Post by BEATE-MAREN McCANN on May 15, 2011 17:01:19 GMT 1
BEATE-MAREN McCANN
[/color]of the B.P.R.D. [/color]
[/center]CLASSIFIED INFORMATION[/color]
"And your name is... oh, dear." -Nuala. [/color]
»»FULL NAME:[/b] Beate-Maren McCann aka Bea
»»AGE:[/b] Twenty-Six
»»OCCUPATION:[/b] Agent
»»FACTION:[/b] B.P.R.D
»»SPECIES : [/b] Human/Siren
»»ALIGNMENT:[/b] Good
»»CLASSIFICATION: [/b] Mortal, Voice Powers
THE DETAILS[/color]
"Give it up nasty, we can see you." -Hellboy. [/color]
»»EYE COLOR:[/b] One Blue, One (mostly) Brown - the result of Heterochromia Iridum
»»HAIR COLOR:[/b] Pale Blonde
»»HEIGHT:[/b] 5' 7"
»»PLAY BY:[/b] Kate Bosworth
»»APPEARANCE: [/b]
The most noticeable physical trait that Bea possesses is, of course, her mismatched eyes. This happens to be a rare physical quirk, and therefore a feature that distinguishes her easily when her name is forgotten. In the case of most mythical creatures they are marked out by a brown or unnatural amber eye colour - except in the case of Sirens, where the blue is the dominant eye colour. Thus the blue DNA comes from her mother and the usually more dominant brown form her father. Hence, what is attributed to Heterochromia Iridum may in fact not be symptomatic of that condition - Bea's eyes could equally just as easily be a physical testament to her mixed blood.
Her hair is flaxen blonde, another trait inherited from her mother. It grows at an inhuman pace, and so she is forever getting it cut to keep it in any sort of managabele condition - it has invited comparisons to the fairytale princess Rapunzel in the past, and this is something Bea does not welcome.
Bea's build is athletic, the girl is tall-ish (above the UK average at any rate) - she was one of those clumsy children, all elbows and knees, who eventually shot up and grew into her long limbs. Naturally she was part of fitness training within the BPRD, having re-discovered a natural talent for swimming (to be expected, seeing as Sirens live in water) and honing what small gymnastic skills she already possessed. So with regard to field operations, while Bea may not be on the same level as the bulkier Agents, she can hold her own and her skill-set lends itself to her more common role as a distraction.
An Explanation of Bea's Powers:
- Bea can make use of the Siren's Song (a wordless melody that nevertheless can convey many meanings, though primarily sad in tone) in self-defence and as a lure. Singing in this manner for her is easy to switch into, but harder to snap out of; but she has learnt over her two years at the BPRD how to direct it at a target so as not to affect her teammates
- In daily life, she cannot 'turn off' her voice's manipulative undercurrent, and the effect this has on others depends on their strength of will primarily, though those with the BPRD do seem to have built up a resisitance of sort because they know to expect it. Manning being an occasional exception ;-)
- She really, really loves music! This she takes as a sort of side-effect of her Siren blood, as she is forever catching herself humming or singing under her breath. Bea owns quite the CD collection, and has spent hours backing it up onto her computer.
- Her other speciality is linguistics, again an off-shoot of the Siren powers. Learning languages comes easily to her, and she grasps their intricacies preternaturally quickly.
- Of course, taking her vocal powers out of the equation is also simple: gag her, knock her out, do whatever you can to render her unable to speak.
- Women tend to be slightly less susceptible than men to the influence of her vocal powers.
»»PERSONALITY: [/b]
Bea is as enthusiastic as they come, and has always possessed a positive attitude coupled with what some would suggest is a hyperactivity disorder. She refuses to take anything overly seriously, adhering to the principle that ‘life is too short not to enjoy it’, and being worried over things would affect her personal gratification. The young woman tends to take most things life has thrown at her in her confident stride, and so is neither easily ruffled nor quick to anger.
Bea can be capricious, like a magpie she flits from one source of interest to the next, leaving whatever previously occupied her to fade in the dusty wasteland of her disregard. This can apply to people, though she does find making friends an easy task through sheer force of personality – Bea can be charming and amusing, two qualities that make her an attractive person. Those who can put up with her fickleness will actually find her a loyal friend, as she does not tend to forget where she believes her obligations to lie.
Bea of course is not without her faults, chief of which is her impatience. She does not enjoy waiting, or having to toil towards a distant goal. This is most likely linked to her more-than-a-little-bit spoilt upbringing – Bea wants what she desires to fall into her lap, and preferably within no less than two minutes of her thinking of it. This trait, while indulged in her younger years at home, is now giving way to some latent determination – she is definitely a person ruled by her desires, it is just that as she has become older and wiser the realisation has occurred that they won’t always manifest immediately, and those that hold her passions for long enough will prompt actual pursuit. Of course, with the powers of persuasion encapsulated in her vocal chords, she can easily twist at least some people into coming around to her ways of thinking.
Bea is a very sharing-and-caring sort of person; she will think nothing of sharing her possessions. However, this sort of naive nature has been taken advantage of in the past, and so she is not quite so trusting as she once was. In contrast, Bea would not appreciate similar helpful sentiments from others; she is generally too proud and headstrong to accept aid when offered it, unless of course it is her idea in the first place.
THE BACKGROUND[/color]
"I'm not a baby, I'm a tumor." -Tumor. [/color]
»»FAMILY TREE:[/b]
Father: Frederick ‘Freddy’ McCann; Fifty-Seven; Farmer – Freddy, whilst a dairy farmer, had always been a keen fisherman. So, when one of his mates down the pub suggested a trip to Germany, he jumped at the chance to go and see the world, if only one small portion of it. And that was how he came to be on a rented pleasure cruiser on the Rhine river, where he and his friends heard some mysterious singing and lost all control of themselves. He came back from that trip as the sole survivor, resented even more in his small community because he also returned with a wife in tow – this was viewed as deeply insensitive considering what else had occurred.
Mother: Lorelei, The Rhine Maiden; Immortal; Siren – Many consider Lorelei to be a fiction, a recent entry into the established canon of Germanic folklore. As usual, they are wrong, at least in part. She was indeed first written about circa 1800, but has in fact been a denizen of the St. Goarshausen area of the Rhine river for countless Ages. A water spirit, luring unfortunate and weak-willed sailors to their deaths on the perilous rocks for centuries with her hauntingly sad songs, following the loss of the man she considered to be her true love. Freddy was lucky, he hadn’t drowned in the rush of the river – and Lorelei was softened towards him by virtue of his resemblance to that long-ago lover of hers. He did not know what she was, having woken on the shore with her watching over him. Love blossomed, and he took her home with him. Eventually, they had a daughter, Beate-Maren. On the whole, they were happy. But, like all sirens in a relationship with humans, they had made a deal – Lorelei simply requested one day to be alone each month when Freddy was absolutely forbidden to follow her. And that arrangement was fine, until one fateful day when his curiosity got the better of him . . . and he found her singing by the sea, still luring ships and their crews to their doom on the jagged County Down coast. So, she left him and the isolated community that had always resented her immediately, effectively abandoning her child to his care. Bea has met her mother on a few occasions, but it must be noted that the Rhine Maiden is horrified at the idea of having a child and quite frankly would be happier if Beate-Maren no longer walked the Earth.
»»IDOLS:[/b]
Her Father – Bea has always gotten on well with her father, but discovered a new-found respect for him once he revealed to her what her mother was. She finds it impressive that he was able to take in his stride both a mythical wife, and a daughter who had inherited some of her powers.
Other Agents – Bea is still relatively young, and so most of the more senior agents can inspire at least a degree of admiration within her.
»»HISTORY: [/b]
Lorelei could have killed Frederick McCann. She had already sunk the pleasure craft he and his tipsy friends were piloting down the Rhine; friends he had known since childhood, people who were part and parcel of the daily life of his Northern Ireland village. Yet, her hand was stayed, purely because he resembled the lost love whose death drove her to sing other unwary sailors to their deaths. She rescued the half-drowned man, taking fully the form of a human woman as she chose to enter into a relationship with him. He awoke, befuddled and sick, to find the most gorgeous creature he had ever set eyes upon watching over him. He struggled to sit up, to discover the whereabouts of his mates, and was crushed to be informed they were dead to the last. His grief, however, was soothed by the woman (who he assumed to be a local); despite her change in forms, Lorelei retained her vocal powers of persuasion and manipulation which were easily brought to bear upon the weakened man. They married a few days later, and the couple returned to the Northern Ireland village by the sea that Frederick called home. Lorelei struck an unusual bargain with him, one which he was persuaded by the subconscious urgings of her voice to keep, and they lived happily enough – too wrapped up in each other to truly concern themselves with the fact that they were bitterly disliked by the community at large. Until, of course, when Bea had just turned four, Freddy made the horrifying discovery of what his wife did on the shoreline. Lor raged at his betrayl, abandoning him and her child instantly. And so Frederick was left to contend with raising a daughter who had inherited her mother’s vocal capabilities.
Bea grew up happily – sheltered and indulged by her father – and her hitherto unnamed powers made life just that little bit easier for the blonde. Specifically, it made her educational career an awful lot easier – her main areas of interest being music and languages. The girl also felt an unexplained affinity with bodies of water – be they lakes, rivers, or the great Irish Sea itself – and it was on a deserted beach that she discovered something horrible. Up until that point, she had thought her singing prowess was just that – prowess, a lucky draw in the lottery of life – but it wasn’t, and she found herself drifting off into a daydream, singing a song with no words that she had somehow, deep down, known all her life. The Siren’s song, the harbinger of disaster. And bring disaster it did, to a trawler anchored not far off shore. Bea watched in fascinated horror as the boat edged ever closer, unable to stop herself emitting the melodious noises that were ensnaring the crew’s senses. She was discovered on that same beach, crying as the flotsam and jetsam began to wash ashore on the incoming tide. Her father had never been completely sure what she was capable of, and he was upset to find just how like the woman who bore her his beloved little girl could be. A new wariness entered their relationship, one that even prompted him to try and re-contact Lorelei. Alas, he had no luck on that score, and was forced to observe as the once bright and bubbly girl became slowly more introverted.
Bea eventually went on to attend university in Belfast, and it was here that she started to properly return to being her former self; the mix of people she was thrown into contact with managed to bring her back from shyness. They even persuaded her to take up with the Myspace craze for posting music videos online in the slim hope of being ‘discovered’ and transformed into a star. The BPRD eventually found her, hapahazardly, because some employee or another discovered her music online and was bright enough to think: ‘there’s something not quite right here’. They sent someone out to her halls of residence (which had been a great shock to the Bea they eventually awakened) and she agreed to work for the organisation – but on the condition that she could finish her university education first. She graduated three years later in Music and Modern Languages, moved to the US from Northern Ireland, and started work. Bea is generally kept towards the more interrogation/research side of things – after all, if a creature or entity manages to silence her, she is practically defenceless – but has proved useful in the field with regards to distractions. She’s killed with her voice too: and though it was necessary she is not sure what to think of the fact that she can call upon so much power every time she opens her mouth. The major downside of her vocal powers is that she cannot, ever, turn them off – there are most definitely times when she would like to.
THE PLAYER[/color]
"I can't smile without you...." -Abe & Hellboy. [/color]
»»YOUR NAME:[/b] Sue
»»GENDER:[/b] Female
»»AGE:[/b] 21
»»TITLE:[/b] ----
»»POST SAMPLE:[/b]
The middle of August was usually a time when the weather gods – contrary to the season of summer – gave the British Isles a dose of autumn along with their eagerly worshipped sunshine. Today was one of those days when the best way to describe the weather was that ‘it doesn’t know what it’s going to do’; clouds crowded over the sun, and the sun filtered through the gaps in the clouds for brief hot spells. People were similarly mismatched – hats with t-shirts, long jeans with strappy vests, summer jersey and winter wool. Diagon Alley, nevertheless, was as crowded as ever: its status as the Wizarding shopping mecca in these islands ensured the thronging crowds at all times. Navigating its currents and eddies took skill, and a willingness to have various parts of your body crushed without so much as a look to convey ‘sorry’. It wasn’t even time to be doing Hogwarts shopping yet!
Patience Turner, a girl now entering her fifth year at Hogwarts, felt almost jaded as she picked her way as carefully as she could towards Flourish and Blotts bookshop, much like an old skipper guiding a ferryboat into its intended dock. The bookshop, that lighthouse of literature, that magical place where time suddenly didn’t exist because nobody was taking any notice of it, was one of her favourite places in London. Of course, she was the type of person to say that everywhere she went was her favourite, but this did not make the sentiment less heartfelt. Happily she could pass days in here (that is, if it were open round the clock – what a fabulous idea), pouring over this book and that, skimming many novels and marvelling at the sheer size of some of the encyclopaedia collections, which if stacked one atop another could be as tall as she was if not taller. She rarely came into the shop with expectations, and therefore its contents consistently surprised her: Patience’s method of purchasing most things was to know what you like, not what you want. It was in this frame of mind that she headed to the first floor of Flourish and Blotts, as shafts of light from outside traversed the perfectly cleaned windows to illuminate the carpet and hardwood flooring. That was another wonderful part of the place – the smell. Polish and books, both old and new, was a lovely and soothing combination. It made her smile slightly, just at life and its features rather than for any given cause.
After an hour or so of variously crouching to browse the contents of this shelf, and stretching to take down the contents of that, Patience had done a circuit of the entire floor and was now considering which tomes to purchase, basing her decision on what she could remember out of all she had seen. It was a long-winded process, but then again a wrong choice would result in a momentary regret. And the necessity of a second trip to return the offending volume.
She stood facing the windows, which showcased the currently dull sky, and replaced a rather weighty book she had been considering at length on clothing Charms. Patience took a slight backward step before turning to face into the now darkening interior of the shop once more. Or at least, she had intended to turn; it was lucky, however, that she had the habit of executing most moves she made with a measure of tentativeness, as there was now a book lying on the floor. Patience could feel it through the thin material of her flat pumps as her heel made a slight contact with the binding, and so she turned to pick it up as a boy who had been standing unexpectedly near to her - whom she had not noticed, though he possessed a look of familiarity about him - cursed and held his head. It was easy enough to surmise what had occurred, after a quick darting glance to the shelves beside him had revealed an obvious gap high up. Holding the book, Patience thought it necessary to observe, “That must have hurt.”
Patience Turner, a girl now entering her fifth year at Hogwarts, felt almost jaded as she picked her way as carefully as she could towards Flourish and Blotts bookshop, much like an old skipper guiding a ferryboat into its intended dock. The bookshop, that lighthouse of literature, that magical place where time suddenly didn’t exist because nobody was taking any notice of it, was one of her favourite places in London. Of course, she was the type of person to say that everywhere she went was her favourite, but this did not make the sentiment less heartfelt. Happily she could pass days in here (that is, if it were open round the clock – what a fabulous idea), pouring over this book and that, skimming many novels and marvelling at the sheer size of some of the encyclopaedia collections, which if stacked one atop another could be as tall as she was if not taller. She rarely came into the shop with expectations, and therefore its contents consistently surprised her: Patience’s method of purchasing most things was to know what you like, not what you want. It was in this frame of mind that she headed to the first floor of Flourish and Blotts, as shafts of light from outside traversed the perfectly cleaned windows to illuminate the carpet and hardwood flooring. That was another wonderful part of the place – the smell. Polish and books, both old and new, was a lovely and soothing combination. It made her smile slightly, just at life and its features rather than for any given cause.
After an hour or so of variously crouching to browse the contents of this shelf, and stretching to take down the contents of that, Patience had done a circuit of the entire floor and was now considering which tomes to purchase, basing her decision on what she could remember out of all she had seen. It was a long-winded process, but then again a wrong choice would result in a momentary regret. And the necessity of a second trip to return the offending volume.
She stood facing the windows, which showcased the currently dull sky, and replaced a rather weighty book she had been considering at length on clothing Charms. Patience took a slight backward step before turning to face into the now darkening interior of the shop once more. Or at least, she had intended to turn; it was lucky, however, that she had the habit of executing most moves she made with a measure of tentativeness, as there was now a book lying on the floor. Patience could feel it through the thin material of her flat pumps as her heel made a slight contact with the binding, and so she turned to pick it up as a boy who had been standing unexpectedly near to her - whom she had not noticed, though he possessed a look of familiarity about him - cursed and held his head. It was easy enough to surmise what had occurred, after a quick darting glance to the shelves beside him had revealed an obvious gap high up. Holding the book, Patience thought it necessary to observe, “That must have hurt.”
