Psy's test thread [dont post please]

[psychotic__Gal]

Name: Malila Rozene Clearwater


Previous known as: Tethys


Age and birthday: 21 || February, 05 || Aquarius


Major and Minor: Major: Early Childhood development ;; Minor: Psychology


Sexuality: Straight

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Physical Strength: ✦✦✦


magic Strength: ✦✦✦✦


Brains: ✦✦✦✦✦

Name: Tegan Marie Gagné


Previous known as: Terpsichore


Age and birthday: 20 || March, 16 || Pieces


Major and Minor: Major: Dance ;; Minor: Music Theory


Sexuality: Bi-sexual

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Physical Strength: ✦✦✦✦


magic Strength: ✦✦


Brains: ✦✦✦✦

Name: Evelyn Rae Michelson


Previous known as: Eris


Age and birthday: 19 || March, 31|| Aries


Major and Minor: Philosophy || Political Science


Sexuality: Bi-sexual

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Physical Strength: ✦✦


magic Strength: ✦


Brains: ✦✦✦✦

[psychotic__Gal]

Terpsichore
The Muse of Dance
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xx●xxTegan Marie Gagné xx●xx


◈ ΘȠ A PEɌȘΘȠAȽ ȽEVEȽ ◈

cαʟʟ mє » Tee or Tegan, please
ʟσттery numbers » March 16 and 20
ɪт's ɪn the stars » Pieces
ϻemσrɪes aɴd םɪsтaɴт םreams » 20
ϻy ϻeasuremeɴтs » five feet, Seven inches and 118 pounds
υnderɴeaтh ɪт aʟʟ » I'm a lady, thank you very much
ɪт's aʙσuт preғerence » and I prefer a mix really. Why settle?
тhe ɢreaтesт тhɪɴɢ ɪn ʟɪғe » To create the next great choreographed piece
ʙut ɪ'ʟʟ ɴever тeʟʟ » I used to be anorexic. It was so bad that I was even hospitalized once.

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◊ IT'S KIND ΘF ΘBVIΘUS ◊

Schσσl Attendance « I was 19 when I started Thorvard
Stick tσ the bσσks « Dance and Musical Theory
My mσtherland « France
Nσ need tσ Translate « French, English, Greek, and bits and pieces of Spanish and Italian.
My makeup « Caucasian
Windσws to my sσul « deep blue
It's all natural « dirty blond
Inked and Pierced « Only my ears lobes are pierced--and only once.
Stuck σn replay « Just Dance Lady Gaga feat. Colby O'Donis
σne word "crayσla" « #CD1076 and #FF82AB

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It's All Balanced::

[[ρʟease sɪr,]] ӎaʏ ɪ have some more?.

Ballet, Hip hop dancing, ballroom dancing, dancing in general, learning a new type of dance, my old pair of pointe shoes, my time in the studio, creating, clean leotards, mixed choreography, Cesar salad, music of most kinds--especially French pop, playing my guitar,


ʏou ʜave Goτ τo be kɪddɪng me......

breaking in new shoes, blisters, too much restriction, being ignored, falling, failing in any kind of dance, spiders, pineapples, being stationary for too long, people scaring me (i.e. jumping out from behind corners) I scare fairly easily.


a ρrɪceʟess ωork of arτ

I don't mean to sound cocky but my dancing skills are pretty amazing. I have a lot of natural ability in that area. My family is also pretty wealthy, which is how we were able to pay for my dance education. I studied under a few of the best professionals in Paris. It was amazing. I also have the ability to inspire people to create motion or dance in whatever they are doing.


ʜorrɪbʟe ɪmperfecτɪons

Because I was once anorexic, I sometimes have the desire to start it all up again. It's when I'm especially stressed or feeling insecure that I have to remind myself to eat. I really don't want to go down that road again. I also have a mild peanut allergy. It's not immediate-action worthy but I really do have to see the doctor soon after if I ingest something with peanuts in it.


ӎʏ ɪnner-cɪrcʟe


Gallian: He and I are friends. Not incredibly close friends but he's pretty cool though a bit shy. We met last semester. See, he and I are both sophomores--in spite of my being a year older. We met in an English study group. I think that teacher was pure evil. We commiserated and studied together and thus a friendship was born.

Whitty: We've had one or two shared dance classes. We sometimes talk in those classes. She seems to have a very...active social life.

Kent: We've had a few dance classes together. He's also been my partner in some of the ballet partnering classes. He seems very popular and honestly kind of handsome.

I don't really have a "best friend" or a crush yet. Time will tell.

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Energetic ❖ Friendly ❖ Determined ❖ Graceful ❖ Passionate

Story of my life...

My maman (that would be “mother” for all of you non-Francophone people) has always said that before I learned how to walk, I always danced. I’m sure the mother of every great dancer has said something like this before—I suppose Maman is no exception. While I did learn how to walk first, it was not long after that I began to dance. Two weeks before my third birthday, Maman put me in my first dance lesson. Of course I stumbled through the moves and my teacher didn’t use the proper names for each of the steps, but I loved it. This was before all of the rigidity, before the competitive nature of dance caught up with me. The first few years were like this—pure, innocent. Dancing for the sake of dancing. I entered my first ballet class when I was five. There was definitely more structure to the class. I still remember those first blisters on my poor feet. It was before they turned into hard calluses. Though there was more rigidity and propriety, there still wasn’t the stiff competition. That came later. The next few years, I tried almost every dance I could—taking classes and mimicking from music videos or the television. I learned jazz, Broadway, hip-hop, tap and a few of the ballroom styles. It was not enough though. I wanted—no, that word isn’t even strong enough—I hungered for more styles. So, I threw myself into ballet even more than I had before. I would get into the pointe and partnering classes as quickly as I could.

At the age of twelve, I entered my first pointe class. It would be a lie to say that I regret the sprained toes, the blood soaked pointe slippers, the pain of walking. No, I don’t regret those things at all. There are always sacrifices you have to make when you are trying to get better at something. You will always learn from those sacrifices, you will always get stronger. And I did. I got stronger. It took over a year for me to get acclimated to the pressure on my toes. Thankfully, by then my shoes were also broken in. Now, there’s not a shoe in the world that’s better than those pointe shoes. I can’t stand the thought of getting new ones or the ones I have to get for performances. I always have to stuff them with pieces of cloth in order to take the pressure off. When I entered the pointe class, it was almost as if a whole new world of dance opened up for me. New turns and walks were to be learned; new leaps and bounds were to be mastered. The arm positions were still familiar—the same stiffness. That was comforting enough.

I was fourteen when I entered my partnering class. There were some very new experiences in this class. Along with new directions of dance, our bodies were also scrutinized. We were told not to add any extra weight. Girls began to strain themselves to perfect their balance. The scale was monopolized during breaks and before practice. My peers worried at their images in the mirror. At first, I didn’t care. I was proud of my body and I thought the subtle curves on an otherwise lean shape were beautiful. Others did not. Soon, I too found myself looking in the mirror, noticing the slight strain across the middle of my navy leotard. I remember staring at myself in profile in the mirror with the other girls, measuring my body around, discussing ways to decrease the amount. A few of the other girls gave me the idea. It was like dieting in a way but a little more extreme.

You may be thinking now that this sounds a lot like anorexia. Allow me to put your doubts to rest: it was anorexia. I ate but sparingly. Just enough to keep me from fainting in the middle of a pirouette . At first there were compliments—“You look great!”, “Glad to see the baby fat is gone!”. Then there was silence. When the silence came, I was prepared to take it a step forward. I began to eat only once a day and chew gum the rest of the day. This is where my gum addiction began. I would lie in order to get out of meals. I’m not sure if anyone believed me but I still did it. I am also not sure if Maman knew what I was doing in those early years. I’m sure she did. How could you not notice your daughter skipping meals and getting thinner and thinner? She did not bring it up until I was hospitalized.

I was seventeen and a half when I fainted in exhaustion. One moment I was standing, gossiping with my peers, the next I was waking up in a pale yellow hospital room, my parents standing next to the bed. An I.V. of liquid nourishment was hooked up to my frail arm. I still remember my skeletal frame; the awkward bones sticking out, the pale hair hanging with no life. It haunts my dreams. Up until that point, I had aspired to go to one of the best schools in the world—perhaps that would be Juilliard, the Paris Opéra Ballet school, or even the National Performing Arts School in Dublin. That dream was dashed. I was certainly good enough but my parents felt that the pressure to conform would be too much. So, I was placed on a plan to regain my health. My parents or other figures of authority watched over me at the school as I ate my meals and I had to cut back on ballet classes. I took ballet’s less rigid cousin, Jazz, instead to make up for the lack of activity. I graduated high school with an average of B-grade marks. I did not immediately go to university. I was still recovering from my years of anorexia and my parents did not trust me alone yet (To be completely honest, I agreed).

A year (and many applications) later, I decided to go to Thorvard. I had heard wonderful things of the dance department and it appeared to be more relaxed than the schools I had once dreamed of going to. Since then, I have put away the notion that this school is “relaxed”. There have been so many disappearances and deaths that have happened recently. Last year (my first year), I was a bit quiet, a little shy. I was in a new school, a new country. My natural sociability was put on hold for that period. I did not go on the class trip because my parents had had another trip in mind. I’m almost glad I did not go. This semester, I plan on changing. I don’t want to be that shy girl anymore. I have a few friends so this should work out nicely.

When I turned twenty, I started noticing things. My dreams became more vivid and images started coming to mind…I would be sitting in my introduction level anthropology class when the picture of the temple ruins a professor was showing us would become whole or I would see a green world around me as I felt the joy of living. It has been strange. I’m not sure what to make of the pictures in my mind. They seem so real but…how can they be? I’ve never been to those places. There’s a name I constantly hear from the others in these…dreams. Terpsichore. When I first heard it, I thought it sounded familiar so I immediately searched for it online. I found out that it was the name of the Greek muse of dance. This new meaning struck a chord in me somewhere. I don’t really know why. Sometimes now when I dance I feel something calling me. Something encouraging me. My dancing has definitely improved but I’m also happier. I’m honestly a little confused. Is it just the stress of college life or…is it something deeper?

THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON OF ALL
Psychotic__Gal

[psychotic__Gal]

Tethys
The Titan-goddess of the sources of fresh-water, the great nurse of life, mother of the Potamoi, Oceanides, & Nephelai
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xx●xxMalila Rozene Clearwaterxx●xx


◈ ΘȠ A PEɌȘΘȠAȽ ȽEVEȽ ◈

cαʟʟ mє » Lila
ʟσттery numbers » February 5 and 21
ɪт's ɪn the stars » Aquarius
ϻemσrɪes aɴd םɪsтaɴт םreams » 20
ϻy ϻeasuremeɴтs » 5'8" and 150lbs
υnderɴeaтh ɪт aʟʟ » Female
ɪт's aʙσuт preғerence » I'm attracted to men
тhe ɢreaтesт тhɪɴɢ ɪn ʟɪғe » To live at peace with all of my past self's children and friends
ʙut ɪ'ʟʟ ɴever тeʟʟ » I blame myself for my brother's death. I'm the titan of fresh water. I should have been able to stop it from happening.

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◊ IT'S KIND ΘF ΘBVIΘUS ◊

Schσσl Attendance « I was 21 when I started Thorvard
Stick tσ the bσσks « Early Childhood Development and psychology
My mσtherland « Wilton, California--The United States of America
Nσ need tσ Translate « English, Greek, and only a little bit of Sierra Miwok.
My makeup « half Native American, half Caucasian
Windσws to my sσul « brown-hazel
It's all natural « dark brown but not quite black
Inked and Pierced « I only have my ears pierced twice but I've been meaning to get a tattoo
Stuck σn replay « Ocean Breathes Salty Modest Mouse
σne word "crayσla" « #009ACD and #82CFFD

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It's All Balanced::

[[ρʟease sɪr,]] ӎaʏ ɪ have some more?.

A warm cup of coffee, snuggling, a swim in the Cosumnes river, the sound that brooks make, rain, swimming in general I guess, color, music, baking, my dad's cooking, family, kids, my dream journal, helping others


ʏou ʜave Goτ τo be kɪddɪng me......

prejudices, people threatening those I love/care about, people who give up, blank white walls, ticks, feeling homesick, shellfish, waste, being away from some body of water


a ρrɪceʟess ωork of arτ

I grew up in a large family so I'm used to living with other people in close quarters. I'm a fairly good swimmer. I also have some of my memories so I know who I am. I guess I should also tell you that my toes are slightly webbed and that the area right under my left hipbone has some sort of blue scaling on it. I have this power where I can control someone’s stamina. It’s more complicated than it sounds. I…can control the water in someone’s blood. Thus, I can take it from their blood and they become dehydrated which can lead to…well, have you ever felt dehydrated? You begin to feel exhausted, you get headaches, dizziness or even slightly delusional. It could also kill. On the flip side, I can do the exact opposite. I can add more water into your system. What does this mean? Well, let’s just say that if you stick with me, you’ll never have a hangover no matter how much you drink. You’ll feel more boisterous—more alive, energized, more invigorated. Not that I have this much control. No, what I can do right now is baby versions. Maybe you’ll feel unsteady or shaky rather than completely incapacitated. Or perhaps you’ll feel energized but not so much so that you could take over the world. I guess I could potentially help with that hangover. All of this is a legacy of Tethys I'm sure.


ʜorrɪbʟe ɪmperfecτɪons

Unfortunately I don't have all of my memories quite yet nor do I have complete control over my powers so that puts me at a bit of a disadvantage. I am new to this school so I don't necessarily know all of the goings on around here. I'm also allergic to some forms of penicillin. I'm not very wealthy either. I'm on a partial scholarship here. I'm not completely impoverished but we're not rolling in the dough either. I suppose we're more lower middle class teetering on the edge.


ӎʏ ɪnner-cɪrcʟe

This is my first semester to this school so I don't know many people yet. I have a few friends i my home town. I miss them. At the same time, I was never able to tell them about me so this is kind of a relief.

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Protective ❖ Maternal ❖ Amiable ❖ Attentive ❖ Friendly

Story of my life...

I guess I’ll start at the very beginning. My mother was born into the Cosomne tribe of northern California. This tribe is part of the Sierra Miwok-speaking group. Her father was an elder of the community but other than that they weren’t very prominent figures. That made it easier for Mom to leave. She left the tribe in order to attend University of California, Sacramento. She was studying to become a social worker. She met my father there. My dad was set to enter the business world. They were juniors when they met. They were both ambitious and a bit idealistic. My mom wanted to make the world a better place—decrease the risk of alcoholism within Native American communities, help impoverished kids, that kind of thing. My dad wanted to make businesses exhibit better ethics with their clients. I guess it’s no surprise that I was born of two such people.

Anyway, they got married after they graduated college and then they both went into the professional world. My dad got a job with one of the big name businesses of the time. Though it was an entry level position, he seemed to enjoy it. Mom didn’t return to the rez—the reservation. She liked her separate life on the outside. The tribe wasn’t far though—a short distance away, really. Soon mom and dad moved to Wilton. It was around this time that they had my older brother, Aeshan was born. Two and a half years later, it was my turn to enter into the world. Tenya was born four years after me; Chapal made his entrance two years after Tenya; little Kaliska was born three years after Chapal.

Aeshan and I were the best of friends. We did everything together in spite of the fact that I was two years younger and a girl. During the summer, we would swim in the nearby Cosumnes River—I was always the stronger swimmer. During the winter, we’d dance in the rain, stomp in the mud—he was always the better stomper. As I said, we did everything together. I guess that’s why his death affected me like it did. I felt it the most out of my three other siblings. It was probably our closeness and the fact that I was there when he died.

We were outside playing. It was one of the first sunny days in over a week. I was six, Aeshan was eight. We were told not to travel too close to the river but neither of us could help it. We wanted to see the flooded river in all of its splendor. Aeshan led the way to the bursting river’s edge. We couldn’t see the other side from our safe perch, but we saw enough to see that the current was strong and dangerous. Still, Aeshan moved closer. He wanted to see if he could see his school friend’s house from closer to the edge. Of course I followed him. It was stupid. We really should have stopped and thought about it. The river’s edge was slippery from the rain; hidden tree roots were concealed by rocks and other wind-thrown debris; the pebbles were far from stable. But we didn’t stop to think. We kept going. It only took one of Aeshan’s miscalculated footsteps to send him flying into the river. I’m sure I screamed his name, cried out as if I was the one who fell in. Aeshan yelled but it was cut short when he hit the water. I saw his head bob up once…twice…Then I turned and ran for the only safety net I knew. Mother. She would know what to do.

I sprinted to our house, a half a mile away. My body flew faster than it had ever gone before. I reached home in no time. One of mom’s friends was there, helping her with the newly born Chapal. Mom had a lot on her plate. She had four young children and a house to keep. Who could know it was about to get harder? I remember the look on her face when I told her what happened: shock then pure terror. She got her keys and we drove down the river some. I couldn’t understand why we were driving so far down. He didn’t fall in at this point in the river. He fell in closer to home. Mom’s friend at home called the tribe, the rescue squad, and an ambulance for good measure. And…it was a miracle. We found his body that day. It washed up on one of the beaches: bloated, blue. It was a good thing I never saw the body. I probably never would have swam again if I did.

It was never the same between my parents after Aeshan died. There was something vital missing. Some important unit in the whole that was our family. They still tried. They had another child: Kaliska. Still, nothing could replace what was lost in their hearts. They divorced six years later. The four of us stayed with mom by the river. I still swam during the summer—I felt closest to Aeshan during those times. I took my younger siblings out during the winter to stomp in the mud puddles and dance in the rain. I became my younger siblings’ baby sitter so my mom could go back to work. It was hard and exhausting work but I was dedicated to the task. I had changed after my eldest brother’s death. I became more protective of my younger siblings, determined not to let harm fall upon them. I also blamed myself. I should have been able to stop it. Even now, I feel that way. Maybe even more so now that I have some of my memories as Tethys back. I was once the titan-goddess of fresh water sources. I should have been able to save him.

It wasn’t necessarily my choice to go away to school. I went to the community college near my house for two years after I graduated high school. I was prepared to attend one of the California state schools in the area. It was my father who suggested that I go away to school. My mom agreed. They acknowledged all of the work I did around the house while I was growing up but they both thought it would be best if I had a break from it all. The children were all teenagers by then. I had the ability to leave. So I sent out my applications. I don’t know why I chose Thorvard. I suppose it sung out to me. I chose my major and my minor early but as I've been learning about marine biology, I've been thinking of changing my minor to that...or at least double minoring. I'm not completely sure, however.

When I was twenty, my memories and my powers started activating. At first, I didn’t know what to do. I was remembering things that I didn’t do—places I hadn’t been, people I haven’t met. I was married, I had children in that life. So, I went to the one person who might know the answer. The shaman of the Cosomne tribe. I told him all of what had been happening to me—the memories, the family and even the name they called me: Tethys. His eyes brightened as he proudly told me his theory: Reincarnation. I was the reincarnation of the titan-goddess Tethys. Of course his theory sounded crazy but then…part of me realized the validity of his theory. The absolute rightness of it. I still don’t have all of my memories back nor complete control over my powers but I know I'll get them eventually.

THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON OF ALL
psychotic__Gal

[psychotic__Gal]

тєgαи мαяιє gαgиé xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxJust dance. Gonna be okay.
xxxxxxxxxx{ Da-doo-doo-doo }
xxJust dance. Spin that record babe.
xxxxxxxxxx{ Da-doo-doo-doo }
xxJust dance. Gonna be okay.
xxxxxxxxxx{ Duh-duh-duh-duh }
xxxxxxJust dance.

The stretch combination was simple. It started in first position—heels, and knees together, legs straight. One hand on the barre, the other in first position out in front of Tegan Gagné’s body. She brought her body down, executing a graceful plié. She rolled out of the plié and into relevé—pressing onto her toes. She glanced at her body in the mirror and forced her back to straighten. Her leg muscles felt the pull of the stretch but only slightly. She rotated her body back down and moved to second position—nudging her feet apart on the wooden floor. She did the same steps as before then switched positions. As she moved through the five (or, rather, modified seven) positions, she thought about her day thus far. It was still early—perhaps 7a.m.? Tegan had woken up early, as she did most mornings. It was a habit she couldn’t seem to put to death. Even when she had been on her “break” from school and her more rigorous ballet classes, she woke early and danced or stretched at the very least. She had done this even though she had had to be more careful with herself. Her body had still been weak from the hospital. Thankfully, the experience taught her that she didn’t like the girl who had been lying on that hospital bed, too weak to move her little dancing feet. Too weak to—

Tegan reached for the remote she packed for her portable iPod player. She hit the play button and turned it up. An eclectic mix filled the dance room, bouncing off the walls and rebounding off the wood floor. Tegan rolled her shoulders and smiled. Much better. The dancer sunk to the floor in a split, stretching her body out as far as it would go before resting her forehead on the floor. It hurt in the most amazing way. Tegan pushed herself out of the split, a few strands of her blond hair coming undone from her prim bun. It was time for something a little more her speed. Tegan smiled and began to truly dance.

Harder, faster. You can do better than this. I have done better than this. the thought came unbidden from an almost foreign voice in her mind but Tee chose to believe it was the voice of some dance madam from her childhood. She also ignored the fact that the voice wasn't speaking English or even French. She seemed to instinctively understand it. Her body also acted unconsciously: it chose to obey the voice. The moves were crisper, quicker. They came with ease. Pliés were lost in Deboulés, which gave way to leaps. Soon, the tempo of the songs dictated how the ballerina danced. Ballet morphed into Jazz. Arms became looser, posture became more relaxed. Jazz lasted two more songs before a hard hip-hop beat echoed across the room. As Tegan landed the Fouetté jeté leap, she shifted her body—replacing chassés with more rhythmic ball changes. Her body moved easily to both the beat and the lyrics, finding musicality in it all.

Tegan arrived at the school the day before. She settled herself in her dorm, hoping she didn’t disturb any plans her roommate had made. When she left this cool winter morning, she had written a note and left it where her new roommate could see it.

Bonjour~!
I hope you don’t mind that I chose a room! We are going to have so much fun this year!
I went to one of the dance practice rooms to work out a little just in case you were wondering.
My phone number is ###-###-####. Call/ text me today!
Maybe we can get coffee or something.
-Tegan : )

Tegan could only hope her roommate would appreciate the gesture. Lord knows, her last roommate didn’t.

----
Several hours later, Tegan was out of breath. She sat on the floor beside her dance bag, stretching her body out. It was tense. A wonderful tense. It meant she had worked her muscles enough to feel it. As she stretched, her fingers worked her pink toe shoes off her feet. The toes looked fine under her inspection. There were no new blisters nor blood (thank God). These were a relatively new pair. She had only bought them two months ago. They were finally beginning to feel right--though she had to admit, banging them on hard surface she could find was helping to speed up the process. Soon enough, however, she would have to buy a new pair. An unfortunate part of the life of a dancer. She went through shoes like nobody’s business. She hated it. She loathed buying new pointe shoes. They always took time to break in, meanwhile new blisters or even blood would appear.

Tegan rubbed one of her tights-clad thighs, trying to work the strain out of the muscle. She reached over to her bag and pulled out two things: a chocolate bar and a Nutrigrain cereal bar. She opened the healthier snack first and bit into it. Strawberry flavoring filled her mouth, invigorating her taste buds and awakening her hunger. This would hardly hold her over. She would need more food. She polished the bar off in another three bites before starting on the chocolate. Still hungry. At one point in the dancer’s life, she would have ignored that hunger. That exhausting period had been over for two and a half years now. Like any habit, however, it was hard to kill. She still had trouble standing on a scale and feeling fine with her weight. She avoided them when she could…Which wasn’t all that often. Every few months, her mother had her weigh herself and take a picture of the reading on the scale with her camera phone. Her parents didn’t want to risk another collapse that would land her in the nearest hospital bed with an I.V. taped to her arm.

Tegan stood and gathered her possessions—shouldering her dance bag and cradling her iPod player. She needed a shower. Tee turned off the overhead light and shut the dance door behind her, heading to the women’s locker/shower room. The Muse shivered when she entered the room—it seemed that it was a characteristic of most locker rooms to be chilly. It was the natural state of Tegan’s world. She reached the locker she chose for the day, entered the code and swung it open. Glancing around herself, Tegan removed her navy blue legwarmers before pulling her arms out of the armholes of her royal blue, v-neck leotard. She pulled the leotard down and off her body, stepping out of it when it reached the floor. Next, the ballerina removed her pale pink tights. Quickly, she wrapped a pink towel around her nude body. Her previous instructors had forbidden the girls to wear underwear or even bras underneath their leotards and tights. Some habits were harder to break than others.

Tegan’s shower was short. Though she was indifferent to showering in a public room, she still didn’t take as long of showers as she would if she were in her dorm room. She kept her hair in its tight bun, deciding to wash the blond locks later in the dorm. Once again, Tee wrapped herself in her fluffy towel. She swiftly dried her dripping body off and gathered her shower possessions. Once again in the main locker room, Tee opened her locker again. Shivering, she slipped on underclothes, and a pair of black leggings before slipping on a pair of denim jeans, a simple white shirt and a red knit cardigan. She sat down on the bench and encased her feet in a pair of patterned socks before pulling on her boots. When she stood again, she tugged her roomy wool pea-coat--perfect for layering--though she kept the buttons unfastened. She unwound her dirty blond hair and shook it out before attacking it with a comb. A little makeup came on next.

Not fifteen minutes later, Tegan zipped up her dance bag. Her stomach let out an audible growl. It was time to get food. She pulled out her phone and checked the time. She really didn’t want to eat alone…Her eyes sparked with inspiration.

To: Gallian
From: Tegan
Message: Salut Gail!
How was your break? Let’s meet up for food at the caf!
~ Tee

She sent the message to her friend and slid the phone closed before another idea struck her. Sliding the android open again, she typed out two messages

To: Kent
From: Tegan
Message: Hey! Good to be back isn’t it?
Do you think you’ll grace any of the ballet
classes this semester? ; )
~ Tee


To: Whitty
From: Tegan
Message: Taking any ballet courses this semester?
~ Tee

With those messages sent, Tegan slipped her phone into her coat pocket and exited the locker room. Her footfalls echoed softly across the walls. The golden haired muse left the gym and exited into the cold winter day. The sun rays offered no warmth. The breeze didn’t help matters either. Tegan shivered despite her wool coat and layers.

It's hard to dance with the Devil on your back
So shake him off
{ Oooh }

тєяρѕιcнσяє xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
тнє мυѕє σf dαиcє ● ○

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ℓσcαтισи :: walking toward the caf ωιтн ??
ωєαяιиg :: Part 1 & Part 2
мσσ∂ :: Chilly / / hungry
σσc :: Still tweaking the layout. Also: sorry for all the dance terms. XD
Had a little too much fun with those.
тяαиѕℓαтισи :: Bonjour [ғrencн] :: Good day / Hello
xxxxxxxxSalut [ғrencн] :: hello (informal)

note to self:
+ add more color at the top and at the bottom.
+ Do something with the quotes!
+ icons?

[psychotic__Gal]

thє títαn-gσddєss σf thє sσurcєs σf frєsh-wαtєr | thє grєαt nursє σf lífє |
mσthєr σf thє pσtαmσí, σcєαnídєs, & nєphєlαí

Your body may be gone, I'm gonna carry you in.
In my head, in my heart, in my soul.
And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both live again.
Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Don't think so.

Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get.
You get away from me. You get away from me.
Collected my belongings and I left the jail.
Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell.
I had to think awhile. I had to think awhile.

The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?
In your head, in your mouth, in your soul.
And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old.
Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I hope so.

Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get.
You get away from me. You get away from me.
Collected my belongings and I left the jail.
Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell.
I had to think awhile. I had to think awhile.

Well that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed,
when the ocean met the sky.
You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye.
When the earth folded in on itself.
And said "Good luck, for your sake I hope heaven and hell
are really there, but I wouldn't hold my breath."
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death?
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death?

The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?
In your head, in your mouth, in your soul.
The more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind.
Well I don't mind. I don't mind. How the hell could I mind?

Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get.
You get away from me. You get away from me.

Well that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed,
when the ocean met the sky.
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste the afterlife?

[psychotic__Gal]

thє títαn-gσddєss σf thє sσurcєs σf frєsh-wαtєr | thє grєαt nursє σf lífє |
mσthєr σf thє pσtαmσí, σcєαnídєs, & nєphєlαí

Well that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw
and I'll tell you what you missed,
when the ocean met the sky.
You missed when time and life shook hands
and said goodbye.

The stars were bright that night and the ocean was gentle as it cradled its passengers on it’s cool surface—of course that could have been the Ocean Titan’s doing but Tethys did not mind. She was in the middle of the ocean with two of her favorite people…She would have loved it even more if all of her children could be present but 3,000 plus was a lot to ask for in one gathering. Instead, she was lying on this boat with her husband, Okeanos, and her step-daughter, Hera. This was a rare moment of peace in the middle of the war the titans were waging against the Olympian gods. Tethys preferred to keep her mind off of the war. It made things more simple. It took some of the tension from the air. Although she couldn’t exactly escape its reality, she could minimize its effect.

Tethys slipped one of her around the young Hera, smiling as she asked, “How are you feeling, dearest?” The young girl sighed almost inaudibly. Tethys could feel it. She was touching the girl after all. The titan-goddess could also see the shimmering tears coming from the young goddess’ eyes.
“Okay.” Hera responded slowly.
“But…” Tethys prompted, “Dear one, why are you crying?”
“I'm... I’m sad.” Her shoulders drooped slightly as the young girl clung to herself. Tethys felt rage blossom in her mind. Her brother did this. She didn’t always hate her brother—at some points, she was very fond of him—but at this moment, Tethys felt anger beyond words. It would not do her much good in this case, however. She had a family to protect. Unbridled rage set forth all kinds of mischief. Rather, Tethys took a deep breath and looked back at the stars. She nudged the young goddess.

“Dearest, look up.” She pointed to a constellation. Her hand began to “draw” in the air. Suddenly, clumps of the stars started moving. Many new constellations were formed in the space of seconds. Some were Hera’s favorite animals, few were Tethys’ own, and many more were Okeanos’ favorite shapes. As long as she put the constellations back in order, she was sure their caretakers would not mind. Hera’s smile was enough to make it all worth-while. Her expressions shifted from bewildered and tired to awe and finally to delight. Her eyes were bright as they took it all in. Her hands clapped when she discovered a peacock or a heifer. Task accomplished.

Tethys spent large amounts of her energy to please her two companions that night. When all was said and done and every star was put back into its proper constellation, Hera had fallen asleep, curled like a shell against Tethys’ body. Okeanos’ gaze was on his wife now rather than the sky. Though his features were slightly blurred, darkened and out of focus, Tethys could almost feel the amount of love and devotion coming from her horned husband’s expression. The titan-goddess knew her face reflected it back at him. She stretched her hand out from where her arm acted as a pillow for Hera and Okeanos took it in his own. Such a perfect moment. Tethys opened her mouth to say something but…

The dreamscape was shifting. Gone were Okeanos and Hera. Malila was now alone. Compelled by some desire, Lila peered over the edge of the boat. The water looked dark, rough and unforgiving now that the ocean titan was gone..now that the memory had faded. Suddenly, Lila wasn't by herself. Aeshan—her brother—was sitting in the boat with her. He was eight years old and as adventurous as ever. Lila, herself, was her current age: twenty-one. She did not seem to question the ages in the dream. It seemed natural, real.

“Mali, watch!” He called to her, standing up. The boat rocked precariously. He began to flit around the boat’s modest surface.
“Aeshan…that’s not a good idea. You’ll tip the boat.” Lila’s hands were white as she gripped the edge of the boat.
“Mali, it’s fine.” He scoffed then frowned, “You’ve changed. You’re not as fun as you used to be.” The unpredictable ocean suddenly crashed against the side of the boat. Malila was fine, albeit a bit jostled but Aeshan…
“NO! AESHAN!” She screamed in horror as her brother fell into the ocean. It was happening all over again and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

[ вυт тell мe yoυ love мe, coмe вacĸ and нaυnт мe ]

Malila Clearwater’s hazel eyes opened abruptly. They blinked, taking in the surroundings of her dorm room: The furniture, the bare walls she had yet to decorate, and the windows. It's not fair. She sat up, her body shaking as the memory of her dreams collided with her present self. She had gotten past the fact that Tethys spoke Greek in all of her dreams or memories of the past. Now that Lila was somewhat connected to the titan-goddess she too knew Greek. That was no longer the most vital component of the situation. The most important thing now was that every time she dreamed one of her past self’s memories, her brother always made an appearance at the end. And he still died. Every time. It was as if Aeshan was constantly reminding her that she could have saved him. She was the Titan of fresh water for Heavens’ sake!

Lila stood, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. It didn't used to be this way. She didn’t always associate the titan’s memories with her brother but it was happening with more regularity now. She couldn’t seem to shake the entirety of the dream. She took a deep breath. She could, however, banish the majority of it. Her eyes closed and she spread her feet a little more apart, grounding herself. She took several more deep breaths before opening her eyes again. She would be okay. She turned back to her bed, adjusting her blanket and her quilt in an effort to make it more presentable.

Once her bed was made, Lila opened her closet first and tossed a few items of clothing on to her bed, then walked into her adjoining bathroom for a shower. The towels hanging from the rack were navy blue, as was the standard rug beneath Lila’s bare feet. There was one picture on the wall—an artistic forest scene. Staring in the mirror, she pulled her hair into a ponytail, forgoing the long process of washing her thick dark hair. Lila then turned to the shower. She twisted the handle in the “on” and “Hot” position before shedding her night shirt and stepping under the pressurized water.

Malila stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in one of her navy towels not twenty minutes later. She already had faint makeup applied to her face in the form of mascara and neutral eye-shadow. She learned from an early age that it took too long to try to cover her natural freckles with powder or foundation. She kept it simple now-a-days. Lila quickly through clothing on to her body, feeling cold. Lila quickly through clothing on to her body, feeling cold. By the time she was fitting her boots on her feet, however, her body heat was returning to her.

Lila stared at her bed for a moment, in thought. Should she go out before work or stick around the dorm for her roommate? She didn’t have to work until a few more hours. Lila had arrived several days earlier than most of the other students in order to receive training for her new part time job. Because of her limited income and the school’s location, she applied for a barista position at the coffee shop on campus. She was lucky to get the job. Though inexperienced as a barista, she knew her way around kitchens in general. She made many meals for her siblings when she lived at home and she had a baking habit. The dorm kitchen, for example, had a plate of homemade blueberry muffins baked the night before.

Lila’s stomach growled at the thought of the muffins. She took one last look around the dorm before her decision was made. She would go outside. She grabbed her canvas messenger bag and unplugged her cell phone from the wall, its background lighting up. Her mother and her siblings were standing in front of the Cosumnes river—Lila’s river. The place where her older brother drowned when he was eight years old. It always made her feel closer to him when she was in or at least near that river. Immediately, her dream came back in a sharper focus. The titaness pushed it down. Instead, she focused on the picture of her family. She missed them. Her full lips turned up in a smile as she took in her younger siblings. She’d only been gone for a few days but she missed them. She looked out at the scene behind her family. The river… Lila sighed and put her phone into her pocket. An idea came to mind. The ocean. She would go to the beach. It wasn’t as good as her river but it would have to do. Lila tucked her work apron into her bag and grabbed her wool coat and scarf. As she left her room, she wrapped the scarf a few time around her neck and put her coat on.

Lila looked around the communal part of the dorm, cringing at the blank walls. She was waiting for her roommate to come before she started decorating. She couldn’t stand the blankness of the walls but she did not want to offend her roommate either. She scribbled a quick note to her roommate, placing the plate of muffins near the note.

Sorry I missed you. I have work today at the coffee shop on campus
but I’ll be home after. We should hang or something.
Feel free to eat these blueberry muffins—I’ve had way too many!
♥ Lila
###-###-####

Lila left the dorm, grabbing a muffin from the plate. She took a bite of the pastry and tucked her keys into her coat pocket. She passed many unfamiliar faces on her way to the beach, feeling almost lonely in the crowd. Hopefully that would change soon. Perhaps she and her roommate would bond. Maybe she would grow close to the peers in her classes. She tried to see the opportunities rather than the unfamiliarity of it all.

When she finally reached the beach, Lila closed her eyes and sighed. She breathed in deeply, the scents calming her. It didn’t seem to be enough, however. Lila’s eyes opened and she looked out upon the ocean. Dipping her feet in wouldn’t be too much of a hassle would it? Experience on the river taught her that it would be chilly but she decided to ignore her better judgment. Malila slipped off her boots and bent down to roll her jeans’ legs up to mid-calf. The air was chilly but bearable—for the moment. She picked up her boots and made her way through the sand. The wet sand was even colder than the air but still the brunette trudged onward. She stopped when she got to the wettest sand, knowing the water would rise up…

A short squeal left Lila’s lips and she immediately sprinted back a few steps when the water hit her feet. The water was Freezing! She hurried her way back to relative warmth. It wasn't until Lila was back in the dry sand with her feet buried in the sand and her pants’ legs rolled back down that she realized that there was somebody else on the beach. He was close enough that she could have tripped over him. The male in question seemed to be in his early twenties. He was brunette and fair skinned. He looked familiar but Lila easily explained that away. Perhaps she had seen someone who looked similar to him and though the feeling felt somewhat stronger than that, the river titan kept it simple. Lila felt her cheeks getting warmer. Could she have made herself seem any more of a dork?

”Uhm, hi.” She said after a moment, setting her boots down by her feet, ”The water surprised me. I didn’t expect it to be that cold.” Of course she probably should have given the fact that it was freezing outside. Malila pulled her coat tighter around her body and adjusted her scarf. ”I don’t really recommend it—unless you like really cold water, that is.” Just stop talking, Lila, her thoughts commanded. For once, the girl seemed to listen.

locaтιon: || The Beach
coмpany: || Some guy (Harvey)
ғeelιng: || Embarrassed
wearιng: || The more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind.
ooc : || I so didn’t intend the two of them to meet yet. I blame Lila.
тranѕlaтιon : || n/a

[psychotic__Gal]

Hailey Ann Carver

[Image Code Goes here]

Hailey Ann Carver
The Lady of the Lake

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THE BASICS

Preferred Name: Hailey, Hails, or Carver
Date Of Birth: Day and Month Only
Age: Obvious
Gender Female


Sexual Orientation: Straight
Current Relationship Status: Single
Place of Birth: City, State/Province, Country

MEDICAL INFORMATION

Blood Type:
Illnesses: Asthma, Cancer, Diabetes etc.
Psychiatric Illnesses: Depression, Anxiety, Addictions etc.
Glasses: Yes or No
Allergies: Yes or No, if Yes what?
Medications:
Recreational Drug Use No
Sexually Active: Yes

IT’S ALL JUST PHYSICAL

Race: Caucasian
Hair Colour: Natural-then dye colour if dyed
Eye Colour:
Weight:
Height:
Identifying Marks: Such as Piercings, Tattoos, Scars, Birthmarks, Other physical Abnormalities

MY PREFERENCES

Got to Have it
1. Five things your Character can’t survive without, not including friends
2.
3.
4.
5.

Get that the F*ck Away from Me
1. Three Fears your character has
2.
3.

You Know How I’m Always Saying:: Quote of Some Sort Goes Here

Where I’m Going From Here: Characters Long or Short Term Goal in life right now.

THE IMPORTANT PEOPLE

Family Members: Parents Names, and Occupations, and all siblings
Siblings Attending Camelot:
Best Friends:
Enemies: Here
Other Special People: Boyfriends, Girlfriends, Lovers etc.

MY STORY


Bio Will Go Here, it needs to be at least 600 Words if not More. Follow your characters Outline and feel free to add information about their personalities here as well so we can get a feel for them. Also Write this in FIRST person please



Application Accepted By:: Psychotic__Gal on Date Here

Written in #3063A5 Ink, Oh and Don’t forget Theme Song Title and Artist Here

[psychotic__Gal]

Eris
Goddess of strife, discord, contention and rivalry
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xx●xxEvelyn Rae Michelson xx●xx


◈ ΘȠ A PEɌȘΘȠAȽ ȽEVEȽ ◈

cαʟʟ mє » Evelyn or Ev
ʟσттery numbers » March 31 || 19
ɪт's ɪn the stars » Aries
ϻemσrɪes aɴd םɪsтaɴт םreams » haven't been activated yet
ϻy ϻeasuremeɴтs » Five Feet, Seven inches and 127 pounds
υnderɴeaтh ɪт aʟʟ » Female
ɪт's aʙσuт preғerence » guys and girls--though mostly guys. I'm much pickier about my girls.
тhe ɢreaтesт тhɪɴɢ ɪn ʟɪғe » To finish school, get my trust fund and even be at the root of a major uprising, which would in turn start the next American Civil War. Do you think that would be possible? Golly Gee, I hope so.
ʙut ɪ'ʟʟ ɴever тeʟʟ » The bloodthirsty part inside of me freaks me out. I know I can be vindictive and I honestly don't care. It's the unadulterated rage that scares me. It feels foreign. You tell anyone that and I will rip your tongue from your mouth and fillet it until it's golden brown.

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◊ IT'S KIND ΘF ΘBVIΘUS ◊

Schσσl Attendance « I was 19 when I started Thorvard
Stick tσ the bσσks « Philosophy || Political Science
My mσtherland « Seattle, Washington, USA
Nσ need tσ Translate « English and two years of mediocre Spanish classes
My makeup « Caucasian
Windσws to my sσul « blue-grey
It's all natural « red-brown. It's now bright red-orange.
Inked and Pierced « Ears pierced once and a triangle on each of my wrists done in UV ink
Stuck σn replay « You're Gonna Go Far, Kid the Offspring
σne word "crayσla" « #CC1100 and #FF2400

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It's All Balanced::

[[ρʟease sɪr,]] ӎaʏ ɪ have some more?.

gossip, secrets, arguments, sex, angry sex, pranks, tangents, disorder, spontaneity, coffee, guidelines (as opposed to rules), open-ended questions, the night, the internet, junk food, the word "therapist", traveling, Quentin Tarantino movies.


ʏou ʜave Goτ τo be kɪddɪng me......

early mornings, mornings in general, rules, passionless discussions, therapy/therapists, perfect romances, times of peace, boredom, uniforms, authority, being ignored, uniformity, being too organized or neat.


a ρrɪceʟess ωork of arτ

Well, my dad is a senator of the state of Washington--there has got to be some cachet in that. My family is also rather affluent and let's face it, boarding school has given me a stellar education (insert eye roll here). Coming from a political family, I know how to "put on a face". I can lie and I can be quite charming. I'm also pretty fun. Oh and once I get to know you/like you/trust you (if that's even possible. I can be extremely picky.) I'm pretty damn loyal. But know this: betray my trust, I will ruin you. What's worse? I'll do everything within my power to run your name into the ground. So don't do that, 'kay?


ʜorrɪbʟe ɪmperfecτɪons

I'm rebellious and I have a tiny bit of a lying problem. I also can't cook for s**t. Seriously. I can do pasta, and maybe some Easy Mac but don't expect a five star dinner when dining à la Ev. I also have a destructive personality. No, I won't wreck your car (Well, okay I might) but if you annoy me or piss me off enough or Hell, even if it'll keep me from getting bored, I'll flirt with your boyfriend behind your back, hack your computer, read your diary, and find out all of your dirty little secrets and then tell the whole, wide world. It's my little apple of discord, if you will. Not that you can tell all of this when you first meet me. Oh God no. It takes a bit of time.


ӎʏ ɪnner-cɪrcʟe

Ittoki: We met online. We started talking on Stickam, then it led to messenger chats and then texts. That guy makes a kid with high levels of ADHD look like the star pupil in the class. No, seriously. Fun to talk to, not very attentive.

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Lively ❖ Destructive ❖ Charismatic ❖ Vengeful ❖ Argumentative

Story of my life...

I grew up in your average American household. We were just like any other five person family—a mom, a dad, two sons and me, the daughter. Completely average. We get along famously and Dad is home every single night for dinner. My brothers both played football and my last year, I made the honor roll. No, but Seriously, you do read the undertone of sarcasm don’t you? Maybe Senator Michelson wants you to see his family as “average” or “normal” but we’re not. First off, my family is wealthy. No not bathtubs full of hundreds, Mom dripping in jewels (isn’t that a little gauche, anyway?), brothers driving Bentleys or any of that crap. No, we Michelsons come from a family of East Coast old money. What does that mean? Our style is understated. If it’s designer, the label isn’t always drawing your eye. Secondly, you did see the “Senator” part right? My dad is one of the senators of Washington state. Before that he was a lawyer who was an alum of the Yale Law program. My mom is also a graduate from Yale but she went the Business route. Nowadays, when she’s not being Seattle’s own social butterfly, she’s gracing the advertising world with her creative mind in a perfectly tailored suit. While Mom was there for most of the “growing up experience”, Dad wasn’t. Oh he was there on the big occasions and sometimes our Family Night Dinners but give him a regular, ol' Monday night and he’s found in his office. With his papers or his phone. No freaking joke. I sat in my car and watched him for a week when I was off from school. Why? I wanted to see if the b*****d was having an affair. He wasn't, by the way. I guess I still respect my dad even if I don’t really see him all that much. But, that respect didn’t stop me from wrecking havoc at home, in school, or around the city. I mean I’ve done a lot of questionable things. I’ve played tricks, lied, backstabbed friends and taunted. I’ve incited riots on more than one occasion, bribed, and stolen. I've interrupted everything from class to my mother's business meetings to my father's important phone calls. I’ve argued with instructors and family friends more than twice my age, and I’ve insulted more people than I can really count. All of this aside, I want to do more.

I guess there was a time where I was looking for my dad's attention and approval--my psychologists would probably say that I'm still trying to get it (what do they know?). To be honest, I'm probably still trying to get his attention. His approval? Yeah, definitely couldn't care less about that. The fact remains however, no one has ever been able to completely control me. They threaten me, they try to demean me, and they try to give me incentives but it all generally ends with little to no satisfaction for them. I do what I want, when I want. I might be swayed by a particular bribe, but mostly I’ll work it into my plans if I really want it. I kind of had a reputation in boarding school because of this…tenacious trait. That’s right: boarding school. After getting kicked out of two private schools in Seattle—both Catholic, no less—my parents tried an East Coast boarding school. All of this was in an effort to teach me discipline, self control and respect. It didn’t have the desired effect. I just became better at hiding what I was doing. Lying, blaming, covering up, you know, the basics. With all of this under my belt, I would make a damn good politician, don’t you think? I mean, if you want to blow up the world anytime soon.

I don’t really want to become a politician though. Something about it just seems so dull. Sure you get to make life altering decisions, make up some laws, and maybe even argue in a few debates but if you do that every day what’s to stop it from becoming boring after a spell? To be honest, I’m not even sure what I want to do with my life. But I do know that I didn't want to go to college. What did I want to do with that time instead? Well, the idea of going to Europe danced in my head for a long time. That and becoming intimately involved with a public figure to ultimately get him caught in his own infidelity. Then I’d get to tell a sad, sob story, become infamous and make bank. In short: I didn’t want to be stuck in college—and don’t even get me started on being on an island in the middle of nowhere. So why the hell am I here? My dad. His damn logic convinced me. He made me realize that A. I could get cut off from my trust fund if I become his “deadbeat daughter” (yawn) or B. I can’t get anywhere without an education. Ever the politician my dad. To say I was a little late in completing my applications is putting it mildly; my dad may have had to bribe a few admissions’ departments—well, for the lateness and the fact that I had very few references. Think of it this way, which teachers could I even use? You’re not forgetting about my difficult personality are you? Thankfully, I still got a few applications in. I was accepted to two universities…Thorvard and an Ivy. I chose Thorvard for obvious reasons.

Let’s backtrack one quick moment to why I decided to give a s**t about going to college. I know I previously explained how I’m rebellious, and how I’m difficult to control and if this is the case than why did I care? Eh. Take your pick of reasons. Perhaps, I’m just a trust fund baby and my precious was threatened or maybe I wanted the new experience that college offers. Or better yet, maybe I like to be impossibly unpredictable. I don't really care which reason is the "right" reason; maybe all of them are true or maybe none of them are even close. So why did I decide to go to college? I don’t know. All I can say is now that I’m here, I plan on having the best time I can.

THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON OF ALL
Psychotic__Gal

[psychotic__Gal]

Evelyn Rae Michelson

xxxxxxxxxxxѕнow мe нow тo lιe
xxxxxxxxxxxxxyoυ're geттιng вeттer all тнe тιмe
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxand тυrnιng all agaιnѕт тнe one
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxιѕ an arт тнaт'ѕ нard тo тeacн
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxanoтнer clever word
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxѕeтѕ oғғ an υnѕυѕpecтιng нerd
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxand aѕ yoυ ѕтep вacĸ ιnтo lιne
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa мoв jυмpѕ тo тнeιr ғeeт

Evelyn Michelson stared up at the blue sky as she felt the ferry move beneath her body. It was early. Too efing early. She threw a hand over her eyes to cover them with a groan. It was also too damned bright outside in spite of the chance of snow later that day. She turned her body in the chair, trying to escape the glaring light. Stupid boat had to leave in the damned morning. Ev loathed mornings. She hated mornings more than she hated the ticking of clocks and the sting of rejection. She despised them more than therapists and Disney-style endings. There was something so inherently wrong about them. Some unknown quality… Well, there was obviously something natural and right about them. So was this a “so right it’s wrong” case? Ev sighed. It was too early to care. She yawned and nuzzled her head into the neck of her warm jacket, her flaming red hair and her bright red scarf keeping the back of her neck warm from the cool air. A shudder passed through her body as the cool wind blew across her. Too early, too bright, and too cold. She should have been tucked, cocoon-style in her bed at home—duvet covers tucked snuggly around her body. But no. She had to be on a ******** ferry. On her way to school. In the middle of the morning.

Evelyn didn’t seem to notice her classmates on the boat. If she did, she wasn’t showing her usual amount of attentiveness. She would see them all later—she didn’t pause to even consider the possibility that she probably wouldn’t considering the fact that many students went to this school. Another yawn left her lips. If only…I could fall asleep. Predictably, Ev went to bed last night later than she should have. She went to a party with her older brother. She did her thing. Found out who was dating who, a few group secrets, crushes…etc. etc.. And then she threw a few suggestions out. She planted seeds of doubt and disharmony. It was beautiful. At one point, she had walked into the room to find two people—both in relationships with other people—fooling around. It was her duty to tell their partners right? Well, she did regardless. What she did not mention was that she arranged for the two to be in that compromising situation in the first place. But really, who needed to know that last little bit? It’s not like they had to start fooling around right then and there for all to see. She and her brother left not long after that epic scene. It was really a shame that they couldn’t have stayed a little longer. But Kyle was whining about an early start in the morning. And God help her, she could not stand any more of his ******** whining. Another yawn left her lips. Still, she could have given in and left earlier. The party had not been that fun. It was a shame really.

There was no way Evelyn could fall asleep on the boat, however. She was not one for sleeping on any kind of transportation vehicle. There was too much to miss. She could hear the noise of her classmates talking, but it was just that: noise. A part of her wanted to listen to what they were saying, but a bigger side just wanted to sit in her chair and pretend to sleep. The latter side won. By a landslide.

Ev’s blue eyes popped open when she heard the sound of footfalls. People were going to the boat’s entrance. It was apparently time to leave. Evelyn heaved a sigh as she stood. She stretched her lean body up toward the sky, emitting a yawn. She adjusted the strap of her messenger bag across her body, and shouldered her purse before grabbing the handles of her large duffle and her huge roller bag. Sure she had a lot of stuff but when one was moving to a new college, one had to be prepared. She lifted a hand to brush her bangs away from her eyes and the sunlight caught the scars of her UV tattoo. Though the ink was not visible, she would always have the triangle-shaped scares on each of her wrists.

Evelyn walked onto the campus, feeling disinterested. She paused, pulling out her phone.

To: Ittoki
From: Evelyn
Message: Hey. I’m at your school now.
Probably about to get lost.
Then getting some F*ing sleep.
We should hang later.

With that one text sent, Evelyn slipped her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans. She still needed to sign in, get her dorm and mail keys, and find the actual place. All the while dragging her crap behind her. The redhead let out a sigh and headed to the check in station.

Ev wandered the campus after she signed in, her keys in her pocket. She was now walking through hall ways. Where? She didn’t know. She was lost, just as she had predicted. Ev had a piss poor sense of direction. She knew she was in the dorms area but whether or not it was the south dorm completely eluded the redhead. It was adorable that the university did not have co-ed dorms. Some schools on the west coast had those and much more—co-ed bathrooms, for example. What was Thorvard afraid of? Evelyn’s mouth turned slowly upward in a smirk. Well, they were about to be afraid of much more… after I sleep.

She peeked into one of the rooms off to the side. A lounge. A guy was all alone in the room. How lonely. He was at a pool table. Was he going to play alone? How sad. Evelyn almost snickered but something tugged in the back of her mind, just out of conscious reach. Something too far away to grasp at. Ev slipped back outside, not bothering to greet her peer. I’ll investigate later. With more sleep. The vending machines she glanced in the room looked promising and her stomach was growling but a large yawn left her lips. She trudged on, looking at the door numbers as she passed them. Was she in the South dorms yet? She shrugged then glanced up at a blank wall. Only…it wasn’t so blank. It had a plaque the South Dormitory. Oh. She’d been there already.

Finally, Evelyn saw what she was looking for. Dorm number 17. She turned the knob on the door, letting it swing open. The knob crashed against the wall. Didn’t it have a stopper? Evelyn’s shoulders shrugged. Does it matter? A blasé roll of her eyes answered that silent question. No, it didn’t matter. She paused in front of the couch, leaving the door open halfway. She took her purse and her messenger bag off of her shoulders and flung them on the couch, not even stopping to worry about the state of her laptop. She surveyed the room, her eyes not dwelling on anything in particular before picking up her large duffel bag and her gigantic roller. One of the rooms was already taken. She looked inside the room. She wondered if her roommate’s decorative taste was any indicator of her personality. If so did it mean…she was…what, normal? Evelyn made a face before continuing to the next room over. It was blank. She dropped her duffel on the floor and abandoned her roller bag, letting it sway and fall to the ground with a thump. She shed her jacket, flinging it on the floor behind her and removed her shoes. She wiggled her toes. Freedom at long last. Evelyn sighed and took in the room. It would have to be decorated…But, not right away. First thing was first, a nap. To nap, she needed her blanket and a pillow, which were… ”s**t. Where did I put them?” Ev muttered to herself.

Evelyn unzipped her duffel bag first, flinging through her belongings. Pictures, posters, decorations, and clothes fell on to the floor but the girl didn’t mind. The duffel was half empty when she realized the blanket wasn’t there. AHA! It had to be in her roller bag. Unless of course I forgot them at home… She unzipped the black bag quickly. It would be so like her to leave her favorite blanket and pillow at home. She was making plans to call her family and have them Express ship the items to her as she dug through the clothes. Her fingers brushed against a familiar fabric. ”There you are!” One last tug and the blanket—along with half the clothes on top of it—came flying out. She hugged the king size, microfiber blanket to her chest before retrieving the now visible pillow. She started walking out of her room, kicking some of the clothes out of her way and stepping upon others. She couldn’t sleep on the bed. It was just too intentional. She would have to put wrinkled a** sheets on it. To Hell with that plan. The couch would be good enough.

She paused at the doorway, having seen a flash of something sitting at the foot of her bed. Her head swiveled back to look at the foreign object. A Tupperware container. ”Hmm…” The redhead said, approaching the bed again. There was a note attached to it but she ignored that for the time being and popped open the lid. Baked goods. She swiped at the frosting with her finger, putting it into her mouth as she flipped the lid back over to read the note. Her eyes rolled. God. Who is this girl? Is she serious? So much fun. Ev’s thoughts mocked the poor girl mercilessly.

When Evelyn re-entered the common area, she couldn’t help but notice the smell. It smelled like baked goods. The redhead couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. She looked around the room, before heading back to the couch. She pushed her belongings off it, setting the Tupperware container next to her on the coffee table as she placed her fluffy pillow in position and shook out her blanket. She grabbed a cookie and chewed. ”Damned good.” Ev muttered. She would never tell her roommate that, of course. She finished the cookie off, rolled on her side and snuggled into the couch. She fell asleep in a matter of moments.

×x×x ×x E R I S
goddeѕѕ oғ ѕтrιғe, dιѕcord, conтenтιon && rιvalry

мood:: Annoyed // mildly amused // unconscious
ѕeттιng:: Dorm # 17 ; ; coмpany:: Herself?
тнreadѕ:: Show me how to lie
ooc:: Sorry for all the cursing. Ev has a bit of a problem.
Let me know if anything needs to be changed
тranѕlaтιon:: n/a

[psychotic__Gal]

Background Check

Hello~! My name is Psychotic__GAL
I usually go by Everything from "Goddess Divine" to "Hey you" (though I might ask you to clarify) I'm mostly known as "Psy" though!!

Greetings and welcome to your first step in joining this RP! Now this is just a little thing to help everyone save a bit of time and PMs on power issues for the most part! We'd really appreciate it if you could just go through these questions and fill out everything truthfully! We're looking to keep this RP alive and would love to see you guys stick around for the entire duration so this is just to help us see who is dedicated enough to join and stick around!

Activity:

I am active Depends on work and stuff but generally 1-5 hours of the day and 7-ish days of the week. I promise to do my best to alert the owners if I cannot post for any reason! I also understand that if I do not alert the owners of this RP, that my character will most likely be killed off and that slot opened to someone else. (Cause I have epic killing plans if this should go down.)☑

Character: --The power section here is extremely important. We wish to keep overpowered characters out, so please don't be upset if we ask you to change or weaken your power. Also, no two powers will be the same, so make sure to check out other powers being used!! If you need help with a power, feel free to ask!

I would like to request a Female role if you have any available, and I would really like to make him/her a Junior (Villain). My character's power would be Nerve manipulation-- well...She manipulates nerve endings in the human body (Don't worry, I'll ask before I do it). She does it via meeting someone's eye OR a firm touch. Manipulating nerve endings can either cause INTENSE pain (mostly mental pain really as she's doing nothing to your physical body) orororor intense RELIEF...which could lead to some of your senses shutting down. But don't worry...She has a hard time killing in spite of her sadistic nature! C: She calls it the body's "Will to live". It's hard to defeat. Yup. She's a villain and as such her power can be this strong (assuming I use it right. pleaseplease work with me on this. I won't kill your character. She has many weaknesses). Give a small explanation of your power as well.

A small snippet about your character would be welcome, though it is totally up to you.

Yup. She's one sadistic mama. She's more or less the intel/spy of the villain group. I know they're all spies in a sense but she's probably one of the best at it. I'd like each of em to have a distinct role like that (spy, right hand person, the power player, the defense, etc. etc.)

Samples:
This is as much for your benefit as it is ours. Most people vary in their definitions of lit/adv lit, so by posting 3 fairly recent samples, we can see if we'll mesh well together artistically. It wouldn't do anyone any good for one person to be on a vastly different level than everyone else! ^.^
D< I don't need no stinking samples I am a co-owner here! ...but I'll give them anyway.
First Sample (look for Nevi)

Second Sample (look for Nicole)

Third Sample (look for Tegan and/or Malila. Evelyn is on the next page too!)

[psychotic__Gal]

Background Check

Hello~! My name is Psychotic__Gal
I usually go by Brooke!...or psy. though!!

Greetings and welcome to your first step in joining this RP! Now this is just a little thing to help everyone save a bit of time and PMs on power issues for the most part! We'd really appreciate it if you could just go through these questions and fill out everything truthfully! We're looking to keep this RP alive and would love to see you guys stick around for the entire duration so this is just to help us see who is dedicated enough to join and stick around!

Activity:

I am active VARIABLE hours of the day and 7ish days of the week. I promise to do my best to alert the owners if I cannot post for any reason! I also understand that if I do not alert the owners of this RP, that my character will most likely be killed off and that slot opened to someone else. ☑

Character: --The power section here is extremely important. We wish to keep overpowered characters out, so please don't be upset if we ask you to change or weaken your power. Also, no two powers will be the same, so make sure to check out other powers being used!! If you need help with a power, feel free to ask! Also, please know that your character will not win every fight he/she gets into. We all lose sometimes, so please don't get upset or refuse to work with us!

I would like to request a Female role if you have any available, and I would really like to make him/her a Senior (Hero). My character's power would be Wind/Air manipulation: More wind than air. I just like to say "air" because it makes me think of Avatar: The Last Air Bender. No really...My girl can manipulate the winds as well as...well...anyone can. Because really. Really. Who controls the wind? Her weaknesses you ask? Weeeell...Her control's not expert and neither is her stamina. She's also not very safe using her powers in a small room...actually...don't put her in a small (like a closet with a lock on it) room. She'll tear it apart trying to escape. She's claustrophobic.. Give a small explanation of your power as well.

A small snippet about your character would be welcome, though it is totally up to you.
Jayde...She's not necessarily an airhead...she's just...a little dense sometimes. Mostly playful, loveable, and a bit of an escape artist. She threatens to leave the school every once an awhile because she can't stand staying in one place for too long...her teammates (will) generally calm her down enough though.

Samples:
This is as much for your benefit as it is ours. Most people vary in their definitions of lit/adv lit, so by posting 3 fairly recent samples, we can see if we'll mesh well together artistically. It wouldn't do anyone any good for one person to be on a vastly different level than everyone else! ^.^

Go check my first post! I am le lazy.

[psychotic__Gal]

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[xC L A S S I F I E Dx ]
nothingthinghere ｕｎｄｅｒ ｐｒｏｊｅｃｔ Eyes On Fire
pleasedonothingherekthxxxxxxxsection #ee0000;; page #bb0000.

Ｄｅｐａｒｔｍｅｎｔ ｏｆ ████████████████████████
████████████████████████
Ｗａｓｈｉｎｇｔｏｎ, Ｄ.Ｃ. ２０００７-１８０２
xＯｆｆｉｃｅ ｏｆ ████████████████

Ｂａｓｉｃｓ
FULL NAME: Evangeline Olivia Resten
SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER:████████████
ALIAS: Twinge
OTHER NAMES: Eva
DOB ; AGE: November 13; 17
YEAR IN SCHOOL: Junior
SEX: Female
RACE: Caucasian mix
ETHNICITY: American
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
PLACE OF ORIGIN: Fairfield, Connecticut

Ｍｅｄｉｃａｌ Ｈｉｓｔｏｒｙ
BLOOD TYPE: AB-
HEIGHT: 5 feet, five inches
WEIGHT: 128 pounds
HAIR COLOR: Brunette
EYE COLOR: Grey
BODY MODIFICATIONS: ears pierced twice
MEDICAL CONDITIONS: allergic to penicillin
MENTAL CONDITIONS: She has no doubt that doctors would classify her as antisocial personality disorder. Naturally, she disagrees.

Ｓｕｐｅｒｈｅｒｏ Ｇｅｎｅ
POWER: Evangeline has the ability to manipulate nerve endings. She establishes a telepathic connection to these nerve endings. Though this skill can manifest itself in many ways, her strongest lie with the Free Nerve Endings (FNE). FNEs are mostly located on the spine; they send information regarding pain to the brain. When Eva gets control of these nerve endings, she is able to send her victim either intense pain or sweet relief. The relief—just like the pain—feels real in a sense; It is not unlike a pain killer. It does not treat the wound or area on the body that is causing the pain, however. The moment she cuts her connection off with the individual is the moment that the relief (or pain) stops. It takes a few minutes to remove its whole presence, but it is, in fact, cut off until of course, she sets her mind on the individual again. Eva is more likely to cause you pain than to give you relief; it is in her personality.

Evangeline’s ability can also lead to more serious issues. She causes relief by isolating the nerve that is sending the message of “pain” to the brain and turning it “off”. If she were to do that with more of the other functioning nerve endings, she could isolate the entire brain, cutting it off from the five senses (sight, smell, hearing, touch, and taste). This is harder for Eva to control. It involves more concentration. In fact, she often lacks the control or concentration to do it. This power still cannot kill, however. Something in her victims’ bodies always prevent her from reaching the nerves that lead to “breathing” or “circulation”. She calls it the body’s “will to live” and it irritates Eva to no end. She has only once been able to break the body's "will to live" and, though she has tried, she can't replicate it.

The mental connection is established two ways. First, Evangeline can touch her intended victim for a brief amount of time anywhere on the body. The other method she uses requires her to maintain eye contact with her intended foe for at least three seconds. She used to need six seconds or more to establish this connection, now, however, Eva only needs a few seconds to “work her magic”. If she does not establish these telepathic connections to the nerve endings, she is blind to their activities. Not many know of this blindness as she prefers to keep it a secret. The mental connections are in her system for three hours before she has to start over again.
STRENGTHS: undercover capabilities, quick thinking, discreet, deceptive, infiltration techniques, Ninjutsu, creates contacts semi easily, potential for both offense and healing abilities, extremely intelligent and tactful/strategic, mental durability.
WEAKNESSES: Lack of deep compassion, not very straight-forward, deceptive (So once she's found to be deceptive, people won't trust her as much), large group attacks (6+ people), will use the pain-relief part of her ability only sparingly, must touch or maintain eye contact for a brief time with her victims, her physical durability isn't as strong as her mental.
ABILITIES:excellent liar; good at thieving; not bad at poker; quick-witted; project research
EXTRA: She carries a pair of binoculars for sniping.

Ｓｔａｔｉｓｔｉｃｓ
INTELLIGENCE
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STRENGTH
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AGILITY
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DURABILITY
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ENERGY PROJECTION
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COMBAT SKILLS
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Ａｆｆｉｌｉａｔｅｓ
KNOWN RELATIVES: Elizabeth Resten, mother, deceased.
Mark Resten, father, deceased.
Linda Foreman, foster mother, deceased.
George Foreman, foster father, retired
KNOWN ACCOMPLICES: (will add later on when we have more profiles)

Ａｄｄｉｔｉｏｎａｌ Ｃｏｍｍｅｎｔｓ
ENJOYS: Torturing others, a pair of nice heels, efficiency, using others, unleashing her powers at the right time, flirting, information, getting her way, tardiness, control, research, tall trees, understanding how objects work, understanding how people work, mechanics of objects, psychology, figuring things out
AVOIDS: Love, talking about her foster care experience, unleashing her powers at the wrong time, vulnerability, cartoons, not getting her way, being manipulated, losing, making mistakes, children, apples.
FEARS: losing/lack of control, intimacy

Ｒｅｍａｒｋｓ
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Evangeline Resten. Evangeline liked to understand how things worked. She would take apart all of her toys and even some of her parents’ mechanical clocks in order to grasp how all of the parts fit together. She loved to break the items down. There was something so fascinating about the way the clocks ticked or the reason why her toys moved. Her parents encouraged her to also try to put the pieces back together again and although she was reluctant at first, she finally agreed and began to create working machinery again. As Evangeline grew older, she moved from physical, mechanical objects to life. Mental processes and relationships took the places of cogs and wheels that had previously inhabited her mind. These living aspects sparked her interest her even more than the mechanical ones although she only had to learn from books rather than experience. Her parents encouraged her throughout her quest for knowledge. They thought that she would become a great engineer or even a doctor. They had high hopes for their clever daughter.

Unfortunately for Evangeline, her parents died in a car accident. The doctors said that her parents died a quick and painless death and the truck driver who ran their car off the road was fairly sentenced to time in prison. Evangeline was immediately sent to an orphanage while the authorities tried to contact any living family member. When their attempts failed to bring someone forward to take her, Evangeline was placed in her first foster home. The man and the woman seemed nice enough but they were both physically and mentally abusive. Her teachers noticed her grades slipping and the bruises upon her poor, thin arms and they contacted Child Protective Services. Evangeline was saved from this home but sadly she went through three others just like it, ranging from abusive to extremely neglectful. The little girl tried to keep her hopes up, however. She tried to keep her sweet and positive demeanor intact.

Fortunately, after two years of bad family situations, Evangeline was placed into a home with the kindest couple imaginable. They were older with two grown children. They went out of their way to help Evangeline cope with her grief over losing her parents and her fears about family life. They brought her to a more stable place mentally and soon smiles replaced frowns, and laughs came instead of tears. After several years of progress, the couple decided to adopt Evangeline. Everyone was in favor of the adoption—The couple, Evangeline, and even the couple’s grown children. The adoption papers were about to go through when something happened, however. The woman died and Evangeline was found near her body. The death wasn’t particularly gruesome but it was sudden. The woman was in excellent health for her age and nothing seemed wrong with her body with the exception of her brain. The man went insane after this. He asserted that Evangeline had something to do with it. The adolescent herself claimed it was an accident. No one could see the connection between the thirteen year old and the woman’s death, other than the fact that she had been in the same room. But, the man would not hear of her innocence. Evangeline herself knew she saw something in her mind that day when she met her foster mother’s breezy blue eyes. Some type of diagram. She knew that somehow she was to blame for her death. So because of this, Evangeline ran.

Evangeline did not to run far. Someone found her. A pair of school board members found Evangeline after she had accidentally unleashed her powers again. She was sobbing in the corner of a subway station. They took the girl and offered her another place to stay—a school. Somewhere to learn, and to control her powers. Though hesitant at first, all Evangeline could think about was her dear foster mother, Linda. She knew she had to make things right. Control. That was the only way to atone for Linda’s death. So, Evangeline went to the school. The orphanage she was sent back to after Linda’s death agreed to it. It was her sophomore year but teachers were already impressed by her power. She also made several amazing friends. Her junior team became somewhat like her family.

[ Stop. Rewind. Let’s start again. The truth this time.]

Once upon a time there lived a little girl who liked to understand how things—especially people—worked. The little girl’s name was not Evangeline Resten—the name, however, is not important anymore. Evangeline first began her quest for knowledge by taking all of her toys and some of her parent’s mechanical items (such as clocks, coffee makers and radios) apart in order to grasp how they fit together to create a working object. As she grew older, she left the mechanical gadgets and plastic toys alone, seeking instead things with greater complexity. Evangeline’s first step out of her childhood quest was with a dead crow she found in her backyard. She was five. Needless to say, after the dissection she was covered in the bird’s blood and smell. Her mother noticed and asked what had happened, fearing that the blood was from her daughter’s body. Evangeline told her and her mother was not surprised. She even smiled. She must have thought that her daughter would become an engineer or a doctor when she grew up.

Evangeline’s parents died before they ever got to see her full potential. The government came to them on Evangeline’s seventh birthday. The agents requested Evangeline for a project they were doing. Her parents, both scientists of their own right (albeit less funded) refused. Less than a year later they were dead. A car crash. Evangeline never knew if it was staged. If they were murdered. It feeds her paranoia to think so but it is more than likely that they were not. Evangeline was sent to an orphanage because the county could not reach any one of her family members. From the orphanage, she was taken into custody by a few government agents…who brought her to the laboratory. She was given the second name “Subject 009”. This was where Evangeline spent the better part of two years. It was a cold place. She was poked, prodded, and watched…nobody would tell her what they were looking for, however. That was the thing she could not stand the most—the thing that tortured her. They would never tell her what they were doing or what they were seeking. She spent hours getting prodded, hours answering bland questions, hours concentrating but to no avail. The scientists never told her what they were writing as they jotted down notes into their files. They were secretive even as they violently pinned her to a table, seeking the answers they never found. Evangeline spent her days never knewing when she would be released. She watched a few subjects die…then more. She was apprehensive. Would that be her too? There were only three of them left. And still, at the end of those two and a half years, she was let go. The agents placed her in the same orphanage she had left.

Now, Nine and a half years old, Evangeline did not know how to act at the orphanage—other than to hide her morbid curiosity with mechanics (which she had learned to do during the several years of her captivity). Instead of the physical mechanics of an object, she focused on the mental. She began manipulating the children around her in order to get what she wanted. Still, her power did not manifest. Not long after her admittance to the orphanage, she was released to a family. The family—the Blacks—seemed pleasant when she first met them. They were not so when she lived with them. They were very abusive—taking their rage out on her physically and mentally. Evangeline arrived at school with bruises across her body and scratches across her arms. Her teachers sounded the alarm and the little girl was sent back to the orphanage. Three times this happened—either the parents were neglectful or abusive. Evangeline became inured to the situation. She could not fight it because her body was weak from the experiments and her powers had not manifested so she learned from it. She began to lie with greater ease, and manipulate those around her with her “charming” personality. Sometimes it would help her to avoid a beating, sometimes it would cause one. Either way, Evangeline became a young student of the art of deception.

After two more years of bad foster homes, Evangeline was finally put into a good one. The man and woman were older and they had grown children. They were nice. Evangeline did not let her guard down. Even when the family proved time and time again that they were “good”, Evangeline did not trust them. She hated them. She despised the happy little house with its large spare bedroom that became her home. She hated them more than any family she had lived with before—except for the first family, of course. But, Evangeline did not rebel. She was not especially mean to the man or the woman or even their two children. She was the perfect foster child—helpful, considerate, charming. She kept her loathing to herself, letting it fester inside of her all the while smiling and pretending to “improve” emotionally and mentally from her “horrible experiences”.

At age thirteen (two and a half years after she entered the home of her foster parents) Evangeline met Locke. She was walking through a park on her way home from school one day when she saw him sitting on one of the benches. He was watching her—studying her with a steady, confident gaze. It was not unlike the scientists in that way. At first, he made Evangeline anxious—she was determined not to meet his gaze but her curiosity pertaining to him grew. There was something about him…Something dangerous. But some charisma flowing from him. Week after week he sat in the same place. Evangeline still didn’t speak to him. One day, as fate would have it, they ran into each other on the sidewalk. Later, Evangeline would wonder if it wasn’t fate at all but Locke’s determination. Something odd happened: he offered to show her power. Unimaginable power. Evangeline was confused and tried to question him more in order to get a clearer grasp of what he was saying but he wouldn’t say more. Instead, he showed her. He touched her briefly and aimed the power at a squirrel in the tree next to them. The squirrel became rigid. It started twitching. It almost fell from the tree before Locke stopped. He told her that’s what she had inside of her. Evangeline didn’t believe him…but she would remember that evening because it was when her abilities manifested.

That afternoon, when she returned home, her foster mother told her that the adoption papers were almost finished processing. Soon Evangeline would be their daughter. Rage filled the teenager and before she knew what was happening, her eyes met the older woman’s eyes. She touched the woman’s wrist and her mind produced a diagram of a brain and upper spinal column. Evangeline instinctively reached out with her mind and pulled. The woman dropped to the floor, managing to hit her head on the carpet nearby instead of the wood that they were standing on. Evangeline’s foster father came running in at the sound. He looked from the crumpled woman on the floor to the teenager who was standing. Although Evangeline claimed she didn’t do anything, the man didn’t believe her. He still thought she was lying even after the doctors explained that the woman’s brain seemed to “give up”. Somehow though Evangeline was sure until that day that she didn’t have any superpowers to speak of, she knew she was to blame for this “accident”. So she “ran”—or sought out the man from the park.

Evangeline found Locke easily and he smiled as she told her story. She was unnerved but positive that the man had something to do with Evangeline killing the older woman. When he told her that all he did was show her her own potential, she did not feel remorse or guilt or even sadness. Evangeline felt awake for the first time in a long time. To imagine manipulating another’s nerve endings. It was astounding. Locke took her under his wing, helping her to change her name to “Evangeline Olivia Resten” and forging papers. Wasting no time, Locke found two more—both test subjects of the last experiment. Eva was unable to remember them precisely, however. The nerve manipulator sometimes learned from Locke about her abilities and skills, and sometimes she learned from tutors he set her up with. The result was all that mattered though. Evangeline gained control of her power and became a swift and excellent fighter. Her natural predilection for deception lead Locke trusting her as someone who could gather information.

Evangeline found herself as a student at Jefferson Academy because of Locke. He set her in a way to be found. She knew the government was involved with the school so all she had to do was create enough of a scene to bring them to her. It did not take them long to invite her to the school. Eva skipped Freshman year here—coming too late for it. But, it didn’t matter as much for her power. She had exquisite control and accuracy. The only thing she lost was the strong connection between her team, cemented by freshman year. Not that she let that get her down. She worked hard enough to ensure that she became a productive member to their team. Evangeline doesn’t enjoy the school or the people but she loves the covert work she does for Locke. She likes gathering information. Evangeline is not to be trifled with. Though she is seemingly nice, she has a terrible cold temper that isn’t so readily visible. Evangeline is also highly sadistic—more likely to cause pain than stealing it away. This makes her the perfect torture-artist.

Ｆｏｒｍ: ０３２０９４１- Ｃxxxxx

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
Ｏｆｆｉｃｉａｌ Ｕｓｅ Ｏｎｌｙ:
Ｆｉｌｅｄ ｂｙ: psychotic__Galxxx Ｄａｔｅ: June 18, 2012
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

[psychotic__Gal]

╔════════════════════════╗
N i c o l e xxx{ A m b e r }xxx S u l l i v a n
• иιc • ѕυℓℓι • тнє тυтσя •
╚════════════════════════╝

“ιѕ тнєяє αиутнιиg ι cαи dσ fσя уσυ dєαя? ιѕ тнєяє αиуσиє ι cσυℓd cαℓℓ?"

x. . . яσυи∂ му нσмєтσωи
мємσяιєѕ αяє fяєѕн
яσυи∂ му нσмєтσωиxxxx
σн, тнє ρєσρℓє ι'νє мєт

When the EMT walked away from her, Nicole shut her eyes briefly with a sigh. She could only hope the rest of the day would prove to be better. Thus far…her day sucked. She was actively avoiding several people, her boyfriend was in the same town (only a close couple of miles away) but not with her, and she had just ushered one of her students into an ambulance while making a promise she did not know if she could keep. Okay…so most of that was her own fault. Nicole knew she could approach Mal whenever she wanted. She also knew she could (and more importantly, should) tell Liam it was over. There was nothing she could have done about the Izy situation. What had happened to the teenager? Why was she so bruised and cut up? Was she going to be okay? Nic shook her head. She didn’t like who she was becoming—a worrier, so concerned with every bit of the past.

It was only after the ambulance left and the small crowd was dispersing that Nicole remembered that she had heard her cell phone chime earlier. It was from Rain. She typed out a quick response.

To: Rain
From: Nic
Message:
I might know considering how I feel. ;3
Well…I wouldn’t go that far. Hehe. Hanging out
tonight sounds good.

Nic looked over the text for flaws before she decided to add more to it.

To: Rain
From: Nic
Message:
I might know considering how I feel. ;3
Well…I wouldn’t go that far. xD Hanging out
tonight sounds amazing. I just sent a student of mine
to the hospital in an ambulance. Seeing you would
probably make my day so much better.

It was a heavier than one usually wanted for a text message but she felt relieved to get it out. She was nervous for Izy’s condition. She did not know the girl as well as others but she genuinely cared for the girl’s well-being. Nic resolved to call the hospital later in the day to see how Izy was doing.

Nicole turned and walked back to her car. She just wanted to go home. She dug through her purse for her key and in the process almost dropped her things. Her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath. Everything will be okay. She repeated to herself. Still, Nicole was thankful her day was better than others’ days around Brookshire.


I like it in the city when
xxxxxxxxxtwo worlds collide


A few hours later after Nicole was home and in a fresh set of clothes—desiring both warmth and distance from the uncomfortable and unfortunate Izy-ambulance experience—her cell phone rang from its perch on her bedspread. It came from a number she did not recognize though the area code was the same as her own. On the last ring, she decided to answer it. ”Hello?”
”May I please speak with Nicole Sullivan?” asked a female voice.
”This is Nicole.” Was it a telemarketer? Please God don’t let it be a telemarketer.
”Ms. Sullivan, my name is Judy and I’m calling from the Brookshire Hospital. One of our patients, Iyzabel Palmer, asked us to call you to let you know how she is fairing. Miss Palmer is in a stable condition. She told me to let you know that she is ‘okay’.” This was good news.
”Before the ambulance arrive, she spoke to me about a baby. Is…is Iyzabel pregnant?” Nicole asked the question before she had time to stop herself. It was a stupid question. She doubted the nurse would answer it.
”I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not at liberty to discuss the patient’s medical condition other than what the patient herself deems acceptable.” Nicole nodded, though Judy wouldn’t be able to see it. She had expected as much.
”I understand. Thank you for the call and will you let Miss Palmer know that I will visit her tomorrow morning if I can?”
”I will, Ms. Sullivan. Take Care.”
”Good-bye.” Nicole set down her phone and laid back on her bed.

The tutor spent the next two hours falling in and out of sleep. When she woke a final time, it was to an onslaught of messages. The first she checked was from Rain. He was letting her know that he had work tonight. Further, he was telling her they were investigating the Brookshire cemetery. At first, Nicole felt disappointed. He cancelled. Again. The feeling lasted only a few moments before the redhead had an idea. She would surprise the team at the cemetery with refreshments. She would see how Rain and his peers did their job.

To: Rain
From: Nicole
Message: Well, I hope the investigation goes okay. I’m sad we can’t
Hang out though. : ( If you want to meet up after,
just let me know.

Nicole would not tell him just yet. It was to be a surprise. Her father kept an old coffee travel canister that she could bring the documentary team coffee in…she could also bring bagels or donuts or something. Nic looked at the alarm clock to her right. She would need to get a move on if she wanted to get the pastries.

The next messages were both mass text messages. One was an announcement about an emergency town meeting. It was forwarded to the tutor from both her father and one of her co-workers. She figured her father was forwarding it to her as a passive “Can you go to this for me?”. Nicole did not care, however. She was curious and she wanted to go for herself. The timing was off though. She would need to leave early if she wanted to surprise Rain, Daphne, and the others.

The other mass text message was from a younger group of Nicole’s students. The tutor was not all that positive that she was supposed to have received the text. It mentioned a challenge. The challenged detailed going into the abandoned high school. Nicole shivered. She hoped the students she knew would not dare to go there...but who was she kidding? They probably would.

To: Liam
From: Nicole
Message: I really, really hope you aren’t planning
on taking “the challenge” tonight... Not with all the weird
things happening lately.

Nicole sent out the text message quickly, not pausing to wonder if it was proper to text him that or not. She could not help but worry, however. Nicole glanced at the time and decided it was time to get up. She had pastries to fetch and coffee to prepare.



You get the people and the government
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxEverybody taking different sides



The meeting started at ten-thirty and although it was late, everyone looked awake enough. Nicole shifted in her seat. Her eyes widening with each person named as dead. Kain, Diana Reed and Nurse Gray were dead. Though Nicole knew Kain and Diana, she did not know Nurse Gray all that well, having only met the woman at the major’s party. She was shocked to hear about Kain and Diana. Secretly, in the smallest, meanest part of her mind, Nicole felt grimly relieved to hear about the pet shop owner. The rest of her mind battered that part senselessly. It was cruel and silly. She would not be the person who would rejoice at a death.

As she had decided before the start of the meeting, Nicole left early. She slipped quietly out of the room and headed to her car. In her backseat, the coffee canister and a reusable bag with a box of Danishes and Styrofoam cups rested. The tutor could only hope her presence would not be too detestable. She started her car, pulled out of the parking lot and made her way to the Brookshire cemetery.

It did not take very long for Nicole to reach the cemetery. She parked her car next to the vehicle she assumed belonged to the crew. When she opened the car, she was faced with the biting cold wind. It was just as well that she brought the hot coffee. They would probably welcome it. Nicole put her purse on one shoulder, the reusable bag on the other and grabbed the handle of the coffee canister. She locked her car and shivered in the wind.

Nicole walked quickly and quietly through the dark cemetery. She did not want to be alone there for long. She had heard too many ghost stories as a child about the cemetery. Again, the tutor shivered. This time it was not because of the cold. She looked around herself. Was she being watched? Was the crew nearby? Did they see her? She shook herself and gave a faint chuckle. There’s nothing here. Probably just a rabbit or squirrel or something. Still, Nicole walked a little faster.

Finally, she saw the faint glow of technology. Nic had reached the group. She stepped on a few fallen leaves, the noise traveling. When she reached the group, she smiled, feeling slightly awkward. ”I hope I’m not interrupting too much but..I thought all of you could use some refreshments. I brought Danishes and coffee.” She held up the coffee canister.

"иσ, αиd тнαик уσυ, ρℓєαѕє мαdαм, ι αιи’т ℓσѕт, נυѕт ωαиdєяιиg"

. . . яσυи∂ му нσмєтσωи
мємσяιєѕ αяє fяєѕн
xxxxяσυи∂ му нσмєтσωи
σн, тнє ρєσρℓє ι'νє мєт. . .

ωнєяє :: Brookshire Cemetery ωιтн the documentary team
fєєℓιиg:: cheerful, awkward, timid
ωєαяιиg :: Cemetery Adventure
σσc:: : D Refreshments!

Quote:

Word Count: 1531

[psychotic__Gal]

For Coffee and Kisses...I know, I know...This character is taken already. I just couldn't help myself. I had to make the profile. She's was pounding on my skull to get out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxOlivia Rose Clark
xxx⋙ The Starving Artist

❝ Blame it on my own sick pride ❞
⋙ Sail - Awolnation



xxxxxx█████████████████

▬ nicknames╎⋙

↳ Olive, Oli

▬ age╎⋙

↳ Twenty-three years old

▬ birthday╎⋙

↳ March 5

▬ gender╎⋙

↳ Female

▬ sexuality╎⋙

↳ Heterosexual but a little bi-curious


xxxxxx█████████████████

▬ height╎⋙

↳ five feet, seven and a half inches

▬ weight╎⋙

↳ one-hundred and thirty pounds

▬ hair colour╎⋙

↳ rich brown

▬ eye colour╎⋙

↳ Chocolate

▬ ethnicity╎⋙

↳ half Hispanic, half Caucasian



xxxxxx█████████████████

▬ likes╎⋙

colors, chocolate/sweets, music, clean laundry, new projects, scarves, funny faces, mustaches, sarcasm/humor, cappuccinos

▬ dislikes╎ ⋙

nightmares, bitter foods, temperatures above 86 degrees Fahrenheit, Rose Art supplies, history courses, running, vodka, espresso, stress, doing dishes.

▬ fear╎⋙

Fire | | Loosing my art skills | | Breaking down again



xxxxxx█████████████████

▬ so this is how the story goes╎⋙


One year ago I torched all of my paintings. I put them in a pile, doused them with gasoline, and threw the match. The moment the first picture caught fire, I regretted it. I tried to save them. But as it turns out, fire hurts like Hell. Should’ve seen that one coming. I guess I should back up, tell you the story of my life. It’s really not that interesting but it’ll shed some light on the whole batshit crazy part of me burning my whole art portfolio.

Apparently, I was always destined to become a great artist (Insert eye roll here, please). My mom and my dad divorced when I was young—something about my dad being a bit of a lying, cheating, good-for-nothing, man-whore. I can’t remember, really. I was always in my own imaginary world, anyway. I lived with my mom, of course (See: Dad, Man-whore). We lived a hard but rewarding life. Mom was bitter and dissatisfied with her employment, I was…me. See, my mom used to be a brilliant illustrator. She could do anything from children’s books, to magazine editorials—I think there were some early computer graphics in there as well. Point is: Mom was amazing. When she and Dad divorced, she lost a large part of her income. My dad is involved in corporate management at a big steel company—needless to say, Mom didn’t need to work when they were together. Or, rather, she didn’t need to work much. After the divorce, Mom realized how little her job actually paid (should have thought of that before divorcing the man with the money, in my not-so-humble opinion). My mom had to give up her illustrator job in order to take care of us. Early on in the divorce, it was decided my dad would pay for my education (No way in Hell did he want his daughter at a public school in New York) and my mom would pay for the day to day necessities.

I hated school. No, that’s not quite right. The people at school hated me. I don’t think I fit into their paradigm of the perfect private school student. My clothes were not understated brand names. My hair was not professionally blown out each morning. I did not live on the upper-east (or even west) side. Contrary to popular belief, I did not come from a family with tons of money. I was an outsider without even a scholarship to make me semi-acceptable. You would think that I would have gotten used to being the outsider, right? That’s not so true. It was a constant source of tension. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to fit in. I know, I know it’s a common feeling. But, everything I did though just set me further behind the others. It was a big source of anxiety for me back then. s**t. Listen to me. I’m whining aren’t I? God knows, I am so annoying when I whine.

So, I graduated as quickly as I could, got some not-so-stellar grades, and picked up a few outsider friends (You think they were trying to be ironic?). The only few classes I excelled in were the art courses—I had range and definitely potential. Give me a place where someone wasn’t telling me what to do and I flourish. My art teacher had a “hands off” approach to teaching. He would give us a prompt and perhaps a style but he wouldn’t tell us how to do it bit by bit. I loved it. Mr. Mason encouraged me to apply for an art scholarship to a premier art institute when I got out of high school.

So I did—I can follow good directions every now and again. And I got in (Go me!). Art school was…different. I wasn’t used to it. I got along with the people so it wasn’t necessarily that aspect but…it was the coursework. It pushed me. I liked it at first. It was challenging but it helped me feel like I was growing as an artist. It was like that for three years. It was difficult but, hey, I could handle it. It wasn't that bad. The second semester of my junior year was harder than all the others. I didn't have a focus, a muse. Every work of art I did was...well, the critiques kept rolling. I was not receiving the best grades. I needed to improve--needed to find my muse-- but I didn’t know how. A friend told me I just needed to relax. As you can probably guess, “relax” here doesn’t include lavender auromatherapy or a massage. “Relaxing” in art school often involves drugs. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve experimented here and there for the quick relax but I was never an abuser. Well…after another round of critiques and bad grades I succumbed to the advice. I got high.

It was during finals and I was frustrated and blocked. A few joints weren’t supposed to affect me the way they did but then…maybe I should not have added Jose Cuervo (and Absolut) to the mix. Cross-faded, defiant and a bit batshit, I started joking. “Wouldn’t I make a bigger statement if I just burned all the damn art I’ve ever done?” or something like that. My friends, just as messed up as I was, egged me on. Soon, the joke faded into a plan of action. I gathered my paintings, gathered my audience, and marched out into the cold night, searching for a big metal trashcan. Someone should have stopped me. I should have stopped me. At least for a moment I should have stopped to think about what I was doing with my hours and hours of work. But I didn’t. I found some gas, I poured it on and I torched all the ******** canvases.

As the first portrait caught fire, a p***k of realization coursed through my veins. Something like I just lit my ******** paintings on ******** fire! ran through my mind. So I did what any person in my position (and mental capacity) would do: I tried to save them, forgetting the fact that gasoline plus flame equals one quick fire. My hands were burned pretty badly when one of the remaining spectators grabbed my and dragged me away from my burning works of art.

I had to take a year’s leave from school because of the breakdown. My place in school was held for me for recovery but when it came time to go back, I refused. I…was damaged goods (and a coward). My hands still have the scars running across them. I’m…honestly not sure if they’ll work. I’m full of worries at the moment, actually. Part of me wants to give up but there’s another stronger part of me that won’t let me. At the moment, I work at an art gallery. I know it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life but it's something to pay the bills.

What's the moral of the story, kids? Don’t get cross-faded, torch your works of art, and try to save them. It’s a terrible idea.


xxxxxx█████████████████

▬ username╎✴ ) ⋙

↳ psychotic__Gal

[psychotic__Gal]

colors

Letters:

ＡＢＣＤＥＦＧＨＩＪＫＬＭＮＯＰＱＲＳＴＵＶＷＸＹＺ
ａｂｃｄｅｆｇｈｉｊｋｌｍｎｏｐｑｒｓｔｕｖｗｘｙｚ

α в c ∂ є ƒ g н ι j к ℓ м и η σ ρ q я s т υ v ω x у z
z ʎ x ʍ ʌ n ʇ s ɹ b d o u ɯ l ʞ ɾ ı ɥ ƃ ɟ ǝ p ɔ q ɐ



𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷



д α ค Ʌ ɐ ₳ Ą ∀ ą ɒ ʉ Ⱥ Ѧ Д
ხ в β Ь ϐ ß ฿ ɓ ɞ Ƀ Ϧ ѣ ҍ
¢ ς ₡ ɔ ℭ
đ ∂ ძ ₯ Ð ๔ ɖ ₫ ȡ
є ℯ ℇ ε э ͼ Σ ƹ ҽ Ə ə ∈ ξ ℨ Ҽ ϱ
ƒ ╒ ғ ₣ ɟ ʄ ϝ Ɉ
ℊɢ ₲ ɕ
ћ ℎ н ℍ ђ ɧ Ħ Ћ Ĥ ĥ μ Ҕ Һ
أ เ Ĩ ĩ Ǐ ǐ Ī ī ĭ ｉ
נ ʝ Ɉ
к ʞ Ķ ķ ₭ Ҝ ϰ ɮ ӄ ҟ ҝ
ℓ ₤ ɭ ʅ ₰
ℳ м ₥ ๓ ɱ ɯ ɰ Ϻ ϻ
ŋ п ℕ ภ и ₦ η ɳ ∩ ή Π Ϟ ɲ ɴ
Ф ℴ σ ø ๏ Ѻ Ø
ρ ƿ ℘ Þ ₱ φ
Ɋ Ϙ ϙ Ϥ
я ʀ ℛ ѓ Ɍ ʁ ɹ
ร § ʂ ϩ ₴ Ϩ
τ ৳ † ŧ ʇ ʈ ₮ ╪ Ţ ţ Ť ť Ϯ է
ц υ ʋ ʊ ย ų Ώ Ω ʉ ϑ
Λ Ѵ ʌ
ш ω ௰ ϖ ฬ ₩ ώ ʍ Ϣ ϣ ѿ ѡ
Ӽ Ϫ Җ
Ч ყ ʏ γ φ ¥ ɣ λ Ψ ψ ɤ ʎ ץ ӌ ץ
ζ ʐ ʑ

☠ ☮ ☯ ♠ Ω ♤ ♣ ♧ ♥ ♡ ♦ ♢ ♔ ♕ ♚ ♛ ⚜ ★ ☆ ✮ ✯ ☄ ☾ ☽ ☼ ☀ ☁ ☂ ☃ ☻ ☺ ☹ ۞ ۩
εїз Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ξЖЗ εжз ☎ ☏ ¢ ☚ ☛ ☜ ☝ ☞ ☟ ✍ ✌ ☢ ☣ ♨ ๑ ❀ ✿ ψ ♆ ☪ ☭ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ✄ ✂ ✆ ✉ ✦ ✧
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