Post by Spade on Jan 15, 2007 1:41:36 GMT -5
Alright. For applications, you should copy&paste the following list down into a new thread. When you are officially accepted, then you can start posting elsewhere.
Name: Lily Antionette Williams
Age: 26
Height: 5'3
Hair color: Dark red.
Eye color: Pale blue
Social class: Born into: Higher Middle/ Independant: student income.
Occupation: Student: Major- Physiological Psychology. Part Time Job: Works at a local diner.
Hometown: Ivy Glen
Other: Is currently living and working in Westerleigh, but goes to UU in Sydnie. Full time student. Bad temper.
Introduction:
A stumble; a trip; a collapse.
"Who in their right mind had the bloody brilliant idea to forget the damn 'Wet Floor,' sign!?" a decidely feminine, and obviously agitated voice cried.
The voice had an origin, of course, and said origin was that of a young woman.
A very dishelved, extremely frustrated, and very, very red young woman, to be exact.
A lovely start to the day for Miss Williams, wouldn't you think?
The red-head, her face as crimson as her shoulder length waves, got up on shaky feet; contorting her usually pleasent features into that of a grimace, silently condeming her sadist boss to burn in whatever evil diner owners after-life there was.
||He should try wearing these damn heels once in a while,|| she thought, ignoring the looks of mixed amusment and pity thrown her way.
||Stupid chauvanistic, masochistic, moron. Why do I work for him, anyways?||
||Because he pays decently, you can't cook, and the tips are good.||
||And who might you be?||
||Your conscience.||
||I have no conscience. I am sane. Go away.||
||You're sane? You're having a conversation with your own mind.||
||No one asked you. Go away.||
||I can't. I'm you.||
She stumbled down the subway steps, tossing a few coins to the beggars that littered them, and flashed her transport card at the attendant on duty; trying excruciatingly hard to ignore the mocking voice that battered against her skull.
The ticket-man merely grunted, and she rushed to reach her train, barely making it, and losing an earring in the process.
||Can this day get any worse?||
||Don't look next to you.||
Gritting her teeth, she looked to her left out of large pale blue eyes and almost passed out.
||Of course,|| she thought abysmally, ||I must get stuck sitting next to the stinky old drunk. I hate my life.||
||Just scooch to the left a bi-||
"Hello, pretty girl," her unwanted companion warbled out; a stench wave of alcohol wafting over her senses and putting them on overdrive.
||Oh goody. He's perverted too. Take me now.||
And while it was true that she was somewhat pretty, she really wasn't all that much to look at; more Plain Jane than Femme Fatale.
Before she could answer, a saving grace (her only one of the day), was granted; the train lurched to a stop, flinging the old man unsteadily to the floor.
She got up quickly, doubling back to grab her purse, and sped off the train.
God knew where she was now...
"Well...this isn't Ivy Glen, I know that," she muttered sarcastically, her eyes and mind sharp for any signs of...anything.
She walked out of the subway lines, she was still on the Blue Line, headed from one part of Westerleigh to another. The problem was...the whole place was so damn big that she didn't know what bloody part of it she was in.
She was new to the whole Essex idea, and she positively loved the city; it was getting around that was her problem.
Her schedule was complicated, busy, but fun; so she dealt with the insanity and the unpredictability as best as she could.
Which wasn't saying very much, but a girl like Lily Williams couldn't be expected to enjoy spontaneaity after living in a place like Ivy Glen all her life.
Sucking it up, she walked out into the crisp air, savoring the way it bit into her cheeks, but drawing her jacket, and her dark green scarf around her body tightly, nonetheless. She was always cold; something about poor circulation to the outer extremeties. Honestly, it was really just a bother.
And then she spotted it. A sign. A sign from whatever higher entitiy there was.
Well really, it was just a little green sign saying '10th Street West,' but it was a sign.
Her hands in her pockets, she scuttled into a small, dimly lit coffee shop nearby; Lily's eyes strained considerably in the dark atmosphere, but she ordered anyways, and settled down in the corner, content to think about her day, and let someone else do the serving for her.
Coffee, warmth, and a convenient pocket; "A Psychologist's World; What You Never Wanted To Know About The Human Psyche," and she was set.
Life was...semi-not-quite-getting there fine.
Now she just had to find her way home...later.
Procrastination wasn't just for slackers; it was for super-busy, insane, pale, tired, vertically challenged, cold, and slightly delirious 26 year old red-heads too.
Especially ones who's ankles were starting to throb.
||Oh yay. Another injury to add to my list. Have I set a world record yet.||
||Just read, you pessimistic little nerd.||
-leFin-
Note:
I super-duper apologize about the length...I write too much sometimes.
Name: Lily Antionette Williams
Age: 26
Height: 5'3
Hair color: Dark red.
Eye color: Pale blue
Social class: Born into: Higher Middle/ Independant: student income.
Occupation: Student: Major- Physiological Psychology. Part Time Job: Works at a local diner.
Hometown: Ivy Glen
Other: Is currently living and working in Westerleigh, but goes to UU in Sydnie. Full time student. Bad temper.
Introduction:
A stumble; a trip; a collapse.
"Who in their right mind had the bloody brilliant idea to forget the damn 'Wet Floor,' sign!?" a decidely feminine, and obviously agitated voice cried.
The voice had an origin, of course, and said origin was that of a young woman.
A very dishelved, extremely frustrated, and very, very red young woman, to be exact.
A lovely start to the day for Miss Williams, wouldn't you think?
The red-head, her face as crimson as her shoulder length waves, got up on shaky feet; contorting her usually pleasent features into that of a grimace, silently condeming her sadist boss to burn in whatever evil diner owners after-life there was.
||He should try wearing these damn heels once in a while,|| she thought, ignoring the looks of mixed amusment and pity thrown her way.
||Stupid chauvanistic, masochistic, moron. Why do I work for him, anyways?||
||Because he pays decently, you can't cook, and the tips are good.||
||And who might you be?||
||Your conscience.||
||I have no conscience. I am sane. Go away.||
||You're sane? You're having a conversation with your own mind.||
||No one asked you. Go away.||
||I can't. I'm you.||
She stumbled down the subway steps, tossing a few coins to the beggars that littered them, and flashed her transport card at the attendant on duty; trying excruciatingly hard to ignore the mocking voice that battered against her skull.
The ticket-man merely grunted, and she rushed to reach her train, barely making it, and losing an earring in the process.
||Can this day get any worse?||
||Don't look next to you.||
Gritting her teeth, she looked to her left out of large pale blue eyes and almost passed out.
||Of course,|| she thought abysmally, ||I must get stuck sitting next to the stinky old drunk. I hate my life.||
||Just scooch to the left a bi-||
"Hello, pretty girl," her unwanted companion warbled out; a stench wave of alcohol wafting over her senses and putting them on overdrive.
||Oh goody. He's perverted too. Take me now.||
And while it was true that she was somewhat pretty, she really wasn't all that much to look at; more Plain Jane than Femme Fatale.
Before she could answer, a saving grace (her only one of the day), was granted; the train lurched to a stop, flinging the old man unsteadily to the floor.
She got up quickly, doubling back to grab her purse, and sped off the train.
God knew where she was now...
"Well...this isn't Ivy Glen, I know that," she muttered sarcastically, her eyes and mind sharp for any signs of...anything.
She walked out of the subway lines, she was still on the Blue Line, headed from one part of Westerleigh to another. The problem was...the whole place was so damn big that she didn't know what bloody part of it she was in.
She was new to the whole Essex idea, and she positively loved the city; it was getting around that was her problem.
Her schedule was complicated, busy, but fun; so she dealt with the insanity and the unpredictability as best as she could.
Which wasn't saying very much, but a girl like Lily Williams couldn't be expected to enjoy spontaneaity after living in a place like Ivy Glen all her life.
Sucking it up, she walked out into the crisp air, savoring the way it bit into her cheeks, but drawing her jacket, and her dark green scarf around her body tightly, nonetheless. She was always cold; something about poor circulation to the outer extremeties. Honestly, it was really just a bother.
And then she spotted it. A sign. A sign from whatever higher entitiy there was.
Well really, it was just a little green sign saying '10th Street West,' but it was a sign.
Her hands in her pockets, she scuttled into a small, dimly lit coffee shop nearby; Lily's eyes strained considerably in the dark atmosphere, but she ordered anyways, and settled down in the corner, content to think about her day, and let someone else do the serving for her.
Coffee, warmth, and a convenient pocket; "A Psychologist's World; What You Never Wanted To Know About The Human Psyche," and she was set.
Life was...semi-not-quite-getting there fine.
Now she just had to find her way home...later.
Procrastination wasn't just for slackers; it was for super-busy, insane, pale, tired, vertically challenged, cold, and slightly delirious 26 year old red-heads too.
Especially ones who's ankles were starting to throb.
||Oh yay. Another injury to add to my list. Have I set a world record yet.||
||Just read, you pessimistic little nerd.||
-leFin-
Note:
I super-duper apologize about the length...I write too much sometimes.
