Briar A. Mason
May 4, 2011 1:42:29 GMT -5
Post by Briar Mason on May 4, 2011 1:42:29 GMT -5
The Basics
Name: Briar Annette Mason
Nicknames: Bri, Thorn, BAM!, Mason
Age: 23
Orientation: Bisexual
Desired Rank/Job: Recruiter
Powers: Telekinesis
Play By: Miss Mosh
The Details
Hair Color: White/Platinum Blonde
Eye Color: Grey/Blue, depending on the light
Any Piercings? Ears, Navel, Tongue
Any Tattoos? Nope!
Any Scars? Nope!
General Appearance:
Briar could be classed as someone whose looks are pretty in a classic blonde type of way. Her figure is full, the coveted hourglass, but she has a thin, tiny frame. The flare of her hips is average, those she does have a small waist that she prizes and B, almost C-sized breasts that she obsesses over (as they are in her opinion too small). Her skin has been called ivory; though she likes the word ‘porcelain’ a lot better for a description (which is a really nice way of saying she needs more sun and is too damned pale). It is smooth, barring the occasional scratch and lacerations that come with travel, training and recruiting some of the more stubborn meta-humans. Height-wise, she is fairly well off standing 5’ 7’’.
Miss Mason has blonde hair that she currently keeps in a rather high-maintenance piece-y cut that falls to just below her shoulders. She often wears it loose or in a messy knot. Brair has an oval shaped face, with good cheekbones; she thanks her mother for them whenever she is complemented (because according to Aunt Clara, that's where she got it from). Her eyes are a deep blue-grey colour, a button nose and plump lips. In regards to make up, if she is not wearing any, she does not feel dressed. Most of the times, she does a full regiment, but on her off days or lazy days she wears minimal amounts of make-up to complement and bring out the good features of her face.
Briar’s “normal wear”, is very “look at me”. It is often short, form fitting or just plain odd. She does not cop out with comfortable clothes unless she plans to sit around all day on a couch and attempt to eat a quarter of her weight in ice cream. She can often be seen in a dark colours such as blacks, blues or greys with a pop of colour somewhere. If she feels like making a scene the whole outfit will look like a very expensive and in vogue rainbow threw up on her. She is never seen wearing flats and it is unknown whether or not she is even aware of the existence of flats and sneakers. Jewellery for her is simple elegance. Often times she is wearing a a thin silver necklace with either a broken heart or a sunflower on it. Her wrists usually sport bangles of silver, three of them on her left hand.
Personality:
Brair is sadly a lot like her namesake and nothing like the Disney Princess of the same name. She is mostly quiet (and not spontaneously bursting into songs about love) and it is a general misconception that she is cold and unfriendly. She’s just not a fan of pointless conversation and unnecessary physical contact. It is only if you know her well enough that you would find her playful and sassy – in a dry and humorous kind of way and still, not ‘huggy’ or a huge talker. Quiet people are often believed to be deep thinkers, she isn’t. She is less of a thinker and more of a do-er as she believes that actions speak much louder than the meager amount of words she does bother to use. When she does bother to speak, she is constantly making cut and dry (if not completely obvious) observations, generally putting in her opinion (not that anyone asked her for it) or just reminding people that she’s still there and paying attention. Her sentences are short, often mono-syllabic and occasionally, very rude. She does not like dealing with anyone she does not have to and makes that fact painfully clear. The more she likes you, the longer and nicer her sentences. Well, as nice as she gets…
Brair, being a do-er, rather than a thinker has the tendency to snap decisions and accepts that some of them might not work out the way she wants them to (and they very rarely do). She has a knack for jumping into situations without looking to see where she is landing all for the sake of helping (and sometimes she makes it worse) but is able to apologize and accept that she was wrong… grudgingly and more than likely, after an argument or getting blamed directly. Yes, she is a rather helpful person, but the manner in which she chooses to help is rather overbearing and insulting due to her lack of communication or the manner of it. Generally, she is not an ideal people person. Her redeeming quality would be her drive. She loves to get things done, Briar is the type of person that will stick to a task – given or self-appointed and see it through to the end no matter what. Failure is not an option, and when she is forced to face it, it is not done happily and she does get down on herself because of it.
When it comes to dealing with people on an emotional basis, she does have a fear of developing closeness and familiarity too fast, which comes with the territory of being tossed from family member to family member in her early stages of life. As a sort of defense mechanism Briar has a habit of referring to others by little titles in lieu of their names. These titles are used not only in her mind, but aloud, which some people may find disconcerting, amusing or insulting – especially if she is not a fan of the person she nicknamed. Each moniker is based on their appearance or abilities. She is also not a very tactile person. Hugs and kisses are very rare (and should be appreciated) when initiated by her. When she is being given them, it makes her visibly uncomfortable and unsure of how to reciprocate, if any at all. If she is fond of the person initiating the contact she will make a very visibly (and highly amusing to watch) effort.
Morally, she does believe in the Golden Rule. She believes in helping others. She believes in being loyal and always trying one’s best to tell the truth and be true to one’s self. Briar tries to live up to what she believes in with varying degrees of success... But eh, she’s still growing.
Your Vices
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Likes:
- Punctuality
- Rainy days
- Reading
- Singing (when no one is around to hear)
- Dogs
- Optimists
- Nature (Trails, Parks, the Beach, etc.)
- Jewelry
- Fashion
- Holidays
Dislikes:
- Being mistaken for a male due to her name
- Nosy people
- Unnecessary touching
- Public speaking
- Moving/Being unsettled
- Liars/Cheaters
- Gossip
- Talking about her family/childhood
- Teenagers
- Waiting
Strengths:
- Driven
- Opinionated
- Observant
- Cooking
- Independent
Weaknesses:
- Uncommunicative (for the most part)
- Stubborn
- Somewhat impatient
- Awkward (when dealing with emotional situations)
- Blunt
Fears:
- Falling in love and screwing up the relationship
- Dying alone
Secret:
- Brair wants very badly to have a family, a husband or wife, a child and maybe even a dog or two. The sad part is that she is deathly afraid of getting too close to people too quickly and making a mistake that might cost her everything.
- She is searching for her father and any possible siblings she might have.
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Family Ties
Father: Unknown (Alive)
Mother: Annette Mason (Deceased)
Siblings: Unknown
Any Other Important People:
Surrogate Mother/Father: Clara & Benjamin Mason
History
It’s a sad thing to realize that sometimes in the wake of death there is new life. It is also saddening to note that on some occasion the death eclipses the arrival of the new life. One of those cases just happened to be the birth of one Briar Annette Mason in the city that never sleeps, New York. In the wake of her mother’s death, mere minutes after birthing her and gifting her with a name, she was promptly forgotten (well, seeing that she was in a hospital, she was perfectly safe) and being overlooked would later become a pattern in her life. Funeral arrangements and mourning, at that time, were more important. It wasn’t until an hour or two after that the tiny blonde child was remembered. And then came the problem of what exactly to do with her. Sympathy, sentimentality and family loyalty seemed to win out. One family member, a cousin to the dead mother decided to (reluctantly) take in the babe.
And thus the game of pass the child began.
She was shunted from New York to Florida.
Brair was pitied for about two years before that cousin grew tired of her. She ate too much, demanded too much attention and money was tight. Nameless cousin had her own children to deal with and, might she ever so kindly point out, she never had to take ‘the girl’. So Briar was passed to yet another family. This time, the grandmother and grandfather took her in. That was probably the best thing that could have happened to her at that point. For five years the tiny blonde child had a relatively happy and normal life. She was loved and coddled and cherished, told stories of her mommy (that she looked so much like) and taken pictures of, and spoiled. Things were happy. And then Grandma got sick and proceeded to get sicker and sicker and sicker…. Then one day, she died. Grandpa, despite loving his little energetic (if not a little too quiet and mischievous) granddaughter, couldn’t keep her on his own. He wouldn’t be able to keep up with her or afford to pay for her seeing that Grandma’s pension checks would stop. So, once again, the child was passed (though this time, reluctantly, with much tears and promises to visit).
Promises, promises, comforts only to fools and little girls.
Within a week of being bounced to yet another family member, this time to an Aunt, Grandpa died too. Suddenly, unexpectedly and peacefully in his sleep and Briar missed him and Grandma – so very much. In this new home, she became a very tiny and moody version of Cinderella. No, it wasn’t that Aunt was mean. She was just always drunk, passed out or couldn’t be bother to watch or care for her own children, much less one additional blonde headache. And thus, one tiny blonde child at only seven years old began to learn how to become very self-reliant. Under the supervision of her only sober companion and family member in the house (her cousin Jason, who was about thirteen) the house was kept clean: the floors swept, mopped, and dishes washed, the money from Aunt’s child support going toward food instead of all to liquor). Aunt was reminded every so often to do the laundry and thus Briar survived for a year. And then came the complaints of money, not needing to keep her and the like – and the child was passed. Again. And locations changed, from Florida back to New York – then in a year, from New York to Texas and after another year, back to the very same relative that didn’t want her. Needless to say that this game of pass the child had its effect on Briar, she was forever saying goodbye to new friends at school, always having to learn a new place and new rules to a household. And she always felt like since Grandma and Grandpa, she never quite belonged. At the age of ten, Briar was already a little too mature for a child, already a little too hardened and deathly afraid of liking people too fast, for she was never quite sure just how long she would stay in her newest ‘home’.
Thankfully, in her eleventh year, it seemed that this time, when the child was passed, it was to someone that actually wanted her around. Clara (who was just about bloody tired of seeing her niece bounced from place to place) begged her husband to take in Briar. The begging worked. Since they had no children, it was a trial for them to deal with a little girl who refused to speak in normal sentences and address them by their names instead of some random nickname. But they held strong and in time, they were able to see a little girl that was helpful (if not a little overbearing), honest and determined… And in time she also began to return in an awkward and rushed manner the hugs they gave. Briar began to talk more, call them by their rightful names, and love them right back.
And then the bloody happening decided to well… happen.
Briar’s meta-human abilities decided to make an appearance at the age of twelve and a rather disconcerting one at that. Whenever the pre-teen was irritated, angry or was just generally being a brat somehow things got thrown without her touching them, broken without being pushed or picked up and moved to another part of the house with just a glance. Luckily, the Hammel Institute found her and her little family just before they were about to lose their minds (and a ton of money for repairs to the house and pain relievers for her unexplainable migraines). This time when the child was passed from one place to the next, she didn’t go alone. Her family went with her. In Vermont, safely tucked away in a small town, Briar went to a school, learned normal things, grew up normally and devoted a lot of time and effort into learning about what she was and what she could do. Her time in high school was a blur of studying, extracurricular activities, aspirin and making her surrogate Mom and Dad proud.
When she graduated at nineteen, a very proud pair of parents told her that she could do whatever she wanted – the sky was the limit. And she believed them. For four years Briar lived happy and with purpose all her own, chasing down one interest with dogged determination and achieving it. She dabbled in photography and worked hard on attaining a degree in it but when push came to shove, she couldn’t bring herself to leave her little family in Vermont to go to New York to pursue a new life and career. Even if it was a very generous offer. For the first time in her life, Briar actually took a step back to think (something anyone who knew her well knew she didn't normally or like to do) and did it without being told to.
Going to New York, she realized would do wonders for her career-wise. But, doing that required her giving up a comfortable and settled place in lieu of another that was unfamiliar and up in the air. Secondly, New York was a place that held more bad memories and experiences for her than good. She would never truly feel complete and happy there, especially without Mom and Pops. Then, she realized something else that she had miraculously managed to overlook. Vermont, somewhere along the lines, had become Home to her, a concept that she'd never been able to make fully hers as a child. Why in the world would she bother trying to make somewhere else Home when she already had one? Creating new ties was something Briar was loath to do. It was a messy and awkward process. She'd had enough of those times as a child growing up. Nope, she was perfectly fine here.
Now, all she needed to do was find a job... Why not try for a position at Hammel? Being a Recruiter sounded like something almost as exhilarating as photography, if not more. Perhaps that would work for her. She now knew that no matter how far she went, or for how long (something told her she'd be making a LOT of expensive phonecalls Home) she could always come back to this comfortable and settled place and feel like she belonged. Yep, that would work. That could most definitely work.
Roleplay Example
'Grandbrat, Grandspawn, Grandbebe...'
Those terms of endearment fluttered around in her head, in the same warm tones that she'd gotten so very used to hearing, in that voice she'd come to adore. Already, she missed the joking, the teasing push and pull, the gentle threats, the laughter. She couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. She wanted to go see her, to pick up her phone, call that number she was so used to dailing and wait for that person to pick up. To hear that voice on the other end of the line and prove to her that what she'd been told was a lie. A dirty lie. One of those horrible falsities that floated around the City on a regular basis. But it was true, wasn't it, that she wasn't going to hear that voice anymore. That she wasn't going to be able to engage in that friendly teasing, that she wasn't going to be able to laugh with that person anymore, or pounce on her hug and hug her and smother her with that special brand of affection she had for the ones she dared to love.
'Grandbrat, Grandspawn, Grandbebe...'
So now, there was no one to threaten her with a tazer to go to the Ghettos, no no, now it was the 'Burbs. No one to make her attempt being social with people that intimidated and scared her a little. No one to introduce her while she stood frozen and shyly in a corner just watching and smiling at other's antics. All of that was done. She'd never set foot in that place again. Ever. All of that was done. For good. Why should she even bother. That person was the only reason she'd ever done any of that - put herself out of her comfort zone like that. Gone was her resolve to socialize and become a bit more extroverted. She'd wanted to do it to make that person proud, to make her sire proud and to make Wind proud, and make herself proud. But with her primary reason gone, she didn't even want to bother. Maybe later, down the road for her sire, but socializing didn't matter much to him - he was for more of a hermit than she was.
'Grandbrat, Grandspawn, Grandbebe...'
She couldn't believe that when she'd first met that person that she'd been so terrified of her. She loved her so much now. So much now that the knowledge of the fact that she would sleep and possibly never awaken again made something break inside of her. She wondered how her sire was taking it. He was like her - an adopted. Someone that had been neglected by others but taken in by someone who cared. She remembered telling both that person and her sire that they were stuck with her forever. That's what they got for taking in strays, they never ever leave you after that. He was probably feelin just as broken as she was if not more. She'd go comfort him, but first, she had to stop crying herself.
'Grandbrat, Grandspawn, Grandbebe...'
Roxxane sat in a corner of her room, hugging the huge horse plush toy that had been given to her by Spinner, she named him Remy. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, it seemed they would never stop. They probably wouldn't for quite some time. Tiny sobs could be heard and she hugged the plush animal tighter and tighter. On her right hand, the charms on her bracelet jingled whenever she tried to wipe away the tears. There would be a new charm added to it soon. To remind her, so she would never ever forget this person. Just like the others she had lost - Laiken, Sapphire, Moondreamer, Jazmino, Jack, Justy and now this person...
Mandolin.
"She could wake up." she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse, her voice so soft, broken and tiny. "She could wake up someday." she repeated, trying to convince herself that Mandolin would not sleep forever.
"Until you wake up, Grandmaman, sleep well, dream sweet dreams. I'll be waiting for that phone call you promised me..."
What About You?
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Name: Unleashed
Age: 19
Experience: 3 years
How Did You Find Us? Road to Nowhere
Ready To Play? Oh yeah!
