Post by ALICE CAITLIN TAYLOR on Sept 1, 2010 23:22:45 GMT -5
Alice Caitlin Taylor
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࿂
[/b]: Alice
SURNAME: Taylor
ALIAS: Alice
TITLE: --
AGE: 26
AFFILIATION: Commoner, street rat
BRANDED?: No
RANK: --
SHIP: --
࿂ DESCRIBE YESELF![/color]
Alright, guv, if ya insist. I stand ‘bout one an’ a ‘alf meters tall, an’ I’m all skin an’ bones. I don’t weigh much eithuh – ‘bout fifty-seven kilograms – but I can eat me way outta anything if need be. My ‘air ain’t all that; it’s mostly wavy wit a slight curl to it. Me favorite part ‘bout it, though, is the collah of it. It’s a gorgeous shade of dark brown, borderin’ between brown an’ black, and its waves roll down me neck an’ stop just below me shoulders. ‘Owevah, my personal favorite feature of me-self would probably ‘ave to be me eyes. I luv seein’ the greenish brown collah floatin’ in me reflection in the water of the sea.
Oh, these ol’ rags? They ain’t special, no sir. Just dirty lil’ things I use to cover up me secret parts. They’re comfortable enough, though, so I deal. I do enjoy the slim fit of the simple black shirt I 'appen’d upon an’ the freed’m in the manly dress code of pants, a pair of which I managed to pilfer. I try to stay clean in order to make me clothing last longer, despite me constant wanderin’ o’ the streets.
࿂ WHAT GIVES YE PLEASURE?
Adventure woul’ ‘ave to be one o’ me favorite things in the world. I love takin’ risks an’ chances for the sake of findin’ new things. Because o’ this, I also ‘appen to like mischief. The thrill o’ getting’ into trouble an’ almost bein’ caught excites me lil’ ‘eart to the core. I love brawls an’ rough'ousin’, too. I’ve grown up wit’ it all me life since I spend most of me time wanderin’ aroun’ and protectin’ me-self from the scoundrels that fill the streets of Port Royal.
‘Owever, you do find some nice young men walkin’ about, which leads me to me next like: flirtin’. Those young men always seem so trustin’ when they see a pretty lil’ lady, and they’ll gladly invite ‘er into their ‘omes. Me favorite part o’ the ‘ole ordeal is when they go to sleep; that’s when I take things from their ‘ouse and leave to teach ‘em a lesson in taking advantage o’ a poor girl. Rum would ‘ave to be one o’ the best things I’ve ever taken from these men, in me ‘onest opinion.
Last but certainly not least, I ‘ave a favorite person: Anna. Oh, you know ‘er as Gene? Well, whatever. Either way, she's been like a sister to me ever since I could remember, and she's almost all I got now.
࿂ WHAT MAKES YE ANGRY?[/color]
The one thing I hate the most woul’ ‘ave to be the milit’ry. The milit’ry’s what turned me father into the despicable man he is today; it made ‘im a violent monster, and I’ve always ‘ated ‘im for that. Speaking o’ the milit’ry, I also ‘ate bein’ confined. There was this one time where I was toss’d into a cell for a day for pickin’ up some fruit that watn’t me own; it was one o’ the worst experiences of me life. I was able to get me-self out by battin’ a few o’ me eyelashes, though, and I’ve sworn ne’er to let me-self get caught in a position like that again.
I ‘ate judgmental people as well. They always ‘ave their minds closed in on what they think is normal or right, and they’re too afraid to let other ideas exist. It’s bonkers, really. Another thing I ‘ighly dislike is opening up to people, Anna bein’ the exception, o’ course. I’ve ‘ad a lot o’ trouble wit’ it since me father refused to listen to anythin’ I had to say; besides, I’m sure no one wants to ‘ear me sob stories. Anyway… I also ‘ave a problem wit’ bein’ wrong. I don’t know ‘ow to explain it, but it’s true.
࿂ WHAT DO YE HIDE?[/color]
I don’t like talkin’ about me fears, but I suppose I’ll do so for you. I don’t like bein’ forced into things; quite ‘onestly, it scares me to me bones. I like things to be natural and wit’ me consent. Bein’ forced into a marriage would be completely terrifyin’; I would fight until I couldn’t fight no more. Also, I fear not bein’ able to explore the unknown. I’ve always been curious as to what’s out there, an’ not bein’ able to find out would quite possibly kill me.
I regret not leavin’ Port Royal yet. I absolutely ‘ate it ‘ere, wit’ all the milit’ry around an’ the constant pryin’ eyes o’ the aristocrats and prominent people. I only ‘aven’t left yet because o’ me little brother, though, and here comes me secret. Our mum died givin’ birth to the lil’ rascal, so I’ve always just stuck around to be a mother figure to ‘im. ‘E’s old enough now, though, so who knows what will ‘appen?
࿂ WHAT SKILLS DO YE POSSES?[/color]
I ‘ave been told that I am as tough as nails. I s’ppose it’s accurate, considering I can ‘old me own in a brawl an’ win. I am also determin’d in what I do, so I’m a tough competitor when it comes to somethin’ I believe in. Oh, I also use a few weapons, if I might brag on me-self a bit. I always ‘ave a dagger on me person for protection, and I’ve always ‘ad an affinity for pilferin’ me father’s old cutlass from ‘is milit’ry days. I find people carryin’ swords and ask ‘em to spar in order to gain some practice.
Weaknesses? Eh, I guess me needin’ to be right all the time is one o’ me weaknesses. It always seems to get me into trouble I don’t need to be gettin’ into, especially when I try to prove I’m right. Anna has also called me paranoid on several occasions; I ‘onestly feel it’s a load of bull dung, but she seems to know what’s right.
࿂ HOW DO YE ACT?[/color]
Anna calls me a kleptomaniac; I call it grab ‘appy. Either way, I like to pick things up that ain’t mine, and it’s more o’ a ‘abit than it is thought. She also calls me bawdy, but I can’t disagree wit’ ‘er on that. I can be very crude an’ not care what anyone else thinks about it. To make up for it, though, I’m eccentric. I would rather walk on a roof than on a street; I would rather bow while a man curtsies; I would rather sing than talk; and I would rather race around the city than sit in a stuffy room filled wit’ royalty.
As seen from me viewpoints on things, I’m also quite energetic and spunky. I can’t sit still to save me life, and I would explore every inch o’ the world if I could, which gives you a look into me curious an’ adventurous nature. I can also be very stubborn, though, if I know what I want, and I remain persistent an’ determined when I really, really want it.
࿂ WOULD YE BE MISSED?[/color]
The question is not if I would be missed; the real question is who would miss me? Me father wouldn’t, that’s for sure. We got along once, when I was ‘is lil’ girl, but once me brother was born and we lost me mum, I became nothin’ more than a tool to ‘im. My lil’ brother might miss me, seein’ as I acted like his mum for thirteen years, but ‘e’s old enough to take care of ‘imself now. ‘Opefully ‘e wouldn’t miss me too much. Me mum would miss me if she were still around, though; we were close.
As for friends, I ain’t got any besides Anna. She’s the only one who stayed over the years, so she’s the only one I can really consider a friend. She would miss me if somethin’ happen’d; at least, I ‘ope she would. I ain’t got much of a love life either. I ‘ad a few flings ‘ere an’ there, but they never lasted.
࿂ YER STORY![/color]
I was born an’ raised right ‘ere in Port Royal. Me father was in the milit’ry when I was born, so me mum stayed ‘ome, took care o’ me, and was always there when I needed ‘er. It was perfect. Durin’ this time, I met Anna, an’ she became me best friend in the whole world; we were inseparable. Everythin’ changed when me father left the milit’ry, though. ‘E became an angry man an’ treated me mum ‘orribly. We became poor street rats, an’ Anna’s parents didn’t want me around anymore because o’ our poor standin’ in society. Things were getting’ ‘arder.
When me mum died an’ me brother was born, things got worse for me. Me father treated ‘im like an angel, but I ended up wit’ the short end o’ the stick. Me father became abusive an’ ‘as forced me to do everythin’ around the ‘ouse. Durin’ this time, I began stealin’ me father’s cutlass and practicin’ outside and wit’ strangers when they would comply. When I’m not runnin’ around the ‘ouse tryin’ to keep things straight an’ watch me brother, I’m out in the streets to get some fresh air. I try to visit Anna often wit’out ‘er parents knowin’, which leads to a lot o’ trouble sometimes. Soon, though, I’ll be droppin’ all o’ my past an’ tryin’ to start over; I just dunno when.
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Seventeen ࿂ Katie Melua ࿂ Five years
Brandi
Brandi
RP SAMPLE. <3
It was a night just like any other in the city of Chicago, Illinois. The cars that were on the road hummed quietly. The people wandering the streets were either gambling their money away or arguing about something. Everyone inside, however, was fast asleep in their beds. Well, almost everyone.
A young Caucasian woman of twenty-six was staring at the ceiling of her home with wide blue eyes that showed her longing to sleep as she lied on her couch. Her long brown hair lay as if she had been tossing and turning and had just decided to lie on her back. Her legs were just short enough to keep from hanging over the end.
She shook her head at herself, closing her tired eyes again once more. “Come on,” she whispered into the air. “You can do this...” She released a small yawn and got comfortable enough to sleep. A faint smile crossed her lips as she felt herself falling into a slumber that would satisfy her exhaustion.
I’m not finished with you yet…
The woman quickly sat up, her eyes shooting back open. “Leave me alone!” she yelled, clutching her head as she rested it between her knees. She trembled as the voice slowly began to chuckle. She closed her eyes as they started to water. “Please,” she whispered, trying to hold back the tears.
Oh, poor, poor dear, the voice returned sarcastically. Maybe I should just… go away forever. Is that what you want, my dear? Do you want me to go away and never return?
She nodded without a sound as a single tear ran down her face. ‘Maybe there was a little true compassion in his words,’ she began to wonder to herself. ‘Maybe he’ll actually go this time… Maybe—‘ The man in her head began to laugh maliciously.
Compassion? Ah, so the little girl thinks I’m having compassion on her poor soul… How nice.
This caused her to burst in to tears. Her head went farther down between her knees as her soft hair fell over her face. The voice just continued to laugh as he progressed to tell her that he was never going to leave her mind until he was through with her. She curled into the fetal position, now sobbing quietly. She longed for him to leave and take with him the dreams that haunted her night and day.
After about ten minutes of sobbing, she slowly pulled herself off the couch and trudged into the kitchen. She jerked open the door of the refrigerator and removed a carton of orange juice from the shelf before dropping in onto the wooden counter. Shutting the door, she moved to a cabinet and pulled a cup from the shelf and began to pour the beverage inside.
She wandered around her home as she slowly drank the juice, finally ending up in her bedroom. She placed herself on the edge of her bed and finished the drink while stirring over her thoughts. When she sat the cup down on the bedside table, she began to lie down.
Get up, girl. I want you to do a little something for me.
“What is it?” she muttered, her voice trembling. She knew she should have been used to it by now, but her bravery collapsed every time he crept into her thoughts. The last time he had told her to do something, it had left a large burn on her arm, which stung every time water touched it. She was obviously afraid of anything else he could have in store for her.
Good. I want you to find a mirror.
What he said startled her. A mirror? That was all this man wanted? She shrugged and made her way across the room to a full-length mirror hanging on the wall. She raised an eyebrow at the simplicity of this task. “Alright. What now?”
Look inside the mirror, the voice said with a very small hint of malice that she apparently didn’t catch. What do you see?
‘It’s a trick question,’ she thought, which earned a small chuckle from the man inside her head. She frowned and decided to think about the question before opening her mouth to answer. What did he want her to see? Even thinking about it harder didn’t help her solve the question with a reasonable answer. “Myself,” she finally answered, knowing that this definitely was not the answer he was seeking.
Really? Take a closer look. What else do you see?
She stared at the mirror, now overwhelmingly curious. ‘What am I missing? Is it something blatantly obvious or something small?’ She scanned the mirror with her blue eyes once more before giving her reply. “Um… A person?”
The voice sighed very impatiently. Who put you in charge of the obvious club? Next time I ask you what you see, you had better have my answer, Rebecca.
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