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Post by Nona Constantine on Dec 16, 2007 2:42:36 GMT
Finished!!!
O N _ Y O U
Name/Alias: Kit
Gender: Female
Experience: 2 years
Location: London, England
C H A R A C T E R _P R O F I L E
b a s i c s
Full Name: Suzie ‘Dodger’ Jacobs
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Date of Birth: February 23rd, 1991
Tainted? Yes
Ability: Telepathy. She’s known for little over nine months now, and her expertise stretches to only being able to read people’s minds when she truly concentrates. Then again, when she doesn’t want to hear anything something usually slips in from an active or stressing mind nearby; only if the thoughts are prominent though.
Beliefs: Dodge doesn’t know what to believe. She was raised to not care one way or another despite the fact that her mother would tell her constantly to ‘be careful’. She doesn’t know where the Tainted came from, and though she shows that she doesn’t care, the whole idea frightens her.
a p p e a r a n c e
Eyes: Darkest brown, almost black. Her pupils are difficult to distinguish in poor light, and quite often she’d use the slightly ominous appearance to her advantage.
Hair: Her hair, dark chocolate brown, falls in loose waves to the middle of her back, rarely styled in anything other than a ponytail or its natural messiness.
Height: 5’1”
Weight: Probably about 120… she doesn’t check.
Distinguishing Features: About six months ago Dodge got a tattoo of a small turquoise and purple lizard in the middle of her lower back. She also has her ears pierced twice in each ear, and a small birthmark (just slightly darker coloured skin) behind her left ear along her hair line. And then there's the more noticable spread of freckles across the top of her nose and cheeks.
Other: Dodge’s style is unquestionably her own. She’s never happier than in an old ripped t-shirt or football shirt and faded jeans, but at the same time she’s more comfortable looking at least representable, in a skirt or a dress, when she’s seen by others.
In recent months she has finally recieved the growth spurt she'd be waiting for... and not just in height.
p e r s o n a l i t y
Likes:
:: Marseille
:: Getting out of San in general
:: Music of any kind… any kind
:: Reading
:: The rain
:: Hot chocolate
:: Chocolate
:: Suspense
:: Knowing what people really think
:: Her brother
:: Vintage clothes
:: Thrift shops
:: Shameful t-shirts (like Pocket Dragons, My Little Pony, Little Mermaid, etc. that only her closest of close friends see)
:: Playstation
:: TV Reruns and films
:: Football (for fun)
Dislikes:
:: Her name
:: Being left behind
:: People keeping things from her
:: Working weekends
:: Awkward silences
:: Getting frustrated
:: aka, her brother
:: Being put on a pedestal (usually by her peers)
The Good Points:
:: She smiles. A lot.
:: She tried to befriend everyone and as a result has a lot of friends she's very close to.
:: Easy to get on with.
:: Takes everything with a pinch of salt, or at least she tries to.
:: Doesn’t mind working; its how she was raised, and she’d probably get bored if she had absolutely nothing to do.
:: She’s far from shy.
The Bad Points:
:: She does have a bit of a short temper, though it’s not easily provoked that far.
:: She’s distracted easily.
:: Sometimes there is such a thing as ‘too friendly’.
:: She loses things easily. Her mum warns her that next time it’ll be her mind.
:: Sometimes she acts a long 'blonder' than she is.
Habits:
:: Drumming her fingers, tapping her pen; anything that breaks a silence.
:: Having her music up too loud.
:: Bouncing when she's excited.
:: Pouting to get her way.
Possessions/Obsessions/Other:
She hates it when people call her Suzie. She spent a long time losing her temper at the age of 14 to force people to call her Dodge instead. It just wasnt fair that her brother got 'Blaize' on his birth certificate while she was stuck with Suzie. SUZIE!?!?
o r i g i n s
Place of Birth: Marseille, France
Family:
Aunt; Madeline (22)
Mother; Rose (47)
Father; Olivier (48)
Brother; Blaize (24)
History:
The first Jacobs to arrive in San was Dodge’s great-great-great-great-grandfather some two hundred years ago. He came here on a whim, or so they were led to believe. He was a wealthy man back in Belgium, and had enough in his savings to buy the rundown barn house a little ways out of the village. In his first week there he met his love in a whirlwind story that Dodge can’t remember, and thus started the Jacobs’ inhabitation of Sanglignѐe.
He wasn’t the first Jacobs to be what they now call ‘tainted’, but he was the last. Until the wife of his great-great-great-grandson gave birth long after he had passed. His home, the huge barn conversion, was left to his wife and children, and has since then been passed from son to son, each one loyally keeping the place alive.
Olivier Jacobs, Dodger’s father, was the only son born in the sixth generation, and when his father passed he took on the B&B as if it was his born duty. His wife gave birth to two children a few years apart, after they were married. They had no idea they had rekindled the flame of the Tainted in their long, dormant line.
Dodger, like her brother, Blaize, grew up with the other children of the village. People praised their manners and good behaviour everywhere they went, and they earned quite a bit from old men and women slipping them a bit of extra pocket money, a warm smile or a knowing wink. The fact that they looked alike despite their age difference helped too; matching smiles, the neighbours said.
When she went to school and excelled in almost every subject, Dodge eventually getting bored around the age of nine and taking a shining to football instead. She played with her friends and her brother’s friends, but never for the school teams; that was Blaize’s place. She was happy just going to his games (and still does) to scream her head off about how he’s doing it wrong.
As she got older their parents started to relax a little, trusting that their kids would take care of each other as much as they could. They let them stay out later once they reached the age of twelve, and they were even allowed to get their first pets. Dodge wanted a lizard. The small creatures always fascinated her, and she was told that as long as she kept him safe in a tank in her room, she could have him. She named him Flick.
It wasn’t until she was fourteen that her quaint and peaceful life changed, though. She had seen countless strangers come and go at their B&B, the never ending stream of new faces never really earning more than a friendly smile from her as she cleared their tables or greeted them at the reception desk. That was, until a smoothly spoken Irish boy quite literally swept her off her feet. Platonically of course. She didn’t see him come through the open door and his voice seemed so close by her that she shrieked, slipped, landed on her backside and ended up dropping a stack of plates on the poor boy’s toes. She never did apologise though; she couldn’t, because her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth as he gave her a hand up. It was lucky that her father heard the crash and came out to investigate, because she was about to herd him out the door again. Well, she could hardly have him stay so she could serve him breakfast after she damn near broke his toes, could she?
But her father let him stay, and the boy didn’t leave for a long, long time. It took her days to get over her shame and pick up the courage to talk to him, but once she did she had learned one that that would never leave her mind or her soul; his name. For Aidan Connolly became one of her dearest friends, despite the fact that she was two years, three months and twenty one days younger than him – yes, she did count. One of the reasons she was so close to him was probably because half her friends wouldn’t talk to her. Well, how could they when she gave them a dead arm for saying he looked good. In a way she feared he only kept her around to be a translator when he stumbled across people who didn’t have a word of English, though there were so few of them that she held onto her hope.
Then he did something she never thought he would do; he left, without a word, almost exactly six months after his arrival. She woke up one morning and had decided to bring him breakfast to his room for helping her pass her Math homework the previous week, and his bed was empty. She found the key to the room on the quilt, and an envelope with the money that covered his stay until that day. She searched the whole house for him, but it was as if he never existed.
After a while it was easier to pretend that he didn’t. She spent two weeks after he disappeared hardly talking, and found it more difficult to face her friends than ever. At fourteen years old she was heartbroken. In the months to come Flick died, and her only real companion was her brother. She drove him insane more often than not, but he never said anything against her. Eventually she came back out of her shell, but it took blocking those six months from her mind completely. Instead she’s focused on the knowledge that she and her brother alike have… well… differences…
m i s c
RP Sample: (It’s only a section of a post…)
It was then that she heard it. Like a snapping twig, but a hundred times louder and more prominent. Her eyes flew open, but she didn’t move. Caleb’s grip on her had tightened immensely and for a fleeting, juvenile moment she thought he was going to crush her. But a split second later he had unwrapped her from his embrace and his strong hands grabbed her shoulders instead. Confusion, fear and shock all warred for dominance on her face but she didn’t have even a split second to question him. She felt him push against her, almost lifting her off the ground and throwing her from him. Her arms went out to stop her but his shove was too strong.
Her ears were filled with an ear splitting sound of creaking wood and a rising wind as she collided with the ground, her shoulder and heat sinking into the shallow snow before her forehead collided with something cold and hard. She felt dizzy, but nothing was going to hold her down. Her shaking hands pushed off the frozen ground and she turned like lightening to see what had happened. Horror turned her face pale and her eyes jet black as she saw a chunky looking tree where she had been standing seconds ago, and there, beneath it, was Caleb.
“No,” she gasped, forcing her shocked lungs to breath again as she moved, half running, half crawling, towards Caleb. She didn’t notice the patch of blood she left on the ground where she landed. It was minor, a bump on her head that probably bruised more than bled where the skin was pierced. The snow had stopped it from bleeding at all, and it didn’t even hurt in face of panic.
Clambering to Caleb’s side, she couldn’t think. Touching his cheek, she barely made contact with his skin when his wheezing turned to a cough and she found her hand splattered with blood. A sob, of fear and despair, wracked her body, heaving her shoulders as she managed to look away from him. She had to think… something… something she could do… her dark gaze glanced around at the mottled white landscape around them, and rested on Isabella, standing not too far away. Standing, wand in hand… Georgia was overcome with anger. Bitter, sinister resentment of getting involved at all. The stupid Slytherin tried to get them both with that tree after all.
“YOU,” she snapped, venom dropping from every syllable of every word as she got shakily to her feet and continued. “You disgusting, sick little bitch… I try to help you and you try to kill me? Me and him both. I should have left him to it.” Her usually soft face was contorted with rage, every inch of her wanting the girl to vanish from existence. Caleb might not have thought she was worthy of Slytherin, but to Georgia she just proved his words wrong. Caleb.
Whirling around, Gia’s mind worked frantically. Her wand was in her bag… which she had dropped in the snow some feet away. She ran for it now, ripping open the pocket that contained the photos she had torn from the notice boards. She took them out now, along with her wand, and thundered back to Isabella. She couldn’t remember starting to cry, but when she turned her gaze on the wretched girl her gaze had turned watery and she had to swallow hard past the lump in her throat before she could talk.
“I don’t care what you do, after this, with him or with these,” she shoved the stack of photographs into the girl’s empty hand, knowing that unless she was completely dense she’d realise that Gia had taken them all down, and she hoped that that at least proved her innocence. She looked at her again, “Just get me some help… Pomfrey or Dumbledore, anyone… please. Tell them the tree just fell.” Her tear stained eyes begged the older girl for a full second before she went back to Caleb.
She dropped to her knees again and touched frozen fingers to his temple. She could see him moving. Another heave of grief threatened to overwhelm her, but she looked away again. Instinct had her wand raising, pointing at the tree that pinned Caleb to the ground. But her mind went blank. “Re-“ she muttered before stopping, rethinking and sniffling loudly. That wouldn’t work. “Win-“ she started again, before trailing off… she didn’t think she was strong enough to lift it. Screwing up her face in frustration, she lifted her hand to wipe away a tear, only to freeze with her hand an inch from her face. A flash of red caught her eye and she noticed again the blood –Caleb’s blood – on her hand. She felt her tempter boiling again, and her mind threatened that if Isabella didn’t go to get help she would regret it.
“Wingardium Leviosa,” she snapped, daring the spell to be too basic, too weak to lift the tree. As if threatened by her anger, the spell actually worked, no doubt fuelled by her rage. It felt heavy in her mind, but she didn’t drop her wand until the tree had moved far enough to not be a danger. It fell with a sickening crack to the snow, and Georgia’s wand fell from her hands as she turned back to Caleb. She pressed both other had hands into the freezing snow on either side of her head, leaning over him so that she the only thing that could touch him was her long, loose hair.
“Caleb,” she whispered, a tear running to the end of her nose before she could stop it. Her voice shook with fear. “Caleb, look at me.”
Character Model: Rachel Bilson
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