Andromeda Thalis
Jul 20, 2011 0:37:30 GMT -5
Post by Andi Thalis on Jul 20, 2011 0:37:30 GMT -5
The easy S T U F F . . .Name: Andromeda Leigh Thalis
Nickname: Andi
Age: twenty-one [birthday is September 13th]
Member Group: meta-human
Power(s):Tactile Combustion
Play By: Minka KellyLet it F L O W . . .
Yeah, I was born on the same day as that freakin’ Bella kid from that stupid Twilight franchise. Sorry if I offend people, but seriously…vampires do not sparkle. They feast on blood and sleep during the day and stay away from crosses and garlic. Me, I like a lot of garlic, but it comes from my Greek blood. Enough about that, it’s my story. I was born on September 13th in Chicago to Stephanie and Andrew Thalis. We lived right on the shores of Lake Michigan, in a nice condo that my mom’s parents owned. My mom was eighteen when she had me, and my dad was twenty-five. Yeah, one-night stand after a chance meeting in a nightclub resulted in little me, born six pounds, five ounces, nine months later. My father, having the ever conservative parents, made him marry my mom so that my birth would be legit, and in time they grew to love each other.
Quite frankly, it was like a fairytale come true, which almost never happens.
Anyway, back to the story. I grew up in a suburb that was always cold and rainy and just downright depressing. My parents were on me about getting good grades and making friends in school, when them themselves never did it; my mom had been notorious for being an outcast and my father was the black sheep of his family. Of course, both sets of my grandparents loved me, so I got good grades and made friends for them. My parents annoyed me, but I couldn't hate them. They just wanted what was best for me, even if I didn't want to listen.
That was when it fall fell apart.
My mom had been a notorious drinker and smoker throughout her teens, which probably contributed to my lack of social skills and my lackluster grades. Her bad decisions landed her in the hospital one day, and we found out that her liver was failing and that she had cancer. For weeks she battled against the odds with chemotherapy and medicine and all sorts of treatment and I sat by her side, holding her hand as she struggled to tell me that she was sorry that she hadn’t raised me right. She told me her life story, how she had grown up in a rich family and disappointed her parents because she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of winning in the social world by having a perfect family. She told me how she had fallen for my father the moment she had seen him, how she still loved him and how she wanted him to find someone better if she ever died. Most of all, she told me she loved me, more than anything else in the world.
That night she died, as if she had let go because she had told me everything she needed to tell me.
After that my dad moved us closer to the East Coast, where a number of his family lived. After a year he started dating, much to my dislike. I still acted up and got mediocre grades, sometimes skipping school to play hooky. I made no friends but managed to hang out with the cool kids anyway, doing stupid stuff and not getting caught most of the time. By the time I was twelve, my father had pretty much given up on trying to raise me right and had secluded himself with trying to find a woman with enough patience to raise me as someone my mother hadn’t.
That woman was named Alisha, and she was the prettiest woman I had ever seen. Blonde, blue-eyed, she was everything my mother wasn’t, and the total opposite of my father in appearance. Honestly, though she was nice and polite and clean and tidy and tried to act like a mother when she clearly wasn’t…she pissed me off. I wanted my mother to come back and look at me with her blue eyes, telling me in her voice what to do. It was one day that I got so mad at the woman when she told me to raise my grades to make my father happy that I grabbed the closest thing to me – a Barbie my dad had bought in the hopes that I would play with it – and held it, trying to keep my anger in check. My hands kept trembling, my anger kept rising, and when she waggled her finger at me, I lost it. I threw the Barbie at her, and everything went black.
When I woke up a couple of days later, I was in the hospital with a strange man at my side, holding my hand and talking to the doctor. He told me his name was James Campbell and that he was someone from this school called Hammel Institute, a special school for children like me. I didn’t understand, so he told me what had happened. After I had thrown that Barbie at Alisha, it had exploded and destroyed part of the house, along with giving Alisha enough injuries to stay in bed for a few weeks. He said it was called tactile combustion, kind of like Gambit’s power from the X-Men, and that I would need to go to this special school to harness my destructive powers. Since I loved the X-Men (Gambit was my favorite, alongside Rogue and Storm), I got excited and went with him to this school in Pilot Ridge, Vermont.
I grew to control my powers, with some side effects of fatigue if I used it too much and only being able to put the energy into small objects. As I got older, the objects became larger and the explosions bigger, but it took time, and I always had a headache right after that happened, along with my hands going numb. On regular checkups, the doctor would remark about how my body temperature was higher than normal, but Mr. Campbell had told me that that was normal for someone with my ability. I just learned to accept it with my studies and my control, and before long I was making little fireworks shows with popcorn if I got bored. It had been one of those days when the teacher had introduced a new student by the name of Irial McKinley, a good-looking boy around my age who couldn’t speak one word of English.
He became my new project; I taught him English, and he became my best friend. We liked mostly the same things, and he found interest in things I was willing to teach him. He went with me when I got my motorcycle when I was sixteen, a gift from my dad as a way of saying sorry for what had happened four years earlier. Suspicious of his acceptance that I wanted a motorcycle, I asked my dad about it and he told me that ever since the incident with Alisha, he had been wary of me, and would give me whatever I wanted. Being the cruel person that I am, I asked for more piercings and a tattoo; he let me get my ears pierced again and a cartilage ring and my navel, and on my seventeenth birthday, he took me to get the star tattoo on my right wrist.
After that, I got my license to drive my motorcycle to school and mostly everywhere in town, especially the Kafe, since they make awesome coffee, and I can grab Irial a cup of tea sometimes. I do good in my studies and I try and make friends, but there’s still some pent-up anger in there at the situation of my life. Whenever I need something, I ring up my dad and he buys it for me because he’s scared of me, which only adds to the bad attitude I show to everyone except Irial, my teachers, and especially Mr. Campbell. Who knows what will happen this year at Hammel?Behind the M A S K . . .Name: Mandi
Age: twenty
RP Experience: Six years…woah.
How did you find us?: My powers of awesome led me to this wonderful place.Show your S K I L L S . . .
Can I put “please see my awesomeness playing Taeyeon and Cody and Talen” here?
