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 Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 2:20 pm
Character name: Alaska Burns
Link to journal AND/OR Quest Thread: link
Describe your character's personality in less than 30 words: Serious and grumpy; her feet are firmly planted on the ground as she tries to put on a brave face, but it doesn't always work
Does your character have a ship/ OTP? n/a
Describe your character if they were a vegetable: Eggplant; somewhat bitter when raw
What is your character's favourite music/ song/ piece? Moonlight Sonata
What is your character's hobby, if they had spare time? Drawing, piano, basketball
Is your character more arts, science, or sports inclined? Art
What type of personality traits does your character gravitate towards? Critical, tempermental
What are your character's personality traits (Good ones?) Objective, obedient, industrious
What are your character's personality flaws? Anti-social, blunt, cynical
What is your character's favourite colour? Red
Describe your character if they were in the opposite faction: Undead - Frankenstein
What would your character look like as the opposite gender OR 10 years into the future? MALE: Fauxhawk with her signature hairdye; lean and muscled
If your character was an Amityville Professor/ Divison Leader/ Horsemen Clans lead how would they teach others? Somewhat toned down version of Caelius; it's time to sink or swim
Who does your character look up to? n/a
What is a great weakness of your character? Expressing positive emotions, forging close connections
What are their favourite foods? Smoothies
Favourite fashion style? Mature, but still surprisingly fashionable
Favourite minipet? Key Treats
If your character was in a fantasy novel who would they be? The serious ace/leader knight that doesn't believe/trust the protagonist
Describe your character as a mythical creature: Unseelie Fae
Describe your character as a Disney princess and/ or Villain Maleficent
If your character could travel anywhere where would they go? California
If your character could confess one great secret what would they confess? She still loves fairytale stories and hopes for her own happy ending of sorts.
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Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 4:11 pm
School
She was small when she thought she found her purpose in life, but like all twelve-year-olds searching for a deeper meaning to their tiny existence, she was wrong. She thought there could be nothing better than pleasing her father, receiving his praise and seeing the proud gleam in his eyes. And before she knew it she had thrown herself headfirst into schoolwork.
Days were spent as delineated blocks: return home at two, start homework, practice piano at four, dinner at six. The world was a constant buzz of one responsibility after the other where the only peace were the dreams spinning inside her head. Then daylight would slip through her windows, slivers of light piercing the lovely scenes of shining knights and vicious dragons swimming in her mind. Without a moment’s hesitation her eyes would crack open and she would slip out of bed. There was no time to lose—school was waiting for her.
Empty hallways. Linoleum floors. Ceiling lights that flickered incessantly throughout the daily lecture. Slipping into the middle front seat to make sure she could clearly see the diagrams and drawings, and ignore the useless chatter that always bubbled in the background. Always she took her notes in neat, typewriter print so she could always study and always wait eagerly for father’s love.
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Posted: Sat Mar 08, 2014 10:39 pm
Skeptical
She eyes the man warily, making sure to keep the distance between the two of them far and clear. To run her point home, the woman takes an obvious step back to reveal her suspicions of him. His wrinkled face forms a smile of amusement and her eyes narrow. He appears old, but the type that ages with time, but something else altogether. It’s a fine detail not everyone would look for when meeting a stranger, but there is something off about him that sets her at unease. She feels like a cat cornered into the wall. Does she even have a choice in the matter?
The recruiter smirks wryly like he’s been given a glimpse of the inner workings of her mind and he’s looking straight at a child’s brain. Her neck heats up, but her face is surprisingly cold. And as the red begins to take over her mind, she struggles to form a means of escape, but a voice in the back of her mind tells her she is never going to escape. She is never going to taste free air ever again because she’s already at a dead end. She’s been stuck in a dead end for too long, and it’s time to latch onto the first answer offered to her.
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Posted: Sat Mar 08, 2014 10:40 pm
Nightmares
When she was younger, nightmares used to follow her into the depths of REM sleep. They chased her as shrieking imps that were fond of nipping her bare ankles and as wriggling shadows that loved to wrap around any flailing limb or body part they could get their tendrils around. They used to terrify her back into the waking world, sometimes screaming at the top of her lungs when they scared her especially, but as she grew up she learned to swallow the yells.
She learned that being a grown up meant not believing in monsters even when they lived in your closet and beneath your bed, following you straight into your dreams. She learned that being a grown up meant denying anything that did not fit into your vision of reality. You only had the wrong piece, after all. Nothing more and nothing less.
Nightmares transformed into unpleasant dreams and while the imps and shadows still left their marks, they were now safely tucked away in the compartments of her mind. They were invisible bites and impressions that were always there if she looked around for them, but that was okay. Grown ups were very good about ignoring these sorts of things, and so was she.
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Posted: Sat Mar 08, 2014 10:40 pm
Trust
Trust was meant to be given out sparingly because betraying that trust was a painful thing. It was like a thousand needles embedding themselves deep into your body. It was like someone wrapping their hands around your still-beating heart and squeezing until all of the blood rushed out of the three-pound muscle and you ceased to live in your mind. All that was left was the poor, pathetic husk of a frail, human body.
She had lived through enough bodies to realize that her trust couldn’t be given out so easily. Sometimes when she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling she could still repeat their names and dates and fond moments that were indelibly imprinted into her mind. Her favorite—or perhaps most hated—always runs through her head the last like a cruel joke. She’s still just a child, still weak to the dark dreams inside her head. Her twin is still tucked safely between the sheets of their shared crib while she tearfully crawled out, calling for mother. Always, she called for mother. But as the words spilled out of her tiny mouth the frantic gleam in her mother’s eyes grew and grew, until the woman was whispering in her child’s ear. Don’t tell Daddy, honey. Monsters aren’t real.
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