Post by paradigmshift on Dec 20, 2008 8:45:20 GMT 10
[/size]`Isadora Sophie Jecault !!!
egoistic observant good-intentioned
Name: Isadora Jecault
Nickname(s): Izzy, Iz
Major: Dance
Age: 21
Grade: Senior
Birthdate: 30 September
Orientation: Straight
Location: Bellingham, Washington
`Appearance ,,
Izzy’s face is drawn and sharp, with high, prominent cheekbones, light blue eyes, and mouth with unusually long, usually smiling lips. Her skin, characteristic of those who live in areas without much sunlight, is a pale, translucent color. She has short light red hair in light waves that falls messily about her head. She is extremely tall for a woman, standing at about 180 cm, and has a lean, but fairly muscular build due to her athleticism.
Izzy usually wears unique clothing with a style that differs every day. From vintage 1920’s to edgy modern streetwear, Izzy has tried it all. She sees her body as a canvas with which to express herself. Still, most of the time she is seen wearing her dance clothes—usually comfortable sweats and a shirt—unless it’s a dress rehearsal, of course.
Izzy’s face is drawn and sharp, with high, prominent cheekbones, light blue eyes, and mouth with unusually long, usually smiling lips. Her skin, characteristic of those who live in areas without much sunlight, is a pale, translucent color. She has short light red hair in light waves that falls messily about her head. She is extremely tall for a woman, standing at about 180 cm, and has a lean, but fairly muscular build due to her athleticism.
Izzy usually wears unique clothing with a style that differs every day. From vintage 1920’s to edgy modern streetwear, Izzy has tried it all. She sees her body as a canvas with which to express herself. Still, most of the time she is seen wearing her dance clothes—usually comfortable sweats and a shirt—unless it’s a dress rehearsal, of course.
Best Feature: Oh, geez. We’re not going to get into some kind of beauty-queen thing, are we? Well, I guess I would say that my height is my best feature. It's one of the only things on the human body that can't be changed. It makes me stand out from (or rather above) the crowd, and it's the one thing about my body that's more remarkable than the other girls around me. My long legs are also a dancing asset.
Worst Feature: That’s sure as hell not something you ask a lady. But everybody knows that the main curse of athleticism is a general lack of breasts. I in particular do not have much in the chest department. Neither does my mother, nor did my grandmother—it runs in the family. But that kind of thing shouldn’t matter except to the chauvinist pigs of the other gender.[/size]
`Personality
,,
Egoistic Izzy, ever the amateur philosopher, takes to heart the teachings of objectivist Ayn Rand. She believes in rational egoism, which means that she lives for her own survival and happiness—in other words, selfishly. A word for some reason taboo in our society, despite the fact that all of our primitive wiring is geared towards self-preservation. So in her opinion, it is rational and immoral for man to go against his own self interest. Therefore she does not ask anyone to sacrifice for her, nor does she sacrifice herself to anyone else. She doesn’t believe in forced charity, but does believe in striving and self-betterment. The world in her eyes are made up of equal people with the same goal who should all be mutually striving for it, but unfortunately it’s not as clear-cut and perfect as it should be in her mind. But she does follow her own philosophy in order to at least put a little piece of the world in the right. She is industrious and always holds up her part of the bargain in partnerships. Man living to make himself the best that he can be is the most noble type of life one can have.
Observant Though Izzy can be a big talker once she gets to know someone, most of the time she is rather quiet. She focuses more on listening and observing than she does on socializing. She is fascinated by the actions of humans and likes to “people-watch” for hours. Sometimes she likes to make up stories in her head about who they are, what they’re doing, and why, on the basis of simple actions like walking. When she’s not scrutinizing people as social specimens, she likes to observe man’s natural motions to incorporate into her original dance choreography.
Good-Intentioned One of Izzy’s faults is that she seems to be so wrapped in the world of the human psyche that she often inadvertently causes more harm than good. She feels as though she can understand people when total understanding is truly impossible, and thus trying to “help” can really only make things worse. She always sets out with good intentions, but often she jumbles up exactly what she’s trying to do. Sometimes thinking too much and being too rational can backfire.
,,
Egoistic Izzy, ever the amateur philosopher, takes to heart the teachings of objectivist Ayn Rand. She believes in rational egoism, which means that she lives for her own survival and happiness—in other words, selfishly. A word for some reason taboo in our society, despite the fact that all of our primitive wiring is geared towards self-preservation. So in her opinion, it is rational and immoral for man to go against his own self interest. Therefore she does not ask anyone to sacrifice for her, nor does she sacrifice herself to anyone else. She doesn’t believe in forced charity, but does believe in striving and self-betterment. The world in her eyes are made up of equal people with the same goal who should all be mutually striving for it, but unfortunately it’s not as clear-cut and perfect as it should be in her mind. But she does follow her own philosophy in order to at least put a little piece of the world in the right. She is industrious and always holds up her part of the bargain in partnerships. Man living to make himself the best that he can be is the most noble type of life one can have.
Observant Though Izzy can be a big talker once she gets to know someone, most of the time she is rather quiet. She focuses more on listening and observing than she does on socializing. She is fascinated by the actions of humans and likes to “people-watch” for hours. Sometimes she likes to make up stories in her head about who they are, what they’re doing, and why, on the basis of simple actions like walking. When she’s not scrutinizing people as social specimens, she likes to observe man’s natural motions to incorporate into her original dance choreography.
Good-Intentioned One of Izzy’s faults is that she seems to be so wrapped in the world of the human psyche that she often inadvertently causes more harm than good. She feels as though she can understand people when total understanding is truly impossible, and thus trying to “help” can really only make things worse. She always sets out with good intentions, but often she jumbles up exactly what she’s trying to do. Sometimes thinking too much and being too rational can backfire.
Likes:
- People-Watching
- Green tea
- Dancing
- Philosophy
- Choreographing
- Different cultures
- Traveling
- Vodka
- Vintage clothing
- Dress-up
- Romantic-era music and art
Dislikes:
- Altruists
- Politicians
- Sharing a room
- Cheese
- Small children
- Humidity
- The word “clot”
- Commitment
- Deadlines
- Irrationality
- Involuntary “gratuity” at restaurants
- Doctors
Positive Traits:
- Individualistic:
Being her own woman is something that takes extreme precedence in Isadora’s list of priorities. She follows her own heart, her own ideas, and her own opinions, and wants to make a path rather than follow the crowd. She isn’t trying to be “noncomformist,” just sees the importance of having one’s own mind in a sea of collective thinking that destroys the innate goodness of man. - Industrious:
Izzy is a very hard-working person who refuses to ever give up. Though most people applaud her for her determination to push through no matter what, occasionally this can manifest itself in a form of stubbornness that can be detrimental to her health and to others who stand in her way. She makes sure that she can achieve her goal no matter what, usually a good thing. - Calm:
Izzy possesses impressive sangfroid no matter what type of situation she is in. She doesn’t get nervous or scared easily, and is willing to try anything once. This doesn’t mean that she is unemotional—she just doesn’t let inner feelings rob from her the experience of life.
Negative Traits:- Obsessive:
Sometimes Isadora can go too far. Whether it’s with a stranger who fascinates her that she stalks home, or a distant goal that she will achieve no matter how much detriment it causes to herself, Izzy just won’t let it go. The fact that she is very obsessive also contributes to her tendency of not being able to let things go, whether it be arguments past, old goals, old things, or old grudges. - Quick-tempered:
Though Izzy is always cool and calm in the face of situations like performing, when things reach a more personal level her emotions are quick to spark her fiery temper. No matter how hard she tries to keep it in check, when someone penetrates under her skin she just can’t hold her mouth shut. And when she gets angry, she gets angry. She throws things, she kicks, she punches, she cries, she screams, and she hurts. - Closed-minded
Isadora doesn’t like to listen to other people’s advice, whether it be about her behavior, her choreography, or anything. She feels that perfection can only be achieved through the expression of one’s uninhibited, individual emotions, uncorrupted by society around it. Therefore she sticks to her convictions or actions and doesn’t allow other people to try to persuade her otherwise. Her close-mindedness applies to her philosophy on life as well as her ideas on the relative intelligence of her classmates. It takes a lot to change her opinions.
Greatest Ambition: Izzy doesn’t have any particular ambitions other than to succeed at what she does, and that is dancing. Her ultimate desire is to do something incredible, something that will live on after she is gone. After all, death may be inevitable, but obscurity isn’t.
Greatest Fear: Her greatest fear is to be tied down and unable to live her life. Whether that means being in a steady relationship or holding down a constrictive job, Izzy would do anything to rid herself of that burden. - Obsessive:
`History ,,
Isadora was born on a military base in Okinawa, Japan. Her father was in the American Air Force and had recently moved to the area with his wife and two other daughtesr, Elena and Sissi. She spent the first seven years of her childhood there, where her lifelong fascination with dance started.
There was so much culture in Japan that she, even as a young girl, was able to appreciate. She was heartbroken when her father was stationed on a base in San Antonio, Texas, after the family had finished their stay of eight years. But they were only there for a short time before being uprooted again to Turkey, and after that—Germany. It went on like that for a few years, until they finally settled back in the United States, when Isadora was fourteen. From then on they stayed in Washington, near the McChord base.
After that, Isadora’s life was like almost everyone else’s, except she had stories to tell of distant lands and considered herself much more cultured than everyone else. Most other people thought of her as just a military brat.
At sixteen she went through the rebellious stage. She died her hair, got a nose ring she since let close up, and ran away from home a couple of times with a high-school sweetheart Dominic for no good reason. She was planning on reaching Alaska, but she always came home before the next day was over. She said that she didn’t want to live vicariously anymore, but never offered a definite reason why she didn’t want to stay.
By the time she graduated from high school she was well past that stage. She had a steady life, steady boyfriend, steadily good grades, a knack for figuring things out, and was off to a bright, steady future. Her parents were happy that she was finally bringing structure to her life, something that had been lacking from her childhood. She followed her high-school sweetheart to the Washington University of Arts, where he was studying art and photography. They moved in together her sophomore year, nearly five years after they had started dating, and he proposed the end of that year—his graduation day.
Isadora was awestruck and felt pressured to agree, but was afraid of the idea of marriage and commitment even though she loved him. That night, before he woke up, she snuck out of his apartment, leaving the ring on his bedside table. She didn’t offer any reasons for her actions other than her glaring absence.
Izzy took a week off school and left town, busying herself with parties and TV and people she didn’t know. When she returned, Dominic was gone. And she didn’t look for him.
When school started that year she was a junior. She had picked her major and was working with one of her longtime childhood friends (who also was a best friend of her ex-fiancé) Salvador Donia. Also a dance major, they partnered at school and occasionally participated in local contests for fun and some extra cash. She doesn’t think much about Dominic anymore, and now in her senior year, is focusing on building up her career resume to make it big in the world. But there have been a few bumps in the way... namely a disease she refuses to acknowledge.
Isadora was born on a military base in Okinawa, Japan. Her father was in the American Air Force and had recently moved to the area with his wife and two other daughtesr, Elena and Sissi. She spent the first seven years of her childhood there, where her lifelong fascination with dance started.
There was so much culture in Japan that she, even as a young girl, was able to appreciate. She was heartbroken when her father was stationed on a base in San Antonio, Texas, after the family had finished their stay of eight years. But they were only there for a short time before being uprooted again to Turkey, and after that—Germany. It went on like that for a few years, until they finally settled back in the United States, when Isadora was fourteen. From then on they stayed in Washington, near the McChord base.
After that, Isadora’s life was like almost everyone else’s, except she had stories to tell of distant lands and considered herself much more cultured than everyone else. Most other people thought of her as just a military brat.
At sixteen she went through the rebellious stage. She died her hair, got a nose ring she since let close up, and ran away from home a couple of times with a high-school sweetheart Dominic for no good reason. She was planning on reaching Alaska, but she always came home before the next day was over. She said that she didn’t want to live vicariously anymore, but never offered a definite reason why she didn’t want to stay.
By the time she graduated from high school she was well past that stage. She had a steady life, steady boyfriend, steadily good grades, a knack for figuring things out, and was off to a bright, steady future. Her parents were happy that she was finally bringing structure to her life, something that had been lacking from her childhood. She followed her high-school sweetheart to the Washington University of Arts, where he was studying art and photography. They moved in together her sophomore year, nearly five years after they had started dating, and he proposed the end of that year—his graduation day.
Isadora was awestruck and felt pressured to agree, but was afraid of the idea of marriage and commitment even though she loved him. That night, before he woke up, she snuck out of his apartment, leaving the ring on his bedside table. She didn’t offer any reasons for her actions other than her glaring absence.
Izzy took a week off school and left town, busying herself with parties and TV and people she didn’t know. When she returned, Dominic was gone. And she didn’t look for him.
When school started that year she was a junior. She had picked her major and was working with one of her longtime childhood friends (who also was a best friend of her ex-fiancé) Salvador Donia. Also a dance major, they partnered at school and occasionally participated in local contests for fun and some extra cash. She doesn’t think much about Dominic anymore, and now in her senior year, is focusing on building up her career resume to make it big in the world. But there have been a few bumps in the way... namely a disease she refuses to acknowledge.
Best Memory: Her best memory was the first time she went to Kabuki theater, when she was seven years old. The music and the dance and the story were hypnotizing, and she couldn’t help but find herself enthralled by it, taken in so far that she could never get the idea of dance out of her mind. It was the most perfect expression of the relationship between the body, the mind, and the world, and it was beautiful in her eyes.
Worst Memory: Her worst memory was when she returned to Washington after her week away and looked at the dark windows of Dominic’s empty apartment. For the first time in her life she felt truly horrible for what she had done, and doubted her decision to say no. She hated the feeling of doubt—had never felt it before—and never wanted to feel it again. Being unsure of oneself, the ultimate core of all thoughts and processes, is the most horrible feeling in the world. It’s like being unsure of existence itself.
[/size]
`Writing Skill ,,
“Heeeeeeeeeeyyy, good-a-lookin’! Whaaaaaatcha got a-cookin’? How’s about coookin’ somethin’ up for meeeeeeeeeee?”
Antonio’s chesty voice resounded throughout the small, pill-shaped kitchen, echoing easily off of the rounded walls as he sang songs from the old age. Liquid nitrogen sizzled at a rolling boil as percussion in the background while a forgotten timer continued to beep in one-second intervals, keeping the beat. At this point Antonio had grabbed a mop and was demonstrating on it his fierce tango dance moves on it while it squeaked angrily, unable to get a digital focus to vaporize the dirt particles.
“Sweetie, don’t anger the mop,” a young woman drawled as she entered the kitchen. Antonio started, and the mop fell to the floor with a rattle.
“Geez, El. You can at least… knock,” he suggested weakly with a sheepish grin on his face. “You scared the pants off of me!” He kicked halfheartedly at the fizzling mop on the floor and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know I get embarrassed when people catch me demonstrating my sexy Latin heritage.” A shy smile as he looked up from underneath his long eyelashes.
“Oh, please. Don’t pull that look on me,” his roommate muttered with a hand on her slim hip. With a swift look towards his outfit, she rolled her eyes and added: “It’s better I did scare the pants off of you. Those threaded fiber-optics are so last season. You would get laughed out of any club in town.”
Antonio stuck out his lower lip and frowned. “You bought me these pants,” he blubbered, trying to do his best to muster a fake tear. He wasn’t very successful, and ended up looking like he was sucking on something that tasted god-awful. Of course, El wasn’t fooled in the slightest; she knew what really pushed his buttons and what didn’t. He’d cried on her shoulder over too many things in the past for her not to know every inadequacy that he’d ever felt in his life.
“That time of the month again, ‘Tanya’?” El asked sarcastically.
“You wouldn’t know, ‘Elfanso’, seeing as you’re way too manly to experience it,” he retorted quickly with a laugh, immediately followed by raised arms to shield his face from the wrath of her purse. It sailed over his head; he ducked just in time.
“Don’t make fun of my anatomy!” she yelled.
“I would be too afraid you’d rip your shirt off and wrestle me with your oversized muscles!” he screamed even louder.
“Shut up!”
No, you shut up!”
“No, you!”
“No, you!”
“AUGH!”
She ran at him and slammed into his stomach, throwing him backwards into the wall. He screamed and laughed at the same time, and the worried wall asked if there had been an accident. “No, no, no!” he sputtered in response, barely able to get the words out between choking and giggling. El got up off of him and lifted him up.
“We’re way too old for this.”
“We’re way too old for everything fun,” Antonio countered. He leaned back against the wall and pressed the security code into the panels. “Besides, I’m still a two-year-old on the inside, as you say.”
“Yeah, you child. Thank god I’m a couple years younger than you. If I were thirty I don’t know what I’d do.”
Antonio looked at her with a coy smile. “I guess you don’t want the birthday present I got you.” El stopped.
“You got me a present?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yeaaaaaaaahhh…” he answered slowly, relishing the amount of anticipation he was causing.
Given over to curiosity, she continued her inquiry. “Is it a good present?”
Antonio smiled secretly, as though listening to a joke he wasn’t supposed to laugh at. “I don’t know. You have a week to reconsider before it’s your birthday and I scan it into returns. Before you’re thirty.”
“God, don’t remind me,” she moaned, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “It better be a really good present.”
Antonio laughed in his usual way, as though the world were just one big joke. “Well, it’ll be good if it can fit over your manly figure,” he blurted out, but his roommate didn’t have time to react—even as the words were leaving his lips, he was dashing out the door and the sidewalk was rising to greet his fast-moving feet.
font]
“Heeeeeeeeeeyyy, good-a-lookin’! Whaaaaaatcha got a-cookin’? How’s about coookin’ somethin’ up for meeeeeeeeeee?”
Antonio’s chesty voice resounded throughout the small, pill-shaped kitchen, echoing easily off of the rounded walls as he sang songs from the old age. Liquid nitrogen sizzled at a rolling boil as percussion in the background while a forgotten timer continued to beep in one-second intervals, keeping the beat. At this point Antonio had grabbed a mop and was demonstrating on it his fierce tango dance moves on it while it squeaked angrily, unable to get a digital focus to vaporize the dirt particles.
“Sweetie, don’t anger the mop,” a young woman drawled as she entered the kitchen. Antonio started, and the mop fell to the floor with a rattle.
“Geez, El. You can at least… knock,” he suggested weakly with a sheepish grin on his face. “You scared the pants off of me!” He kicked halfheartedly at the fizzling mop on the floor and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know I get embarrassed when people catch me demonstrating my sexy Latin heritage.” A shy smile as he looked up from underneath his long eyelashes.
“Oh, please. Don’t pull that look on me,” his roommate muttered with a hand on her slim hip. With a swift look towards his outfit, she rolled her eyes and added: “It’s better I did scare the pants off of you. Those threaded fiber-optics are so last season. You would get laughed out of any club in town.”
Antonio stuck out his lower lip and frowned. “You bought me these pants,” he blubbered, trying to do his best to muster a fake tear. He wasn’t very successful, and ended up looking like he was sucking on something that tasted god-awful. Of course, El wasn’t fooled in the slightest; she knew what really pushed his buttons and what didn’t. He’d cried on her shoulder over too many things in the past for her not to know every inadequacy that he’d ever felt in his life.
“That time of the month again, ‘Tanya’?” El asked sarcastically.
“You wouldn’t know, ‘Elfanso’, seeing as you’re way too manly to experience it,” he retorted quickly with a laugh, immediately followed by raised arms to shield his face from the wrath of her purse. It sailed over his head; he ducked just in time.
“Don’t make fun of my anatomy!” she yelled.
“I would be too afraid you’d rip your shirt off and wrestle me with your oversized muscles!” he screamed even louder.
“Shut up!”
No, you shut up!”
“No, you!”
“No, you!”
“AUGH!”
She ran at him and slammed into his stomach, throwing him backwards into the wall. He screamed and laughed at the same time, and the worried wall asked if there had been an accident. “No, no, no!” he sputtered in response, barely able to get the words out between choking and giggling. El got up off of him and lifted him up.
“We’re way too old for this.”
“We’re way too old for everything fun,” Antonio countered. He leaned back against the wall and pressed the security code into the panels. “Besides, I’m still a two-year-old on the inside, as you say.”
“Yeah, you child. Thank god I’m a couple years younger than you. If I were thirty I don’t know what I’d do.”
Antonio looked at her with a coy smile. “I guess you don’t want the birthday present I got you.” El stopped.
“You got me a present?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yeaaaaaaaahhh…” he answered slowly, relishing the amount of anticipation he was causing.
Given over to curiosity, she continued her inquiry. “Is it a good present?”
Antonio smiled secretly, as though listening to a joke he wasn’t supposed to laugh at. “I don’t know. You have a week to reconsider before it’s your birthday and I scan it into returns. Before you’re thirty.”
“God, don’t remind me,” she moaned, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “It better be a really good present.”
Antonio laughed in his usual way, as though the world were just one big joke. “Well, it’ll be good if it can fit over your manly figure,” he blurted out, but his roommate didn’t have time to react—even as the words were leaving his lips, he was dashing out the door and the sidewalk was rising to greet his fast-moving feet.
font]
`Behind The Character ,,
Name: Dion
Age: 16
Role-playing experience: A long time…
How you found us: Some ad on proboards. I thought I should go out of my RP comfort zone.
[/size][/blockquote]