Screenname: [Crankychangeling]
Name: Dr. Harper Wallace
Age: 36
Description: Harper has dark blue eyes and curly shoulder length dark brown hair that he wears tied back from his face in a pony tail. Not what you would consider all that attractive, he's tall (around 6'1'') and lanky with no muscle structure to speak off. His face is long with thin lips and a long narrow beak like nose that makes him look rather bird like at times. His eyes are wide and he wears round rimmed glasses.  
Personality: Studious by nature, he tends to be rather nervous and on the flighty side. He doesn't like confrontation and tends to be a bit cautions, more in favor of well thought out plans vs. going in with guns blazing. He's clumsy and sometimes says that wrong thing at the wrong time. People in general make him nervous. He also is clearly obsessive compulsive and is a bit of a near freak. Despite all this, he's really a wonderful father and a fantastic doctor. He's patient, understanding, sympathetic, and a very good listener. He's very intelligent and is surprisingly musically talented with the ability to play the violin quite well.  
History: Harper and his family are not locals of the town, having moved there five three years prior. He used to live and work in a large town but after his wife (whom he loved deeply) died of consumption he pack up is practice and moved himself and his 7 year old daughter Amelia to the country. He set up a small practice, and being the towns only doctor he does good business. 


Audition:

Reply to this question IN CHARACTER (meaning, act like you're roleplaying your character).

"So, what will you do now that all hope has faded from your path?"

The candlelight flickers in the small oak paneled study, casting long and hollow shadows on the face of the man sitting behind the desk.

"I don't know." His hair has long since fallen from it's tie. He rakes his fingers through it, tugging hard, as if the pain will wake him from this horrible dream. "I just don't know." His voice is weak, as his hands tremble and fall from his hair to brush away the tears that are leaving trails down his cheeks.