Brea Wilson
Dec 15, 2008 10:24:49 GMT -5
Post by Brea Wilson on Dec 15, 2008 10:24:49 GMT -5
YOURSELF
NAME
Karla
AGE
16
GENDER
Female
CHARACTER
NAME
Brea Wilson
AGE AND GRADE
Eighteen / Senior
GENDER
Female
SEXUAL ORIENTATION
Bi
TALENT
Dance
LOOK-A-LIKE
Daisy Lowe
PERSONALITY
Brea is generally quite a nice kid. She is happy-go-lucky, and ready to try anything once. She is particularly passionate about being friendly – anyone sitting on their own best beware if Brea is around, because as soon as she sees someone who might even possibly be feeling lonely, she forces her company onto them like a Velcro blanket. She is very sincere, to the point of being blunt. If she doesn’t like you, you’ll know, and if she does then she’ll cling like duct tape. Despite her sunny outlook on life, she’s very mature, always willing to lend a hand, or put on a calm face to help deal with a problem. A very good person to have for a friend.
Well… that is until you reach her other sides, which will surface on occasion. Brea has been diagnosed with manic depression – once of twice a month she’ll have ‘issues’. Depressive of Manic, they are very obvious. Her typical depressive issues last around a week, and in this time she tends to isolate herself from everyone, and fall into a pit of self-hatred. During these times she is snappy, depressed and on occasion even suicidal, and often so tired that she can hardly leave her bed. But her manic issues are considered even worse be certain members of her friends. They can go either of two ways – on occasion she hits a euphoric high, where she needs no sleep, and nothing can bring her down from a hyperactive cloud of happiness… but then there is also her other type of manic issue – hyperactive but irritable. She gets angry with almost no trigger, and equally violent, and equally depressed. Beware her most of all when she is in this sort of a way.
APPEARANCE
Brea’s somewhat individual personality is mirrored in her somewhat individual appearance. Over-all she is your average eighteen year old. Average height, terribly skinny, and with less curves than a ruler. Well… not quite that few curves, but I’m sure you get what I mean. She has an amazingly pale complexion that is surprisingly enough entirely natural. Her face is a perfect heart-shape, and she has high cheek-bones, rose-bud lips and heavily lined eyes. Sometimes her make-up has been known to take on a more theatrical air, with blood red lip-stick and… ‘Artistic’ eye make-up. Her hair was dyed a collection of reds, pinks and whites until last month, when she simplified her look. Now she has dyed it jet black, and left it simply long with a stunning block fringe.
Her dress sense is, thankfully, a little more usual. Skinny jeans are her uniform trousers, through in summer these can be replaced by shorts and, strangely often, hot pants. Her top half is usually hidden beneath hugely baggy jumpers that look like they were either knitted by a senile grandmother or brought from the extra-large man’s section. Usually one of them is correct. She usually wears these baggy clothes to hide her lack of breasts, though when she is dancing or exercising she swaps them for plain old tank-tops of strappy tops. At parties or special occasions she tends to take on an other-worldly sort of style, wearing the sort of flowing lacey gowns you would expect to see on a fairy or medieval princess.
HISTORY
Born on the 2nd of April, almost an April fools joke, and for the first few of her teenage years she felt like she was one. She was brought up by her single mother, Ruth Wilson, who tried hard to be a good mother, but had never quite gotten over the loss of Brea’s father: a young man who had enchanted her at her high school prom and never left her, until her joined the army. And then he left and never came back. Though they had never been married, Ruth considered herself a widow after his death, and was adamant that she would never love again. As of yet, she has been right. Ruth was never the same after Ryan’s death, and fell into depression, which has continued right through Brea’s life.
Brea has always felt that she is somewhat to do with her mother’s depression, as she is a constant reminder of her deceased father, and, in attempts to right this, stayed away from home as often as possible in order to give her mother time without her father’s ghost hanging over her. It was during this time that she first fell in with a local gang. At first they were just friends, and the best ones that she had ever had, but later, once they had weaned her onto drugs and robbery, they became Brea’s pimps. For two years she was silent as her friends sold her body to pedophilic older men, until finally it became too much for her and she ran home to her mother.
The two of them worked through the emotional trauma, and slowly but surely worked through her drug addiction, and soon Brea became more of a normal girl, learning that her mother didn’t find her depressing at all, but loved her with a burning passion. Soon all that was left of her experiences of the gang were horrendous memories and a sense of disgust at herself and what she had done. She and her mother started spending more time together, and Brea’s talent came to light – dancing. She loved street dancing the most – she had learnt it with her old ‘friends’, and it was so energetic and fun that she found she couldn’t stop. Her mother sent her off to GPA with a smile and a wave, certain that she would have enough fun there to make up for the rest of her life thus far. In her sophomore year Brea began showing signs of manic depression, and was diagnosed by the end of the year. To her it was just another hurdle to climb over, and not the worst she had ever faced… not by a long shot.
ROLE PLAYING SAMPLE
Brea stumbled out of bed with a manic look in her eyes, feeling her heart pound in her ears. She needed to run… to move… to get this horrible adrenaline out of her. Perhaps if she ran far enough she would collapse and forget who she was… She dropped to her knees, scrabbling through piles of clean and dirty clothes in search of something she could move in. She clawed trackies from the floor and yanked them on with frenzied speed, followed by a tank-top, and finally she stuffed her feet into trainers, and forced her way out of her dorm room and down the corridor at a flat sprint. Next was the stairs, and she pelted down them like a bullet, occasionally stumbling in her rush to get out, and falling a few steps at a time. Eventually, finally, she reached the door and turned the cold steel handle before lunging out into the cold night air. A fresh winter breeze beat against her face and she drew a rattling breath, reveling in the sudden calm the fresh air brought, if only for a second. The stars sat like diamond studs in the black velvet sky, and trees stood like sentinel statues, looking over her.
And then, bang – the adrenaline returned, flowing through her like a fire, and the only way she could put it out was to run. She leant into the wind and sprinted hard around the whole of the school grounds, once, twice three times. Around her the scenery flickered past like slides on a projector and she hardly noticed, she was so focused on finding a way to silence the pounding in her head. Soon what had once been blisters on her feet became to bleed, and the warm red liquid hidden in her shoes screamed a silent warning at her: You have to stop. But Brea couldn't listen. She couldn't stop running. Suddenly out of the blue a lone figure appeared in her path and with sudden relief Brea realized who it was. She stumbled and fell against the warm familiar form, and finally let anguished tears roll down her cheeks as friendly arms closed around her shoulders in a comforting embrace. Why did she have to feel this way? Why did it have to be her?
READ THE RULES?
admin edit
[/size]NAME
Karla
AGE
16
GENDER
Female
CHARACTER
NAME
Brea Wilson
AGE AND GRADE
Eighteen / Senior
GENDER
Female
SEXUAL ORIENTATION
Bi
TALENT
Dance
LOOK-A-LIKE
Daisy Lowe
PERSONALITY
Brea is generally quite a nice kid. She is happy-go-lucky, and ready to try anything once. She is particularly passionate about being friendly – anyone sitting on their own best beware if Brea is around, because as soon as she sees someone who might even possibly be feeling lonely, she forces her company onto them like a Velcro blanket. She is very sincere, to the point of being blunt. If she doesn’t like you, you’ll know, and if she does then she’ll cling like duct tape. Despite her sunny outlook on life, she’s very mature, always willing to lend a hand, or put on a calm face to help deal with a problem. A very good person to have for a friend.
Well… that is until you reach her other sides, which will surface on occasion. Brea has been diagnosed with manic depression – once of twice a month she’ll have ‘issues’. Depressive of Manic, they are very obvious. Her typical depressive issues last around a week, and in this time she tends to isolate herself from everyone, and fall into a pit of self-hatred. During these times she is snappy, depressed and on occasion even suicidal, and often so tired that she can hardly leave her bed. But her manic issues are considered even worse be certain members of her friends. They can go either of two ways – on occasion she hits a euphoric high, where she needs no sleep, and nothing can bring her down from a hyperactive cloud of happiness… but then there is also her other type of manic issue – hyperactive but irritable. She gets angry with almost no trigger, and equally violent, and equally depressed. Beware her most of all when she is in this sort of a way.
APPEARANCE
Brea’s somewhat individual personality is mirrored in her somewhat individual appearance. Over-all she is your average eighteen year old. Average height, terribly skinny, and with less curves than a ruler. Well… not quite that few curves, but I’m sure you get what I mean. She has an amazingly pale complexion that is surprisingly enough entirely natural. Her face is a perfect heart-shape, and she has high cheek-bones, rose-bud lips and heavily lined eyes. Sometimes her make-up has been known to take on a more theatrical air, with blood red lip-stick and… ‘Artistic’ eye make-up. Her hair was dyed a collection of reds, pinks and whites until last month, when she simplified her look. Now she has dyed it jet black, and left it simply long with a stunning block fringe.
Her dress sense is, thankfully, a little more usual. Skinny jeans are her uniform trousers, through in summer these can be replaced by shorts and, strangely often, hot pants. Her top half is usually hidden beneath hugely baggy jumpers that look like they were either knitted by a senile grandmother or brought from the extra-large man’s section. Usually one of them is correct. She usually wears these baggy clothes to hide her lack of breasts, though when she is dancing or exercising she swaps them for plain old tank-tops of strappy tops. At parties or special occasions she tends to take on an other-worldly sort of style, wearing the sort of flowing lacey gowns you would expect to see on a fairy or medieval princess.
HISTORY
Born on the 2nd of April, almost an April fools joke, and for the first few of her teenage years she felt like she was one. She was brought up by her single mother, Ruth Wilson, who tried hard to be a good mother, but had never quite gotten over the loss of Brea’s father: a young man who had enchanted her at her high school prom and never left her, until her joined the army. And then he left and never came back. Though they had never been married, Ruth considered herself a widow after his death, and was adamant that she would never love again. As of yet, she has been right. Ruth was never the same after Ryan’s death, and fell into depression, which has continued right through Brea’s life.
Brea has always felt that she is somewhat to do with her mother’s depression, as she is a constant reminder of her deceased father, and, in attempts to right this, stayed away from home as often as possible in order to give her mother time without her father’s ghost hanging over her. It was during this time that she first fell in with a local gang. At first they were just friends, and the best ones that she had ever had, but later, once they had weaned her onto drugs and robbery, they became Brea’s pimps. For two years she was silent as her friends sold her body to pedophilic older men, until finally it became too much for her and she ran home to her mother.
The two of them worked through the emotional trauma, and slowly but surely worked through her drug addiction, and soon Brea became more of a normal girl, learning that her mother didn’t find her depressing at all, but loved her with a burning passion. Soon all that was left of her experiences of the gang were horrendous memories and a sense of disgust at herself and what she had done. She and her mother started spending more time together, and Brea’s talent came to light – dancing. She loved street dancing the most – she had learnt it with her old ‘friends’, and it was so energetic and fun that she found she couldn’t stop. Her mother sent her off to GPA with a smile and a wave, certain that she would have enough fun there to make up for the rest of her life thus far. In her sophomore year Brea began showing signs of manic depression, and was diagnosed by the end of the year. To her it was just another hurdle to climb over, and not the worst she had ever faced… not by a long shot.
ROLE PLAYING SAMPLE
Brea stumbled out of bed with a manic look in her eyes, feeling her heart pound in her ears. She needed to run… to move… to get this horrible adrenaline out of her. Perhaps if she ran far enough she would collapse and forget who she was… She dropped to her knees, scrabbling through piles of clean and dirty clothes in search of something she could move in. She clawed trackies from the floor and yanked them on with frenzied speed, followed by a tank-top, and finally she stuffed her feet into trainers, and forced her way out of her dorm room and down the corridor at a flat sprint. Next was the stairs, and she pelted down them like a bullet, occasionally stumbling in her rush to get out, and falling a few steps at a time. Eventually, finally, she reached the door and turned the cold steel handle before lunging out into the cold night air. A fresh winter breeze beat against her face and she drew a rattling breath, reveling in the sudden calm the fresh air brought, if only for a second. The stars sat like diamond studs in the black velvet sky, and trees stood like sentinel statues, looking over her.
And then, bang – the adrenaline returned, flowing through her like a fire, and the only way she could put it out was to run. She leant into the wind and sprinted hard around the whole of the school grounds, once, twice three times. Around her the scenery flickered past like slides on a projector and she hardly noticed, she was so focused on finding a way to silence the pounding in her head. Soon what had once been blisters on her feet became to bleed, and the warm red liquid hidden in her shoes screamed a silent warning at her: You have to stop. But Brea couldn't listen. She couldn't stop running. Suddenly out of the blue a lone figure appeared in her path and with sudden relief Brea realized who it was. She stumbled and fell against the warm familiar form, and finally let anguished tears roll down her cheeks as friendly arms closed around her shoulders in a comforting embrace. Why did she have to feel this way? Why did it have to be her?
READ THE RULES?
admin edit