Post by Sober on Sept 2, 2012 18:34:02 GMT -5
Player Title: Sober
Full Birth Name: Trishalee Ashton Morello
Alias/ nickname: Trisha
Race: Werewolf
Gender: Female
Age: 70
Physical Appearance:
She's let her hair grown out slightly, but she still keeps it short and above her shoulders. It's of a dark, dark brown color, though it often seems black even though there is no such color for hair. Her eyes are dark brown just like her hair, but when enraged, as she often is, it's strange to see her dark eyes eat away at any color in the iris, thus leaving her entire eye black. Trisha never wears anything special. As a matter of fact, what she wears could often be considered what bums wear. She wears dark cloths, preferably sweaters which hide her flattering form and baggy pants. Most of her cloths have holes in them from poor use seeing how she never buys new cloths. They are, in two words, very old.
Personality Traits:
Many know her by her cruel words and harsh tone of voice. She doesn't hesitate in sending a glare someone's way, and she doesn't think twice in snapping at someone, even if it's someone with much higher authority than her. She keeps her emotions to her self, only having broken down, cried and blurt everything out once, and that was when she confronted the death of Harold to Nathan. She blamed herself, and of course she still does. Though many tell her it wasn't her fault, that she could have done nothing, she knows better. She could have watched after Barry, not leaving him on his own once he was turned. She could have cared, but she didn't, and that was her fault.
She gets in fights often because of her quick temper. She blows her top all too much and her tolerance for even the smallest things is thin. If someone keeps sniffing up their snot instead of blowing their nose, she'll start bitching and moaning at them. She doesn't have any patience and she does her best to take control of situations. It's her nature to do everything she does and she often avoids such truth by heading to a pub, drinking away her pathetic life only to have it reappeared with a killer headache in the morning.
Now after everything that's happened, Trisha has seemed to have lost her mind. She's uncontrollable and ruthless. She will go on killing sprees for the smallest of transgressions. She has flashbacks of her life before coming up from the ground, silver hair, war, heartache, death. These are only brief flashbacks, but they haunt her nonetheless, putting her on edge. She's also completely lost as to what's happened to this world.
Weaponry:
Well, she lost her custom dagger some time ago, but her specialty with weapons still lies with daggers. She practices with them constantly and her skill with them still grows. She is no expert with guns, but she would use one if necessary. Anything to save your own ass, right?
History Summary:
Trisha lived the life of a normal teenager in modern times, gossiping and giggling like a moron. Her father was a business man and her mother was a house-wife. When her father was younger, about in his teens to late twenties, her was a combat instructor. Knowing the world as a horrible place, he kindly taught his daughter some things -- tricks mainly resting in the daggers. He taught her how to fight when she was young and when she often came home covered in mud with a black eye, he would never yell at her. Instead he would sit down with her and listen to how she beat the shit out of some kid who insulted her. Her mother, however, would shake her finger in her face and scoff and yell at her father for teaching her such things. Little did they know that later on in her life, they were more than needed.
When growing up, she was never beaten, she was never raped, she had never suffered a loss so devastating that she couldn't eat for a weak. In general, she was a happy child, living life with a blissful ignorance. Was there really a war going on in her backyard? If there was, which there was, she knew nothing of it. Werewolves and Vampires were just enjoyable stories in books she read. They were never something that was known to lurk in the shadows, eliminating the humans because if they didn't, they would simply perish.
She didn't know.
She didn't know to be alert when a young man became her friend. A handsome young man whom all the girls were drooling over. He supposedly had transferred from another school, and being a freshmen in college, knowing a senior who was more than interested was just too appealing to deny.
Becoming friends fast, their relationship grew. She heard of the hard times he'd gone through and she was more than welcome to comfort him. Physical contact didn't frighten her then. She was gentle and kind, smiling often and patting people on the back for a job well done. A friendship, however, wasn't on the 'senior's' mind.`He had other things planned. Things that Trisha had only read about in stories. He called on her one night to go out, and she easily complied, having done so with him many times before -- times that often led to someone's bedroom, preferably his seeing how she was still living at home with her parents.
Soon enough, their night led to his house, his empty house, and of course one thing moved to another. It was nothing new. However, he wanted to add a certain twist. First it was nibbling, but soon enough the pressure grew, and before she knew it, he was drawing blood from her shoulder. Crying out in pain, she passed out and soon woke up with him towering over her, her being placed in an arm chair with Gauss wrapped around her shoulder. Incoherent and utterly troubled, Trisha began demanding answers, and she was soon brought the unbelievable truth.
Like anyone else most likely, she didn't believe him and called him insane. He, however, proved it to her -- so kindly showing her the real identity of himself and something she was to become the next full moon. Shaken up, a fight broke out, though he was resilient in fighting with her. She was, simply, in denial. All she wanted to do was go home. She wanted to get under her covers of her warn bed. No, she wanted to climb in bed with her parents and hug close to her mother and fall asleep, wake up and realize what she'd just seen, a hairy beast, was all part of a nightmare and the bite on her shoulder was a figment of her imagination.
However it wasn't, and soon his impatience grew, fighting her back with a determination to beat some sense into her. Being much stronger than she was, it wasn't hard for him to get her to the ground. Bloodied and weak, she was laughed at for her misfortune. The question that was on her mind as she reached for her jacket where she always kept a tiny dagger in her pocket, was had he even cared for her? Did he want to change her because he cared? Or was it all just a sick game for him. It didn't matter, because she was never to find out, and she knew that as she pulled out her silver dagger and chucked it right at him, her mark being hit -- his heart.
After cries of agony, he died and she stayed where she was on the floor for some time, staring at the dead body of someone she had a 'fun' relationship with. It was obvious, as she didn't move, that something died in her. She grew bitter, and uncaring. Knowing what she was, kindness to others wasn't on the top of her list of things-to-do (or be).
She went home, but didn't say anything to her parents. It was confusing and just simply unbelievable. She grabbed some of her things, her valuables and sneaked into her parents' room. Looking upon them, a long frown came across her lips, but she didn't cry. She learned from her mother that crying was a weakness and that there was no point in doing it. While she stood there at the foot of her sleeping parent's bed, she just wanted to hug her mother and cry in her breast, but she didn't. She stared at them for a good thirty minutes as they slept soundlessly and she burned their faces in her memory and she turned and left.
Now she's a werewolf and lives in New York. Arriving about four years back, she didn't know anyone; she didn't know anything, but soon enough, she grew into place, befriending (if you can call it that) the leader of the werewolves, Strike, a kind, once-upon-a-time vampire, Dysis, a respected elder, Nathan, and plenty of others. Many don't like her and with good reason. However, through it all she doesn't care.
Once living in the new life, she came to discover how much can happen in a short period of time. She's gone through death and despair, and each bad happening only strengthens her shell of reserve and bitterness. It all passes by and once it's gone, she tries not to dwell in it, having failed on previous occasion, i.e. Harold's death.
After three years of being in New York, she disappeared. She left when the lycans needed her most; right after the pack meeting. Strike had been losing it then and he was cracking the whip down on his pack. She found it disgusting and ridiculous. So she decided to pack up her bags and leave, even though she really didn't have any bags. She knew where she was going to go to get away from the hell that was about to break loose in New York City.
She went back home. She remembered the place like she had been there the day before, and it hadn't changed one bit. The same cars were still there from three years prior, and when she stepped up to the door, about ready to knock, a smile crossed her lips. She knocked once, twice, thrice, and waited. Excitement and anticipation burned in her veins and she couldn't swipe the grin from her lips. As the doorknob started to turn, she forced her face to turn serious and she cleared her throat just before her mother opened the door. She'd changed in only three years. Her wrinkles were more profuse and noticeable, and her eyes held a hint of something dead in them. As her mother raised her gaze to look at Trisha, both of them were struck in silence. Yet electricity seemed to flow through each other. Trisha could see her mother's eyes begin to water and at the sight of her mother crying, her own eyes began to get damp, however, she didn't let the tears fall. They dried on her eye lashes.
Her mother was shocked, and no words were shared. Minuted passed before any of them made a movement. Trisha's mother seemed to leap forward and grip her daughter and vise-strong embrace. They stood there for what must have been five minutes, just hugging each other. Her father, wondering why he didn't hear his wife soon came by and saw his long missing daughter. He dropped his mug of coffee and quickly rushed over to them and hugged them both. Her parents were sobbing and when Trisha looked at her mother again, her grey eyes were no longer dull and dead, and that's when Trisha began to cry with happiness.
She slept there for many days, weeks even and they were all well. Trisha felt so relieved and she was incredible happy. It was incredible. She had her old life back and she wasn't taking any of it for granted.
However, she hadn't told her parents of what she was. She didn't tell them that she was a werewolf and that was why she left. Sometimes at night, she would lay away for hours wondering if she should tell them, and if she were to tell them, how she would tell them. Weeks passed and the elephant in the room kept getting larger and larger until it smothered her. She couldn't keep it inside any longer. So she told them. They didn't believe her at first. As a matter of fact, they thought she was joking and they laughed, but that was until they noticed Trishalee wasn't even smiling. Then they began to worry about her mental state. They started asking but Trisha just got worked up over the fact that they thought she was insane.
So she showed them.
Terrified, they screamed and ran. Quickly, Trisha changed back to original form and ran after her parents who retreated to their bedroom. Banging on their door, she pleaded with them to accept her, but they kept yelling for her to go away and never come back. She didn't leave, and her father opened the door, but with a shotgun in his hand. Looking into his eyes, she could see it was painful for him to hold a shotgun to his daughter's face, but she knew she couldn't convince him to accept her and put the gun down. So she left, heartbroken that her parents were willing to turn her away. She had tried to explain to her why it happened, and that she had no control over it, but they wouldn't listen. They didn't want to hear it. Or maybe they were just too terrified to hear anything except screams.
Stricken with grief, she wandered her old town and came across the pub she tried to get alcohol from when she was only nineteen. Frowning and hating herself, she entered it. The bartender recognized her, shocked to see her. "I'm twenty-two now," she said to him, and he grinned slightly and nodded. There she drank her despair away with drink after drink. She had never been so miserably wasted. She began to get out of control and they had to throw her out, the bartender disgusted at what she had become, for he used to be fond of the young woman who used to smile and joke around with him to try and get him to give her a shot, sometimes it actually working. Now he was ashamed he even knew her.
Screaming, Trisha roamed the town, shrieking out her frustration. How could her parents not want her? It was getting darker and the full moon was out. Perfect timing. She couldn't hold back the change, for she was too impaired to do so. She turned into the beast she was again, she beast she showed for her parents -- the part of her they wouldn't accept. She ran rampant, but luckily there was no one out on this desolate night. Without even knowing what she was doing, she went to her parents house.
Trisha broke down their door and she heard their screams. Her father ran to get his shotgun and he pointed it at her, but he didn't fire. Not because he was petrified, but because he knew it was his daughter. There was no way he could get himself to fire upon his own daughter, he own child and blood. He stood there, crying as he stared up at his daughter. No matter what, he would always love her. But she was so out of control, she didn't know what she was doing. She slashed him, murdered him. Trisha's mother shrieked with shock, grief and fright. She ran to her now dead husband and doubled over his body, sobbing. Grabbing his shotgun, she fired and drove Trisha away. She ran... ran into the woods near by.
She would never return.
Now Trisha had the guilt of killing her father and killing her mother emotionally and mentally which would probably end in the killing physically. How could she have done such a thing? Now she truly was a beast. She was nothing, so she started treating herself like nothing.
She moved from state to state, trying to find a place where she could settle down. Finding a pitiful, run-down apartment in Detroit, she needed to find a way to make rent. She tried being a waitress, but it didn't cut enough for the rent and food and of course alcohol. So she found another alternative for making rent. It paid more, but it made her even more pathetic, if that was even possible. She began selling her body in exchange for money. Each time she did it, she had to hold back her tears. One night was too much for her to handle though. Six men cornered her, first demanding money, but when she wouldn't supply, they beat her to a pulp. She didn't have a chance to defend herself. All six of them ganged up on her all at once. The stole the bit of money she had that would pay that month's rent, and two of them decided to have their way with her. Afterwards, they left her there in the alleyway.
Trisha was kicked out of her apartment and she couldn't bare it any longer. This life she could not possible stand anymore. She left Detroit and returned back to New York City. Her welcome was what she expected, or lack of welcome. Strike was less than happy to see her, and she wasn't surprised. Instead of making up and becoming friends again, she had to give him an attitude and right away they had a fight, leading to a physical one. That shouldn't be a surprise though.
So Trisha re-established herself in New York City once more. Perhaps she did so too much.
Not long after she returned 'home', the government took another victim, this time it being her. Commander AW Davis found her at the night club and decided he wanted to add her to his collection. After a long and painful battle, part of it including the brave young girl Tash, Davis managed to black bag her, and she was dragged away in a black van. When she woke up, she was scrapped to a cold table, partially nude. She was asked questions by Davis and tortured by him. He managed to get only one thing out of her before she told herself to get strong and pull through the pain. As long as her pack is safe, death would be worth anything.
Once Davis realized that he wouldn't be getting anymore information out of Trisha, he collared her. He made her a mindless soldier. She saw forced to do anything she was ordered, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was used in the final battle and she killed her own kind, werewolves she knew and had grown to like. She saw herself slash open throats and tear out hearts. Damien was one of the them. They fought, but he dodged everything she did until there was one thing he couldn't move his way out of. Her claws were shoved into his chest, and just after she committed the act, the control collar fell off of her neck. It was the worst thing she could have ever done. She cradled him in her arms as he bled and she promised herself that she would get revenge on Davis for what she'd done to Damien. Little did she know that Damien was still alive and that Nich had saved his life.
But she didn't find that out until later. Trisha went to find Davis, and she did. He was lying on the ground bloody and broken. Someone had gotten a chance at him before she did. She thought about killing him there, but then she would be doing him a favor. She would be saving him from pain and suffering when he had given her so much of it. So she made a decision. She turned Davis into what she was. He was now that thing that he hunted and tortured so passionately. She felt absolutely no remorse for what she had done. In fact, she was proud of herself.
A treaty was put in place and the three races came to peace after that horrible battle. Decisions and agreements had been made such as laws and deciding on a council. Trisha was offered a position on the council, and still healing from her emotional wounds, she turned it down at first. However, being told the specifics, she accepted and became the council member of Intelligence. Many years passed and peace seemed like such an amazing thing. Of course conflicts arose, but they were small and trivial, and they were always able to settle them without any bloodshed. Seventeen years and nothing horrible had happened. It was amazing, and it seemed like paradise in hell was found.
UPDATE
A few years after that, she reconnected with an old friend, Ivan. They lived by themselves, sharing their time together and for once, Trisha was actually happy. But like all good things, it came to an end. Ivan lost control and ripped Trisha apart. She had refused to fight him back, not wanting to harm him as she tried to get through to him. But by the time he came through, she was dying in his arms. He buried her then and that's where she remained for over fifteen years.
Her body slowly repaired itself and she arose. She remembered her dying moments and she was wrecked with an inconsolable rage for being alive. Trisha had been ready to die. She had accepted it, welcomed it. She screamed at the top of her lungs in emotional agony, completely destroyed. It took her hours to get herself moving, having ripped and torn at everything within reach.
And so she's been wandering ever since, only remembering the last few moments of her previous life with a few tragic flashbacks to remind her that she can't quite grasp what she once had.
Post Example:
Trisha wasn't exactly the studying kind of person, but she made sure she was well aware of the lunar cycle. After the second month, she figured out why she was morphing without meaning to. She had no control over it either. It just happened - the feeling of agony ripping throughout her body. One minute, she was herself, and the next she was some atrocious monster. The reality of it all frightened her. She hated it and she hated herself for what she was. She couldn't stop it - this morphing, this change. As much as she wanted to, as much as she willed herself not to change, it happened anyway. The sun was setting now and Trisha had taken a taxi all the way out into the middle of fucking nowhere because she knew what was coming next. She walked all day, moving away from the city and its towns along the outskirts. She made her way to a large farm and walked along the massive plains, far away from the house and the cattle. But sometime told her she'd made her way back to the livestock. The thought sickened her. She couldn't stomach the idea of feasting on the raw flesh of a creature. She shuddered at the thought. Trisha was sitting on a large rock, her legs pulled close to her chest as her entire body shivered uncontrollably. She hugged herself as she knew what was coming - as she waiting for the inevitable. She had stripped her clothes, knowing that they would tear in the process. This admission of defeat... this acknowledgement of what was bound to happen, it was like she was giving up. Submitting herself to the transformation that she knew was coming, it was like she had handed herself over without a fight. The fire. The desire to deny it all was losing its intensity. Her body convulsed as she gripped at herself. Was it an effect of the morphing or was it really just her terror that was causing her to shake so violently? The pain. She remembered it from the past months. She remembered the feeling of agony as her body morphed. Bones grew. Muscles expanded. Her very structure changed into something completely different. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The string of curses continued as the moon started to rise. Her worst nightmare. The thing she was the most afraid of was the full moon because of what it meant - what it brought. The soft glow of the moonlight hit her body and she felt the change start within her. The very basics of her molecular structure were being ripped to shreds. She felt her bones moving. She heard them cracking and breaking, bending and twisting. Trisha let out a loud cry as pain wrapped around her. She screamed and screamed as her body turned into the monster inside her. Soon her cry of agony became a guttural roar of a tormented beast. |