Post by anna on Nov 9, 2009 21:10:03 GMT -1
Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage::
''ANASZTÁSIA NALA MARIA NYSTROM!!
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and it hurts me
more than you know
so much more
than it shows
more than you know
so much more
than it shows
Hold the press!!
Don't go wasting all your applause just yet, save some for FIONN. They have been treading the floorboards for exactly SEVENTEEN years and they have been totally FEMALE!! She has been in the spotlight roughly FOUR 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 Anastaszásia Nala Maria Nystrom, but only their mother calls them that; you can call them Anna, Anne, Annie, Stacey, Tasia (tay-zha), Asia, Nala, Anna-Maria, Mary! Rumour has it this dudette is a totally hoopy frood; so Mums, lock up your sons!! They've been cruising the streets of London for twenty years now, after coming into this god forsaken world on the first of March.
Here's the vitals!!
Race:: Vampyre
Special Abilities:: Super Speed, Lie Detection
Family:: The Blood
Position in the Family:: Member
The physical!!
The hair:: Dark brown, generally curled (natural), almost waist length
The eyes:: Deep brown, somewhat mysterious
The body:: Slender, svelte, not athletic, but slim - stands at 5'8 and weighs 130lbs
The style:: Casual, comfortable - clothes she is relaxed in, and can move around in - generally dark colours.
The looks::
Anna doesn't really appreciate being looked at. She never has, and probably never will, although she may grow used to it, what with having to be on the Earth for the rest of eternity. Or until she gets killed. Eternal damnation's a drag. The only time anyone really took any interest in her, it didn't work out too well.
She's barely twenty years old, but looks quite a lot younger. She has grown used to having her ID on her at all time, but over the past couple of months, it's been almost as if the bouncers just haven't seen her. They wave her past, now, with a lazy wave of their hand, as if she was just another one of those people blatantly too old to ask for identification. She had noticed, too, that her late 'outburst' of the occasional spot (that she had never had to deal with as a teen) had just disappeared. Nothing seemed to phase her any more, but for the most part, she just drifted along, coasting dreamily as she had always done.
Anna has the air of a dancer, although she has never had a single lesson. She has the build for it, definitely, standing just above the woman's average height, and hitting the scales at something considerably less than she should have done. Despite her lack of muscle or any definitive weight, she was not as frail as she looked, although her tongue was more inclined to parry and fight than her body. She seems, mostly, to float and glide more than walk. She never runs, but always has a sense of purpose about her. She takes her gestus from the simplest things - getting a cup of coffee, sitting on her favourite bench in the park.
The mental!!
The likes:: Blending in, jewellery, music, playing piano, candles, fire, darkness, anything sparkly, shopping, coffee, nature, most incenses, reading
The dislikes:: Being noticed, chai tea, skirts, singing, electric instruments, bright lights, loud noises, being made to focus, bergamot
The hopes:: To own a music shop, to fall in love, to get married, to have children
The fears:: That something bad happened to her that night, dying alone, spiders, heights
The talents:: Playing piano, gaining sympathy, learning, teaching, retaining random information
The bad habits:: Bites nails, mutters when nervous, daydreams, fidgets
The attitude::
As a child, Anna was always very polite, quiet and withdrawn. She spoke rarely, choosing to nod, shake her head, or shrug to answer questions directed at her. When a verbal answer was required, she kept it as monosyllabic as she possibly could without inspiring a further conversation about why she was so quiet. This was easily averted by spending a lot of time in the library she had in her home, which she gladly did. Thus, she generated a passion for reading and learning that was definitely not ravenous or rampaging, but hungry all the same. She devoured book after book, and still does on the days and nights when she cannot sleep.
Nowadays, Anna has noticed small changes to her personality. They are not so big that people would notice just upon talking to her for a brief moment, but they were certainly showing to her parents. This was why, last month, she had packed her bags and moved into a flat of her own on the other side of London. The biggest and most troublesome of these new facets were her sarcastic and witty tongue, which she had previously managed to silence with a single thought.
The rest!!
The parents:: Karl and Theresa Nystrom (biological). Bitten by a MacAray.
The siblings:: None.
The others:: None.
The social class:: Upper class
The history::
Anasztásia was born to Karl and Theresa Nystrom five years after they were married, in the late Spring of 1989. Due to the advances in medicine at the time, Theresa had been written off as barren, her womb an uninhabitable, apparently hostile (the correct medical term, surprisingly) environment. It wasn't through belief that Anasztásia was conceived, though, but instead the lack of it. They trusted doctors to such a degree that they had written off ever having children, and were even considering adopting when Theresa fell pregnant.
The pregnancy itself was rife with complications, what with Theresa not being the suitable candidate for bearing a child, but they battled through it to the grand stage of six months, when the doctors decided that it was safest to try for a Caesarian. Both, thankfully, survived, but both also remained in the hospital until what would have been Anasztásia's due date. Her father split his time equally between the two women in his life, and his work, which was the only thing that was keeping them in the standard of living they were accustomed to, and the private ward at the poshest hospital in London.
When she grew up, she was quiet, sophisticated, reserved and well spoken. She received accolade after accolade, but awards and trophies didn't seem to make a dent in her life. She had a room devoted to them, but she rarely went in it herself. It was merely a room for her parents and their visitors to bask in the brilliance of their miracle child. She matured in her own personal perpetual daydream, and didn't seem bothered at all by what was going on around her. She wasn't the geeky type, but she received highest honours (which she accepted, as usual, in a sort of daze, smiling and performing the perfunctory actions as prettily and daintily as she always had) - she was in fact more the Luna Lovegood type, but without the magic. Or, at least, that was how it had been from birth to her twentieth birthday.
In typical style, Anasztásia hadn't bothered anyone else with her birthday. If they were going to remember it, fine, she would thank them in due course for their gifts, but she rarely liked to take up peoples' valuable brain space with something as mundane as a birthday celebration for someone they barely knew at all. Instead, she went out by herself, which was getting to be something typical of a Saturday night. This, in itself, didn't bother her, but what had happened on that particular night did. Or rather, the blank memory of the night and its occurrences bothered her.
What had happened that night was a secret to Anasztásia. Perhaps it was her mind that had blocked it out, or perhaps it was the fault of the person that was behind the whole ordeal, but the long and short of it was that, on her way home, she got bitten. Not by a random drunk guy, or a tramp turning to cannibalism because of the unpredictability of his next meal, but instead by a guy clad in what seemed to be an expensive suit. He was a smooth talker, and had led her down an alleyway before she realised where she was. That was all that she remembered. Her daydream since then had been tinged with things that she had never experienced before. She didn't understand it, and she was afraid of it, but at the same time, she wanted to find out what had happened that night, and who was responsible.
Bitten in the early hours of the morning of the second of March, only a season and a half ago, Anasztásia still has little idea what she has become. When she came to, propped up against the alley wall as if she had passed out after being sick, she thought nothing of it, thinking it simple overindulgence. However, her shower revealed two circular marks on her neck that didn't seem to have any even fleeting resemblance with anything she could remember encountering.
Her change started off simply, when she worked herself into a nocturnal routine, making excuses to stay indoors whilst the sun was out (a rarity in England anyway) without really knowing why. Then it got to the stage when she wore sunglasses, even when it was overcast. This went on for about three weeks before her eyesight went back to normal. It crept up on her slowly, but she experienced everything more - sounds, sights, smells, tastes, textures. Tastes, though, changed for the worse. She could choke down food if she had to, but she always got the impression that she was missing out on something, and a tantalising smell followed almost every person she encountered.
Her reflexes improved rapidly, as if she was in coaching for something that required precise hand-eye coordination. It soon went much past that, and even now, in the early stages, she can reach the other side of London on foot in less than half an hour. When her personality started to change, when the sarcasm she had bottled up began to ooze out, she noticed that she could just instinctively tell whether or not people were lying. Whether or not they had a tell, good and bad liars alike were soon departed from the truth under her sharp tongue and keen wit.
She has yet to taste blood as a Vampyre, but when she does, there is no knowing what she may do, say, or feel. All that can be said is; "Beware, she may just snap".
The rest!!
The RP sample::
Bellatrix, as was normally the case, was probably the roughest of the quartet, even in terms of vocabulary and the type of wit she used. They were all as witty and sharp tongued as they came, but Bellatrix's insults were known for being particularly harsh and cutting. Perhaps it was all that extra practice she had had, considering that she had never really tolerated other people until they proved their worth to her. Mostly, her comments were unguarded, and her mind seemed to overflow with taunts and jeers, no matter who she was with. For the most part, though, she kept polite company, or as polite a company as she could manage, and would get away with few sly digs, many of which went completely over the targets' heads, or deflected off walls and barriers that they had long since learned to put up. "I'm fairly sure it would be difficult to do so, but please, do continue." She responded smoothly, every word and action oozing exaggerated humility, making sure Aprile heard the extent of her sarcasm. She was very proud of her position within the Death Eaters, and would take any suitable opportunity to relay that to her company.
She took a small step into the circle, her head snapping back simultaneously as she felt the pull of a foot on the hem of her cloak. The owner of the foot backed away in the force of her glare, but seemed intent on staring anywhere other than the floor, her eyes, or her wand. He did nothing but take two steps backwards and emit some sort of unintelligible squeak. At the hiss that rose from her throat, he ran, scampering and darting between shoppers as quickly and carelessly as humanly possible in a place such as that. An idle thought ran through her mind before she turned back to the group. I wonder why he didn't just Apparate.
When Aprile spoke again, Bellatrix rolled her eyes. In her own absence, it seemed the position had been snapped up by the person she had least of a connection with. It wasn't a particularly bad thing, but it irked her the way a loose thread on a shirt would irk a mother but not bother the child in the slightest. Bellatrix glanced at Narcissa. She knew that it was the Malfoys themselves that had supplied the list - Lucius, after all, did some rewarding work at the Ministry and without, it seemed, detection. Bellatrix admired his ability to keep his tongue amongst all of the Order members and their foolish opinions. She herself would have been driven to insanity (if she wasn't already there) by the talk of them defeating her Lord. Bellatrix chuffed at the question that Aprile posed. The answer was obvious, but perhaps only to her. Narcissa, she knew, wouldn't have much of an opinion on the matter, but the three brunettes were almost of the same mindset. They liked to play with their prey, but they were always cautious. Caution, as the old adage went, was something that one should "err on the side of". "That should be obvious to all of you." She answered coldly, and refused to elaborate further.
The names, to her, were old news. She, and the man she shared all of her secrets with (not, as many would think, her husband), had suspected the three families for a long time. It was good, at least, to have confirmation, but Aprile was intent on having her moment of fun. However, Bellatrix wasn't one to let her family's name be sullied by the likes of someone who had jumped the gun and assumed leadership in her absence. "Surely your tree has its fair share of rotten apples." Bellatrix sneered, plucking the list from the younger girl's fingers. "More, I daresay, than ours." The name, however, caused her to shoot a customary glance at Rigel. It was definitely worse, and her wand was already out when the windows blew out into the street and Rigel screamed. With one hand, she rolled up the list and put it inside the bag she had slung over her shoulder beneath her cloak. At the same time, her wand hand was waving and her lips were moving quickly, almost silently, as she cast the only spell that would quieten the girl until they could get her somewhere safer.
Bellatrix gave a curt nod towards her sister and slipped her wand into its holster even as the silenced Rigel let herself lean on Bellatrix's shoulder. Supporting most of her weight, Bella turned a circle and promptly apparated outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, expecting that the other two would be only seconds behind her. Narcissa, she thought, would probably stay a moment to repair the windows, but even that wouldn't take more than a few seconds. Narcissa and her wand were known for their charms.
Rigel was lighter than Bellatrix had expected, and she didn't wait for them to catch up with her. Instead, muttering encouragingly in her ear, Bellatrix carried the girl through the gates, down the driveway, through the front door and into the first drawing room, where she deposited her safely on the couch and muttered vaguely melodic words over the prone body of her best friend.
from: adifferentdestiny.proboards.com
