place being haunted any better; people might see a flash of movement in the middle of night, rustling bushes, cracking branches, a gleam of glowing eyes, Riz so quick and so stealthy that it's almost impossible to spot him as anything other than a lingering presence.
But if you catch him, you'll quickly find nothing nearly as nefarious. He finds himself a nice place that's well out of the way, squinting down at a book, or pecking away at the keyboard of a small laptop (coding practice from the looks of it), or just quietly surveying the surroundings. If you care for some midnight company, he might be your best bet. ]
b. shooting practice.
[ Technically speaking, Riz has learned how to use a shortbow in Rogue class. It's just one of those things that everyone has to learn one by one. But it's apparent by the firearm in his underarm holster that bow and arrow certainly isn't his preference. It takes way more arm strength than the squeeze of the trigger for one and though he appears to be a shockingly good shot, it's a bit of a struggle.
Rubbing at his - admittedly scrawny - biceps, he eventually appears to give up and instead goes digging around in his briefcase before he produces a crossbow far too large to have been able to fit there in the first place. ]
There, [ he says with some satisfaction, swinging it up to eye level and surveying the targets before them. ] This still counts, right? It's still a bow.
[ And if you happen to be struggling with aiming, he'll actually have a decent tip or two for you -- or if you ask really nicely, maybe you can have a spin at the crowssbow too. ]
c. an exercise in bonding.
[ Camp isn't really Riz's thing. Then again, he's never been camping before, so he can't say it's not his thing either. But between the emphasis on sports, sleeping communally, and the fact that he's been forced out of his perpetual suit-and-tie get-up and into tie-dye that makes him look about four years younger than he actually is despite the mess of tattoos covering his forearms, he's not really feeling the vibes of this whole enforced bonding exercise.
But if it's what they're supposed to do, then so be it. He revolves a marshmallow over the fire slowly and methodically as he thinks, bits of molten sugar dripping off and sizzling into the fire below. ]
Okay, two truths and a lie? Um... [ He'd like to look interesting, if he can. But not like he's trying too hard to seem interesting. ] I've been to Hell once, I lived in a giant mansion back home, annnnnnd my tattoos actually cover the rest of my torso too.
d. closed to team armadillo.
[ Most of the time, Riz is a perfect cabinmate. He's quiet, polite, helpful; he hasn't been labeled a pleasure to have in class multiple years in a row for no reason, after all. He's a pleasant presence, helping with their admittedly paltry tasks and dutifully making sure the cabin and everything in it are spic and span. He's eager to make conversation, and will accompany his cabinmates to whichever activities they'd like company for. And if you don't feel like doing the work? Just shove it onto Riz -- he never appears to actually say no.
Where he's not a perfect cabinmate, however, is at night. When he doesn't manage to sneak out, he simply covers himself in his blanket as though others won't be able to hear the incessant flipping of pages or the tappa-tap-tap of claws against his device or, worse yet, the perpetual presence of faintly luminescent eyes staring into the darkness as he waits for everyone else to go to sleep.
On at least one occasion, he awakens from a nightmare with a yelp at an ungodly hour, sits up with ramrod-straight posture, then marches outside with a gun in his hand. Don't worry. It's probably nothing to worry about. ]
e. wildcard!
[ go nuts! he'll be atrocious at any sport besides dodgeball, eager to hear scary stories, and gifted when it comes to the practicality of arts and crafts but decidedly less so when it comes to creativity and will otherwise just be around for whatever you like. :> ]
riz gukgak | ota
[ Riz doesn't sleep.
It's not something he talks about much, though it's something some have cottoned onto by now, between the ever-present circles underneath his eyes and the sheer amount of caffeine he crams into his body on any given day, but it's been a part of his life since he was roughly nine years old. He gets four hours on a good night, but anything else? Out of the question. This habitual, lifelong insomnia coupled with the unthinkable situation of having to sleep alongside a bunch of strangers has only one logical result, which is to sneak out after everyone else has settled in for the night. His presence doesn't make the stories of this place being haunted any better; people might see a flash of movement in the middle of night, rustling bushes, cracking branches, a gleam of glowing eyes, Riz so quick and so stealthy that it's almost impossible to spot him as anything other than a lingering presence.
But if you catch him, you'll quickly find nothing nearly as nefarious. He finds himself a nice place that's well out of the way, squinting down at a book, or pecking away at the keyboard of a small laptop (coding practice from the looks of it), or just quietly surveying the surroundings. If you care for some midnight company, he might be your best bet. ]
b. shooting practice.
[ Technically speaking, Riz has learned how to use a shortbow in Rogue class. It's just one of those things that everyone has to learn one by one. But it's apparent by the firearm in his underarm holster that bow and arrow certainly isn't his preference. It takes way more arm strength than the squeeze of the trigger for one and though he appears to be a shockingly good shot, it's a bit of a struggle.
Rubbing at his - admittedly scrawny - biceps, he eventually appears to give up and instead goes digging around in his briefcase before he produces a crossbow far too large to have been able to fit there in the first place. ]
There, [ he says with some satisfaction, swinging it up to eye level and surveying the targets before them. ] This still counts, right? It's still a bow.
[ And if you happen to be struggling with aiming, he'll actually have a decent tip or two for you -- or if you ask really nicely, maybe you can have a spin at the crowssbow too. ]
c. an exercise in bonding.
[ Camp isn't really Riz's thing. Then again, he's never been camping before, so he can't say it's not his thing either. But between the emphasis on sports, sleeping communally, and the fact that he's been forced out of his perpetual suit-and-tie get-up and into tie-dye that makes him look about four years younger than he actually is despite the mess of tattoos covering his forearms, he's not really feeling the vibes of this whole enforced bonding exercise.
But if it's what they're supposed to do, then so be it. He revolves a marshmallow over the fire slowly and methodically as he thinks, bits of molten sugar dripping off and sizzling into the fire below. ]
Okay, two truths and a lie? Um... [ He'd like to look interesting, if he can. But not like he's trying too hard to seem interesting. ] I've been to Hell once, I lived in a giant mansion back home, annnnnnd my tattoos actually cover the rest of my torso too.
d. closed to team armadillo.
[ Most of the time, Riz is a perfect cabinmate. He's quiet, polite, helpful; he hasn't been labeled a pleasure to have in class multiple years in a row for no reason, after all. He's a pleasant presence, helping with their admittedly paltry tasks and dutifully making sure the cabin and everything in it are spic and span. He's eager to make conversation, and will accompany his cabinmates to whichever activities they'd like company for. And if you don't feel like doing the work? Just shove it onto Riz -- he never appears to actually say no.
Where he's not a perfect cabinmate, however, is at night. When he doesn't manage to sneak out, he simply covers himself in his blanket as though others won't be able to hear the incessant flipping of pages or the tappa-tap-tap of claws against his device or, worse yet, the perpetual presence of faintly luminescent eyes staring into the darkness as he waits for everyone else to go to sleep.
On at least one occasion, he awakens from a nightmare with a yelp at an ungodly hour, sits up with ramrod-straight posture, then marches outside with a gun in his hand. Don't worry. It's probably nothing to worry about. ]
e. wildcard!
[ go nuts! he'll be atrocious at any sport besides dodgeball, eager to hear scary stories, and gifted when it comes to the practicality of arts and crafts but decidedly less so when it comes to creativity and will otherwise just be around for whatever you like. :> ]