Post by Michael Dawson on Jan 23, 2006 16:30:50 GMT
Name: Michael Dawson
Personality: Michael, had done many things to provide for his girlfriend, as well as his new son, Walt, named after his father Walter. Having been an aspiring artist, as well as worked as a construction worker, so he knew all the ropes of heights and widths used for building as well as drawings. When news of Susan's death arrived, he immediately was notified that the other man who had adopted Walt...couldn't exactly take him. There for, Michael now stuck with the kid. Though to him, it was HIS son and he loved him with all his heart.
Sample Post:
Walt!" the ebony haired man called to his son. No reply. Holding both slender hands to his mouth as if to form some kind of megaphone, Michael tried again.
"Walt!" he beckoned.
Still no reply.
A vanilla colored white lab began out of the underbrush, as he looked to the dog once, quirking an eyebrow. Dark hazel brown eyes stared to that animal, as he began forward.
"You seen em'?" he asked, a puzzled look as Vincent just whined.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." rolling his eyes, Michael began around the trees, finally spotting his son.
"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed, uneasy with the whole situation.
"We are stranded on the middle of an island...and you can't even listen to your father?" well, that part was in his head, because he knew... that his son would scream in retort 'you're not my father.'.
This would be a long day.
Personality: Michael, had done many things to provide for his girlfriend, as well as his new son, Walt, named after his father Walter. Having been an aspiring artist, as well as worked as a construction worker, so he knew all the ropes of heights and widths used for building as well as drawings. When news of Susan's death arrived, he immediately was notified that the other man who had adopted Walt...couldn't exactly take him. There for, Michael now stuck with the kid. Though to him, it was HIS son and he loved him with all his heart.
Sample Post:
Walt!" the ebony haired man called to his son. No reply. Holding both slender hands to his mouth as if to form some kind of megaphone, Michael tried again.
"Walt!" he beckoned.
Still no reply.
A vanilla colored white lab began out of the underbrush, as he looked to the dog once, quirking an eyebrow. Dark hazel brown eyes stared to that animal, as he began forward.
"You seen em'?" he asked, a puzzled look as Vincent just whined.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." rolling his eyes, Michael began around the trees, finally spotting his son.
"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed, uneasy with the whole situation.
"We are stranded on the middle of an island...and you can't even listen to your father?" well, that part was in his head, because he knew... that his son would scream in retort 'you're not my father.'.
This would be a long day.
