Post by Annabel on Jun 5, 2007 22:54:37 GMT -5
This is what happens when I write things at eleven o'clock... Sorry for typos and such!
Name: Antonia Thornfield
Age: Twenty-three (23)
Gender: Female
Allegiance: Pirate
Occupation: First mate, when she can get it.
Weapon of Choice: Antonia has always opted for a French Flintlock Pistol, which she claims to have killed her lover with.
Home Town/Island: Although she was born in London, her father moved the family to the Falkland Islands, Argentina when she was quite young.
Ship: Miss Thornfield sails with no ship regularly-- she sails under the highest bidder.
Appearance: Standing around six feet, Antonia was, to say the least, daunting. She wasn’t ugly, but nor could she claim the title “pretty”. Her face was full of sharp angles; the nose was Roman, the lips pale and masculine. Miss Thornfield’s hair chestnut in color, and was sheared off at the shoulders. Though the color was indeed pretty, the hair, as a whole, was not. It was thick and wild as the result of few washings and even fewer combs making the frightening journey through her locks in one piece.
But then there were her eyes. The only beguiling thing about her. Colored a deep sapphire that looked completely at odds with her unnaturally tanned skin, they alone showed that she was human. They showed she could suffer, but that she could survive it. They showed both the murderess and the lover. They showed, for lack of a better word, Antonia.
Antonia was extremely muscled from years of manual labor, almost to the point of being grotesque. Still, her height ,coupled with an average weight, toned the effect down. Also helping conceal the muscle was a thick, unflattering off-white, cotton shirt. This was covered by the typical civilian-style coat, which came down to her knees. As for trousers, she wore “slops”, which also cut off just below the knee. She wore no shoes, as bare feet made gripping the deck and rigging much easier. As a result of the afore-mentioned choice, her feet were callused and dirt-covered.
Personality: Antonia Thornfield was extremely volatile. An elaboration on the personality: capricious, violent, and cunning. That being said, she was also a romanticist, and obsessive seeker of justice, and quite humorous at times. Although quite outspoken, Antonia also kept certain things, such as her past, as veiled in mystery as possible.
History: As mentioned before, Antonia moved to Argentina at a very young age. The reason behind this move was that her father, a naval major, had been assigned to a new settlement there. Her early life was largely uninteresting, though it later contributed to her overall character; having been brought up around all naval officers, Antonia fell in love with the sea from their stories, and also vaguely learned how to use different weapons. Once she became of marital age, her mother wasted no time in arranging a marriage to a seedy, mediocre merchant. Antonia was so horrified at this prospect that she shot her husband. She was immediately arrested, and served her term quietly, though she didn’t regret killing the man at all. After being released (she was only released due to her mother’s connections in London), she decided that her talents were being wasted in such a repressed society, and caught a ship to Tortuga. There she spent several years, though what she was doing was largely unknown. However, she did have several torrid love affairs, and several more brushes with the law. After this period, she began to try to find work aboard a ship, which she accomplished. Antonia then began join more voyages, bringing us to the present.
Roleplay Sample:
The headline of a yellowing newspaper blared out, the type in the usual presumptuous sable, the death of John Rackham. Of course, ladies shouldn’t read these things. But morbid curiosity won the internal battle, as usual. There was something so satisfying in the death of a pirate. It wasn’t that she was against piracy. No, she was only against what hindered her. What transfixed her was that man himself could blow out the metaphorical candle of life. That he could make his peers encounter their final breath years before God’s hand chose to remove them from the earth. Setting the morning post down with pale, tapered fingers, she elected an apple from her end table, the digits moving with a music, an algebraic precision. Taking a bite out of it, the girl (hardly a girl at twenty-one) crossed the room, drawing her brocaded curtains open. There. Perfect. The rosy lips curved upwards into a smile. She liked the rain. Out of habit, her hand strayed to the bronze locks, which cascaded down to the small of her back, running through them nervously.
Before gliding back to her chair, Ceres took a glance at herself in her mirror. She smiled again, and struck a pose. She was beautiful, and she knew it. Yes, it was vain to admit so. But if she had been granted with tolerable genetics, why conceal them with faux modesty? She was thin, though the corset helped with that. Her eyes were almond shaped, and grey. They were too small, though, and a bit too far apart. That had always bothered her. Turning her face to the side, she also noted the Roman nose. The nose would’ve been all right on a man, but it was inexcusable on a woman, or so she had always been told. Her face wasn’t pretty, but nor was it ugly. It was merely plain. Of course, looks wouldn’t get her married. Her father’s money would. He did all right, and was considered a top rate merchant. But she wasn’t giving him enough credit—they were quite well off, and she would end up marrying just a bit above her level, as expected.
She couldn’t help but want more. Ceres Hume was ambitious. She wouldn’t tolerate a marriage to just another merchant. No, she would only settle for a governor, or at least an Admiral. Failing that, she would sink to a captain or colonel. But no lower. It was true, she wasn’t beautiful, but she was smart, and she didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. And if she had her way, her name would be in that very paper she was reading. No matter the cost.
Name: Antonia Thornfield
Age: Twenty-three (23)
Gender: Female
Allegiance: Pirate
Occupation: First mate, when she can get it.
Weapon of Choice: Antonia has always opted for a French Flintlock Pistol, which she claims to have killed her lover with.
Home Town/Island: Although she was born in London, her father moved the family to the Falkland Islands, Argentina when she was quite young.
Ship: Miss Thornfield sails with no ship regularly-- she sails under the highest bidder.
Appearance: Standing around six feet, Antonia was, to say the least, daunting. She wasn’t ugly, but nor could she claim the title “pretty”. Her face was full of sharp angles; the nose was Roman, the lips pale and masculine. Miss Thornfield’s hair chestnut in color, and was sheared off at the shoulders. Though the color was indeed pretty, the hair, as a whole, was not. It was thick and wild as the result of few washings and even fewer combs making the frightening journey through her locks in one piece.
But then there were her eyes. The only beguiling thing about her. Colored a deep sapphire that looked completely at odds with her unnaturally tanned skin, they alone showed that she was human. They showed she could suffer, but that she could survive it. They showed both the murderess and the lover. They showed, for lack of a better word, Antonia.
Antonia was extremely muscled from years of manual labor, almost to the point of being grotesque. Still, her height ,coupled with an average weight, toned the effect down. Also helping conceal the muscle was a thick, unflattering off-white, cotton shirt. This was covered by the typical civilian-style coat, which came down to her knees. As for trousers, she wore “slops”, which also cut off just below the knee. She wore no shoes, as bare feet made gripping the deck and rigging much easier. As a result of the afore-mentioned choice, her feet were callused and dirt-covered.
Personality: Antonia Thornfield was extremely volatile. An elaboration on the personality: capricious, violent, and cunning. That being said, she was also a romanticist, and obsessive seeker of justice, and quite humorous at times. Although quite outspoken, Antonia also kept certain things, such as her past, as veiled in mystery as possible.
History: As mentioned before, Antonia moved to Argentina at a very young age. The reason behind this move was that her father, a naval major, had been assigned to a new settlement there. Her early life was largely uninteresting, though it later contributed to her overall character; having been brought up around all naval officers, Antonia fell in love with the sea from their stories, and also vaguely learned how to use different weapons. Once she became of marital age, her mother wasted no time in arranging a marriage to a seedy, mediocre merchant. Antonia was so horrified at this prospect that she shot her husband. She was immediately arrested, and served her term quietly, though she didn’t regret killing the man at all. After being released (she was only released due to her mother’s connections in London), she decided that her talents were being wasted in such a repressed society, and caught a ship to Tortuga. There she spent several years, though what she was doing was largely unknown. However, she did have several torrid love affairs, and several more brushes with the law. After this period, she began to try to find work aboard a ship, which she accomplished. Antonia then began join more voyages, bringing us to the present.
Roleplay Sample:
The headline of a yellowing newspaper blared out, the type in the usual presumptuous sable, the death of John Rackham. Of course, ladies shouldn’t read these things. But morbid curiosity won the internal battle, as usual. There was something so satisfying in the death of a pirate. It wasn’t that she was against piracy. No, she was only against what hindered her. What transfixed her was that man himself could blow out the metaphorical candle of life. That he could make his peers encounter their final breath years before God’s hand chose to remove them from the earth. Setting the morning post down with pale, tapered fingers, she elected an apple from her end table, the digits moving with a music, an algebraic precision. Taking a bite out of it, the girl (hardly a girl at twenty-one) crossed the room, drawing her brocaded curtains open. There. Perfect. The rosy lips curved upwards into a smile. She liked the rain. Out of habit, her hand strayed to the bronze locks, which cascaded down to the small of her back, running through them nervously.
Before gliding back to her chair, Ceres took a glance at herself in her mirror. She smiled again, and struck a pose. She was beautiful, and she knew it. Yes, it was vain to admit so. But if she had been granted with tolerable genetics, why conceal them with faux modesty? She was thin, though the corset helped with that. Her eyes were almond shaped, and grey. They were too small, though, and a bit too far apart. That had always bothered her. Turning her face to the side, she also noted the Roman nose. The nose would’ve been all right on a man, but it was inexcusable on a woman, or so she had always been told. Her face wasn’t pretty, but nor was it ugly. It was merely plain. Of course, looks wouldn’t get her married. Her father’s money would. He did all right, and was considered a top rate merchant. But she wasn’t giving him enough credit—they were quite well off, and she would end up marrying just a bit above her level, as expected.
She couldn’t help but want more. Ceres Hume was ambitious. She wouldn’t tolerate a marriage to just another merchant. No, she would only settle for a governor, or at least an Admiral. Failing that, she would sink to a captain or colonel. But no lower. It was true, she wasn’t beautiful, but she was smart, and she didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. And if she had her way, her name would be in that very paper she was reading. No matter the cost.
