HIRST, Sally

[SALLY HIRST]

SALLY HIRST

[/color]
of the Daughters of Eve. [/color]

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CLASSIFIED INFORMATION[/color]
"And your name is... oh, dear." -Nuala. [/color]

»»FULL NAME:[/b] Sally Hirst
»»AGE:[/b] Seventeen
»»OCCUPATION:[/b] Student
»»FACTION:[/b] Human
»»SPECIES : [/b] Human
»»ALIGNMENT:[/b] Good, though prone to dangerous bouts of curiosity that land her into severe trouble.


»»ABILITY: [/b] Ability here
( Here we ask that if your character has any power or special ability you give us an in depth description here. Please try to keep it to one ability when you can. This section should not be altered after acceptance without staff permission, and please try to keep your power from becoming one of godly disastrous abilities, if your character is over powered, you will be asked to modify it. We would like to keep a balanced network. =D Thank you! )
- - -Strength: Ability strengths
- - -Drawbacks: Ability weaknesses



THE DETAILS[/color]
"Give it up nasty, we can see you." -Hellboy. [/color]

»»EYE COLOR:[/b] Black
»»HAIR COLOR:[/b] Deep brown, mistaken for black unless in the sun
»»HEIGHT:[/b] 5'5"
»»PLAY BY:[/b] Camilla Belle

»»APPEARANCE: [/b]

Sally brings to mind (in most that she meets) the image of a mouse. Of course there are more than obvious reasons for this; her wide unfiltered but shy gaze, her tiny button like nose , and the mass of unruly but soft bunches of fawn colored hair for instance. There is much about her appearance that is imperfect in her view. Not the least of which are her teeth, overly large though luckily straight with a bit of an over bite, at times harkening to the likeness of a horse or worse…a beaver. Though a blight to her features, she absolutely refuses to see an orthodontist. She still retains some of the baby fat from her childhood, most predominantly in her cheeks and chin. Across her nose is a light to intermittent sprinkling of freckles, which despite her pains to remove, never wash off with water and wash cloth. (As if they would) Though that never deters her from trying her damnedest. Her mouth is turned down naturally at the corners, though its make is moderately full. Her high brow in congruence with the contours of her baby cheeks give an almost square or box like alignment to her face.

In physique Sally is fairly weak though limber. She has the tone of one who eats healthily, does weights every so often but receives the majority of her fitness primarily from swimming or bike riding. Though she is only a few short months away from her eighteenth year, she is still growing; her body filling out in preparation for her budding womanhood.

Her style is what most would call clean cut and disquietingly adult for one so young. Starched white collared shirts or fashion that ultimately speaks of one who is advanced in years. Impeccable and not a hair out of place, unless to be measurably untidy. Prim and proper but with a slight edge of…nonconformist to her. Sally has always had a penchant for pushing her boundaries, and that shows at times in the one slight accent to her wardrobe that seems off, perhaps her stockings are too bright a sheen with the rest of the ensemble. There is always a small burst of color that does not seem to fit in with what she is wearing. Or an article of clothing that does not match, such as a leather jacket with a tweed skirt. Though cautious even in her wardrobe choices for the most part, there remains a thread of chaos, seeking to declare itself.


»»PERSONALITY: [/b]

Sally is sweet if quiet. She prefers to be unobtrusive rather than be singled out. Though she little knows this, that tendency in her is a product of a childhood trauma she has wrestled into the dark recesses of her mind. She only knows she feels safe and calm when no eye falls on her and no tongue wags concerning her. Careful and considerate, she does not shout, nor cry when she is provoked (at least, not that she can remember). Cordial and respectfully polite are her mottos.

Sally is a lonely young woman but does not understand that she is. Due to her upbringing she has no comparison to what a normal girls life should be filled with, and feels foreign and alien when standing next to the upper classmen she studies with and out of place in the group of kids that range around her age.This could be attributed to the company she keeps, usually professors of her most beloved subjects as those her age shy away from her….as if sensing something tainted. Sally’s true passions, however: archeology/anthropology and the research of folklore and myth, animate her to a frenzy and with a lust to learn that is almost frightening.

To put it plainly, Sally is only half herself. The experiences in her past have dictated her behavior in ways that she cannot even fathom. But the parts that strive to remember continually push her further and further into the realm of legend. Nothing quite compares to the exhilaration and fear she experiences when faces with learning or uncovering the cultures and lives of those who went before us. Her school work is her driving force, but something is pushing that passion to harsh heights.

Though she is quiet, small and little and very much like the mousey figure she seems to appear, she has vast stores of inner strength she is unaware of. She has forgotten what she has done. Forgotten that she has a fighter’s spirit, determined to survive at any cost. Forgotten there is a fierce child who lived through a horror not many humans can meet face to face in adulthood. If she recovers her memories…that other half will unlock, releasing a lion in the mouse.



THE BACKGROUND[/color]
"I'm not a baby, I'm a tumor." -Tumor. [/color]

»»FAMILY TREE:[/b]
Kim (deceased) : Father's Girlfriend
Alex Hirst (deceased): Father
»»IDOLS:[/b] Though Sally cannot remember her clearly, Kim (a phantom parent figure in her cloudy memory) taught her to be strong and to fight, and her sacrifice to save Sally has impacted her deeply....even if she cannot recall it.

»»HISTORY: [/b]

Sally’s memory can reach back only as far as her seventh year; when she was deposited in a New England orphanage with very little memory of how she had arrive there or who had brought her to its doorstep. She remembered very little of her life, specifics slipped from her. She remembered a mother, a father, and a father’s girlfriend, but their faces were blank in her recall and their voices distorted. Only flashes, nothing ever substancial enough to hold.

Her first few days in the establishment proved disastrous and she was sent temporarily to a care facility for the mentally unstable, after she woke the halls with devastating night terrors five days in a row. During her time there, it was discovered she was the sole survivor of the mysterious disappearances at Manor at Fallen Mill, Blackwood’s estate. It was revealed that the care taker, a mister Harris, had delivered her to the orphanage anonymously and then had convieniently left town.

The authorities believed that Harris did away with the parents so that he could abuse the little girl. It is unclear why he finally released her by their records and accounts, though most reasoned it was the guilt that drove him to repent enough of the crimes he had done to spare her life. The police caught up with him in Canada. Though he maintained his innocence he did confess to leaving her at the orphanage, but no other name of guilt passed his lips.

The court found him guilty and he was sentenced to fifty years to life, depending on the eventuality he chose to let them know where the bodies were stashed. The judge did not call Sally to the stand because whatever damage had been done to her was absolute and had left her still raving about creatures in the dark. She was considered an unreliable witness as well as an overwrought victim.

It took two years in the sanitarium for the doctors to finally repress and hypnotize the poor child to a point where she could life out her life with some sense of normalcy. Whatever was done during her sessions, had all but wiped her memory clean or found a way to lock them up tight enough to keep it from interfering in her ability to cohabitate and commune with others around her.

She was never adopted however despite these processes to help her live a realitively normal life. Her resulting isolation and standoffish behavior with other children left her vulnerable to being overlooked by potential parents and foster families. But her dedication to her school work, her excellence and proficiency in her studies, especially in the realm of art and history, garnered quite a bit of attention in the media and the state. For despite her background and her youth she broached levels of schooling and learning that were two to three years ahead of her age group.

Seeking to make an example of her progress to others about the importance of education they made her a ward of the state and fully funded her academic endeavors. As long as she brought praise and honor to them and continue the high level of performance of her grades, they would continue to house her, nourish her and proved her with every need.

She has upheld her part of the bargain well and she is now in the early college program at in New York City. Her fields include history of folklore, with a minor in archeology and artistry. She often sketches the things she finds in cultural digs, which she attends in internships available during the summer months.

This year, her internship is focused on the archival of ancient artifacts and their preparation for auction at the Blackwood Museum. The name has set a frantic sort of pace in Sally, and her need to uncover and learn from these last societies and their legends is like a fire in her brain. She believes her quest for such knowledge can be compared to digging for buried treasure when in fact, she is merely digging up the casket of her past. And the remains therein are not pretty.

~
The Forgotten Past (SPOILERS FOR DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK, but not entirely as I tweaked to fit into the HB verse)

When Sally was seven, her mother shipped her off to her father and his new girlfriend, promptly abandoning the young girl. Her father, along with Kim (the interloper girlfriend) were cleaning up Fallen Mill, Emerson Blackwood’s estate and manor; refinishing and refurbishing it in the hopes of making the cover of Archeticual Digest.

Displaced from the routine and life she had always known, Sally was somewhat overwhelmed with the addition of a woman who was not her mother and the journey to a new home. Feeling alone and like a stranger with her own father she was all but too easy prey for the creatures that had dwelled in the house for over a hundred years.

There are many types of Fae, there are those who acknowledge the reign and rule of their sovereign and there are those who rebel…the Solitary Fae. A horde of solitary, disfigured breed of Tooth Faeries were some of the many who forewent the truce with the human race when King Balor made his decree. Ignoring the call for peace these rabid Fae continued on with their own clans orders. For every reemergence of their kind they must take one of the human race to replenish their numbers. The usual plot was to steal a child and hold it ransom until a parent came to claim them. The sacrifice asked for was children’s teeth, if such was not delivered then they would take the parent and devour the child.

In the past, the bargain was concreted by the exchange of children’s fallen teeth in exchange for silver coins. But the altering ages where humans forgot their promise and believed in science rather than in the forces of nature drove the clan to starvation and madness. Emerson Blackwood fell prey to their trickery when they took his young son of eight, even going so far as to rip his own teeth and those of his maid out to please them and to regain his heir. Not knowing this was not enough to satiate them until too late, he was taken and his son, lost forever.

After that tragedy, his estate was sealed up and all who knew of it’s evil past was the care taker Mr. Harris. The protection of the manor was passed down onto his grandson…the same Harris who would end up serving a jail sentence for saving Sally’s life.

Awoken from the bowels of the house by the appearance of a child, the Solitary Fae lost no time at beguiling and bewitching the young Sally. Whispering her name, promising to be her friend, to play with her when she was lonely and sad they entrapped her curiousity, and though the iron cover in the basement that kept them enslaved was bolted, Sally, a virtual Pandora attacked at it in the fury that only a neglected and frightened child would. Unleashing all of hell in it’s wake.

Once unleashed, it was soon after that Sally began to fear those she had saved in the hopes of becoming their friend. They committed spiteful tricks for which she was always blamed for. They even attacked the kind and elderly, Mr. Harris when he warned Sally from the basement, sending him into the hospital. Her father was hard and resolute as iron and did not believe her tales of small creatures. Kim, though, however became concerned for the child’s well being. The unexpected kindness brought Sally to tears and in events to follow she found in Kim, a mother she had never really known could exist.

Seeking answers, Kim demanded answers from Mr. Harris who would only warn her to get Sally out of the House. Demanding to know why, he told her to search for the private Blackwood journals in the library. Shocked to learn there were such documents, Kim was horrified to discover descriptions such as Sally had used for the same kind of creatures upon the pages. Wrinkles, teeth, and claws. Illustrations of ghastly little horrors were only mirrored when Kim found Sally’s sketches of them hidden in a drawer in her room. This still was not enough to convince her father of her tales, though now in Kim she had a firm ali.

It was only after an attack on her in a locked room during a dinner party did he agree that it would be best that Sally left, staring at the tear stained and puffy cheeks of his daughter. But Sally was beginning to fight back, taking pictures of the creatures with a Polaroid camera that seared them with the bright flash, and even managed to kill one.

It made no difference though. At the prospect of losing their only meal in over a hundred years the Fae set about concurring those they sought to keep and feast upon.
They cut the power to the entire house allowing them to move freely and without restraint, tying and binding young Sally before hauling her to the basement like a sack of potatoes as she thrashed and screamed. Her father they had locked in the garage, and tripped Kim down a flight of stairs. Coming to to Sally’s frantic screams, Kim hobbled down to the basement with a flashlight which she thrust into Sally’s hands to hold them off while Kim got between the vent that led to the depths of the house and the Fae’s prey.

Sawing at the rough rope she commanded that the second Sally was free for her to run and to not look back. Sally was terrified at the idea of leaving Kim and begged her not to make her leave. The rope’s fraying edges snapped and tangled up in Kims legs, dragged her instead down into the deep. In grief and rage Sally smashed the leader of the Fae brutally with the blunt end of her flashlight, just as her father escaped the garage and ran to find her.

But Sally had now killed two of Fae’s number, and seeing payment due they dragged the father down with Kim even as Sally tried to grip his hands bone crushingly. “Even.” They said, laughing all the way down.

Mr. Harris, newly released from the hospital, found Sally long after the fight had grown silent, screaming blood curdling threats into the void as they Fae taunted her with the sounds of the voices of those she loved. He pried her forcefully away, her head accidentally hitting the entrance of the vent, knocking her unconscious. Harris took her to the nearest orphanage….and returned swiftly to the Manor and began work on bolting down the grated entrance to the mouth of the vent, thrice as strong as before. Doing so he thought he heard the sound of Kim’s voice waft up from the dark, but it was distorted and muddied….half human…half not.

“We will go deeper. And we will wait. More will come. We will wait….
We have all the time in the world.”

THE PLAYER[/color]
"I can't smile without you...." -Abe & Hellboy. [/color]

»»YOUR NAME:[/b] Rachel
»»GENDER:[/b] Female
»»AGE:[/b] 24
»»TITLE:[/b] I am sae fair an’ fu’ o’ flesh

»»POST SAMPLE:[/b]

Place your role play sample here!

Music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9LySMzaaPI ((start at 0:35))

The hollow drumming of the rain beat relentlessly against the window, reminding Anne much of fingers impatiently tapping away in wait for something vastly important to be announced. A queer feeling of excited unease was coiling about in the pit of her stomach, keenly mimicking the same unsteady exhilaration one would feel if they stood from a great height and looked down…only to discover a bottomless black abyss below. It was a sort of fearful expectancy and Anne could not place why it was she should feel so…nor why it was strangely pleasing to her senses.

A faint whisper of interest touched the base of her spine as she sought to peer through the rivulets that streamed down the pane toward the city that sprawled out in front of her. But all was distorted in the view, the outlines misshapen beyond recognition. What was the practice of the old wives? She remembered fondly Cook’s advice that if she deigned to know her husband’s visage before her hand fasting, she need only to gaze into a window at dusk or twilight and fix her eyes upon the spot above her shoulder, without looking directly at the vision, rather only from the corner of her eye.

Tilting her chin up with peculiar command she ghosted her breath upon the glass, the heat of her mouth flaring the surface with a misty blush. She watched in fascination, how it receded from the outside in like the tide, pointedly keeping her glance to the left and slightly aloft. Having preformed this ritual and often with no result as a child, it was with a quiet jolt of unearthly inner stillness that she saw the curtain part in the reflection before her. Even with such a warning, when the quietly, clearly masculine voice broke her from her own consciousness, her pulse twitched in her wrist and jumped in the prominent vein at the alabaster flash of her throat.

But even that minute flicker of non movement frightened the companion moth to stir its wings in sudden upward flight, until it was indistinguishable from the gray light of the ceiling. Anne’s gaze followed it bidding it stay away from other sleeping maidens and unguarded flames. Finally she turned her head cautiously, with unbearable slowness until she completely faced her intruder and he came fully into the sparse, almost fragile light.

The silence after his question lay between them like a heavy blanket of snow, smothering everything but that perfect sharp note, as striking as a chime that vibrated in the air…and raised a fine line of goose bumps upon the parts of her flesh that were bare to his gaze. She knew him. By his form. By his features. His likeness was woven into tapestries, drawn with the most eloquent of artist’s hands into masterful portraits. And yet, in the physical presence of her Sovereign she felt a jagged edge to him and his closeness…that none of those representations had ever captured accurately or successfully. There was something alarming to even the softest curiosity in his gaze. Anne met it unflinchingly, some would say brazenly though there was no malice or guile in it. It was simply…a declaration of her own existence.

His eyes chameleoned the hue of the dawn and it would not have surprised Anne if he were but made up of the morning, a figment nearly unreal and of her own imagining, though she knew herself to be well awake. The glance between them lay extended for an eerie moment before she untethered her emboldened gaze, and returned to her preoccupation with the weather. What might have appeared callous and disregarding of the etiquette of the court was simply an effort to give her a second’s composure. Her voice when she spoke was a low murmur, nearly drowned out by the rain.

“There is no better to be had...Your Majesty…” She turned back to him then, “…though perhaps there are…safer…locations to choose from.” She delicately lifted the slim novel from the pool of her skirts and pressed it to her breast softly, “I bid your Majesty a good morning.” Bowing her head obediently and keeping her features in shadow, she gathered her skirts and made to move from his way.