Post by xarae on Feb 1, 2008 21:00:41 GMT
About you
Name: Riley
Age: ---
How to contact you: AIM: XARFTASTIC, PM, or e-mail
Role playing experience: 3 or 4 years
Other Characters on this Site: None
About your Character
Name: Riley
Age: ---
How to contact you: AIM: XARFTASTIC, PM, or e-mail
Role playing experience: 3 or 4 years
Other Characters on this Site: None
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Isabel Brighten
Isabel Brighten
About your Character
Name: Isabel Marie Brighten[/size]
Nickname: Is, Issie (pronounced the same as Izzie)
Age: 17
Country: Knighton, England
Position: Peasant
Job: Runs her family's vegetable stall, of sorts
Eye Color: Blue-green
Hair Color: Light blonde with some darker streaking, mainly the color of flax
Height: 5'7"
General Appearance: Isabel is of average height, if a bit on the tall side due to her odd mix of genes. Her mother is a slight 5'3" while her father towers at 6'4". Her hair falls in wheat colored waves to her hips, though it is usually tied in a messy braid to keep various bits of hay out of her blonde tresses. She is not the most lady-like young woman you will ever meet, and most often prefer the company of horses to that of a man her age.
Her face is pretty and oval shaped with no outright imperfections, enough to attract the attention of enough people, both men and women. She gets complements on her fair complexion, considering she spends most of her time outside in her pastures or in among the stables and muck. No matter how hard she scrubs, Isabel always seems to have a hint of horse about her. When her mother is forced to take her to public gatherings, she has her douse her hair in flower water at some vague attempt to hide the stable musk usually associated with young men her age, not women.
Likes: Tending the garden
Working with horses
Some boys
Colors
Being opinionated
Wearing her hair loose
Bright colored cloth
Dislikes: Wearing her hair in a braid
Being forced into anything
Rude men
Quiet people
Having to keep her opinions to herself
Dull colors
Personality: Isabel is very outspoken about the things that interest her, such as flowers and horses. She has an opinion about just about everything and will gladly tell you about it - whether or not you ask doesn't matter. She enjoys a good joke, and is often loud and boisterous to the embarassment of her mother. Isabel doesn't like keeping very still, unless she is working with animals.
Isabel also loves colors.
Isabel has a slightly more rare form of synesthesia called lexical-gustatory synesthesia. This causes certain words, phrases, and sometimes names to evoke a taste in mouth, and occasionally a splash of color in front of her eyes. For example, her own name tastes of honey when she repeats it aloud, and gives her a brief flash of a warm gold color. Her mother's name is a rosy pink color with a clear taste, like cold water. It varies from person to person. The word horse, however, tastes of stable musk and has a blue color. Isabel relies heavily on her synesthesia when she judges character. If she doesn't like the color or taste of someone's name, she often makes it her business not to like them.
On the contrary, if she likes the taste or color of someone's name, she will repeatedly throw herself at them until they're almost forced into friendship, some sort of devious way to get to say their name more often. Isabel has a strong, almost unnaturally deep attachment to those whose name's colors and tastes she likes. She has some dependency issues, as if she likes someone's name, and they happen not to like her back for whatever reason, she often becomes severely sad. Or, of course, angry, neither of which is a pleasant emotion for Isabel.
Family: Parents: Mary Jane Brighten, Dan James Brighten
Siblings: Emily Rose Brighten, Claire Katelyn Brighten
Background: Isabel was born seeing rainbows.
At first, she didn't think it was out of the ordinary. As young, innocent children do, Isabel simply assumed that everyone saw in a kaleidoscope sort of way. It wasn't until she was five and asked her mother to name their new colt Vern because the name tasted of crisp apples that her mother began to get concerned. Events escalated from there, turning Isabel into a social pariah.
When word got out about her "disease," she was fifteen. All of her suitors fled, as well as her friends, leaving Isabel as an unmarriageable dead weight to her family. Her mother had her tend the stall in the market in some vain hope that Isabel might meet a traveler who hadn't heard of her "problem" and be whisked away. Anything would be better than the social hell that she had caused her family. Isabel sulked, as she had been more or less exiled from her family, but more importantly, the small barn out back, and her beloved companion Vern (her father had finally given in and named the colt to Isabel's liking). Her mother agreed to let her live with them still, but only if she'd continue to run the stall in the market, and keep quiet about all the "colors."
Anything else: Nope.
Face Claim: Juliet Simms
RP Sample: She was incredibly lonely, sitting there on the edge of the balcony. Even though, just inside, she could hear Blaise fumbling around with boxes, and Annabelle yelling at him for dropping something delicate. Despite her heavy heart, a smile twitched at her lips. Despite the dark forest backdrop of Vermont, everything was eerily familiar. But nothing could heal the gaping hole in her heart. Not even the familiar bickering between her adoptive mother, and "brother" (if you could call someone who'd been her first kiss, and her first grope a brother) could heal the ache there. They say losing your first love hurts the most, and most days she didn't even believe he was gone. The pain had become numb, just a dull ache, no longer the piercing pain whenever Blaise mentioned his name, or whenever she heard the rustle of wings outside, or the soft coo of a morning dove. She'd left him a note with a phone number and and address, briefly explaining that the company that had messed with her and Blaise's genes and taken Annabelle into testing all that long time ago, had finally reformed. They, and the rest of the inhabitants of that large apartment in Tokyo, were scattering across the world. Annabelle had picked her birthplace, Manchester, Vermont. The house was pretty, purchased with the remaining money left over from the lawsuit so long ago, but it had been purchased in full. The house was theirs, there would be no mortgage payments. The thought was comforting that, for at least a little while, she wouldn't have to pick up a job.
Mhari sighed and dangled her legs over the railing, thinking, just for a second, if it was worth it. It would be so easy, just to jump. To forget it all. To commit suicide. But then she thought had sad Annabelle would be, and how, somewhere, he might hear of it. He'd feel terrible, too. It was such a shame, she couldn't even think his name. Mhari tilted her head back and sighed, watching the sky above, thinking back on times gone past. They'd spent over nine months together, and after about three weeks of living together, Annabelle had discovered... well, they weren't kids any more. And they sure as hell weren't doe-eyed, innocent children. She'd found Jesse an apartment on a different floor, which was maybe for the best. Every moment with him was... bliss. It was like the world, previously black and white, had sprung into color, and one of those stupid, sleazy romantic background soundtracks from the movies played in her ears. The whole idea was silly, but she loved him no less. Mhari shuddered slightly, her ocelot's tail winding it's way around the granite to help her balance.
She thought of the day they met; how innocent and vulnerable he'd looked, sprawled in the grass, panting, his wings splayed out behind him. How she learned he wasn't innocent at all when the security caught up with them and he'd taken more than a few taser burns that were meant for her. Mhari remembered tending those wounds, how he flinched at her touch. She could remember every vivid detail of that first night, falling asleep under the stars, his breath on her neck, and the cocoon of warmth his wings made. How delicate he seemed to treat her, as if she was... breakable. How soft his hair was... his bright green eyes. How he always, always seemed to be smiling. Mhari drew in a ragged breath, suddenly realizing she was crying. So wrapped up she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed. Inside, Blaise was still banging about, but Annabelle's protests had weakened, seeing there wasn't anything she could do for her son to gentle his erratic and oddly strong hands. Mhari closed her eyes and tilted her head skywards again, tears glistening on her cheeks, alight in the starlight. Even the conifers seemed to be bathed in the unearthly light. Everything seemed unnatural. Being without him, without Jesse (thinking his name brought more tears), was unnatural, unheard of. When they were together, she hadn't even considered it, stupidly thinking "they'd always be together." And now, his absence was a wound, more painful even than the taser burns she bore on her back, long since healed over.
Password: a good day to die
