Post by Willow Zeaira on Feb 20, 2009 14:24:52 GMT
Name: Willow Xiana Zeaira
Gender: Female
Birthday: 31 October
Age: 15
Element: Wind
Year (freshman,junior etc): Freshman
Physical Characteristics
Height: About a daisy long
Eyes: White
Hair: White
Build: Slim but strong
Wing Colour: Silver and blue
General Appearance : Sharp
Any special powers: Lowering the temperature, controlling wind, clouds, storms.
Other (anything else you want to mention)
Personality
Likes : Gathering Weatherbee's
Dislikes : Mosquito's
Fears: The Wingless (Humans)
Flaws : A bit secretive.
Hobbies: Watching the wingless, gathering weatherbee's, freezing dew.
Personality: Secretive, difficult to understand, patient.
Background
Family:
Mother: Snowdrop Zeaira
Father: Dewry Zeaira
Brother(s): None.
Sister(s): Cliana Zeaira (older)
history: Well, My uncle, King Erin of the Nymph's, heard of my choice that I wanted to go and live among the wingless. He has always regarded them as inferior, and would not have it. I tried to leave my wings but He sent his first guard, Sir Chadwick, to keep an eye on me and make sure I don't attempt to join the humans.
General Information
Name/Alias: Hannah
RP Experience: Expert
Where did you find us? I'm an admin
Other characters (if you have):
Other:
Roleplay Sample (1-3 paragraphs):
My phone began to ring. This was going to be confusing, so I'll transalate for you:
“Hello?” What do you want, Brenda?
“Oh, sweetheart! We were worried sick!” You better not be trying to escape again.
“I missed the bus, I'm in town with Brady.” I didn't want to see your ugly face again.
“Don't worry, your father and I are in town, we'll come and pick you up.” Stay where you are, or else.
“Okay, I'll wait here for you and Kenneth to get here.” I'm not afraid of you, and he's not my father.
“Where are you, darling?” You better not have talked.
“I'm just outside the Super-Shop.” There are witnesses here.
“Kenneth, she's at Super-Shop...” Turn the d**n car around!
“When will you be here?” How long do I have to live?
“We're just coming round the corner now.” Say your prayers.
“Bye.” There are two words, the second being 'off.'
As is the routine.
That was probably the weirdest translation you've ever gotten, but a fifteen year old girl can only do so much. I should explain.
I am a prisoner, and my prison is here, Coolbellup, Australia. My prison 'guards' are Brenda and Kenneth, my 'foster' parents. That was sarcasm, just in case you didn't guess.
I, Dylan Ferguson, was kidnapped. When I was five. I don't know exactly what happened, but I remember being in a car... and getting to this really dirty apartment, and Sonia packing all her things and telling me to, “Get in the car, sweetie.” I picked up what had happened after that.
Brenda and Kenneth couldn't have children, and they really wanted a daughter. They had a history of mental illness in the family, and couldn't adopt. So they took me, and angel little girl. I was perfect, sweet, blond, pretty, and I was well mannered. Well, I was until they took me.
I've been brought up badly by them. The would-be escapes started when I was about eight years old. Every time I tried to get away, or call someone, they would stop me, and beat me. “Naughty girls must be punished,” was what they said, and then they would through me down the stairs or something along those lines.
And I never seem to learn.
I tried to escape again, yesterday. That's why I'm wearing a scarf, even though it's summer. I didn't want Brady to see the bruises on my neck. I couldn't do that to Brady, I couldn't worry him. Besides, I knew what happened when I told people. I told one of my friends in England, last year, when I lived in Birmingham. But me and my family disappeared before it was looked into.
And I didn't want to move again. Brady was the only thing that I really cared about having in my life. Well, he was one of the two things I needed in my life. He was the only one I had, but I was working on it.
Brenda skidded round the corner, then deccelerated to a friendlier speed. She rolled down the passenger window and said, “Hello, Shane, do you want a lift home?” Oh no, that wasn't going to work. She wasn't breaking off my connections. I started.
“Actually, Brenda, he was going to get a lift with his Mum.” And I got in quickly and slammed the door. Brady looked hurt and curious, but he just shrugged and went along with it.
“See you, Dylan... Mr. and Mrs. Considine...” I never let Brady call me a Considine. He thought I was adopted, and assumed I wanted to keep my birth parents name. But I didn't know their name, so I just said it was Ferguson.
