The Kind of Person...

FelineEyes

Who Walks Through Walls
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May 14, 2005
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I like cats, knives, cuddling, and expolsives. No
It's been a while since we had any new workshop exercises on here, so I've decided to post one. Here's how it goes:
Using one or two sentences, describe a character. The only catch is that you have to start the sentence like so:

He/She/It was the kind of person/thing...

For example:
He was the kind of gardener who would choose a plant based solely on its smell.

She was the kind of girl that you find in the back of the room--a perpetual wallflower.
 
He was the kind of guy who'd lie extravagantly to impress people; he'd say he'd been to Tibet when he hadn't left the state, swear he knew Sinatra when he was kid. Everyone knew better than to believe him, but he wouldn't - couldn't - stop.
 
She was the kind of gal who was in the habit of going out to set traps on the weekend, and catching dozens of partridges and pheasants. She'd take them home, behead and pluck them, and then put them in cages with the doors open so that they might escape.
 
He was the kind of person who would bleed all the good out of his life by purposely constructing unrealistic expectations based on nothing but overwheening self-worth and then proceed to embrace bitterness and resentment with the greatest of zeal and relish when life failed to deliver on his demands. In this way, he kept himself in a constant state of trodden-on grievance that was totally at odds with his real position in life.

She was the kind of person who would drink all night and pass out in the loo at a pub the same day the local papers announced university exam results and featured her mug shot among the pictures of top-scorers. Some sort of hellbound train, but not totally off the tracks.
 
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He was the kind of person one didn't make eye contact with; a charisma so compelling, yet thick with subdued rage radiated from every pore, and that was why the masses continued to cower under his leadership.
 
He was the kind of guy you'd expect to see in a pool hall, smoking a cigarette, drinking a beer, and flirting with the waitress. None of the students who saw him saunter into the classroom with a rucksack over one shoulder expected him to walk to the front of the class and begin lecturing on ancient Egyptian history.
 
It was the kind of thing that would steal an angel’s breath or the electrons from an atom just because it could. Infused within the asymmetric logic of the tower’s decaying grandeur, it would incubate despair with a concentrated expectation of devouring flightless souls. A succubus of the astral plane, always one step removed from its own decaying mind….
 
knivesout said:
Professor Jones, I presume? :)

Actually not. He's a character for something I'm trying to write, actually sort of, kind of based on a combination of a couple of people I've known - he looks like one and kind of has a personality based on that person and one other. If that makes any sense.

Anyway, I somehow can't picture Indy flirting with the waitress. Smoking the ciggie, swigging the beer, and playing pool, yes, but the flirting just doesn't fit my image of Indy.
 
He was the sort of person that, by wanting so desperately to be liked that he imediately aroused its opposite. Machines hated him- he had only to walk into the office for all the computers to glitch and the coffee machine overflow, animals normally so human freindly you had to prise them off you with a crowbar went and hid, trembling, in corners and of course humans, restrained by civilised reflexes from throwing him out of the window, would apply ever more forceful suggestions that he’d be happier elsewhere- any elsewhere, but preferably one very else.
Immune to all hints, as empathic as a breeze block, he would fail to understand, and make feeble attempts at human contact.
 
He was the kind of guy that would allow his eyes to explode out of their sockets when strangled by a giant snake.
 
He was the kind of guy who would take several minutes to respond to a "He/She Was the Kind of Person Who Would...Complete the Sentence" thread on a science fiction and fantasy forum. *cough* :)
 
She was the kind of girl who would sooner kick you in the shin while sreaming insanely than explain why a simple question like 'Do you have any form of id?' was annoying.
 
She was the sort of girl who would pick food out of her teeth just to make you grit your own, would put her feet on the desk so she could watch the teacher squirm, would challenge your eyes with an obnoxiously quirked eyebrow. The sort of girl that I couldn't help falling for.

*
Yeah... I couldn't help but add in that last part, though rather unnecissary...
 
She was the kind of person who'd get up early to walk in the woods alone, to find the first spring flower, to smell the fresh cut grass... yeah, far too perfect to actually exist :p
 
It was the kind of feeling that let you know you were still alive and wished you weren't. A sucker punch to the stomach would have been kinder than the silence.
 

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