Post by Cora Heaton on Apr 11, 2009 16:44:32 GMT -5
•••firstMIDDLElast!!!
"Thoughts meander like a
restless wind inside a letter box
they tumble blindly as
they make their way
across the universe."
•••SINGMEASONGABOUTYOU
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•NAME: Cora Heaton
•NICKNAME(S): none
•AGE/YEAR: 16, 6th year
•BLOOD: mostly pure
•SEXUALITY: straight
•PREFFERRED HOUSE/POSITION: Ravenclaw
•PLACE OF BIRTH: Liverpool, England
•••DANCEWITHTHATBODYOFYOURS
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•HAIR: strawberry blonde
•EYES: blue
•GENERAL APPEARENCE: Cora is petite, about 5' 2", and thinly built without much in the way of curves. She has shoulder length, wavy, red/blonde hair that she usually wears down without anything in the way of clips or ties. Her face is small, pointed and light in complexion and she has light blue eyes.
•DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Cora's big, bright eyes that are probably her most prominent feature.
•STYLE: Cora tends to wear more muggle clothes than wizard robes. Her style is carefree and comfortable with lots of bright colors and jewelry. To give it a muggle classification, one might say she is a bit of a hippie or bohemian.
•PLAYBY: Pattie Boyd
•••IDON'TCAREWHEREYOU'REFROM
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•HOMETOWN: Liverpool, England
•MOTHER: Eleanor Barret Heaton
•FATHER: Darius Heaton
•BROTHER(S): Julian Heaton (older)
•SISTER(S): none
•OTHER: none she knows well.
•HISTORY:
•••GIMMEYOURPERSONALITYINASONG
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•LIKES:
•• Music
•• Sunshine
•• Her friends
•• Cats
•• Good books
•DISLIKES:
•• Hateful people
•• Unnecessary conflict
•• Stormy weather
•• "Creepy crawlies"
•• Thinking too much about the future
•GOALS:
•• To have a nice handful of friends
•• To fall in love? Perhaps?
•• To make it through Hogwarts
•• To meet her favorite wizard band in person!
•• To save the mooncalfs!
•FEARS:
•• Losing people she loves
•• Falling...in any sense
•• Being alone
•• Becoming old an stuffy
•• Dark magic
•SECRETS:
•• She thinks that being a muggle might not be too bad.
•• She once snuck out to go to a concert for the weekend...her father thought she was visiting her cousin...
•• She wants to sneak into the care of magical creatures classroom and release all the animals that are being held captive.
•• She used to skip her lessons when she was young and lay in the strawberry field behind her house for hours.
•• She has a crush...on a Gryfindor 7th year...who may or may not know she exists.
•HABITS:
•• "Spacing out"
•• Pulling on her hair
•• Bouncing
•• Talking too loud
•• Talking to herself...
•PERSONALITY: TWO PARAGRAPHS
•PATRONUS: House cat
•BOGGART: Bumble Bee
•QUIDDITCH: no.
•••I'MINYOURHEADANDYOURHEART
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•NAME: Tori
•AGE: 17
•RP EXPERIENCE: 5 years at least...
•HOW DID YOU FIND US: Mariaaaa!!!
•OTHER CHARACTERS: none
•SECRET PHRASE: Magic is in us all.
•ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
((as Dr. Harleen Quinzel on a Batman rp site))
Analyzing madness on a daily basis has a tendency to do one of two things to a person. It might wear them down completely, make them pessimistic, sour about humanity, and send them to an early retirement, or worse, an early grave. Or, it might catch their fascination and spur them on to deep thoughts and great things. Harleen Quinzel, for one, liked to believe that her career would take the second path. True, psychiatry had not been her lifelong dream. But, really, how could gymnastics ever get anyone anywhere? Discovering a hidden passion for the process of human thought had been a blessing and had probably saved her from becoming a cranky old gymnastics instructor, or worse, some minimum wage burger joint girl.
However, as much as she loved her field and what she accomplished in it, she also saw how the work she did had changed her and her preceptions of the world. Over the last few years she had slowly come to the comclusion that there are really no absolute truths. Everything, really, is quite relative to one's current situation. Take the ideas of chaos and order, for example. In the outside world, the world of loud and bustling Gotham, "order" meant calm. Not necessarily peace, but calm. The sense that the world as a whole was progeressing as it should. Chaos, conversely, meant panic. In other words, the mess that occured when something sudden and out of the ordinary occured.
That was the way the two terms, order and chaos, were seen in Gotham and most of the civilized world for that matter. They were opposites, two states of existence that would never and should never meet. Not in Arkham.
The patients at Arkham, for the most part, thought their days were ruled by some perverse, overpowering order. An order that controlled ever aspect of their lives "for their safety and the safety of others". Most hated it, all fought it, the majority eventually gave in. However, as an outside observer, who was not really on the outside, Harleen saw that the order they implemented in Arkham was tenuous. So much so that at times the line between the asylum's daily routine and all out chaos seemed blurred to the young doctor. The sheer magnitude of the madness housed behind the walls of the facility made the idea of order rather laughable as patients screamed and shrieked and lived in worlds entirely of their own creation. How could there be any order in that?
And so, Harleen concluded, order and chaos, like many other things, were really a matter of perspective.
And what was her perspective now? How ordered were her thoughts and emotions as she strode, at once too slowly and too quickly down the halls towards the high security ward. In some respects, she was in perfect order. Her grey slacks were pressed, her navy blue blouse was free of wrinkles, and her blonder hair was neatly arranged on the back of her head with a large clip. Her thoughts too were for the most part as they should be. She knew where she needed to go, what she needed to say, and what questions she needed to ask.
Then again, from a different angle, she was a mess. She was paler than usual under her tasteful makeup, her palms were just a little sticky against the papers she held, and her fingers shook ever so slightly as she scanned her personel card to get into the ward. Those thoughts that were organized were merely a memorized agenda. The rest of her head was filled with a buzz of thoughts, springing up and out in every direction but with one singular point of origin. The fragments of information flew so rapidly around that she couldn't make sense of any of them, let alone analyze their usefulness or meaning.
Then, all at once, the build-up really didn't matter because she was standing there in front of the clear glass that seemed so insubstantial. The confusion in her head was gone in a flash, replaced by an eerie sort of quiet, all her thoughts focused on the strange, surreal image in front of her.
