Post by Ava Foley on Feb 24, 2012 0:53:25 GMT -5
How did you find us? (Google, an affiliate site, friends?)
With luck!
How many characters do you already have here?
Buffy, Zoey, Amelia, Iris, Giles...
Character's full name: Ava Rivers
Age:28
Group Species: Shapeshifter
Gender:Woman-sih
Alignment: On the side of Good, mostly.
Features: Ava stands at 5'2, weighs in at 108 pounds. Ava has naturally light blonde hair, but often dyes it black with different color streaks, the current color is pink. Ava has an eyebrow piercing in her left brow and a lip ring in her right bottom lip.
Please supply a character image if possible:
Model's name: Emilie De Ravin
Personality:
Ava is a loner, but not by choice. She often resents the fact that she is socially inadequate and tends to lie to herself to get her through the emotional pain of being alone. Ava often thinks that by pushing others away, she is inevitably keeping herself safe from let downs, loss and betrayals. In her heart, Ava knows that isn’t the truth, and on rare moments she attempts a social encounter to meet possible new friends or lovers. Often times she fails, feeling more left out and bitter before the social events are concluded.
Ava is normally quiet and reserved, only speaking when spoken to, and only if she can’t get away from that person quickly. Ava has social anxiety and panics in larger crowds of people.
Ava’s quite nature and social awkwardness should not be misunderstood. She is very clear on the facts of wrong and right, good and evil, and she chooses the side of right and good, and would defend such notions with her life.
With that said, the handful of people that get past Ava’s defensive walls are held close to her heart. She is loyal to them, and would kill to keep them save. These very few people mean more to Ava than life itself.
Likes:
Books
Tattoos
Art
Drawing
Flowers/Gardens
Quite
Television Sitcoms.
Dislikes:
Groups of people
Social gathering places
Evil
Loud mouthed people
Liars
Strengths: (Supernatural strengths. Abilities you posses that can give you an edge in a fight.)
* Shifts into a Werewolf at the Fullmoon, all the strengths that come with being a shifter.
* Ava’s petite frame allows her to fit into areas where most may not fit.
*Ava listens well
*She is really good at reading body language/people.
* Wicked sense of smell.
Weaknesses: (Something that can cause you physical pain, possibly death, if someone else used it against you. ex) A vampire's weakness is sunlight.)
* Shifts into a Werewolf at the full moon, thus losing control of her human nature.
* Ava’s weak in upper body strength
* Can be killed like any normal human
* Susceptible to:
~ spells
~enchantments
~Food Poisoning
~Stalkers
~Etc.
* Ava cannot deal with emotional pain
*Her pride. She will not accept help from anyone not in her inner circle. (Good luck getting in that circle, lol)
History:
I had it rough from the start. When I was little, which I’m just finding out about now by the way, I never remembered any of this until I started having the nightmares. Anyway, when I was little, I remember my “mother”, and I use the term loosely here, would stuff me inside a closet because she didn’t want her new boyfriends to be freaked out about the fact that she had a kid. I kept quite while I was in there, listening to her flirtatious laughter coming from the bedroom. I would pull my knees into my chest and rock back and forth. I started at the lines the light coming from under the door would make and trace them with my little fingers. I suppose I had that to thank her for anyway. My mother had been 16 when she had me, but instead of giving me up, she kept me… Probably for food stamps and child support, I never saw her work a single day in her life. Unless of course, the new guys were her line of work? It was easy at first, I would sit quietly in my little linen closet, staring at the shadows and seeing shapes. I almost had fun in there.
When I was older my mother began throwing me outside. I met a little boy who lived in out apartment complex. I was outside, playing, well, sitting in the grass really, staring off as usual. He had asked me what the hell I was staring at. Fear filled my big blue eyes as I shook my head in a “no” nature. I opened my mouth to say ”I wasn’t staring at you” when he flashed a smile and said, “I’m just shittin ya.” I often saw that boy outside, I learned that his name was James, James Foley. I had been 6 that first time I saw him.
James and I hung out, I guess you could call it that. He rambled on about one thing or another, and I listened. I watched the way he moved when he was angry, actually all of his movements seemed to be that aggressive. James was a very fervent in his body language and tone of voice. I found myself sketching him when I was allowed back into the house. That went on that way for 5 years.
At age 10 child protective services found out about mothers ill treatment of me. Its kind of funny now, where the hell were they when she wasn’t feeding me? Or bathing me? Or shoving me in closets? No, they decided to come when I was 10, and perfectly able to bath and feed myself. Because of her I was independent, even at younger ages I had always managed to find something to eat, in the half empty Styrofoam take out containers that litter our floors. It wasn’t so bad, not now.
The fostercare system. That was bad. I went through 6 foster moms before I found Grace. I had runaway each time, trying to make my way back to James. I knew that if I was able to get to him he would know what to do, he would keep me safe. Theyonly reason they caught me was because I was so far away from South Boston. They kept catching me and returning me to those Abusive fucks. They all took in kids, of all ages, then shoved them all into a bed or two in one room in a tiny ass house. How those people were approved as fosters was beyond me. Alas, they were all the same, mundane and uneventful. Sometimes the “foster moms” beat the girls, maybe we were pretty or thin or whatever, they hated us for some reason. Sometimes the men wanted you, sometimes they took what they wanted. I’d be damned if I’d let that shit happen to me though. I ran, for all the right reasons. They did the only thing they could do, take me farther and farther away from James.
I eventually ended up in Brookline, Mass., with Grace, a crazy middle aged white chick who tried to get me to learn about “the righteousness of our Father in Heaven”. It sounded like a cult to me. Still, she was better than the rest of them. She was single, she actually seemed to care about us more than the check, and we only had to share a room with one person. The other fosters didn’t care to talk to me, or I them. At best we co-existed. Anyway, I found that I enjoyed going to Grace’s church. Not because of the “gospel” or any shit like that, but because for an hour and a half I got to stare up at those stained glass windows. I sketched them often, or whenever I had paper to draw on. They were amazing, and I found myself at peace when looking at them when the sunlight was shining through them….
Grace kept me until 12, then my mother was able to get me back. The foster agency pulled me from Grace and dropped me back into our crappy apartment. I wasn’t angry though, I had learned a few things in those two years, and I was coming back home… Coming back to where James was. When I got home, things pretty much went back to the way they had been… Only James wasn’t alone anymore. He had found new friends, to take my place it had seemed.
James had welcomed me back with open arms, and immediately began to introduce me to the gang. Two years away had definitely changed both of us. My hair was a little longer, but still the pink color of kool-aid. I had started dying my hair just before I had been taken to the foster care system. And he… He was taller, and he had friends. As much as I wanted to, James would never let me feel left out. I quickly became part of the “gang” and at James side at every waking moment.
So it was good to be home! Only now my mother insisted on being a mother. Two years of living in hell and pain for her and she decided to mind fuck me like that. Of course the first person I went to was James. I told James how she was telling me what I could and couldn’t do, that I couldn’t wear certain clothes and that I couldn’t hang out with James anymore. James instantly became furious. He went on his normal rant. From that moment on, I snuck out to be with James and the gang.
This went on for four years. Of course the more my mom tried to keep me from James the more I lashed out at her, and myself. I pierced my lip, then later my eyebrow. We hustled for money, intimidating other kids who had it, dumpster diving for cans and bottles then taking them into the recycling center, we even rolled a homeless man once for food money.
When I was 16, I looked more like a girl. I knew that James didn’t see me that way, even though I probably wanted him to, and probably still want him to. Anyway, at 16 James, me and the gang were in a usual haunt, a condemned building that we “fixed up”. We had broken lawn chairs to sit in, gas lanterns, a big metal drum for a fire. We even had an old dirty mattress to sleep on when our parents kick us out of the house. We were all there laughing at something someone had said when it happened. I’m quite sure how it happened… I just remember the growling noise, the guys getting up, picking up broken pieces of 2x4’s. The biggest dog I ever saw came sauntering into the den. James instantly pulled me behind him, putting himself between me and the mutt.
With a quickness I couldn’t even follow with my eyes, the animal began ripping throats out, chopping down on shoulders, legs, heads. I screamed at the sight of the blood. James yanked my hand and pulled me away from the beast. He jumped out of one of the old un-boarded up windows and I gasped. We had been on the second story. I rushed to the windows edge and looked down to see James safe. He raised his arms and motioned for me to jump out, that he would catch me. I hesitated just a second, then threw myself out of the window, but not before the beast teeth grazed my right calf. Graze may not have been the right word for the wound that animal had caused. Its razor sharp teeth had slit my flesh in two lines, the lines had about an inch of undamaged skin between them. I tumbled out of the window instead of falling straight. I twisted my body so that my back was falling first. True to form, James caught me. We ran. We ran fast and hard and as far away from that thing as we could.
I have two scars about 3 inches in length on my calf. One is from the top set of teeth, the second is from the bottom set of the Werewolf’s teeth.
I was a little different then. Having watched all my friends die horrifically, and only having James left. On my first full moon I turned into a beast myself. James had been there, as he always was. I bite him, thus causing him to become the monster that I was now. When I awoke that next morning, I was naked, and covered in blood in some alleyway. I saw James, laying there, not moving, and covered in blood too. I realized what I had done. I called 911 and told them where to find James. I found my tattered clothes and put them back on. I stayed hidden where I could watch him until they came for him. Then I left. I knew James wouldn’t forgive me. I knew he would hate me and tell me he never wanted to see me again. So I ran, And I’ve been running ever since.
With luck!
How many characters do you already have here?
Buffy, Zoey, Amelia, Iris, Giles...
Character's full name: Ava Rivers
Age:28
Group Species: Shapeshifter
Gender:Woman-sih
Alignment: On the side of Good, mostly.
Features: Ava stands at 5'2, weighs in at 108 pounds. Ava has naturally light blonde hair, but often dyes it black with different color streaks, the current color is pink. Ava has an eyebrow piercing in her left brow and a lip ring in her right bottom lip.
Please supply a character image if possible:
Model's name: Emilie De Ravin
Personality:
Ava is a loner, but not by choice. She often resents the fact that she is socially inadequate and tends to lie to herself to get her through the emotional pain of being alone. Ava often thinks that by pushing others away, she is inevitably keeping herself safe from let downs, loss and betrayals. In her heart, Ava knows that isn’t the truth, and on rare moments she attempts a social encounter to meet possible new friends or lovers. Often times she fails, feeling more left out and bitter before the social events are concluded.
Ava is normally quiet and reserved, only speaking when spoken to, and only if she can’t get away from that person quickly. Ava has social anxiety and panics in larger crowds of people.
Ava’s quite nature and social awkwardness should not be misunderstood. She is very clear on the facts of wrong and right, good and evil, and she chooses the side of right and good, and would defend such notions with her life.
With that said, the handful of people that get past Ava’s defensive walls are held close to her heart. She is loyal to them, and would kill to keep them save. These very few people mean more to Ava than life itself.
Likes:
Books
Tattoos
Art
Drawing
Flowers/Gardens
Quite
Television Sitcoms.
Dislikes:
Groups of people
Social gathering places
Evil
Loud mouthed people
Liars
Strengths: (Supernatural strengths. Abilities you posses that can give you an edge in a fight.)
* Shifts into a Werewolf at the Fullmoon, all the strengths that come with being a shifter.
* Ava’s petite frame allows her to fit into areas where most may not fit.
*Ava listens well
*She is really good at reading body language/people.
* Wicked sense of smell.
Weaknesses: (Something that can cause you physical pain, possibly death, if someone else used it against you. ex) A vampire's weakness is sunlight.)
* Shifts into a Werewolf at the full moon, thus losing control of her human nature.
* Ava’s weak in upper body strength
* Can be killed like any normal human
* Susceptible to:
~ spells
~enchantments
~Food Poisoning
~Stalkers
~Etc.
* Ava cannot deal with emotional pain
*Her pride. She will not accept help from anyone not in her inner circle. (Good luck getting in that circle, lol)
History:
I had it rough from the start. When I was little, which I’m just finding out about now by the way, I never remembered any of this until I started having the nightmares. Anyway, when I was little, I remember my “mother”, and I use the term loosely here, would stuff me inside a closet because she didn’t want her new boyfriends to be freaked out about the fact that she had a kid. I kept quite while I was in there, listening to her flirtatious laughter coming from the bedroom. I would pull my knees into my chest and rock back and forth. I started at the lines the light coming from under the door would make and trace them with my little fingers. I suppose I had that to thank her for anyway. My mother had been 16 when she had me, but instead of giving me up, she kept me… Probably for food stamps and child support, I never saw her work a single day in her life. Unless of course, the new guys were her line of work? It was easy at first, I would sit quietly in my little linen closet, staring at the shadows and seeing shapes. I almost had fun in there.
When I was older my mother began throwing me outside. I met a little boy who lived in out apartment complex. I was outside, playing, well, sitting in the grass really, staring off as usual. He had asked me what the hell I was staring at. Fear filled my big blue eyes as I shook my head in a “no” nature. I opened my mouth to say ”I wasn’t staring at you” when he flashed a smile and said, “I’m just shittin ya.” I often saw that boy outside, I learned that his name was James, James Foley. I had been 6 that first time I saw him.
James and I hung out, I guess you could call it that. He rambled on about one thing or another, and I listened. I watched the way he moved when he was angry, actually all of his movements seemed to be that aggressive. James was a very fervent in his body language and tone of voice. I found myself sketching him when I was allowed back into the house. That went on that way for 5 years.
At age 10 child protective services found out about mothers ill treatment of me. Its kind of funny now, where the hell were they when she wasn’t feeding me? Or bathing me? Or shoving me in closets? No, they decided to come when I was 10, and perfectly able to bath and feed myself. Because of her I was independent, even at younger ages I had always managed to find something to eat, in the half empty Styrofoam take out containers that litter our floors. It wasn’t so bad, not now.
The fostercare system. That was bad. I went through 6 foster moms before I found Grace. I had runaway each time, trying to make my way back to James. I knew that if I was able to get to him he would know what to do, he would keep me safe. Theyonly reason they caught me was because I was so far away from South Boston. They kept catching me and returning me to those Abusive fucks. They all took in kids, of all ages, then shoved them all into a bed or two in one room in a tiny ass house. How those people were approved as fosters was beyond me. Alas, they were all the same, mundane and uneventful. Sometimes the “foster moms” beat the girls, maybe we were pretty or thin or whatever, they hated us for some reason. Sometimes the men wanted you, sometimes they took what they wanted. I’d be damned if I’d let that shit happen to me though. I ran, for all the right reasons. They did the only thing they could do, take me farther and farther away from James.
I eventually ended up in Brookline, Mass., with Grace, a crazy middle aged white chick who tried to get me to learn about “the righteousness of our Father in Heaven”. It sounded like a cult to me. Still, she was better than the rest of them. She was single, she actually seemed to care about us more than the check, and we only had to share a room with one person. The other fosters didn’t care to talk to me, or I them. At best we co-existed. Anyway, I found that I enjoyed going to Grace’s church. Not because of the “gospel” or any shit like that, but because for an hour and a half I got to stare up at those stained glass windows. I sketched them often, or whenever I had paper to draw on. They were amazing, and I found myself at peace when looking at them when the sunlight was shining through them….
Grace kept me until 12, then my mother was able to get me back. The foster agency pulled me from Grace and dropped me back into our crappy apartment. I wasn’t angry though, I had learned a few things in those two years, and I was coming back home… Coming back to where James was. When I got home, things pretty much went back to the way they had been… Only James wasn’t alone anymore. He had found new friends, to take my place it had seemed.
James had welcomed me back with open arms, and immediately began to introduce me to the gang. Two years away had definitely changed both of us. My hair was a little longer, but still the pink color of kool-aid. I had started dying my hair just before I had been taken to the foster care system. And he… He was taller, and he had friends. As much as I wanted to, James would never let me feel left out. I quickly became part of the “gang” and at James side at every waking moment.
So it was good to be home! Only now my mother insisted on being a mother. Two years of living in hell and pain for her and she decided to mind fuck me like that. Of course the first person I went to was James. I told James how she was telling me what I could and couldn’t do, that I couldn’t wear certain clothes and that I couldn’t hang out with James anymore. James instantly became furious. He went on his normal rant. From that moment on, I snuck out to be with James and the gang.
This went on for four years. Of course the more my mom tried to keep me from James the more I lashed out at her, and myself. I pierced my lip, then later my eyebrow. We hustled for money, intimidating other kids who had it, dumpster diving for cans and bottles then taking them into the recycling center, we even rolled a homeless man once for food money.
When I was 16, I looked more like a girl. I knew that James didn’t see me that way, even though I probably wanted him to, and probably still want him to. Anyway, at 16 James, me and the gang were in a usual haunt, a condemned building that we “fixed up”. We had broken lawn chairs to sit in, gas lanterns, a big metal drum for a fire. We even had an old dirty mattress to sleep on when our parents kick us out of the house. We were all there laughing at something someone had said when it happened. I’m quite sure how it happened… I just remember the growling noise, the guys getting up, picking up broken pieces of 2x4’s. The biggest dog I ever saw came sauntering into the den. James instantly pulled me behind him, putting himself between me and the mutt.
With a quickness I couldn’t even follow with my eyes, the animal began ripping throats out, chopping down on shoulders, legs, heads. I screamed at the sight of the blood. James yanked my hand and pulled me away from the beast. He jumped out of one of the old un-boarded up windows and I gasped. We had been on the second story. I rushed to the windows edge and looked down to see James safe. He raised his arms and motioned for me to jump out, that he would catch me. I hesitated just a second, then threw myself out of the window, but not before the beast teeth grazed my right calf. Graze may not have been the right word for the wound that animal had caused. Its razor sharp teeth had slit my flesh in two lines, the lines had about an inch of undamaged skin between them. I tumbled out of the window instead of falling straight. I twisted my body so that my back was falling first. True to form, James caught me. We ran. We ran fast and hard and as far away from that thing as we could.
I have two scars about 3 inches in length on my calf. One is from the top set of teeth, the second is from the bottom set of the Werewolf’s teeth.
I was a little different then. Having watched all my friends die horrifically, and only having James left. On my first full moon I turned into a beast myself. James had been there, as he always was. I bite him, thus causing him to become the monster that I was now. When I awoke that next morning, I was naked, and covered in blood in some alleyway. I saw James, laying there, not moving, and covered in blood too. I realized what I had done. I called 911 and told them where to find James. I found my tattered clothes and put them back on. I stayed hidden where I could watch him until they came for him. Then I left. I knew James wouldn’t forgive me. I knew he would hate me and tell me he never wanted to see me again. So I ran, And I’ve been running ever since.
