Post by Skittles on Jan 20, 2011 13:31:59 GMT -5
Name: Franziska Farraday
Age: Sixteen
Gender: Female
Orientation: Heterosexual
Guild: Thieves
Shapeshift Form: weasel
Appearance:
Age: Sixteen
Gender: Female
Orientation: Heterosexual
Guild: Thieves
Shapeshift Form: weasel
Appearance:
She isn't exactly the most beautiful girl in the world, but you can't exactly said she's not cute. Her brown hair varies in length since she cuts it every now and then. Usually, it falls below her shoulders. Her hair has curls but she may straighten it out every now and then. It will occasionally be left down, but she has those days where she'll tie her hair up into different styles. It may be as simple as a ponytail, or she'll work really hard on it for a certain event. It sometimes only depends on what mood she's in, but sometimes it doesn't depend at all - And she just does what she feels like doing. She can be pretty random at times when it comes to her hair, but that's the thing she loves the most about herself - Her hair.Personality:
But her hair isn't the only thing that's nice about her. She has blue eyes. But how will you see them? Filled with tears, showing anger, or will you see them bursting with happiness? She doesn't wear contacts, nor does she wear glasses [and sunglasses don't count]. Her eyesight isn't bad, but it isn't exactly perfect. She has pink lips that are usually seen covered with lip gloss.She doesn't like her nose, thinking it's too big, but she would never have plastic surgery or anything. Her ears are pierced and it can often be seen with earrings. It is pretty easy to see her blush, since she doesn't exactly have a tan. Just like any other female, she wears make up. Sometimes it looks natural, but sometimes, she'll make it look a little...colorful. Of course, it won't look too bad. She learned how to use make-up nicely - the hard way. But she has learned from her mistakes, yet she still experiments.
Standing at 5'2, she isn't very tall. She has learned to accept that she's well...short, and it was never really seen as something she hated as she grew up. Although she doesn't know exactly how much she weighs, the last time she checked, it was around 110 lbs. There are days where she'll eat lots of junk food, and others when she'll only eat healthy. Along with the fact that the girl exercises a lot, her weight is kind of random. She doesn't have the nicest curves, but her body is pretty average. She plays some sports and with cheerleading and some things she just does for fun, she's only getting more and more in shape. Or at least she's trying to get in shape. Her attempts seem to be working, though.
Her clothes kind of vary. One day, she'll dress casual and another, she'll be all glamored up. Same with colors. She'll wear various ones, and before you know it, everything she wears will match. Some of her clothes are one of a kind. And why is that? Well, some of the clothes she wears are designed by herself. Some aren't the nicest, but some are ones she is pretty proud of. She usually tries to dress like nobody else, because - come on. Do you want to be caught wearing the same thing as someone else? Elementary school was one thing. After all, in elementary school, she thought it was cool to have the same clothes as her friends. Now, it was something she avoided.
In her weasel form, she is fifteen centimeters in length and weighs about seven ounces. All in all, she is long and slender. She had light brown fur on her back while her underparts are a creamy white. During the winter, she is all white except for the black tip on her tail. When she moves, strong muscles ripple under her taut coat.
She's your typical teenager. She's all good looks and sex appeal. Under the gorgeous exterior lies intellect and a heart of ice. She's never been one to socialize. She prefers to be alone, rather than mingle with society. When she does go out, she tries to shack up with any man that is either willing or stupid. She can be nice when she wants to be, but she chooses not to be.History:
Generally, she does everything she can to drive others away. If it came right down to it, she wouldn't mind killing somebody else. She loves the art of seduction. She flirts more than she should. She's the type that is more physical than verbal. Some could describe her as being psychotic because for the most part, she shows no emotion. She does show emotion but only when she's alone.
She hates to seem weak in front of others. She's very self-conscious about her appearance and will do anything she can to keep herself looking like a model. She has a nasty habit of swearing and lashing out at others. For the most part, she is fairly quiet. She never sticks around after intercourse. When the poor guy wakes up the next morning, it's an empty bed and a mind full of confusion. She never goes for anybody that's not an easy target, unless she's feeling daring.
Instead of being sweet and fun, she is cold and cruel. Under the exterior of her innocence lies a manipulative nature. She uses her looks and charisma to get what she wants. She loves to play with the minds of others. Usually, she speaks her mind quite bluntly. She never spares feelings and doesn't expect somebody to spare hers. She views emotions as being weak.
Like any baby, Franziska was born into a hospital. She came into the world with her mother weeping, and her grandparents glaring at her. They decided on Franziska for the reason that she had the features of her German grandmother. After having been alive for a year, her mother was killed by a stray bullet. Her heartless grandparents didn't want the helpless infant. As a result, she was sent into foster care because nobody knew her father. She was circulated from foster home to foster home, never staying in the same one for very long.Sample:
By the age of five, she was a stunning girl. Intelligence hadn't skipped her by any means. Her teachers had only good things to say about her. Like most children, she loathed the thought of school. For the past four years, she had been able to kick back and watch cartoons. When she was thrust into the academic setting, she lost most of her toddler luxuries. No longer could she simply laze around and watch Blues Clues or Barney.
By the age of six, after having been at the top of her class all year, they decided to bump her up a grade or two. She threw herself into her studies with her usual, cold abandon. All she ever did was study with the door to her bedroom locked. She hated the thought of socializing with any member of the foster family. By the age of seven, she was listed among the top ten for her third grade class. When she wasn't studying, she could be found either reading in the park or jogging along with a bottle of water in one hand and a granola bar in the other. She hated the thought of being out of shape or having a head filled with nothing useful.
When she left elementary school behind in exchange for middle school, she had already hit puberty. To make matters more interesting, strange things had been going on. To put matters simply, she was getting the first taste of her shifting ability. She had no clue what was going on, but she was smart enough to not tell anybody. Upon her first day at middle school, she entered the scene with her usual indifference. She wasn't used to the stares, and she nearly snapped on several occasions. She managed to keep her cool, although just barely.
Strange desires washed through her midway through seventh grade. A teacher caught her pressing somebody against the wall. Of course, the somebody in question was male. The foster parents reprimanded her. She simply laughed in their faces and went to her room. As soon as she entered the dark interior of her room, she slammed her door and jerked open her closet. She had been taking money here and there for either odd jobs or simple thievery for the past few years.
She had been saving it for a time like this when she might need to make a break for it. She always kept it in one place, knowing that her foster home wouldn't search her personal belongings. Just in case, she made sure the money was still there. To her surprise, it wasn't. This set her off, and she grabbed the pistol that her foster father kept tucked away in the hall. Through his own stupidity, she knew exactly how to use the gun. Just as she knew to silence the shots that would ring out and be the end of these foster parents.
Just as the door open, and they stepped over the threshold, two shots rang out. Each shot hit home in the middle of their foreheads. Of course, she was smart enough to pick up the shells and the bullets. Luckily, she had the strength to drag both of them away from the door. She had made sure to put the gun in the suitcase that now contained her clothing and other personal possessions. Just as she left, she took every dollar and cent that she could find. She never looked back or felt any remorse for the fact she killed two people.
She sulked atop the platform, keeping her face hidden behind a veil of cascading, curly, blond locks. A smirk had been tugging at her lips for several moments. The brutes that ran the joint had made sure to take special precautions with the wild child known as Mila Shay Porter. She preferred MiMi but people, if you could call her a person, hardly got what they wanted. They had shackled her ankles, wrists, torso, and attached a chain of some sort or another to the collar around her neck, They also had placed a device of some sort to prevent her from sight.Other:
They had grown quite accustomed to her gift. Every master she had in the past got rid of her as quickly as they could. One of her masters even had the gall to try and rape her. To put it kindly, he had his crotch on ice for days. Because of her looks, others underestimated her more often times than not.They soon found out she wasn't just a pretty face. Underneath the innocent mask lay a beast waiting to strike.
Coming slowly out of her reverie, she shifted and allowed the multiple chains, that tethered her to the ground, to jingle. She was close to being broken in. Sadly, the beatings she had received were breaking her more than she'd like to admit. She closed her eyes, breathing in the air that filtered steadily through the mask.To these monsters, she was just a freak with a pretty face and a number. Instead of treating her like a living, breathing being with feelings, they treated her like a lowly head of cattle. She had gotten used to it, but the fact alone didn't abate her hatred for the "normal" people.
Her stomach snarled with hunger, and her mouth felt like sand paper. Her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her hair was grungy because they didn't trust her to take a bath or a shower. They feared she'd either try to kill herself or one of them once she was freed from the cell that they kept her in. The cell was about five times too small and quite cramped. To make it worse, they managed to cram a boy in with her. He always stared at her like she was a fine cut of meat.
It freaked her out, but she submitted to loneliness when the guards were on illegal bathroom breaks. She curled against him and allowed him to run his fingers through her hair. It comforted her, and she would miss him. While her mind drifted, she recalled the moments of brief passion they shared. It never went beyond kissing, but it still set a fire coursing through her abdomen. She was glad to have let him get past the mask to the sweet girl she used to be. They shared forbidden moments together and in the confines of her mind, she would always remember him.
She was glad for the mask that concealed her face because her cheeks had darkened to a pink pigmentation as she recalled the brief time she spent with Darryl. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, and she hoped she was the only one who could hear it. Blood roared in her ears, and a quiet noise bubbled in her throat. She managed to stifle it but just barely. Her small frame swayed, threatening to collapse. She knew what the problem was. She was weak from starvation and dehydration.
Then it happened. With her eyes tightly shut, she collapsed. Her head, luckily protected by the mask, bounced against the wooden floor of the platform. She simply sprawled there, unwilling to get up or give the slightest indication that she was still breathing. Multiple colors swam in her line of vision, and her head was throbbing. She could smell the sickly scent of iron. Something warm and rather sticky was beginning to mat her hair.
She couldn't stop the moan of pain that bubbled past her quivering lips. For the first time in ages, she knew she had been beaten. The wild child was now just reduced to the weak child. She didn't want to move for fear the ones running the show would beat her senseless. After all, they preferred her this way; weak and bloody. They figured it would instill pity into the hearts of the buyers. She simply lay there in a pathetic heap.
The role play sample is from my character, Mila Shay Porter, off of Empty Promises. That's my general posting size, unless I'm tired or not feeling well.