((Since there seems to be a general trend of making profiles starting with 'the following is a translation/document discovered in a library/washed ahore, and I find that idea awesome, Im gonna do that too <3 But, well, kudos and credit to the first person who thought of it, I guess. Also, if anyone has a problem with this profile - please, please pm me and I will change it without fail!))
The following text is written in a small yet thick, leather-bound notebook, tucked safely in the furthest corner of an old library, abandoned and forgotten until now. It was covered by a thick layer of dust and the pages have blotches of a certain sticky and sweet substance; the handwriting, surprisingly, is neat and performed with much care, each stroke of a quill well-thought and practiced. My name is Matthew Williams.
I am a young lad and before I state my date of birth, allow me to point out that while my body is not yet of age, my mind is mature enough to be considered an adult. Having said that, I can now confess that I am currently 15 years old.
It is not fit for me to judge my appearance but there is no one else around so I will attempt a brief and hopefully, completely impartial description. I am quite tall for my age, my body is on the thin side but graceful rather than starved, sinewy rather than bony and while my frame and arms cannot compare to how a man should look like, I can safely say that I can hold my ground well-enough. My eyes are a dark blue, although they are said to look lavender in certain light and I emphasize these are merely opinions of others I humbly write down; it is not easy for me to see my own eyes most of time. My hair, as I now look to my side to a small mirror to assure my words speak only of truth, hangs down to my shoulders; it is wavy, slightly curly and surprisingly soft, as opposed to most rough and coarse hair most men have. My face is youthful and round, my skin fair and smooth and my lips a gentle curve of pink.
If you got an impression that I seem a bit feminine in my looks, do not be bothered; I have heard such opinion before. How true it is, I cannot judge, but certainly, I look softer than most adult men. Rest assured, though, feminine might my looks be, I am fully a man and I have a mind and strength of one.
I attach a picture of myself, a sketch drawn not too long ago and let you judge if my description has been faithful to reality.
As my personality, well. Again, it is a topic I should not discuss for I am anything but an objective judge. And again, there is no one here to kindly relieve me of this task. I pride myself on being reasonable and dutiful; sometimes, I admit abashedly, perhaps I take my duties too seriously. I prefer to work with my mind rather than muscles, although I have no qualms about physical labour, if there is need for it. I am also proud to confess that I am calm and collected and it is not easy to provoke me into rage or any violet acts.
On the other hand, I am perhaps a bit on the uptight side and I cannot seem to master the ability to hold my tongue when silence would be valued rather than coarse words. Indeed, there are times where I lose my cool and behave like a barbarian or worse, my to my deep shame and regret and each event. I bear grudge for much longer than I should and sometimes I let my pride get the best of me.
Also, women, as much as they are wondrous, fair and magnificent beings, seem to fail to ignite any form of desire in my heart or body. Unlike men...
Actions speak louder than words and I believe than all what I will write down will serve you better as an image of me, rather than this rather short and vague description. Allow me to tell you of my history, of my origins and beginnings, up to this present moment, where I am writing these words.
I do not remember my parents. I was told I was raised in an orphanage from the earliest days of my existence, abandoned on their doorstep but I hold very few memory from that time. Indeed, ever since I learned to walk and talk, I have been taken in by a captain of a ship and raised on the sea.
It may seem cruel to you - a child, raised on the sea? Among rough and coarse sailors? Alas, that was not the case. I have been given tasks only up to my capacities and I have been always treated with patience and care. Children are said to be most bright and keen to learn the younger they are and living on the sea at such young age was the best teacher; I have learned the art of sailing well and in few years, I understood the workings of my ship as well as any other sailor. I reckon, it was a good life; I was given a lodging, food and I could count that with my age, I will only become a more valuable crew member. My other fate - life on the street - was a far miserable and depressing alternative I consider myself lucky to have avoided.
My ship was named Le Bijou de Diable and she was a beauty. Life on her was good - until one day, as a child, I did the folly of finding old maps in the navigator's room and using them for my own foolish amusement, using charcoal to draw whatever my child mind fancied. The navigator, rightfully so, was furious with me and he punished me accordingly to my crime. Alas, he was a man of great character and mind; as he was getting older, he was looking for a replacement and recognized that as a child, I was bright and keen to learn and my mind was not in any way defective. I have been little use to the crew as it is - my duties consisted of learning the life on the sea and the working of a ship and being everyone's errand boy. The navigator asked the captain to take me under his wing and teach me the art of navigation to see if I had any potential in that art. As it turned out, I was smart enough and my studies progressed fruitfully.
As years gone by, the old navigator passed away and I have taken his place. By then I have acquired enough skill to work independently and my mentor often said he was proud of me. I served the ship as well as he did all his life and as I was slowly approaching adulthood, other crew members saw me as their equals and I could share jolly times with them. One in particular seemed keen to me; a man we called Francis Bonnefoy and he was a good fellow. He looked out for me and ensured I would not partake in those activities that were too adult for me, just because of foolish pride; such as excessive drinking.
All was well, until one day, we have been attacked, cowardly and brutally, by a man named Arthur Kirkland; a pirate was he, born with a heart of one, and he showed no mercy. He had sighted me to be his victim and took me by brute strength from my ship. I am ashamed to admit I do not remember much from the assault that day for I have been knocked unconscious the moment I went on board to see what was the cause of all ruckus. And perhaps I would have thought this all nay but a bad dream... were I not residing on the ship of the aforementioned Arthur Kirkland as his new navigator.
I am not certain as to why he took me from my ship; a few months have passed but I have yet to learn his motives. At first, I was certain this would mark the beginning of my end, my demise, a nightmare, a journey through hell... but it is not so. I am fairly comfortable here; and as time passes, I am granted more freedom. I become more familiar with the new crew and I begin to suspect they are are not bad man, not all of them. Few of them are very curious individuals indeed...
As of now, I commit my time and effort to careful observations and fulfilling my duties. If I purposefully suggested a wrong route and ship would sink or it would get lost on the vast seas, it would mean my end as well so I do it for my own sake, not the sake of the crew and much less the captain. And I am quick to write my suspicion here that the captain is not a bad man and there must be more to this ploy of taking me from my ship.
Or perhaps, that is my wishful thinking only.
Either way, this is where I am now: On Cpt. Kirkland's ship, in my own cabin, surrounded by the maps he had and writing this, after I finished researching our current route and analyzing the time of our journey. I hope to write all my experiences down for someone to read, for my existence, as meager as it might be, to not be forgotten in the depths of time and space; for perhaps, someone finding an inspiration in my tale.
I am Matthew Williams and this, this is my tale...
Subject: Navigator reporting for duty. 
Sat Jul 14, 2012 4:28 pm
