Post by Berlin on Mar 11, 2010 18:08:21 GMT -5
NAME;; Peter "Berlin" Fruehauf
AGE;; 16 years old
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION;;
Peter has brown golden hair, and blue eyes. He's one of your pale European light hair blue eyed individuals. He stands at about 5'8'' and wears the typical newsies' garb, suspenders, trousers, long johns and collared shirts, vest, boots. Nothing very extraordinary.
HISTORY;;
Berlin grew up in his homeland, Switzerland, on a farm in the Swiss Alps. His Mother was sickly for a long time, too weak to do much but lay in bed all day. But she was still a good Mother who tried to do as much for her husband and son as she possibly could. Berlin's father raised a flock of goats in the mountainside, and they always had plenty of fresh milk.
Berlin would go out with his father during the day, keeping watch over the flock as they roamed through valleys of wildflowers. His friend Ana, who was blind, would come over some of the time to bring them fresh bread her Mama had leavened, and she would spend the afternoon with Berlin, tending to the goats, just taking in the fresh mountain air. Everything about the mountains were pure. Some said that anybody could be cured, just by breathing in the air. Peter knew it was foolish to believe, but every night he prayed that someday his Mother would breathe in the air, and she would get all better.
His Mother kept up her strength of faith until the very end. One day while Berlin was sitting with her, telling her about all the goats and the stories Ana had told him, she simply drifted off to sleep...and never woke up. The eleven year old burst out of the cabin, trying to find his father, he ran until he nearly collapsed and finally found his father by the stream. He refused to believe that his mother was really dead, telling his father if they just carried her to the valleys below the mountain peak so she could breathe the air, she would wake up. His father told his broken hearted son that it was just a story, that it wouldn't work.
Not soon after, one of the baby goats caught a disease, and it spread, a plague. Every single one of them was dying, all they had worked for, their whole income. Gone. Just like Mama. Cristoph Fruehauf made a very important decision. It was time to move on, they couldn't stay on his father's land any more, as much as it hurt to move away. Ana's parents had offered them to stay at their farm, but they couldn't be a bother. It was too painful. They had to move on to a new beginning. America was calling. The folks in the village all talked about the Cristoph's decision, saying he was just giving way to a crazy goose chase. Peter trusted his father and he would go wherever his Papa went.
After long rides on the back of hay wagons, the Fruehauf's were at the harbor, and their journey continued by way of sea. They were in steerage, the lowest rank on deck, crowded and cramped, but they kept their pride. They knew not a single word of English nor what anything would be like once they reached their new home, they just had to have faith that it would be better than what they had left behind.
The journey was long, and the longer it went, the wearier Christoph got. It was hard on both of them, seeing the families together, Mothers tending to their little ones. Berlin heard many memories of his Mother from his father at night as the boat would rock them to sleep. One night, Berlin knew something was wrong. His father was just laying there in his bunk, expressionless as the boat tipped this way and that, creaking, Christoph seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Berlin just sat there, waiting for him to speak, wondering what was wrong. He had never seen his father so tired, so weak. His father had lost his courage, had lost the will to endure life.
Finally Christoph looked his son in the face, his eyes glassy and said,
"Peter, this journey is yours to finish, but not mine. I've faced too many storms...You must promise to make it through this journey if you can. You will not be facing this journey alone, I will be by your side, and your Mother, and another as well. Don't lose hope son, even though I have."
He put a carving of their mountain in Berlin's hand, closing his large hard worked hand over his son's, and drew his last tired breath.
There was a family who took Berlin under their wing, sharing their meager meals with him, watching over him until they reached New York. It was hard to leave them, but he knew his journey was over, and he had to make it on his own now. Eventually he found the Brooklyn Lodging House, a place where children could stay if they could keep their keep for lodging. Berlin's been around for five years now, a Brooklyn regular. He respects and admires the other kids and sees them as somewhat as a family. He's been trying to learn the English language, but its a hard task for him, he's picked up on some words, enough to communicate somewhat.
PERSONALITY;;
Berlin is a very caring individual, who doesn't always have much to say whether because he can't understand or he just doesn't feel like talking unless he's got something really important to say. He is pretty patient and will listen to you even if he can't even understand what is being said if somebody needs somebody just to listen. He doesn't mind being alone nor being with people. He's often seen with a smile on his face.
LIKES;;
+ Animals
+ Helping/pleasing people
+ carving figures out of wood
+ Quiet
+ Being outside
+ Postcards from home
+ Swimming
DISLIKES;;
+ people who hurt others without a care
+ lots of loud noise
+ being taken advantage of
+ hurting people's feelings
+ Prejudice
AGE;; 16 years old
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION;;
Peter has brown golden hair, and blue eyes. He's one of your pale European light hair blue eyed individuals. He stands at about 5'8'' and wears the typical newsies' garb, suspenders, trousers, long johns and collared shirts, vest, boots. Nothing very extraordinary.
HISTORY;;
Berlin grew up in his homeland, Switzerland, on a farm in the Swiss Alps. His Mother was sickly for a long time, too weak to do much but lay in bed all day. But she was still a good Mother who tried to do as much for her husband and son as she possibly could. Berlin's father raised a flock of goats in the mountainside, and they always had plenty of fresh milk.
Berlin would go out with his father during the day, keeping watch over the flock as they roamed through valleys of wildflowers. His friend Ana, who was blind, would come over some of the time to bring them fresh bread her Mama had leavened, and she would spend the afternoon with Berlin, tending to the goats, just taking in the fresh mountain air. Everything about the mountains were pure. Some said that anybody could be cured, just by breathing in the air. Peter knew it was foolish to believe, but every night he prayed that someday his Mother would breathe in the air, and she would get all better.
His Mother kept up her strength of faith until the very end. One day while Berlin was sitting with her, telling her about all the goats and the stories Ana had told him, she simply drifted off to sleep...and never woke up. The eleven year old burst out of the cabin, trying to find his father, he ran until he nearly collapsed and finally found his father by the stream. He refused to believe that his mother was really dead, telling his father if they just carried her to the valleys below the mountain peak so she could breathe the air, she would wake up. His father told his broken hearted son that it was just a story, that it wouldn't work.
Not soon after, one of the baby goats caught a disease, and it spread, a plague. Every single one of them was dying, all they had worked for, their whole income. Gone. Just like Mama. Cristoph Fruehauf made a very important decision. It was time to move on, they couldn't stay on his father's land any more, as much as it hurt to move away. Ana's parents had offered them to stay at their farm, but they couldn't be a bother. It was too painful. They had to move on to a new beginning. America was calling. The folks in the village all talked about the Cristoph's decision, saying he was just giving way to a crazy goose chase. Peter trusted his father and he would go wherever his Papa went.
After long rides on the back of hay wagons, the Fruehauf's were at the harbor, and their journey continued by way of sea. They were in steerage, the lowest rank on deck, crowded and cramped, but they kept their pride. They knew not a single word of English nor what anything would be like once they reached their new home, they just had to have faith that it would be better than what they had left behind.
The journey was long, and the longer it went, the wearier Christoph got. It was hard on both of them, seeing the families together, Mothers tending to their little ones. Berlin heard many memories of his Mother from his father at night as the boat would rock them to sleep. One night, Berlin knew something was wrong. His father was just laying there in his bunk, expressionless as the boat tipped this way and that, creaking, Christoph seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Berlin just sat there, waiting for him to speak, wondering what was wrong. He had never seen his father so tired, so weak. His father had lost his courage, had lost the will to endure life.
Finally Christoph looked his son in the face, his eyes glassy and said,
"Peter, this journey is yours to finish, but not mine. I've faced too many storms...You must promise to make it through this journey if you can. You will not be facing this journey alone, I will be by your side, and your Mother, and another as well. Don't lose hope son, even though I have."
He put a carving of their mountain in Berlin's hand, closing his large hard worked hand over his son's, and drew his last tired breath.
There was a family who took Berlin under their wing, sharing their meager meals with him, watching over him until they reached New York. It was hard to leave them, but he knew his journey was over, and he had to make it on his own now. Eventually he found the Brooklyn Lodging House, a place where children could stay if they could keep their keep for lodging. Berlin's been around for five years now, a Brooklyn regular. He respects and admires the other kids and sees them as somewhat as a family. He's been trying to learn the English language, but its a hard task for him, he's picked up on some words, enough to communicate somewhat.
PERSONALITY;;
Berlin is a very caring individual, who doesn't always have much to say whether because he can't understand or he just doesn't feel like talking unless he's got something really important to say. He is pretty patient and will listen to you even if he can't even understand what is being said if somebody needs somebody just to listen. He doesn't mind being alone nor being with people. He's often seen with a smile on his face.
LIKES;;
+ Animals
+ Helping/pleasing people
+ carving figures out of wood
+ Quiet
+ Being outside
+ Postcards from home
+ Swimming
DISLIKES;;
+ people who hurt others without a care
+ lots of loud noise
+ being taken advantage of
+ hurting people's feelings
+ Prejudice
