Post by Eleanor Selene on Jan 12, 2010 3:20:21 GMT -1
Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage::
'' Eleanor Kayley Selene !!
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“Sip your tequila
Give me some time
To unlearn all I've learned
For the spring to unwind
They knew with the dawn
They knew with the day
They knew what they had
Would be young naked prey!
Attacked from all sides
By a world filled with
Poison and hate
Eleanor trembles, Eleanor moans
Somehow, this body is someone
She always has known
The moon is full and the stars are bright
And the sky is a poisonous garden tonight
Out of this world
Out of this time
Out of control
And their out of their minds
The moon is full and the stars are bright
And the sky is a poisonous garden tonight”
Hold the press!!
Don't go wasting all your applause just yet, save some for Cass. They have been treading the floorboards for exactly 17 years and they have been totally female!! She has been in the spotlight roughly 10 years, and they're loving it!!
And now for the good stuff!!
We have a new kid on the block, going by the name of Eleanor Kayley Selene, but only their mother calls them that; you can call them Eli, Kay, Sel, call her Ella and she will hurt you! Rumour has it this dudette is a totally hoopy frood; so Mum's, lock up your sons!! They've been cruising the streets of New Orleans for 22 years now, after coming into this god forsaken world on December 21st.
Here's the vitals!!
Race:: Werewolf
Special Abilities::
Phasing- her strongest ability and her natural ability. Usually her main form of escape, she will use it to save herself, and try to save others. She is generally very good at controlling it, sometimes though she will do so without thinking, which has freaked her adoptive family out a couple of times. She will most times phase through things just to mess with people, figuring that it is something fun and entertaining to do when shes bored with reading.
Forcefields- this was her newest ability to pop up, so therefore her most unused. She will tend to throw one up when seriously freaked or spooked. Over the few years she has known about it she has mastered it as best as she can, but figures that it’s rather weak. Sometimes it can be strong, but only on the rare occasion that she has enough focus and energy to put into it. Usually she’ll pass out from throwing a strong one.
Family:: Does she have to? She doesn’t like hers…
Position in the Family:: Step Daughter
The physical!!
The hair:: Dark Brown/Auburn (Is there a difference?)
The eyes::Blue
The body:: Slender, but not sickly. Tallish. She is rather curvy. Lean
The style:: Doesn’t really have one, its generally what’s in her closet (Which tends to be handmedowns from her adoptive parents’ kids or foster kids)
The looks::
Her hair is long and naturally wavy, specifically in high humidity. Her eyes are a bright shade of blue and stand out because of her haircolor, most ask if she wears contacts but she gives them a funny look and says no, why would I need too to get this color? She tends to wear tank tops that are a little low cut, and anywhere from showing belly to riding halfway down her hips. She will wear jeans all the time, from skinny to loose, though she prefers loose. Her tops are covered by an assortment of hoodies, from her newest, a Cheshire Cat one (Burtons Alice!!! Soooooo excited!!!!!!!) To plain colors, to bright colors and patterns. Around her neck is a simple leather collar that has a tag on it; naming her mother and the day and year she died. There is a bell on it that will chime when she walks and she loves being able to mess with people with it. Her shoes consist of things such as converse (her usual are ankle high), leather boots (typically stolen) and plain old Mary Jane’s with a pair of double straps over the top for looks. Around her ankle is a part silver chain with a small heart looped around delicately, her ankle shows a scar from the metal but she stopped noticing that after the first week of wearing it. The only other scar on her body is a thin line that runs almost straight from the dimple of her collarbone to just between her breasts, its thinness is due to being cut in her wolf form. That scar Barley stands out on her skin because she is a medium pale, slightly tanned but not overly tanned.
Her collar and anklet follow her over to her wolf form, making her look very odd. Her fur is a sleek black with a lighter undercoat making her look a dark gray. Her body is thin and built for running, though she wouldn’t really know. Her legs are long and her chest wider than most, giving her an odd appearance from the side. Her eyes never change color, which is typically odd and very unusual, but she doesn’t care. She has a bright white patch of healed over fur on her chest in a thick and uneven line, running almost straight down from where her collarbone would be to just above where her front legs would meet if there were a parallel line between them.
The mental!!
The likes:: Reading (mostly books about Vampires and Werewolves and other such things), Her favorite authors are Laurell K. Hammilton and Kim Harrison, Rain, the full moon, music, music ringing throughout the streets of New Orlens’, Madi Gras, most dogs, drawing, the ocean, any wide area of land, showers, composition notebooks, blue pens, odd colored pens
The dislikes:: She absolutely hates the stupid sparkling vampire books with a passion, ignorant people, Texans, people who play make believe with Werewolves and Vampires, being caught off guard, baths, being dirty, spiral notebooks, pencils (unless drawing)
The hopes:: She wants to become a great author, specifically one that writes in the style that she loves to read. Someday she wants to try to end the war that she keeps hearing of across seas, but doubts that she would be any help to that. To be loved, whether by a true mother, a true father, or someone that would be a good lover, but actual love, not the fake stuff. She wants to be something, or do something, that is helpful, almost all the time.
The fears:: To be rejected, to burn to death, to be horribly deformed, to never find someone- anyone- to love, to be dirty continually and not get a chance to shower (five days at most, or she’ll go crazy), fire in general.
The talents:: She has this knack for figuring out what irks people the most, though she doesn’t realize it most times, so I guess thats a talent. She has a vivid imagination, and so when she writes, most times the stories she works on gain minds of their own and she cant stop writing, she has composition notebooks full of stories, long and short. Running. She can run fast and for long distances, she figures its due to being able to phase and thinks that she has learned how to use phasing to jump, though she’s not quite sure. She is surprisingly smart and non brutish for being a werewolf, and surprises most of her kind she meets. She has a very very keen eye for details, surprising most people with how much she notices, even when she looks like she’s not paying attention. Being from the place that the Blues originated, she has the ability to play the blues very well on a guitar, and loves being able to do so, though thats about the only thing that she can really play to tell the truth.
The bad habits:: She will always write in a compo book, or have her nose in a novel, typically making conversations hard, though she has the perfect attention when doing either. She will hum constantly, never quite getting songs out of her head, and therefore being inspired to write, sometimes draw, based off of those songs. Chewing on pen caps, so to stop that (or try anyways) she will either get rid of the cap of get clicky pens, but then she will click the pen absentmindedly. She talks with her hands, to the point where if you tied them behind her back she would be at a loss for words, that is when she talks.
The attitude::
She really has a mind of her own when it comes to things, not the typical werewolf at all. She was brought up for the first ten years of her life to be well educated and literate, and she is very proud of it. She is quiet all the time and always observant, never letting small details slip her notice. She will often look and act daft just to be able to surprise those she’s talking with and most of the time startle them. She will shy away from most older men, fearing them due to what happened to her mother, and so she has mostly friends her age that are boys, and very little girl friends, never feeling right around most of them. When confronted about her books, the ones she has written or has read, she will become her most animated, telling every detail that she can remember and giving her opinion very strongly.
The rest!!
The parents:: Mother- Died when she was 10, Kara Ann Selene Father- Unknown. She has a step/adopted mother named Mary Lynn Chandler and a step/adopted father named Steve Mark Chandler. She hates them and will not take on their last name, refusing to and not letting them change it.
The siblings:: She has three step/adopted (doesn’t know how to see them) sisters, and two step/adopted brothers. She hates them all and refuses to accept them as family.
The others:: She thinks she has an uncle somewhere over seas who tries to keep an eye out for her, but has no hint nor clue for if he’s actual family or part of something her real parents had set up or something.
The social class:: Middle/Lower
The history::
Going with first person for practice!
I grew up with my mom, while she was alive, in a rural part or New Orleans. I have never gained the accent of where I live, and keep a rather neutral accent throughout, maybe it tastes of the mountains, I don’t quite know, and no one I’ve spoken to can tell me. When I was ten, my mother had been trying to date, to better my life by adding a male figure, but she never had good tastes in men, and so each one was abusive, alcoholic, or just plain mean. After a while I got used to it, but the last one she was with, had to be the worst. He was a combination of all three, plus more. She wouldn’t le him bed her, which would continually irritate and in fury him, making it so we would be huddled with each other against a wall while he went through his rage. Well, one night it must have became just too much for him to bear. He came home late from his work, as per his usual, and half dragged half carried my mom to ‘their’ room as he’d call it, and from there it went downhill. Now, my mother had warned me, and prepared me, for what was going to come next.
He came out of the room about an hour, hour and a half later, only a tattered robe covering him, and my mother spread eagled, naked, on her four poster bed, the bed she had had for as long as I remember, and the bed that I had so loved. There was a knife sticking out of her chest, and cuts and bruises all over her body, his eyes seemed glazed and there was a horrid grin on his face. This wasn’t what she had warned me about, no, what she had warned me about was far worse, at least, for him.
My mother was the one person I had always counted on, the one person who understood why I felt different around everyone else, the one person who could explain it, and the one person who I felt would stand over all others, no matter what. To see her like that, put me to a rage that was so severe, I hardly remember it. That rage, I am guessing, educed my first change, something I had yet to do to my mothers worry. Within that rage I was able to wound the man, but, when he saw the change he had freaked, coming out of his own daze and being able to coherently think, something which I was a t a loss to do at that point and time. My mother had just been killed by the creature who stood before me, and he was most likely going to threaten my life. I don’t actually know, nor really care, if it was fear or rage that had triggered that shift, but whatever it was I have to thank it, and I do every day, or I would have ended up like my mom that night.
He had stood, towered, over me, small in my wolf form, young and not fully grown, yet I snarled and snapped at him, angrier than hell, and terrified out of my wits. I leapt at him, if I remember correctly, and he threw something at me, that something hit me in the head, I think, and I was dazed for a few moments, enough for him to run to the kitchen and start a fire. A frigging fire! He stared wildly around, I think he was looking for me, and set the fire to the drapes, which lit with a whoosh and jumped quickly to the cabinets, and all around the room there. The fire spread like a forest fire in the middle of the summer in Kansas, the house had been my grandmothers and my mom never actually changed anything, so everything was so dry and brittle, it was like dried up grass in a drought, and spread like water in a flood.
This being my first change, I was still mostly wolf, and my instincts took over. I fled, leaving my mother behind and hoping the beast within that house would burn down with it. The last thing I remember before I ran from the house and my memory blends together into one thing of nothingness is that image of my mom, the strongest person I knew, still know, being lain out for the world to see and bleeding, her face a terrified mask. The weird part of not remembering most of that night is that I know that I got my scar that way, but I don’t remember how. There was only one thing left that wasn’t fully destroyed from the house, and when I was found I was given it, and so I wear it forever more to remember that the pain will last forever. My heart ached for years after that, and every year since I have done nothing but sit and stare at a wall on that day, remembering all that I can of the good things about my mom.
A few weeks after that incident, I was found by the police and taken to a foster home to be tossed from one home to another, finally ending up in the place I call hell and being adopted there. The couple wasn’t able to have children of their own, so they took on children like me and adopted us, making a ‘better’ life for the ‘poor little darlings’. All they did was give us a roof, sometimes give us food, and order us about like a group of ignorant fools who didn’t know a thing. It was a lucky thing that they were always watched by social services or else I bet we wouldn’t have been put into school.
For about eight, maybe seven years I endured that treatment, my imagination and books becoming my only release from the idiots around me. I gained a few friends who thought that I was a ‘cool’ person to be around, though I figured most of the guys liked the way I looked and most of the girls just found me someone to be able to boss around, though some learned very quickly that I do not do so well when bossed. My room was the only private place I had at home, and for the longest time I was the oldest, so I got my pick of the rooms, I chose the basement, where pretty much every oldest chose. When I came of age, I packed all my crap up and moved, getting the hell away from that hell house and trying to make myself a living.
Somehow or another I have found myself searching for an uncle I have never heard of nor met, in a place I have never been. I think that the place is still familiar to me, though I have no recollection of the place whatso ever, but I feel in my bones that I belong in the place, though until I meet someone who can tell me I’m not so sure. I had heard tales from a few that grew up in my hometown, and a few that had traveled from the place I am now, things that they spoke of in quiet places, things that I noticed and heard. Only from that have I gathered the information about the war going on in most likely one of the oldest parts of my heritage, and only from that have I traveled there to do my part to save what I can.
That is how I find myself in the old world, as my mother would call it in her stories, and I am going to do my best to help and do what I can. I hope I am helpful in some way, but Im not so sure how helpful I will be.
The rest!!
The RP sample::
Already done! (Mei & Ali!)
I have to say that I think so far she is my favorite out of the three, and I am awfully proud of her history! Kinda... Its tragic yes, but its most likely the longest history I have ever made for one of my characters!
