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Rory O'Meara (romeara) wrote,
@ 2029-09-10 21:18:00

Profile.
MacNamara crossed the street and by a bus was hit
But he was just a Scotsman so nobody gave a SH.

Basics
Character Name(s): Rory Aidan O’Meara
Nicknames/Aliases: Ror, Ro, Sean (that’s what his ~~fake~~ ID says anyway!)
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual, though bordering on disinterest.
Affiliation: Irish
Mob Status: N/A
Age/DOB: 16 :: May 4, 2009
Birth Location: Chicago, Illinois.

Appearance
At 5’8 (well, maybe when he really stands up straight), Rory isn’t quite up to the average height of the men in his family. He also tends toward the slender side, lean muscle the result of running. Still, the dark hair and grey eyes are enough to set him as an O’Meara, and he’s more than fine with his current appearance. As far as he sees it, he can’t stay this height forever!
Distinguishing marks: Two scars, one on his lower left leg and one on his upper right arm, both the result of a childhood dare he took quite seriously.

Personality

Rory is above all an exceedingly outgoing and fun loving individual. He’s more than happy to exchange jokes and taunts with his family and anyone else; he considers himself a professional at this point given the family environment in which he’s been raised. He makes friends and acquaintances fairly easily. He also tends to be able to talk his way into most situations, a benefit for a sixteen year old who even with a fake ID tends to look nowhere near twenty-one. And while accomplishing what he wishes to with life, he’s generally very happy and easy going.

Of course, his family has the privilege of getting to see his somewhat more obstinate personality. Though he’s more often than not quite easy to get along with, Rory does tend to want to do exactly what he wants to do. People can give him advice (and Lord knows with all his cousins and siblings and parents they do) and he’ll listen, but more often than not he’ll continue in whatever path he’s set. This, combined with his more outgoing personality and his need to satisfy his curiosity, means he’s quite fond of clubbing, gambling, and drinking; all done very underage.

Further, Rory is somewhat torn on his place in the city’s rivalry. While he is nothing but completely loyal to his family he doesn’t quite see how this loyalty needs to extend to anything beyond what is tangible. Thus, while he would undoubtedly attempt to defend a fellow Irishman(or woman) from any derogatory remarks or violence, his family’s insistence that locations frequented, or owned, by the other mafia organizations be avoided are generally lost on Rory. If it’s of interest to him, he’ll go, and while he tends to be smart about exactly where he goes, he is still a sixteen year old kid.

Personal Background

Family:
Patrick O’Meara (Father; deceased)
Clare O’Meara (Mother; 56)
Conor O’Meara (Brother; 34)
Brenna O’Meara (Sister; 28)
Brendan O’Meara (Brother; 28)
Large Extended Family

History:
As far as Rory was concerned, he’d given everyone enough warning signs as a child so that they should have been able to predict his later years. His mother often reminded him that as he couldn’t remember his earliest years how could he know he’d purposely given them warning signs. For Rory it didn’t matter. They were there; and as he enjoyed debate he would be more than happy to argue about it for the evening if she so desired (she usually didn’t). So while he might have been a deceivingly long and, at times, lethargy inducing pregnancy, it seemed all a build up for the child. As if Rory had been laying there conserving all of the energy he would need in the coming years.

At the age of two, Patrick and Clare learned that their youngest and lovesick teens were a poor match. Maeve, fourteen at the time, was more than happy to hold her little ‘baby’ cousin as all of her siblings were past the age where they allowed holding. Unfortunately for all parties involved, the neighbor boy had chosen minutes later to meet up with friends, and while Maeve was busy appreciating the movement of the muscles under his shirt, Rory was busy appreciating the looseness of his cousin’s grip. It was luck that had Patrick scooping his youngest up moments before the boy’s excited footfalls brought him pounding into the street. Neither Maeve nor Rory would ever fully live it down; though Rory always thought his cousin got the better end of the deal. She hadn’t been shouting “Go, go, go!” at the top of her lungs happily and thus didn’t have to hear the words as family jokes for the next few years.

Of course, if he was going to be teased for being hard to manage at points, he might as well go (har har) for it, right? Or that appeared to be the boy’s way of thinking. At six he’d broken his arm and nearly his leg after falling out of a tree his cousin had told him he would be much too ‘chicken’ to climb. Six years of difference or not, Rory certainly wasn’t going to stand by while Finn of all the kids he knew told him that he was a chicken! His mother’s exasperated yelling and fussing had been entirely worth it in the end; he’d shown Finn he was no chicken! And as Rory’s years and experiences increased, so did his incessant need to simply go.

And go he did, or live life as he would explain it. Throughout his years Rory seemed to be contrastingly involved with both everything and nothing. He would start sports as a means of exhausting that drive to explore or ‘go’ only to quit them later; they were too boring, too predictable. His interest in school certainly didn’t fare any better than his attempts at sports did. Naturally intelligent and inquisitive at a young age, Rory entered high school with a past full of high marks (if check plusses could be considered the equivalent of grades). The longer school went on, however, the less his grades reflected their old glory days and the more they reflected a teen who wasn’t meant to be in school for so many days out of the year. That was his explanation anyway, though his parents weren’t fans of it, but hey he was the one they were saying was really smart, right? Obviously he should know and they should just trust him on it.

There were a few things with which Rory continued, though it was probably only to his parents’ annoyance. Or would have been, if he’d been a little more open in what he was doing. Rory had picked up gambling with friends on a whim, and was instantly in love. The constantly changing dynamic (with good players) was something Rory would never be able to fully share his appreciation of. Gradually he moved on to less ‘kid’ games and more real stakes games. That had been the purpose of his fake IDs originally; they weren’t going to let in some fourteen year old kid to play with guys in their mid twenties, but a kid that looked on the young side of eighteen (or at least whose ID claimed he was eighteen)? Eh. They’d let it slide. Legal adult, right? And, of course, fake IDs opened up a new world of things to be curious about; clubs, drinking that didn’t involve picking his parents’ cabinet (though he’d gotten incredibly good at lock picking simply for the sake of having something to learn one month), and really anything else he had the urge to do but was simply too young for. Rory took very little seriously, and any activities he did were simply for fun, excitement, adventure, or whatever else he might call it while coming home laughing at three in the morning.

His behavior, and somewhat disturbing ability to leave even when Clare was quite sure she’d locked everything up and checked to make sure that her boy was still in his room, was a point of contention as of late. Of course, being in the middle of a fight in which he was clearly drunk and clearly losing tended to be brushed aside for news of a husband’s and father’s death. And interestingly enough, such news tended to sober. By the end of his mother’s conveyance of his father’s death, Rory was standing in their living room as if he hadn’t had a drop the entire evening…and completely confused as to what to do.

If he’d hated predictability before, he realized that there were elements of his life that he’d actually appreciated being predictable. He knew what his father did, of course, how could he not? But he’d sort of been assuming that he’d get, you know, at least a good 34 or 28 years like other people he knew had had with their father. As it was, he got a lousy sixteen. And then there was the return of his brother Conor. While he’d always loved his older brother, years of absence tend not to disappear even with the death of a father.

As it is, life has changed and gone to an exceedingly strange place, and that well loved idea of irregularity is perhaps a little too familiar at the moment. Still, that doesn’t mean that he has to change.

Miscellaneous

Weaknesses: Family, curiosity at times, the assumption that he can get himself out of any situation.
Any Training: N/A
Special Skills: Lock picking, tends to be rather quick, can pack a punch.
Occupation: ~~Poker player~~ Student
Current Residence: Family home in the Beverly neighborhood; resides with his mother and oldest brother.
PB: Logan Lerman
AIM: roryosaur