Rachael Whitfield
Apr 13, 2011 9:59:47 GMT -5
Post by Rachael Whitfield on Apr 13, 2011 9:59:47 GMT -5
[/i][/size][/right][/blockquote]The Basics
Name: Rachael Pamela Whitfield
Nicknames: Rach
Age: 16
Orientation: Heterosexual
Desired Rank/Job: Student
Powers: Flight
Side effects:Extreme dizziness, diminished sense of balance on land, loss of hunger, exaggerated sensitivity to rain/thunder/lightning/hail storms, when furious/joyous will sprout feathers from face and hands, painful transformation.
Play By:Erin Sanders
The Details
Hair: Chocolate with caramel tones, long and curly.
Eye Color:Dark brown.
Any Piercings?None. Not her ears, nor anywhere else on her body, are pierced.
Any Tattoos?None.
Any Scars?Many. She's lived in the outback, so naturally there's a few to be found. Cuts on her fingers, scars on her toes from one too many bindi-eyes finding themselves lodged in her skin, a quite severe one on her knee when she was pushed of the playground at age 8 and dislodged the bone, and a slither upon her shoulder where she was cut by a butcher knife and had to get 5 stitches.
General Appearance:
Ethnicity: Australian Caucasian, third generation Italian.
Build: Although she’s often clocked in heavy black jackets and woollen coats that makes her appear that little larger, and she has an Italian background, she’s extremely underweight. 5’8, and she weighs 45kg. Her face is surprisingly full, with a narrow nose, full cheeks, and big, wide eyes; however, the rest couldn’t be described of her body. Everywhere else she is pencil thin, of ridiculous modelling standards- her collarbones jut out, her fingers are spindly like spider’s legs- and the skin around her joints is pulled uncomfortably tight.
Clothing style: Try to imagine a refined indie flair falls in love with a winter city, and then they’re both tossed into a French blender. Boots (lots of them), checker scarfs, woollen fleece jumpers, bright formal dresses, floral skirts, ruffled blouses, long trench coats, leather jackets, black leggings. Her trademark ugg-boots and accent are what usually immediately pins her as an Australian on a stranger’s first impression.
Eyes: Rachael's eyes are very unusual, indeed. Although nothing has been proven or confirmed, however, some of Rachael's old Kocher friends swore that her eyes turn deep black during her transformations.
Personality:- Because of her pretty, determined face, a stanger might take her to be a content young woman. It couldn't be further from the truth. She is a bold, blunt, bossy, stubborn, indecisive and a perfectionist who internally struggles with her identity.
To strangers, she barely converses with, unless it is to ask a question, such as “where is the nearest park?” or “what’s the time?” Her queries are often said in a straightforward, no-nonsense matter, which can lead people to believe they are not liked by her. This is not always the case.
She exhibits a confident, persistent demeanour at times, then a snappy, impulsive manner when her mood turns foul. Unfortunately for the general population, you're more likely to meet her when she's in a foul mood. The little of things can trigger her upsetness. On the best of days, her smile might actually contain warmness, even sometimes allowing others to have a proper conversation with her if she's really quite jolly. However, it the subject turns to something she is not comfortable discussing, she will abruptly end the discussion there and then, and tick her off enough to trigger the foul mood. Plus, she's aware if she allows herself to get too happy, the feathers will sprout again. Totaly embarrassing.
She is horrible at letting others make decisions for her- she feels the need to control her own destiny, even more so now after discovering her abilities.
Her attention to detail is uncanny. She has a flair for seeing minute things other cannot- the fine-print, the hidden catch in the deal, the twist in the ending before it occurs.
It's quite unfortunate that most people do not see her best side, for she has the loveliest smile when she means it. When she's in this happy mood, she's also much more likely to have a chat, help someone out or even volunteer for something.
As to making friends, she seems to be a fair-weathered one herself, appearing to only like others when she requires something from them. When she genuinely likes someone, friend-wise or love-wise, she has a little bit of trouble expressing how she feels, however, there are a few tell-tale signs. She might let the person in question make a decision for her, such as a dinner meal, or what shoes to wear. She could even make body contact, such as a high-five or shoulder pat, something not often comfortable for her to do to a regular person.
She does not have patience for slow or shy people, unless they are willing to go with her on a whim- so you're best to have confidence to get along with her.
Your Vices
Likes:
-Mathematics
-Design
-Clothes
-Sewing
-Shoes
-Romance novels
-Sculpting
-Tech (woodwork)
-Snow
-Lamb roast
-Cupcakes
-Apples
-Gossip Girl (TV)
-Her black Sharpie
-Her brothers
-Confident guys
-Agreements
-The smell of citrus, pine and foundation.
Dislikes:
-Invasion of her personal bubble
-A nasty event as the result of a decision she's made
-Chemistry
-Callen look-a-likes
-The smell of cigarette smoke, exhaust fumes, fuel and lavender
-Insects
-Boats
-Messy hair
-Gardening
-Medical TV shows
-Unkept places
-Littering
-Annoying TV ads
-Weak/Puny people
-Others not agreeing with her opinion
-Arguments
Strengths:
-Persistence
-Confidence
-Saving money and spending wisely,
-Conservative
-Tidy
-Careful
-Observant
-Perfectionism- although this could be considered bad.
Weaknesses:
-Borderline Asocial Schizoid
-Prone to withdrawl
-Anger suppression
-Expressing happiness externally
-Showing care in a social manner
-Her fragile figure.
Fears:
-Losing her little fortune
-Losing her control over her abilities
-Thunder/lighting/hail
-Trapped underground/mining
Family Ties
Father: Mark Whitfield, 45
Mother:Jennifer Whitfield, 47
Siblings: Isaac (3), Lachlan (6), Ethan (9), Darcy (12), Lucas (14).
Any Other Important People: Callen Forster, ex-boyfriend, now 19.
History
[/blockquote]
Rachael Whitfield was born in Australia, in the humid Victorian outback. The constant hot weather had hardened and strengthened her tolerance to heat- but she loathed it. As a little girl, she wished to travel to someplace considerably colder- even wanting to visit Antarctica and visit the penguins, because she found them so very cute.
As the oldest of six siblings- all brothers- she took on the role as a second mother, always on hand in the laundry, kitchen, and in general completing task inside the house, whilst her brothers were farmhands with her father. She didn’t mind it in the least- after all, it gave her responsibility to boss around her brothers to her hearts content, and her affectionate mother besotted her with gifts- being the only daughter had its benefits.
Her mother was a talented seamstress, and also a wonderful designer. For as long as she could remember, she been captivated, almost entranced by her mother's talent. Rachael had begged to be trained, and she was given her wish- from the age of five, she'd already learnt how to sew in many different styles, could craft her own dress by the age of 8, and had a wardrobe full of her own creations at age 12.
The drought struck the family when Rach was only nine- a time where social influence was beginning to really gain importance, when she learning about shame and self-consciousness. Her family was more than struggling to keep their finances in the green, and more than often Rach would rock up at her school of 50 students with little in her lunchbox. The other kids were all living in town, so the food shortage was not affecting them. Some of the kinder children offered their recess to Rachel, but being the stubborn little girl she was, often refused more than succumbing, telling them lies that often were a variation of “I have little because I don’t want to eat much.” The teachers tried to intervene, but no matter what they told her, she just would not accept their offerings. She’d sometimes come home in tears, because her hunger had made her weak.
This went on for a year- until her parents had recovered and managed to acquire a steady income, through the funding of the government. In this period she became very thin, and tougher mentally- almost like a tomboy. However, she still played with Bratz dolls, watched the Barbie movies on their little TV and dreamed of marrying a prince and becoming a princess. She truly thought she’d have a better chance of becoming a princess- didn’t all the movies say the girls with the terrible mother or the overbearing father or (in her case) the poor lifestyle would one day await her prince, who’d come and sweep her off her feet and give her financial and loving security for the rest of her days?
Little did she know that this was to be the case- not literally, but with a similar scenario and a not-so-happy ending.
Her mother had gained knowledge of a competition through a teen magazine that gave one young woman a chance to host her own fashion shoot in melbourne and exhibit her own designs. The judges were so impressed with her entry that she won first place- fifty-thousand dollars and of course, her own runaway event.
Although Rachael (selfishly) wanted to keep the money for herself, she gave most of it to her parents so they could pay off the house and no longer be in mortgage debit, and kept a little for herself so she could attend boarding school in Melbourne.
The first day of boarding school was when she was introduced to Callen.
He was her Mr. Charming- he seemed so perfect, and if Rachael discovered a flaw her eyes and mind would skim over it. He was confident, loving, protective, artistic and loaded money-wise. He often bought her lavish gifts, to the jealously of her boarding school classmates.
In reality, Callen was 17, and too old for her. Although Rachael was mature brain-wise and appearance-wise, she was fourteen, just reaching puberty, and it was still illegal for them to be having sexual relations.
She grew emotionally attached to him- she barely got to see her family, and she was never really close to her new boarding school friends, so he was the only one in her life- literally- and Callen took that to his full advantage. They texted, messaged and video chatted constantly.
Imagine if my brothers knew about him, she constantly thought, her guilty conscious apparent.
It all ended abruptly two weeks later.
When Rachel returned home to her dorm after their second dinner date, she strutted through the entrance, her heart bounding in leaps of happiness. She couldn't wipe the smug smile of her face. There was only one of her boarding roomates in the room, Renni, and she was absorbed in one of her crime novels, as always.
She made her way to their roomate-shared bathroom, and to the mirror. She was curious about how she looked when the date had ended- and she soon regretted she did so.
For when she made eye contact with her reflection, her face began to bubble as if it was melting. As if this wasn't shocking enough, soon pain shot through her face. Emerging from the bubbling skin were brown, ruffled feathers.
Rachael screamed and screamed.
"Rachael! What's wrong?" called out her roomate from the next room. Rachael heard her footsteps, and panicked. She raced to the door and bolted the lock shut. There's no way anyone is going to see me like this.
A warm sensation grew in her stomach, and grew and grew, and suddenly, it felt like a roaring pit of fire had burst at the centre of her core. She shrieked in surprise- and found as she stood back, a loud crack pierced the air and echoed among the tiled room. Her spine arched back, and she felt the skin around it boiling off. The pain was horrendous- and Rachael could not stop herself from screaming. Her back seemed to suddenly gain weight, and if someone had glued two sacks of bricks there, and with a whoosh sound, two magnificent, feathery wings unravelled and detangled themselves, and stretched themselves out wide.
Rachael's knees collapsed beneath her. Her breaths came in short, wobbling gasps. She ignored the pounding of fists against the door and shouts. It appeared that Renni had gotten more people to try and wriggle herself out of the bathroom.
As she craned her neck to see what ghastly things now protruded from her back, her eyes widened.
She passed out.
The next morning, she found herself awakening in the boarding school's sickbay. Instantly she freaked, and hastily sat up, looking for the two wings beside her. They were gone. She smudged her hands across her face, but felt no feathers. She breathed a sigh of relief.
On the bedside table, she found a note.
It read=
Dear Rachael,
I'm transering to another boarding school. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to come. I feel like I have learnt everything that needs to be learnt from you, and therefore I suggest we break up. It was never going to work anyway, with our age difference. You were beautiful, and I loved you while it lasted.
Goodbye.
-Callen Forster.
Rachael bawled and bawled- her heart felt as if it had been sawed in half, her stomach hollow. She could not understand why. Unless.... unless... he knew....but no, the possibility was too horrible for her to consider.
After reading the letter, Rachael now had a new problem to face. Where was she to go? She had three thousand grand left over from her prize money. She couldn't stay at the boarding school, not after all this drama.
Now that she’s thought about it, America seemed a pretty cool destination to start over and begin a fresh new life. She didn't want to return to her family, even thought she loved them- she wasn’t completely heartless- but the truth was, she craved to be independent. She wouldn’t go back- she’d just be dragged back into the boring farm routine, bogged down with the simplicity of that life. She’d made up her mind- she’d live in America, possibly New York, and begin a fashion company.
But her hopes were short lived.
A man entered the room. He had a kind face, and was dressed impectibaly in a suit. Rachael raised her eyebrows.
"Who are you?" she enquired.
The man explained, in a thick european accent (for she couldn't place which country he was from) he was a representative from a school in Switzerland (that's where he's from!), and he had come to take her there to train her.
"Train for what?" she asked.
"Your meta-human powers," he replied simply.
After much needed calming-down therapy from the representative, because at those words she had frozen into a silent state, he whipped her away.
When they stepped into the plane and into the terminal, however, it was only then she thought of her parents and family.
"Sir? What about my family? Do they know?"
"Rachael, when was the last time you checked your mobile?"
She extracted it from her bag. There was 50 missed calls from her father and mother combined.
She called her mother, and she answered on the first dial.
"Honey, why have you been ignoring our calls?!?"
"Mum, it's been quite crazy. I didn't think of checking my phone. I apologise..."
Rachael heard sniffles on the other end. "That's okay Rachy. We all wanted to tell you that we love you, no matter what.... who you are, and that we will send you letters all the time."
Rachael nodded, although her mother couldn't see this. A thread of guilt was sneaking up through her mind
"I got to go mum. I love you."
Rachael has spent the last two years at Kocher, learning to understand her ability to fly, and control her emotions. She decided she wanted a transer to Hammel because a) it had always been her dream to visit, and b) at least everyone spoke clear english there.
It was a new beginning.
Roleplay Example
Unfortunately, I’ve never had any roleplaying experience before! I’m been learning the rules and guts of it all recently, and decided I’d give it a go.
Oh, wonderful. Just wonderful.
Rachael waltzed into her dorm feeling the slightest bit contented, but at the sight of the room, mentally cursed. Yvone obviously couldn't care less about hygiene, otherwise her dirty clothes wouldn't be left strewn across the floor and draped over the end of her bed. Doesn't anyone these days know how to take care of their property?
In an irritated huff, she strode this way and that, bending down and retriving every piece. She swore out loud when she lifted a jumper to discover chocolate wrappers and tissues underneath. Horrified, she tentively scooped them into her hand, and placed them into the room's bin with a look of disgust.
The clothes she had collected from the ground, and then had been resting on her shoulder, were then hastily chucked onto Yvonne's bed.
After standing and thinking for a moment, she had an epiphany.
That tub that had once been used to contain Rachael's shoes was now currently not in use.
Rachael bent down to extract it from underneath her own (perfectly tidy) bed. It came out with a little extra effort on her behalf.
She cradled it in her arms, and rehoused all Yvone's dirty clothing into the tub. She then set down the tub at to the foot of her roommate's bed.
She removed her Sharpie from her denim jacket and popped the lid off. Knees to the carpet, she leaned forward and wrote the words "Dirty Clothes Tub" on the side of it.
What About You?
Name: Maddy, Madz, any variation of Maddison.
Age: 15, but my maturity level is…. Hmm, about early twenties.
Experience: I’ve never previously played. Got to start somewhere, right?
How Did You Find Us? Subeta
Ready To Play? Absolutely!
