Live to Survive App
Jun. 20th, 2012 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cordelissePlayer’s name: Eris
Player’s age: 29
Personal journal: SyrensSong
Character name: Zoey Westen
Canon: Original Character
What canon point is your character taken from?: Not really applicable.
Character Background: Zoey’s mother Cassandra Westen died when she was 10, and afterwards her father took a job that involved them having to move regularly. Tom Westen didn’t need to work, as his wife had left her family very well off, but he wanted to do more than just live off his deceased wife’s money. Zoey went to a lot of different schools, and rapidly grew accustomed to it; she kept to herself a lot of the time. There were maybe two or three people that she became close enough to that she actually kept in touch.
Shortly after her father found a job that let him put down roots in North Carolina (he opened a book shop), Zoey left for college and majored in ancient/medieval history (Europe) and minored in archaeology and mythology. She had found herself with a great interest in mythology, ever since she was a child; especially the myths of seers.
Part of the reason was, you see, that she had some talent with the ability of foresight herself. Usually manifesting itself in dreams or a prickling at the back of her neck, on her skin. Sometimes she gets an idea about something and it occurs, or words pop into her head and someone around her utters them mere moments later.
She hasn’t tried anything else like throwing runes, or reading tea leaves or anything, but there are books in her suitcase on the subject. She’s wary to mess with things she doesn’t understand. She can’t exactly help the dreams business.
Her father vanished while she was on her graduation present, a trip abroad. Even across the ocean... she managed to SEE it. Zoey woke up from a horrific dream, screaming and crying. All she could remember was danger and darkness. When she returned to North Carolina... he was gone, no sign of where he had gone to, if he had been taken, if something had happened to make him leave. So she gathered anything that might be a clue, or hint, packed up the rest of her stuff, and took off trying to find him. Something started tugging at her, drawing her south. Hopeful that it had something to do with her father... she drove in that direction.
That was when the zombie apocalypse hit. She stopped for the night... and woke up somewhere completely fucking different.
Characters personality: Zoey is fairly sarcastic at times, especially if she doesn’t know someone. She can be fairly friendly, but very cautious about letting people get close as a result of moving around so much after her mother died (for her father’s new job). What was the point of making friends if only to move away a few months later? So Zoey instead gained acquaintances wherever she went. People who she got along with well enough to not mind spending some time with them, but never really truly got to know them, or let them get to know her. She also gained an ability to be all right with being alone. Though she has a deep-seated longing for close friends, she’d never admit it. A bit guarded is a good way to describe her.
Zoey is an extremely intelligent young woman, though she doesn’t mind pretending to be less so sometimes, in order to make people underestimate her. She doesn’t generally care what people think of her, and she’s well aware of the fact that she’s more than a little bit odd at times. Portents of the future tend to do that to a person. She is not all that great at math. It was one of her worst subjects in school, and she had to work her ass off to get any sort of decent passing grade.
Zoey loves the rain. When she was a child she’d go outside and play whenever there was a downpour. Afterwards she would go inside and her father would fix her a cup of hot chocolate. Then they’d sit down and read. When she was small he’d read to her. But not the typical fare one would usually read to a child. He read her Dune (so she could know where he’d taken her middle name from), Dracula, and Shakespeare’s plays. And as a result she was usually completely at a loss as to why other children didn’t know what the Fremen were, who Van Helsing was, or weren’t familiar with Mercutio’s Queen Mab speech from Romeo and Juliet. This tradition also led to her becoming an avid reader as she grew up. She also devoured every mythology she could get her hands on; the mythology books took up a lot of room on her bookcase.
Zoey has an irrational fear of elevators. Something about it being a small enclosed space that moves freaks her out. Oddly enough, enclosed spaces that don’t move don’t bother her at all.
Does your character have any special abilities? If so how will they be affected in this environment (i.e. how much weaker will they be): (I'm throwing in everything she can do in this bit, since a lot of it might come in handy; although there's only the one special ability) Zoey was her father’s little girl. He taught her how to play pool, and sword-fighting (when she proceeded past his ability he found her an instructor wherever they were living). When she wanted to learn gymnastics he, of course, agreed. She LOVED gymnastics, and kept up with when she could, even learning corde lisse and aerial silks. She used her gymnastics skills to get to out of the way places, or a good place to sit (the higher up the better). While she was abroad, she found a place to teach her corde lisse/aerial silks more in-depth. It turned out she had a knack for it.
She is skilled with dual long daggers, rapier, long swords and gladius, as well as the quarterstaff. She’s not nearly as good with guns as she is with blades, but she’s all right.
Her favourite non-physical hobby (besides reading, of course) is photography. She loves taking photographs of places; especially old buildings. She kind of collects cameras as much as she collects swords.
She has an ear for accents and enjoys occasionally dropping into something different. During college she'd pick a class and use a different accent in that class. Fooled the professors, and amused the few students who had other classes with her. Interestingly, this often happens when Zoey is drinking (and sometimes when she's tired). When she drinks she tends to get a little... British. Both vocabulary and accent.
She doesn't consider herself a polyglot (though she is, since the definition is being able to speak or write multiple languages), but she does know a few different languages rather fluently. Russian, French, Greek, and Czech to be exact. She knows a decent amount of Latin, and curses in pretty much every language that she could learn.
Zoey learned to tango and waltz when she made the acquaintance of an instructor while in Spain. He was close to being someone she considered a friend. She would deny this, of course, instead deeming him a 'close acquaintance'.
Something ELSE her father taught her was how to throw knives/daggers. And when she was young he would take her to fairs and reenactments (and the occasional bar) and essentially make the claim that his daughter was more of a man than the big burly guys doing the knife throwing. Obviously they didn't exactly believe that was in any way possible. So then wee!Zoey would show her skill. They bought many a fancy dinner that way.
Zoey is also a seer. Dreams and portents, etc. Nothing particularly powerful (or so she thinks, anyway; there’s always the potential for more, isn’t there?), usually manifesting itself in dreams or a prickling at the back of her neck, on her skin. Sometimes she gets an idea about something and it occurs, or words pop into her head and someone around her utters them mere moments later. Sometimes she just KNOWS. Someone will spill a drink, or trip on some stairs, and the like. The dreams are usually cryptic, fragmented, and sometimes hard to remember upon awakening beyond the vague feeling that SOMEthing is going to happen, and whether it’s good or bad (the details would reveal themselves in time; usually in déjà vu or the like). When she does remember the details upon waking, it’s hard for her to piece together what they mean.
How will they be affected in this environment (i.e. how much weaker will they be): Because of the stress of a zombie apocalypse, Zoey’s foresight will be much harder on her than usual. She’ll probably have almost constant low-level sense of danger all the time, and if any really strong visions hit her... well, she’s going to be feeling it hardcore. Intense agony, tears of blood, the whole nine yards.
First Person Sample:
I didn't expect zombies. The vision was unclear enough that I thought it simply meant the dangers of the wreckage of a city I've found myself in. I was wrong. Very, very wrong. Never been so thankful for a sword before. I know they're not people anymore... but I've never killed before.
Not like that.
I've heard whispers from the few survivors I've come across. The ones that haven't tried to kill me or rob me, anyway. Whispers of camps outside the city. I don't know of anything else I can do... except head to one of them.
North. I think I'm going North.
[End journal entry]
Third Person Sample:
Zoey scrubbed a hand through her hair, sighing tiredly. She’d been driving for days since her last real stop. She’d paused every so often to get gas, use the restroom or grab a quick bite to eat. But only just long enough to do what she needed to. Not a moment longer. After that she was back on the road. It wasn’t that she COULDN’T stop. She simply… didn’t want to. She was close, she could FEEL it. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was that was drawing her in the direction she was going... but she hoped that it was something that could lead her to her father. She needed to find something. Something concrete, beyond the metaphysical tugging at her being. He was out there somewhere. He had to be. He wouldn’t just LEAVE. Not without packing something, and not without telling her.
There were times Zoey wished she was able to force visions when she needed them. But as much control as she had managed over her particular gift… she wasn’t sure that forcing the visions was even a possibility. Since the initial dream that had woken her, screaming and crying tears of blood, they had been frustratingly silent on the subject of her father.
“Fuck...” she muttered, thoroughly irritated with herself. This probably has nothing to do with him. This is a wild goose chase straight into the jaws of trouble. But she’d never exactly shied from trouble before, had she... so why should she start now? There had to be a reason why she was being drawn. She knew it. Felt it in her bones. The only way to find out what that was… was to go and find out for herself.
Her foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, and the black Mustang sped off into the night. She would meet whatever lay ahead face-on, for better or worse.
Player’s age: 29
Personal journal: SyrensSong
Character name: Zoey Westen
Canon: Original Character
What canon point is your character taken from?: Not really applicable.
Character Background: Zoey’s mother Cassandra Westen died when she was 10, and afterwards her father took a job that involved them having to move regularly. Tom Westen didn’t need to work, as his wife had left her family very well off, but he wanted to do more than just live off his deceased wife’s money. Zoey went to a lot of different schools, and rapidly grew accustomed to it; she kept to herself a lot of the time. There were maybe two or three people that she became close enough to that she actually kept in touch.
Shortly after her father found a job that let him put down roots in North Carolina (he opened a book shop), Zoey left for college and majored in ancient/medieval history (Europe) and minored in archaeology and mythology. She had found herself with a great interest in mythology, ever since she was a child; especially the myths of seers.
Part of the reason was, you see, that she had some talent with the ability of foresight herself. Usually manifesting itself in dreams or a prickling at the back of her neck, on her skin. Sometimes she gets an idea about something and it occurs, or words pop into her head and someone around her utters them mere moments later.
She hasn’t tried anything else like throwing runes, or reading tea leaves or anything, but there are books in her suitcase on the subject. She’s wary to mess with things she doesn’t understand. She can’t exactly help the dreams business.
Her father vanished while she was on her graduation present, a trip abroad. Even across the ocean... she managed to SEE it. Zoey woke up from a horrific dream, screaming and crying. All she could remember was danger and darkness. When she returned to North Carolina... he was gone, no sign of where he had gone to, if he had been taken, if something had happened to make him leave. So she gathered anything that might be a clue, or hint, packed up the rest of her stuff, and took off trying to find him. Something started tugging at her, drawing her south. Hopeful that it had something to do with her father... she drove in that direction.
That was when the zombie apocalypse hit. She stopped for the night... and woke up somewhere completely fucking different.
Characters personality: Zoey is fairly sarcastic at times, especially if she doesn’t know someone. She can be fairly friendly, but very cautious about letting people get close as a result of moving around so much after her mother died (for her father’s new job). What was the point of making friends if only to move away a few months later? So Zoey instead gained acquaintances wherever she went. People who she got along with well enough to not mind spending some time with them, but never really truly got to know them, or let them get to know her. She also gained an ability to be all right with being alone. Though she has a deep-seated longing for close friends, she’d never admit it. A bit guarded is a good way to describe her.
Zoey is an extremely intelligent young woman, though she doesn’t mind pretending to be less so sometimes, in order to make people underestimate her. She doesn’t generally care what people think of her, and she’s well aware of the fact that she’s more than a little bit odd at times. Portents of the future tend to do that to a person. She is not all that great at math. It was one of her worst subjects in school, and she had to work her ass off to get any sort of decent passing grade.
Zoey loves the rain. When she was a child she’d go outside and play whenever there was a downpour. Afterwards she would go inside and her father would fix her a cup of hot chocolate. Then they’d sit down and read. When she was small he’d read to her. But not the typical fare one would usually read to a child. He read her Dune (so she could know where he’d taken her middle name from), Dracula, and Shakespeare’s plays. And as a result she was usually completely at a loss as to why other children didn’t know what the Fremen were, who Van Helsing was, or weren’t familiar with Mercutio’s Queen Mab speech from Romeo and Juliet. This tradition also led to her becoming an avid reader as she grew up. She also devoured every mythology she could get her hands on; the mythology books took up a lot of room on her bookcase.
Zoey has an irrational fear of elevators. Something about it being a small enclosed space that moves freaks her out. Oddly enough, enclosed spaces that don’t move don’t bother her at all.
Does your character have any special abilities? If so how will they be affected in this environment (i.e. how much weaker will they be): (I'm throwing in everything she can do in this bit, since a lot of it might come in handy; although there's only the one special ability) Zoey was her father’s little girl. He taught her how to play pool, and sword-fighting (when she proceeded past his ability he found her an instructor wherever they were living). When she wanted to learn gymnastics he, of course, agreed. She LOVED gymnastics, and kept up with when she could, even learning corde lisse and aerial silks. She used her gymnastics skills to get to out of the way places, or a good place to sit (the higher up the better). While she was abroad, she found a place to teach her corde lisse/aerial silks more in-depth. It turned out she had a knack for it.
She is skilled with dual long daggers, rapier, long swords and gladius, as well as the quarterstaff. She’s not nearly as good with guns as she is with blades, but she’s all right.
Her favourite non-physical hobby (besides reading, of course) is photography. She loves taking photographs of places; especially old buildings. She kind of collects cameras as much as she collects swords.
She has an ear for accents and enjoys occasionally dropping into something different. During college she'd pick a class and use a different accent in that class. Fooled the professors, and amused the few students who had other classes with her. Interestingly, this often happens when Zoey is drinking (and sometimes when she's tired). When she drinks she tends to get a little... British. Both vocabulary and accent.
She doesn't consider herself a polyglot (though she is, since the definition is being able to speak or write multiple languages), but she does know a few different languages rather fluently. Russian, French, Greek, and Czech to be exact. She knows a decent amount of Latin, and curses in pretty much every language that she could learn.
Zoey learned to tango and waltz when she made the acquaintance of an instructor while in Spain. He was close to being someone she considered a friend. She would deny this, of course, instead deeming him a 'close acquaintance'.
Something ELSE her father taught her was how to throw knives/daggers. And when she was young he would take her to fairs and reenactments (and the occasional bar) and essentially make the claim that his daughter was more of a man than the big burly guys doing the knife throwing. Obviously they didn't exactly believe that was in any way possible. So then wee!Zoey would show her skill. They bought many a fancy dinner that way.
Zoey is also a seer. Dreams and portents, etc. Nothing particularly powerful (or so she thinks, anyway; there’s always the potential for more, isn’t there?), usually manifesting itself in dreams or a prickling at the back of her neck, on her skin. Sometimes she gets an idea about something and it occurs, or words pop into her head and someone around her utters them mere moments later. Sometimes she just KNOWS. Someone will spill a drink, or trip on some stairs, and the like. The dreams are usually cryptic, fragmented, and sometimes hard to remember upon awakening beyond the vague feeling that SOMEthing is going to happen, and whether it’s good or bad (the details would reveal themselves in time; usually in déjà vu or the like). When she does remember the details upon waking, it’s hard for her to piece together what they mean.
How will they be affected in this environment (i.e. how much weaker will they be): Because of the stress of a zombie apocalypse, Zoey’s foresight will be much harder on her than usual. She’ll probably have almost constant low-level sense of danger all the time, and if any really strong visions hit her... well, she’s going to be feeling it hardcore. Intense agony, tears of blood, the whole nine yards.
First Person Sample:
I didn't expect zombies. The vision was unclear enough that I thought it simply meant the dangers of the wreckage of a city I've found myself in. I was wrong. Very, very wrong. Never been so thankful for a sword before. I know they're not people anymore... but I've never killed before.
Not like that.
I've heard whispers from the few survivors I've come across. The ones that haven't tried to kill me or rob me, anyway. Whispers of camps outside the city. I don't know of anything else I can do... except head to one of them.
North. I think I'm going North.
[End journal entry]
Third Person Sample:
Zoey scrubbed a hand through her hair, sighing tiredly. She’d been driving for days since her last real stop. She’d paused every so often to get gas, use the restroom or grab a quick bite to eat. But only just long enough to do what she needed to. Not a moment longer. After that she was back on the road. It wasn’t that she COULDN’T stop. She simply… didn’t want to. She was close, she could FEEL it. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was that was drawing her in the direction she was going... but she hoped that it was something that could lead her to her father. She needed to find something. Something concrete, beyond the metaphysical tugging at her being. He was out there somewhere. He had to be. He wouldn’t just LEAVE. Not without packing something, and not without telling her.
There were times Zoey wished she was able to force visions when she needed them. But as much control as she had managed over her particular gift… she wasn’t sure that forcing the visions was even a possibility. Since the initial dream that had woken her, screaming and crying tears of blood, they had been frustratingly silent on the subject of her father.
“Fuck...” she muttered, thoroughly irritated with herself. This probably has nothing to do with him. This is a wild goose chase straight into the jaws of trouble. But she’d never exactly shied from trouble before, had she... so why should she start now? There had to be a reason why she was being drawn. She knew it. Felt it in her bones. The only way to find out what that was… was to go and find out for herself.
Her foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, and the black Mustang sped off into the night. She would meet whatever lay ahead face-on, for better or worse.