Gives Light, Raphael

‘On this night the heart and ideals melt into the darkness’

Full Name: Raphael Gives Light
Nationality: Native American (Specifically Shoshone)
D.O.B.: May 15
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 175
Hair Color: Dark brown/black
Eye Color: Light brown/honey
Blood Type: O+
Hometown: The Nettlebush Reserve outside of Truth Or Consequences, NM. (The reserve is fictional)
Character Description:



Personality: Raphael often looks stern and callous; a face that betrays his true nature. A man of few words, he is timely and practical and submerges himself in his work. He is genuinely concerned about his patients but his methods can be unconventional. He believes bedside manner to be important and gives off a feeling of trustworthiness despite his aloof expression.
Role: Intern
Other comments: Raphael is an artist in his leisure time. His first career choice was to study law before he was convinced to practice psychiatry.

RP Example: Raphael pressed his thumb and forefinger to his temple with a desperate attempt to ward off an impending headache. His office was dark save for the 15 watt lamp on the corner of the desk and there was always a mountain of paperwork to sift through. This called for coffee and lots of it.

Pushing free from his desk and chair, he adjusted his white coat. He wore it as often as possible. He liked it's authority and he liked the embroidered 'Gives Light' above the breast pocket. He liked the things it stood for. His coat was a constant reminder of the things he left behind on the Reserve and why he had left them behind. His coat was earned and paid for with years of study and loneliness. His coat was a large part of the rift between his tribe and himself. He could still hear the nagging voice of his grandmother who didn't understand why he couldn't be a somebody and stay on the Reserve as well. That was because the Reserve's "college" was good for one thing and that was producing lawyers. Natives needed to know the law for they were constantly under the threat of it. They needed to know the loopholes and how to keep themselves from the governments grasp. Raphael had thought that path was the one for him too, but it turns out he was too empathetic. "Lawyers can't have hearts, Raph," Mr. Red Clay had told him once and he ran with it. All the way to the psych ward. What better place to be a humanitarian then among the those that most likely couldn't distinguish kindness from a hole in the wall. What the hell had he gotten himself into anyway?

He stretched his limbs and ran his hands through his long hair, heaving a forceful sigh in the process. Striding towards the coffeemaker, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His eyelids were heavy and droopy, his chin and jawline prickly from three days without a shave and his mouth pulled into a scowl. Shit, no wonder his patients took so long to warm up to him. What an eye sore of an expression on an otherwise handsome face. The scary movie-like lighting didn't help much either. He reached the machine and poured himself a cold cup of day old liquid dirt. It tasted like crap, but it would have to suffice. That pile of paperwork wasn't getting any smaller and the sunrise would only mark the start of another fast-paced day of getting along with the crazies.

Accepted, welcome to the Hill of Acropolis. Enjoy your stay.