Post by Miranda on Sept 18, 2009 14:52:17 GMT -5
W E L C O M E T O E L Y S I U M
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CHARACTER APPEARANCE
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FULL NAME: Miranda Janu Kritos.
PET NAMES: Maledichte. Mir. Rand.
AGE: Seventeen.
BIRTH DATE: August 9th.
BIRTH PLACE: Nepheline District.
GENDER: Female.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Not interested at all.
MARITAL STATUS: Single.
OCCUPATION: Owns a fabric shop.
FEALTY: Against.
OUT OF CHARACTER: Cassie.
WAYS OF CONTACT: YIM: akky_monster.
EMAIL: akky_monster@yahoo.com
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HISTORY:[/blockquote]
Miranda was born only a few years before her State-loving parents lost their wealth to the hardening times. The “better days” never existed for the girl, all she knew was the poverty and rags she grew up in. Leaving much room for a mind to wander and grow in a little frame. The street smarts she gained was completely out of curiosity. The cat like girl knew every street, short cut and empty building within the slums she lived in. These buildings were used as hideouts, planning places for the children’s version of Empire and Rebels. The game was prolonged, every day the two sides went head to head. Battering each other so much their mother’s would scold them for the bloody knuckles, cuts and bruises that covered their bodies from the miniature brawls they experienced.
And of course, Miranda was always in the center, bickering with the other leader of the groups. Sharp words and a quick tongue normally brought her out on top, yet her slight figure made it to where she never won many of the brawls. She always seemed to come home with dark bruises around her eyes and even a fractured nose at one point, but the abrasions wore away with the passing of time, leaving her pale flesh unmarred by scars.
The spring of her tenth year brought her father’s death along with the first blooms of weeds between the cobble stones lining the road. The loss left her with a darkened heart and a muddled head. She drew back from the other children, simply watching in the shadows, though many a time the littlest children drew her in to play her own hero, her idol, the Prince of Dysprosium, leader of the greatest group in her world.
As the girl bloomed into adulthood she spent all of her spare time hassling younger children into finding what was going on with the Rebellion, what had changed? She wanted to know everything she could. She studied their methods more than she believed any sane person would. Following their movements, trying to guess where their hideout was. But all of it was fruitless, a sixteen year old could not out plan a full grown adult, especially one as skilled as the Prince. Her frustrations grew, and being blinded by that frustration, she never noticed her mother’s slandering frame, her wheezing coughs or trembling steps and soon enough, the only parent she had left slipped through her spread fingers, leaving the teen on her own. To run the store her mother had built from scratch. How was she to help the Rebellion now? Tied down with that blasted store? And was could she support herself? Her dreams were hanging on a line as well as herself. She needed some kind of support, so she turned to what she knew best, the games she had played as a child, pick pocketing, only taking it a step further. Taking up the horrid occupation of thievery. Honing her skills day and night as she scrambled around the slums when she wasn’t stuck in that hell hole of a fabric shop.
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:
Miranda shuffled down the cobble stone street, was that her old home.. Or that one? She frowned as she looked from one little shack to the next, they all looked the same. A frustrated sound came from her at this point and she turned, heading around the corner of the street, making her way past a group of children two holding a gnarled rope between them, giving it a slight flick of the wrist the experienced youngsters whipped the rope around in a circle and the first girl stepped up, watching the rope before she jumped in, leaping easily over the rope as the other’s began to chant."Maledichte lived,
And Maledichte died,
And only at his birth
Did anybody cry.
How many people did he kill?
One, two, three.
Four, five, six.
Seven, eight, nine.
Ten!"
Another child stepped forward as the girl scooted closer to a rope holder, allowing room for another. And the chant continued."Maledichte loved,
And so Maledichte died.
He never saw the truth behind his lover's lies.
How many lies can blue eyes hide?
One, two, three.
Four, five, six.
Seven, eight, nine.
Ten!"
Once more one of the group leapt into the sweep of the rope. Tapping their feet against the stones while the children finished up the playful chant."Maledichte fled and found the shy.
Ended bent and broken,
Hung on high.
How many times can Maledichte die?
One."
A cheer reared from the crowd of onlookers as the three panted for their breath and bowed to the other’s, beaming from ear to ear with smiles.
The older woman clapped, she had played that same game when she was young, growing up on these very streets. Perhaps she played in that very same place. But that chant. That was not around during her time.
A wonder passed through her mind as she continued her walk back to her own buisness, the children starting another round of that rather annoying song. What would they do if they knew Maledichte wasn’t a man? What would the do if they knew she were Maledichte? Would they run? Would they scream? A smile touched her lips, though she ducked her head and hid it in the color of her blouse to those that passed her.
