Post by flipside on Oct 29, 2007 17:08:56 GMT 10
Name: Mitsy de Weatherly
Gender: Female
Race: Human :: Pokemon Trainer
Age: 8
Sexuality Preference: Eww…um, straight?
Appearance: As well as many of her daughter’s other dubious peculiarities, Mitsy’s mother Iphemena despairs quite frequently over her child’s appearance. Not that she likes her any less for it (on the contrary; she loves her darling muffincake to bits, even if she is a bit of a strange child) – it’s just that (along with everything else he’s done) it’s her ex-husband’s fault for making Mitsy look so…plain
Her complexion is fashionably pale (how fortunate for her daughter to have acquired that if nothing else from her mother!) and her frame is neither plump nor thin but with her limbs looking slightly too long for the rest of her body Mitsy stands at a gawky average with nothing exceptional or even halfway interesting to draw attention to. She could never hope to become an elegant or graceful figure for it almost seems like the child is so used to being perched precariously between an upright position and disaster that in-coordination has seeped into her bones. (One such example is that Mitsy would frequently tear down the staircase, trip over her own two feet while narrowly collecting a guest and stagger to a stop within an inch of colliding with the expensive vase nestled in the hallway. It’s safe to say that particular vase has had many near-death experiences, though removing it would result in bad feng shui and therefore it must remain in the firing line.)
Moving on – Mitsy’s hair is nothing to get excited over either. Instead of being a vivacious blonde or a fiery red like every other de Weatherly it is mousy brown in colour and deadpan flat (yet another fault of her father’s), resting just shy of her shoulder blades and hanging almost limply around her oval face, her small serious mouth and thoughtful (perhaps even slightly dreamy) dark brown eyes. In regards to her daughter’s attire Iphemena will only have the best dresses and skirts, though even she is aware of a slight reluctance Mitsy seems to have towards these garments. No matter – in time she will come to adore such finery (for what else could she possibly wear? Pants?!).
Personality: Mitsy is incredibly intelligent and articulate for an eight year old, blessed with both a high IQ and a love for learning (which is something she can actually thank her father for) and is used to her own company. She wants to know about everything there possibly is to know, learn everything there is to learn and read every book that’s ever been written. She can seem older than what she really is because of the thought that goes into (some of) her comments and the confident way in which she conducts herself around adults, Mitsy is incredibly naïve in the ways of the world – she may be very learned from her books but when it comes to certain life situations (especially social ones) she can be left at a loss, as she is below par when it comes to the ways one should behave themselves in a normal non-partying society. With her it’s almost always the head before the heart, and that’s how Mitsy tackles any situation; applying what she knows, taking into careful consideration what she doesn’t and being careful to factor in the variables she can’t control.
But that’s not to say Mitsy is a cold studious creature – rather, she’s a lively little girl with a heart of gold and a curious natureand the nine lives to go with it. Her in-built disaster magnet combined with her fastidious character (or lucky streak) has leant its hand to many near-misses over the years; she has a penchant for discovering trouble and somehow side-stepping it at the last minute, though that’s not to say Mitsy’s a source of infinite luck; there have been times when she’s collided with trouble with the speed of a bullet train (and what trouble she got in then). She can be a little bit quirky, too, in her exuberant nature, though she doesn’t care if people think she’s an oddball or not – mainly because she would be oblivious to that fact. One thing Mitsy can thank her mother for is for her ability to cope exceedingly well on her own – when her mother wasn’t chasing her around the house with curling tongs she was off at yet another party, so Mitsy often had to make her own meals (because the pre-packaged food her mother left behind tasted really awful), get herself ready for school and do other small chores her mother left behind in a rush (such as getting the washing machine started or turning the gas off).
Mitsy is quite an outspoken child but sometimes to the point of being painfully frank, which can be quite to her detriment. However, this is a fault that can be attributed to a lack of social skills as she really only has her mother to talk to rather than other children of her age; if there’s one thing she’s learnt it’s that she can’t relate to many people at all. Her best friend is Matilda; she can relate to her on so many levels though she just wished that Roal Dahl had made her into a real flesh-and-blood person.
History: To start on a brutally honest note Mitsy was a mistake – the last thing her parents had on their minds was a child as they were too busy with their careers as prominent socialites. But when she was born premature by three days her mother Iphemena was simply in love at first sight and named her little darling after their late Pomeranian, though what her husband had to say on the matter got lost somewhere along the line when he ran off with his mistress of three years a short time later. But Iphemena was a strong woman, and what she had in indomitable will and hatred for her ex-husband could only be surpassed by her girlyness and love of all things frilly. It would only be her and her muffincake, and she would protect her from the cruelties of the world.
You see, Iphemena was…wrapped up in a world of her own. Their large three-storey country house was situated on a remote scrap of land outside the town, and what windows gave a clear view of civilisation were boarded up. No papers arrived, no television or radio uttered obscenities in Iphemena’s perfect realm. The private library was locked up – the only reading material allowed were beauty magazines and feng shui books, and all mail (besides the bills, of course) were burned. Flowers and pots adorned every corner of the house. Lace and frills hung from the ceiling and many corridors of the house were hard to bypass as clothes of every fashionable nature were hung and stored there on countless wheeled racks. She only ever left the house to buy necessities, clothes and to attend lavish parties. When Mitsy the Pomeranian had died she was burned. When Iphemena’s husband left every fragment of his existence – clothes, photos, personal belongings – were burned. There was no mourning; there was no sorrow, if only because there was no recollection of their passing. Beauty was Iphemena’s world, and she devoted her life, soul and the very air that she breathed to it in every waking moment.
It was visits to Mitsy’s grandmother that gave the child snippets of the real world, and she looked forward to every visit with her. Not the senile cantankerous person, of course, but the way in which she could slip under the servant’s noses and head out into the Big Wide World of Barkwish Town – and slipping into fabulous stores, playing in the park and watching Pokemon Trainer wanabees come and go from the big lab was where Mitsy blossomed, and so as a result Mitsy didn’t grow up quite the way Iphemena planned. Instead of playing with her dolls Mitsy would run around in the garden – and would often have to be brought forcibly back to her room when she strayed too far (eg: scaling up the fence) and in any sort of finery she was “encouraged” to wear she always managed to look incredibly awkward. Iphemena had a hard time hiding the “horrors” of the real world from Mitsy – she was incredibly observant right from the word go and noticed little things that didn’t make sense – where did clothes come from? How come some foods were packaged and others were not? What about the ads in the magazines? When she was six Mitsy began to go MIA – she realised that her bedroom window was situated to the left of the library and she would thus break in and read all manner of books to satisfy the hunger that the big hole her mother’s world could never fill. What Iphemena had hoped for was a girl who loved to play dress-ups and beg her mercilessly for a smattering of make-up – instead she had a child who’d (unbeknownst to her) read their entire private library by the time she was seven and whose idea of fun was doing trigonometry without a calculator and learning the periodic table off by heart – and no matter how many times she was punished (not physically, of course – there was no violence in their world) and had said items confiscated she would do something else just as blasphemous.
Iphemena became scared. She was convinced that her ex-husband had come back to haunt her through the child he’d cast away; instead of getting a debutant she was going to have an aerospace physicist on her hands. Iphemena just couldn’t understand her at all – she couldn’t understand why any little girl in her right mind would dislike dresses or hide when she was going to demonstrate the secrets of correct mascara application. So she desperately tried to do the right thing by her daughter – Mitsy wore more and more frills and was forced to attend absolutely horrible parties full of people she thought were even shallower than her mother. Mitsy soon came to realise that when she wanted to university her mother would staunchly refuse to “let her ruin her health through academic stresses” and insist that she go try for an honours at beauty school like she had. If she was going to make her way in the world she’d have to start at a point a long long way from her mother. Like in another country. Though of course, she would have to obtain the funds somehow as well. What Mitsy needed was the ultimate working holiday, and there was one profession she could think of that gave her all that and more…
And then the big break came. Iphemena was invited to a huge shebang in Goldenrod city to celebrate the opening of a most prestigious beauty academy and, better yet, that invitation extended to being an honoured lecturer for the entire first term. Gushing with excitement and promises to get her name on the waiting list Iphemena sent Mitsy off to her grandmother’s mansion a few weeks before the beginning of the school term. Her grandmother, an old and senile creature who frequently forgot the time of day let alone her relations, didn’t even remember nor notice her granddaughter’s presence – in fact, Mitsy just put her suitcases into one of the empty rooms, packed a small backpack of necessities and set out to become a Pokemon Trainer. With the prize money she could receive she’d be able to pay her way into any learning institution with rent on the top, and the Professor didn’t live all that far from her grandmother’s house…
Roleplay Sample: This was it.
Mitsy zipped her bag shut and slung her arms through the straps, feeling the small mass that was her life thud softly against her lower back. She had to leave – right now – before her brain turned to mush. Her mother’s world wasn’t the one she craved, she wanted to see movies and libraries, walk in parks and supermarkets, get a proper education. Mitsy was going to see the real world and do real things…and wear a pair of pants.
She giggled at the last one. Of all the things she would do with her life she was going to wear pants? Well, not that she had much choice – from this moment forth Mitsy was never going to wear a dress or a skirt for as long as she lived and she wasn’t going to parade around the town in her underwear. Pants would have to do, though she would never wear then as low as that boy with an ear ring in his nose and pink spiky hair. That boy was strange, even if pink was the new black this year –
A sudden snore shattered through her joviality, bringing her back to the seriousness of the situation. This was it. Her lips automatically set themselves into a stiff line. No tears now – she’d been waiting her entire life for this and she wasn’t going to blow it now by missing her old world, missing her Mother…
She wondered what her Mother would be doing now, if she was winning the audience over with her dazzling white smile, framed with Pimpernel Red. Even though she had seemingly hundreds of lipsticks that was her favourite one. Good tones, she’d said. Good tones, excellent sparkle and a smooth gloss to bring it to a “gob-smacking” finish. Mother’s jokes weren’t exactly to good taste, but Mitsy could recall that little high-pitched laugh that followed afterwards, like the tinkling of little bells on helium…
Overcome with memories, she quickly ran back to the bed, flung her bag off her shoulders, ripped open the zip and snatched Teddy Sampson out of the darkness.
Mitsy held him to her chest like she’d never let go, and she cried the entire time.
Gender: Female
Race: Human :: Pokemon Trainer
Age: 8
Sexuality Preference: Eww…um, straight?
Appearance: As well as many of her daughter’s other dubious peculiarities, Mitsy’s mother Iphemena despairs quite frequently over her child’s appearance. Not that she likes her any less for it (on the contrary; she loves her darling muffincake to bits, even if she is a bit of a strange child) – it’s just that (along with everything else he’s done) it’s her ex-husband’s fault for making Mitsy look so…plain
Her complexion is fashionably pale (how fortunate for her daughter to have acquired that if nothing else from her mother!) and her frame is neither plump nor thin but with her limbs looking slightly too long for the rest of her body Mitsy stands at a gawky average with nothing exceptional or even halfway interesting to draw attention to. She could never hope to become an elegant or graceful figure for it almost seems like the child is so used to being perched precariously between an upright position and disaster that in-coordination has seeped into her bones. (One such example is that Mitsy would frequently tear down the staircase, trip over her own two feet while narrowly collecting a guest and stagger to a stop within an inch of colliding with the expensive vase nestled in the hallway. It’s safe to say that particular vase has had many near-death experiences, though removing it would result in bad feng shui and therefore it must remain in the firing line.)
Moving on – Mitsy’s hair is nothing to get excited over either. Instead of being a vivacious blonde or a fiery red like every other de Weatherly it is mousy brown in colour and deadpan flat (yet another fault of her father’s), resting just shy of her shoulder blades and hanging almost limply around her oval face, her small serious mouth and thoughtful (perhaps even slightly dreamy) dark brown eyes. In regards to her daughter’s attire Iphemena will only have the best dresses and skirts, though even she is aware of a slight reluctance Mitsy seems to have towards these garments. No matter – in time she will come to adore such finery (for what else could she possibly wear? Pants?!).
Personality: Mitsy is incredibly intelligent and articulate for an eight year old, blessed with both a high IQ and a love for learning (which is something she can actually thank her father for) and is used to her own company. She wants to know about everything there possibly is to know, learn everything there is to learn and read every book that’s ever been written. She can seem older than what she really is because of the thought that goes into (some of) her comments and the confident way in which she conducts herself around adults, Mitsy is incredibly naïve in the ways of the world – she may be very learned from her books but when it comes to certain life situations (especially social ones) she can be left at a loss, as she is below par when it comes to the ways one should behave themselves in a normal non-partying society. With her it’s almost always the head before the heart, and that’s how Mitsy tackles any situation; applying what she knows, taking into careful consideration what she doesn’t and being careful to factor in the variables she can’t control.
But that’s not to say Mitsy is a cold studious creature – rather, she’s a lively little girl with a heart of gold and a curious nature
Mitsy is quite an outspoken child but sometimes to the point of being painfully frank, which can be quite to her detriment. However, this is a fault that can be attributed to a lack of social skills as she really only has her mother to talk to rather than other children of her age; if there’s one thing she’s learnt it’s that she can’t relate to many people at all. Her best friend is Matilda; she can relate to her on so many levels though she just wished that Roal Dahl had made her into a real flesh-and-blood person.
History: To start on a brutally honest note Mitsy was a mistake – the last thing her parents had on their minds was a child as they were too busy with their careers as prominent socialites. But when she was born premature by three days her mother Iphemena was simply in love at first sight and named her little darling after their late Pomeranian, though what her husband had to say on the matter got lost somewhere along the line when he ran off with his mistress of three years a short time later. But Iphemena was a strong woman, and what she had in indomitable will and hatred for her ex-husband could only be surpassed by her girlyness and love of all things frilly. It would only be her and her muffincake, and she would protect her from the cruelties of the world.
You see, Iphemena was…wrapped up in a world of her own. Their large three-storey country house was situated on a remote scrap of land outside the town, and what windows gave a clear view of civilisation were boarded up. No papers arrived, no television or radio uttered obscenities in Iphemena’s perfect realm. The private library was locked up – the only reading material allowed were beauty magazines and feng shui books, and all mail (besides the bills, of course) were burned. Flowers and pots adorned every corner of the house. Lace and frills hung from the ceiling and many corridors of the house were hard to bypass as clothes of every fashionable nature were hung and stored there on countless wheeled racks. She only ever left the house to buy necessities, clothes and to attend lavish parties. When Mitsy the Pomeranian had died she was burned. When Iphemena’s husband left every fragment of his existence – clothes, photos, personal belongings – were burned. There was no mourning; there was no sorrow, if only because there was no recollection of their passing. Beauty was Iphemena’s world, and she devoted her life, soul and the very air that she breathed to it in every waking moment.
It was visits to Mitsy’s grandmother that gave the child snippets of the real world, and she looked forward to every visit with her. Not the senile cantankerous person, of course, but the way in which she could slip under the servant’s noses and head out into the Big Wide World of Barkwish Town – and slipping into fabulous stores, playing in the park and watching Pokemon Trainer wanabees come and go from the big lab was where Mitsy blossomed, and so as a result Mitsy didn’t grow up quite the way Iphemena planned. Instead of playing with her dolls Mitsy would run around in the garden – and would often have to be brought forcibly back to her room when she strayed too far (eg: scaling up the fence) and in any sort of finery she was “encouraged” to wear she always managed to look incredibly awkward. Iphemena had a hard time hiding the “horrors” of the real world from Mitsy – she was incredibly observant right from the word go and noticed little things that didn’t make sense – where did clothes come from? How come some foods were packaged and others were not? What about the ads in the magazines? When she was six Mitsy began to go MIA – she realised that her bedroom window was situated to the left of the library and she would thus break in and read all manner of books to satisfy the hunger that the big hole her mother’s world could never fill. What Iphemena had hoped for was a girl who loved to play dress-ups and beg her mercilessly for a smattering of make-up – instead she had a child who’d (unbeknownst to her) read their entire private library by the time she was seven and whose idea of fun was doing trigonometry without a calculator and learning the periodic table off by heart – and no matter how many times she was punished (not physically, of course – there was no violence in their world) and had said items confiscated she would do something else just as blasphemous.
Iphemena became scared. She was convinced that her ex-husband had come back to haunt her through the child he’d cast away; instead of getting a debutant she was going to have an aerospace physicist on her hands. Iphemena just couldn’t understand her at all – she couldn’t understand why any little girl in her right mind would dislike dresses or hide when she was going to demonstrate the secrets of correct mascara application. So she desperately tried to do the right thing by her daughter – Mitsy wore more and more frills and was forced to attend absolutely horrible parties full of people she thought were even shallower than her mother. Mitsy soon came to realise that when she wanted to university her mother would staunchly refuse to “let her ruin her health through academic stresses” and insist that she go try for an honours at beauty school like she had. If she was going to make her way in the world she’d have to start at a point a long long way from her mother. Like in another country. Though of course, she would have to obtain the funds somehow as well. What Mitsy needed was the ultimate working holiday, and there was one profession she could think of that gave her all that and more…
And then the big break came. Iphemena was invited to a huge shebang in Goldenrod city to celebrate the opening of a most prestigious beauty academy and, better yet, that invitation extended to being an honoured lecturer for the entire first term. Gushing with excitement and promises to get her name on the waiting list Iphemena sent Mitsy off to her grandmother’s mansion a few weeks before the beginning of the school term. Her grandmother, an old and senile creature who frequently forgot the time of day let alone her relations, didn’t even remember nor notice her granddaughter’s presence – in fact, Mitsy just put her suitcases into one of the empty rooms, packed a small backpack of necessities and set out to become a Pokemon Trainer. With the prize money she could receive she’d be able to pay her way into any learning institution with rent on the top, and the Professor didn’t live all that far from her grandmother’s house…
Roleplay Sample: This was it.
Mitsy zipped her bag shut and slung her arms through the straps, feeling the small mass that was her life thud softly against her lower back. She had to leave – right now – before her brain turned to mush. Her mother’s world wasn’t the one she craved, she wanted to see movies and libraries, walk in parks and supermarkets, get a proper education. Mitsy was going to see the real world and do real things…and wear a pair of pants.
She giggled at the last one. Of all the things she would do with her life she was going to wear pants? Well, not that she had much choice – from this moment forth Mitsy was never going to wear a dress or a skirt for as long as she lived and she wasn’t going to parade around the town in her underwear. Pants would have to do, though she would never wear then as low as that boy with an ear ring in his nose and pink spiky hair. That boy was strange, even if pink was the new black this year –
A sudden snore shattered through her joviality, bringing her back to the seriousness of the situation. This was it. Her lips automatically set themselves into a stiff line. No tears now – she’d been waiting her entire life for this and she wasn’t going to blow it now by missing her old world, missing her Mother…
She wondered what her Mother would be doing now, if she was winning the audience over with her dazzling white smile, framed with Pimpernel Red. Even though she had seemingly hundreds of lipsticks that was her favourite one. Good tones, she’d said. Good tones, excellent sparkle and a smooth gloss to bring it to a “gob-smacking” finish. Mother’s jokes weren’t exactly to good taste, but Mitsy could recall that little high-pitched laugh that followed afterwards, like the tinkling of little bells on helium…
Overcome with memories, she quickly ran back to the bed, flung her bag off her shoulders, ripped open the zip and snatched Teddy Sampson out of the darkness.
Mitsy held him to her chest like she’d never let go, and she cried the entire time.
lights will guide you Home
and i.g.n.i.t.e your bones
and I will try to [ f i x ] you
[/center]and i.g.n.i.t.e your bones
and I will try to [ f i x ] you