Post by heather davenport. on Oct 28, 2007 15:58:29 GMT -5
STATUS finished.
SILLY MORTAL
NAME Joy.
GENDER female.
CONTACT ilyhearts@gmail.com
EXPERIENCE Uhhm. Nearing five years, if you count that year I spent playing mary sues and teeny boppers on neopets. Hey, you gotta learn what not to do somehow, right?
HOW'D YOU FIND US via proboards support.
TIME ZONE PST.
THE MONSTER WITHIN
NAME Heather Emilie Davenport
AGE 21.
GENDER Female.
SPECIES Werewolf.
SEXUALITY Bisexual, but tends to prefer men.
SUPERNATURAL FREAK
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Heather has the physical features of wolf, in a very liberal sense of the phrase. Of course, she can shift her form, but even in a completely natural, human shape, she's distinctly canine. Her facial build is harsh, intense- her eyes slanted, her nose narrow and long, her lips thin. Her face is heart shaped and her ears are a little small for her face, bright amberish green in color. Her eyebrows are thin and she keeps them well maintained (her sin is vanity). Likewise, her nails are always clean and cut, and usually painted dark red. Her hair is dark brown, almost black, and in parallel with her eyebrows and nails, is well kept, always brushed, and usually pulled into a tight braid. It falls to her mid-back.
She's average in height at five feet five inches, and her build is somewhat stocky, though she is not overweight. Freckles are scattered over her shoulders and back, but she's taken care to keep them off her face. Her gait is slow and confident, somewhat ungraceful, but prideful. Her personality could probably be interpreted just by the way she walks.
Her style of dress is crisp and conservative, and her wardrobe largely consists of sweaters and cardigans in light, airy colors. She prefers skirts and wears them whenever she can, but owns a few pairs of comfortable jeans as well. Typically she wears three to four inch heels as she's always been somewhat self conscious of her height. She's had it drilled into her head that tall women are beautiful women.
PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION
Heather is a street-smart woman as she had to fend for herself as a child. She's not used to being in good money, and was slightly shocked when she received her inheritance from her uncle (which, in reality, is not very much money, but it's more than she's ever had all to herself). She's not very trusting of other people, and therefore has problems getting into intimate relationships, or even close friendships. Once you've earned her trust, though, she has your back through and through. She'd risk her neck for her closest friends in a heartbeat, and for the most part, expects the same from them.
Although she's a pretty agreeable person, her mistrust often comes off as a haughty, arrogant personality. Her way of sloughing off comments of people she is not close to is almost imperial, as if she thinks she's better than whoever she is talking to. While this is sometimes the case, it more often not, as she's always been slightly insecure about herself.
Her way of talking is crisp and calculated, giving everything she says an almost phony tone. She's always pithy and doesn't like to talk on end. She also refuses to speak to anyone about her past, which, rather than making her appear mysterious or fascinating, really just adds to the haughty exterior she has built up for herself. She doesn't like voicing her opinions, either, but when she does it is always defensively, as if she automatically assumes everyone will disagree with her. Again, that's not exactly a personality trait people adore.
LIKES
[«] reading. she loves to learn, and one of her favorite places is the library.
[«] bubble baths. the best legal way to unwind.
[«] intelligent, well-read people, who are interesting to listen to.
[«] mythology, fairy tales, and other stories.
[«] history and learning about it.
[«] her car. she really hates walking, perhaps because of her tendency to wear high heels.
[«] rubber ducks and other stupid toys. she collects them.
[«] drawing. she's never been good at it, but she has many sketchbooks full of drawings. landscapes are her favorite.
[«] gardening. she has a green thumb and enjoys growing irises.
[«] clothing. like any other women, she has a penchant for shopping.
DISLIKES
[«] crowded, dark places, like bars or clubs.
[«] unintelligent or noisy people.
[«] dolls, fish, and rats. she has phobias.
[«] being dirty or unkept.
[«] potato chips. they're greasy.
[«] cheese and yogurt. it's spoiled milk. ew.
[«] dirt, charcoal, chalk, sand, mud. all dirty and gross like.
[«] talking for long periods of time.
OTHER she wants to like children. really. she just can't.
HOW THEY BECAME WHAT THEY ARE
Heather doesn't exactly known how she became a werewolf. She assumes she was either born that way and disowned by her mother for being a freak or disowned by her mother because she was irresponsible and bitten in her very early years, before she can remember clearly. She doesn't remember her mother well, but she remembers her first foster home. After that, she lived on the streets and raised herself. She made money working in various diners and lived in a small apartment until her mother's brother died and left all his money to her. Granted, this wasn't very much money, but it was enough for her to buy a second-hand vehicle and renew her rent for a few months. That was probably the most money she ever had at her disposal at any given point in her life. She still works in a diner during the daytime.
SHOW OFF
RP EXAMPLE
Claire Waldorf sat in the admissions office at Mount Horizon, School for Troubled Teens. Her mother stood beside her chair, but did not speak. Claire thought it was awfully quiet in the room. She could hear the wall clock ticking. Her hazel eyes were fixated on the desk where the admissions officer would sit. It was dusty, as the rest of the school would probably be. Claire was not estatic about being here. Who was?
The woman entered fifteen minutes later (Claire knew, she'd been counting the tick-tocks of the wall clock) and sat down. She was wearing a clean, crisp black suit. Vicious, Claire reflected. She looked like a shark.
"Shall we begin?" The woman asked in a shark's growl. Claire was unresponsive, but her mother proded her shoulder. Jerking out of her blissful reverie, Claire inhaled sharply, and then it all came pouring out.
"Started few nights ago, at Lucy's house. She's a sweet girl, Lucy. Got brains in her head. That's why I like her."
"Well, whatever you say, care-bear. I think he's a catch. Pink or purple?" Lucy Lewellyn asked, flashing a dazzling smile at her friend as she waved two bottles of nail polish in Claire's face. Claire looked at her toes as she wiggled them and sighed.
"Whichever. And whatever." She said, waving a dismissive hand at Lucy. "You know how I feel about your boyfriends. Same-old, same-old, and you'll move along in a few weeks."
"I digress." Lucy objected, picking Claire's foot up to paint her toenails. "This one's special. This time I'm in love."
"That's the eleven o'clock news, I hear it every night." Claire said shrewdly, flopping back on Lucy's day bed.
"Careful, you'll mess up your toes." Lucy replied vaguely, her eyes trailing up Claire's thigh. The insides of her legs were all bruised, and Lucy was not a dumb girl. There were only a few situations where you got bruises like those. Claire looked up as her friend stopped talking, her gaze following Lucy's. She immediately sat up and flushed, pulling her pajama shorts down over her thighs to cover the bruises. Lucy frowned. "Claire..." She said softly. Claire shut her eyes.
"Lucy... yeah, I trust her more than anyone in the world, I think. That's why I told her all about him and his... well, I suppose you know what I'm talking about."
"Sounds to me," Lucy paused to lick her lips. "Sounds to me like this isn't just physical abuse, Claire." The blonde raised her eyebrows at her friend, leaning forward slightly. "Because if that was all, then why don't you just call him in?" Lucy stated the obvious, fingers wrapping around her sleek cell phone.
"Don't," Claire breathed, knocking the device out of Lucy's hand. Lucy's eyebrows shot up. "Don't. Mr. Kingston.. he's not a bad person, he doesn't deserve to go to jail. I wouldn't want to be responsible for that."
"Claire, listen to yourself! This man you care for, this man you say is a good person, he's hurting you, Claire. How can he care for you if he's hurting you?" Lucy asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"He... he... my mother loves him, Lucy. You could never imagine what it would be like for her to..." Claire trailed off, looking towards the ceiling.
"Why give your life away for his?" Lucy scowled, looking Claire straight in the eye. "Why?"
"Oh, that girl. She knocked a whole lot of sense into my head that night."
It was three in the morning, the digital clock told her, which was late even by Lucy's standards. Claire couldn't shake Lucy's words, however, and just lay awake as she watched the minutes pass by. Minutes she was wasting on Mr. Kingston. Minutes she could never get back for herself. She pulled the itchy wool blanket tighter around her shoulders as minute after minute ticked by.
"My mom wasn't home even though I got back late. I thought the house was empty, so I started making dinner. She likes salads."
The house was dead quiet except for the steady beat of Claire's knife against the chopping board. It was just like any other day- mother out working, step father out drinking, Claire home cooking. She didn't suspect anything, so she couldn't quiet figure out why her stomach was lurching.
She felt a breath in her ear and jumped about five feet, drawing a chuckle from Mr. Kingston.
"Afternoon, Claire. Have a nice stay at Lucy's?" He hugged her in a way that might have been considered friendly in some people's books, arms loosely around her shoulders. Claire tensed up and so did Mr. Kingston.
"He must have been pretty stupid, sneaking up on me while I was holding that big old knife."
Lucy's words flashed in her mind as her subconscious told her to give in. Instead of dropping the knife, she found herself plowing it into Mr. Kingston's arm. Once, twice.
God, it made a horrible noise.
He released her, and the knife assaulted his other arm. Three, four times. This wasn't Claire. This was somebody else. Somebody better, who could stand up for herself.
He deserved this.
She didn't know when it legally stopped being self defense and started being assault. Maybe when she had straddled his thighs and begun plunging the knife into his soft stomach flesh. Five, six, seven, eight.
Where'd all the blood come from? Why couldn't she feel her fingers? Her head got all fuzzy and she let the knife drop into him one more time, passing out cold on the floor.
"He was lucky I passed out."
Claire woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed.
"He was lucky I didn't kill him."
MODEL Kristen Kreuk.
CUSTOM TITLE
she's a wounded animal.
QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS oh I adore the layout so much. It's so nice and not eye-burning. That's all.
CODE REMOVED; CONFIRMED.
I, Joy, hereby understand that PAPER BAG is unrated and thus I am opening myself to the idea of it. I will not complain about this, because it was stated in the rules and I read them. I also understand that if I am to post in the unrated context that I will label my post with the proper warning. I will respect the view's of my fellow members as well, and will not judge.
SILLY MORTAL
NAME Joy.
GENDER female.
CONTACT ilyhearts@gmail.com
EXPERIENCE Uhhm. Nearing five years, if you count that year I spent playing mary sues and teeny boppers on neopets. Hey, you gotta learn what not to do somehow, right?
HOW'D YOU FIND US via proboards support.
TIME ZONE PST.
THE MONSTER WITHIN
NAME Heather Emilie Davenport
AGE 21.
GENDER Female.
SPECIES Werewolf.
SEXUALITY Bisexual, but tends to prefer men.
SUPERNATURAL FREAK
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Heather has the physical features of wolf, in a very liberal sense of the phrase. Of course, she can shift her form, but even in a completely natural, human shape, she's distinctly canine. Her facial build is harsh, intense- her eyes slanted, her nose narrow and long, her lips thin. Her face is heart shaped and her ears are a little small for her face, bright amberish green in color. Her eyebrows are thin and she keeps them well maintained (her sin is vanity). Likewise, her nails are always clean and cut, and usually painted dark red. Her hair is dark brown, almost black, and in parallel with her eyebrows and nails, is well kept, always brushed, and usually pulled into a tight braid. It falls to her mid-back.
She's average in height at five feet five inches, and her build is somewhat stocky, though she is not overweight. Freckles are scattered over her shoulders and back, but she's taken care to keep them off her face. Her gait is slow and confident, somewhat ungraceful, but prideful. Her personality could probably be interpreted just by the way she walks.
Her style of dress is crisp and conservative, and her wardrobe largely consists of sweaters and cardigans in light, airy colors. She prefers skirts and wears them whenever she can, but owns a few pairs of comfortable jeans as well. Typically she wears three to four inch heels as she's always been somewhat self conscious of her height. She's had it drilled into her head that tall women are beautiful women.
PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION
Heather is a street-smart woman as she had to fend for herself as a child. She's not used to being in good money, and was slightly shocked when she received her inheritance from her uncle (which, in reality, is not very much money, but it's more than she's ever had all to herself). She's not very trusting of other people, and therefore has problems getting into intimate relationships, or even close friendships. Once you've earned her trust, though, she has your back through and through. She'd risk her neck for her closest friends in a heartbeat, and for the most part, expects the same from them.
Although she's a pretty agreeable person, her mistrust often comes off as a haughty, arrogant personality. Her way of sloughing off comments of people she is not close to is almost imperial, as if she thinks she's better than whoever she is talking to. While this is sometimes the case, it more often not, as she's always been slightly insecure about herself.
Her way of talking is crisp and calculated, giving everything she says an almost phony tone. She's always pithy and doesn't like to talk on end. She also refuses to speak to anyone about her past, which, rather than making her appear mysterious or fascinating, really just adds to the haughty exterior she has built up for herself. She doesn't like voicing her opinions, either, but when she does it is always defensively, as if she automatically assumes everyone will disagree with her. Again, that's not exactly a personality trait people adore.
LIKES
[«] reading. she loves to learn, and one of her favorite places is the library.
[«] bubble baths. the best legal way to unwind.
[«] intelligent, well-read people, who are interesting to listen to.
[«] mythology, fairy tales, and other stories.
[«] history and learning about it.
[«] her car. she really hates walking, perhaps because of her tendency to wear high heels.
[«] rubber ducks and other stupid toys. she collects them.
[«] drawing. she's never been good at it, but she has many sketchbooks full of drawings. landscapes are her favorite.
[«] gardening. she has a green thumb and enjoys growing irises.
[«] clothing. like any other women, she has a penchant for shopping.
DISLIKES
[«] crowded, dark places, like bars or clubs.
[«] unintelligent or noisy people.
[«] dolls, fish, and rats. she has phobias.
[«] being dirty or unkept.
[«] potato chips. they're greasy.
[«] cheese and yogurt. it's spoiled milk. ew.
[«] dirt, charcoal, chalk, sand, mud. all dirty and gross like.
[«] talking for long periods of time.
OTHER she wants to like children. really. she just can't.
HOW THEY BECAME WHAT THEY ARE
Heather doesn't exactly known how she became a werewolf. She assumes she was either born that way and disowned by her mother for being a freak or disowned by her mother because she was irresponsible and bitten in her very early years, before she can remember clearly. She doesn't remember her mother well, but she remembers her first foster home. After that, she lived on the streets and raised herself. She made money working in various diners and lived in a small apartment until her mother's brother died and left all his money to her. Granted, this wasn't very much money, but it was enough for her to buy a second-hand vehicle and renew her rent for a few months. That was probably the most money she ever had at her disposal at any given point in her life. She still works in a diner during the daytime.
SHOW OFF
RP EXAMPLE
Claire Waldorf sat in the admissions office at Mount Horizon, School for Troubled Teens. Her mother stood beside her chair, but did not speak. Claire thought it was awfully quiet in the room. She could hear the wall clock ticking. Her hazel eyes were fixated on the desk where the admissions officer would sit. It was dusty, as the rest of the school would probably be. Claire was not estatic about being here. Who was?
The woman entered fifteen minutes later (Claire knew, she'd been counting the tick-tocks of the wall clock) and sat down. She was wearing a clean, crisp black suit. Vicious, Claire reflected. She looked like a shark.
"Shall we begin?" The woman asked in a shark's growl. Claire was unresponsive, but her mother proded her shoulder. Jerking out of her blissful reverie, Claire inhaled sharply, and then it all came pouring out.
"Started few nights ago, at Lucy's house. She's a sweet girl, Lucy. Got brains in her head. That's why I like her."
"Well, whatever you say, care-bear. I think he's a catch. Pink or purple?" Lucy Lewellyn asked, flashing a dazzling smile at her friend as she waved two bottles of nail polish in Claire's face. Claire looked at her toes as she wiggled them and sighed.
"Whichever. And whatever." She said, waving a dismissive hand at Lucy. "You know how I feel about your boyfriends. Same-old, same-old, and you'll move along in a few weeks."
"I digress." Lucy objected, picking Claire's foot up to paint her toenails. "This one's special. This time I'm in love."
"That's the eleven o'clock news, I hear it every night." Claire said shrewdly, flopping back on Lucy's day bed.
"Careful, you'll mess up your toes." Lucy replied vaguely, her eyes trailing up Claire's thigh. The insides of her legs were all bruised, and Lucy was not a dumb girl. There were only a few situations where you got bruises like those. Claire looked up as her friend stopped talking, her gaze following Lucy's. She immediately sat up and flushed, pulling her pajama shorts down over her thighs to cover the bruises. Lucy frowned. "Claire..." She said softly. Claire shut her eyes.
"Lucy... yeah, I trust her more than anyone in the world, I think. That's why I told her all about him and his... well, I suppose you know what I'm talking about."
"Sounds to me," Lucy paused to lick her lips. "Sounds to me like this isn't just physical abuse, Claire." The blonde raised her eyebrows at her friend, leaning forward slightly. "Because if that was all, then why don't you just call him in?" Lucy stated the obvious, fingers wrapping around her sleek cell phone.
"Don't," Claire breathed, knocking the device out of Lucy's hand. Lucy's eyebrows shot up. "Don't. Mr. Kingston.. he's not a bad person, he doesn't deserve to go to jail. I wouldn't want to be responsible for that."
"Claire, listen to yourself! This man you care for, this man you say is a good person, he's hurting you, Claire. How can he care for you if he's hurting you?" Lucy asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"He... he... my mother loves him, Lucy. You could never imagine what it would be like for her to..." Claire trailed off, looking towards the ceiling.
"Why give your life away for his?" Lucy scowled, looking Claire straight in the eye. "Why?"
"Oh, that girl. She knocked a whole lot of sense into my head that night."
It was three in the morning, the digital clock told her, which was late even by Lucy's standards. Claire couldn't shake Lucy's words, however, and just lay awake as she watched the minutes pass by. Minutes she was wasting on Mr. Kingston. Minutes she could never get back for herself. She pulled the itchy wool blanket tighter around her shoulders as minute after minute ticked by.
"My mom wasn't home even though I got back late. I thought the house was empty, so I started making dinner. She likes salads."
The house was dead quiet except for the steady beat of Claire's knife against the chopping board. It was just like any other day- mother out working, step father out drinking, Claire home cooking. She didn't suspect anything, so she couldn't quiet figure out why her stomach was lurching.
She felt a breath in her ear and jumped about five feet, drawing a chuckle from Mr. Kingston.
"Afternoon, Claire. Have a nice stay at Lucy's?" He hugged her in a way that might have been considered friendly in some people's books, arms loosely around her shoulders. Claire tensed up and so did Mr. Kingston.
"He must have been pretty stupid, sneaking up on me while I was holding that big old knife."
Lucy's words flashed in her mind as her subconscious told her to give in. Instead of dropping the knife, she found herself plowing it into Mr. Kingston's arm. Once, twice.
God, it made a horrible noise.
He released her, and the knife assaulted his other arm. Three, four times. This wasn't Claire. This was somebody else. Somebody better, who could stand up for herself.
He deserved this.
She didn't know when it legally stopped being self defense and started being assault. Maybe when she had straddled his thighs and begun plunging the knife into his soft stomach flesh. Five, six, seven, eight.
Where'd all the blood come from? Why couldn't she feel her fingers? Her head got all fuzzy and she let the knife drop into him one more time, passing out cold on the floor.
"He was lucky I passed out."
Claire woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed.
"He was lucky I didn't kill him."
MODEL Kristen Kreuk.
CUSTOM TITLE
she's a wounded animal.
QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS oh I adore the layout so much. It's so nice and not eye-burning. That's all.
CODE REMOVED; CONFIRMED.
I, Joy, hereby understand that PAPER BAG is unrated and thus I am opening myself to the idea of it. I will not complain about this, because it was stated in the rules and I read them. I also understand that if I am to post in the unrated context that I will label my post with the proper warning. I will respect the view's of my fellow members as well, and will not judge.
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