lorelei

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations - An Urban Fantasy Adventure!

Haven't had time to finish off my sheet all day - some relatives swung by for a visit, and I've just now finished cleaning up after them - so since it's past midnight where I'm at, I'll have to postpone its completion until tomorrow. I'll try my best to meet the deadline, though!

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations - An Urban Fantasy Adventure!

Don't you just love when the only thing preventing you from finishing a CS is the lack of a solid backstory? I do.

Also, seriously liking everyone else's character submissions, so far!

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations - An Urban Fantasy Adventure!

If there's still room, I can try to have a character sheet completed by tomorrow morning/early afternoon. Depends on when I crash for the night, honestly.

My character will be a bit of a deviation from the typical "grizzled cop" archetype, so I hope you'll like her.

Welcome to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

Is this open to new applicants, by any chance?

Academy 218: Still looking for new people to join - now is the primetime.

I'm technically on hiatus until next Wednesday, but expect a sheet from me soon enough. Possibly tomorrow, if I have free time.

The Road To Indigo (Pokemon RP: Chapter 1: Intros and Out We Goes!) (Open for Applications!)

((Switching to past tense from here on out to establish consistency. Also wow Gil is a total ass I am so sorry))

There were times when Gil truly wished she'd developed some sort of exercise routine as a child, because then she wouldn't be staggering up the hill on these pitiful sticks she called legs. Functional muscle was something she was sorely lacking - then again, she was also lacking any sort of muscle to begin with, so the distinction was somewhat pointless, especially when each step was fire and agony and holy shit, she was ninety percent certain her lungs were starting to shed. Like snakes, except twenty percent more traitorous. Also like snakes in that they didn't have arms. She had absolutely no idea when that idea had begun forming, and the longer she contemplated it, the more disturbing it became.

Shooting Wukong an oblique glance - the cheerful little bastard was scampering along gleefully, as if he relished each inch of this hellish ordeal - Gil pressed onward, the grotesque image of lungs with arms still lingering in her mind, where it would presumably remain until she finally keeled over and escaped this torment. "Just hurry the hell up, already," she grumbled, because death was a flighty whore. Death waits for no man my ass. "Dragging it out, yeah, cool, I can roll with that."

Clouds of dust stirred with each scuffing step, and Gil gave a surprised, horribly strangled-sounding cough, squeezing her eyes shut. Slapping at the dust ineffectually, she somehow found the energy to speed up, still spluttering like a beached Wailord. Twigs crunched solidly underfoot - for the most part; there were the occasional loose clumps - and a dusty dirt path melded smoothly into sturdy gravel. Eyes thoroughly watering, harsh coughs scraping past her lips, trying to shake loose the stray dust desperately trying to pervade her lungs, Gil stumbled forward.

Opening her eyes would have probably been the first good idea she'd had that day, so it was only natural she kept them clamped shut. (Like hell was she spending the rest of the day with dry eyes, they were already bloodshot enough to begin with; that dust wanted to get in, it could bring the goddamn Jaws of Life.)

Her foot swept forward for the next step, and a solid wall of something crashed into her face. There was a sudden spurt of pain in her nose, and a distinct throb in her forehead as something suspiciously warm smacked against it, and then she was lying in an unceremonious heap on the ground, expression dazed and bewildered and more than a little bit alarmed. The gravel bit into her palms, and she was pretty sure she'd managed to bruise every possible inch of her tailbone, including the parts that hadn't hit the ground.

"What the hell," Gil bit out, a little more savagely than she'd intended, eyes snapping open, flitting about, trying to identify what - or who, because Gil wasn't exactly a genius, but she was pretty sure walls didn't wear clothes - had dropped her to the ground like she was an old piece of trash. (Well, she was, but that wasn't the point.)

Evidently, the dust hadn't needed the Jaws of Life. Whomever this sack of moldy dicks was had worked just fine.

Warriors of Sengun: A Pokémon Role-Play (Started, Still Accepting)

I'll probably have an application submitted soon enough.

The Road To Indigo (Pokemon RP: Chapter 1: Intros and Out We Goes!) (Open for Applications!)

The side of Gil's hand has been pressed tightly against her brow, warding off the sun as best it can, for so long she's almost afraid it's going leave an imprint. A massive pale line in a sea of sunburnt betrayal, because she's not pointing fingers or naming names, but she wouldn't exactly have to worry about her hand leaving a mark were the sun not raining its blazing fury down from above like a lover scorned. Or someone who hadn't been called back after a long night.

Her lips curve down into a frown, and she tilts her head. Aren't those interchangeable? Technically, they overlap, but it's a metaphor, so - actually, okay, no, wow, she's severely off-track. As in, her train of thought just derailed and leveled an entire town off-track. Probably blew up a small village along the way, too, because apparently, her attention span's worse than her next-door neighbor's son's, and that little bundle of regret and snot's not even five months old.

A sigh drifts out from between her lips, and she shakes her head. Time to forge onward. She's got a massive (okay, average) hill to scale and only today to do it, because she's pretty sure today's the last day for league registrations. (Unless she already missed her chance, in which case she's got a backup plan: lob the nearest rock at the presiding professor, steal a license, and bolt. Classic, but effective. Considering the massive trainwreck that comprises her time-management skills, it's actually a pretty sound idea.)

"Char," says the aforementioned Wukong, almost critically, as if he knows what she's thinking and doesn't exactly approve. It's almost uncanny - she's had him for, what, a week and a half, maybe? He can't be predicting her actions yet.

"Dude, don't even look at me like that. It'd be sick as all hell," she argues, swiveling her head around to shoot him a reproachful glare, and probably guaranteeing her inevitable stumble over a stray twig in the process. "Like if a train heist and an explosion had a not-ugly baby. And that baby came out casually shredding a wave while playing, like, eight guitar riffs. Level 8 cool."

She's not sure why she's rambling, but it's not nerves. Can't be nerves, because why would she be nervous in any way, shape, or form? It's not like her entire future depends on this, or anything. Not like she'll have to slink back home like a dejected little mutt, tail tucked permanently between her legs.

"Yeah," she mutters, quickening her pace, Wukong scampering along behind her, complacent in his cheerful ignorance, "no biggie. No pressure. yeah."

The Road To Indigo (Pokemon RP: Chapter 1: Intros and Out We Goes!) (Open for Applications!)

Gil Chevalier

Name: Gilberte “Gil” Chevalier

Age: 17

Gender: Female; she/her pronouns

Hometown: Jubilife City, Sinnoh

Appearance: A diminutive stature barely reaching five feet, impeccable dark eyeliner, and a slender, petite frame lend - with accuracy that surprises absolutely no one - to the notion Gil does not enjoy the outdoors in any sense of the word. Sharp eyebrows lie low on her forehead, giving the appearance of a constant scowl. Gentle angles cut into the pale canvas of her face, providing a sharp contrast to the dark circles offsetting deep brown eyes. These eyes are perpetually narrowed, and the irises unusually small, giving the impression of constant skepticism.

A small nose and delicate mouth would give her a doll-like appearance were they not usually twisted into a scowl. Long, layered white hair falls in waves down her back, stopping a few inches above her waist, and a choppy, fluffy fringe feathers across her forehead. She prefers wearing her hair down - it is rather long, and quite heavy, and keeping it up all the time would give her a headache - but will occasionally throw it into a messy bun. Gil is usually pretty good about maintaining the dye job, but sometimes, she’s prone to bouts of laziness, and lets the roots grow out a bit.

Rarely seen without an oversized hoodie or sweatshirt of some form; usually wears leggings or some kind of athletic pants with them. Has surprisingly practical taste in shoes; a solid, sturdy pair of bright, tacky red athletic sneakers.

Personality: Easily flustered and angered even faster, Gil is governed solely by impulse and emotion. Rationality and logistics fall to the wayside in favor of instinct or intuition, especially in a conflict. A gruff, somewhat awkward demeanor and dry, surly sort of humor give her an almost rough-around-the-edges sort of aura, particularly when she’s being forced to sit down and be civil. She’s not particularly adept at handling crowds, either; her short stature and distaste for socialization leaves her positively floundering.

Gil is somewhat impatient, and even though she’s a self-proclaimed pacifist, wouldn’t hesitate to fling her Pokeballs aside and jump into the fray herself. (She’s eternally ready to fight. Poor disaster child would probably try to punch an Ursaring if it pissed her off.) Has a flippaint, devil-may-care attitude towards academics, and as such, dropped out of formal education to pursue a career in training and sate her wanderlust (though her father also played an integral role in this decision, too; there’s enough defiance coursing through her veins to power a small regiment). She tends to fidget when forced to sit still for very long, especially if she’s waiting on someone she’s travelling with to finish up a transaction or draw a conversation to a close.

Despite this brash veneer, Gil’s constantly plagued by doubts for the future. She’s terrified she won’t be able to make it as a trainer and provide for herself, and she’s too prideful to slink back home and try to rectify things with her family. A life spent rotting away at some desk job isn’t the life for her - ask her, and you’ll receive an emphatic refusal, probably some remark about how she’d rather fling herself off an overpass than spend the rest of her life bored and filled with regret.

She’s also hyperaware of her belligerence, and how quickly she resorts to shouting, and she’s determined to learn to curb her temper. The last thing in the world she wants is to become anything like her rat bastard father. It’s a touchy subject.

Profession: Novice trainer

Talents: The ability to argue with practically anyone; an armada of various bad ideas and ways to execute them; the ability to subsist off defiance alone.

Inventory:

• 7 Pokeballs
• Thermal, well-insulated sleeping bag + portable travel-sized pillow
• $200
• Personal hygiene + cosmetic supplies; has an unholy devotion toward maintaining her eyeliner
• A bottle of disinfectant, a small box of band-aids, and two rolls of gauze
• Store-bought, relatively decent-quality Pokemon food
• 4 Potions; 2 Antidotes; 1 Burn Heal she carries expressly for comedic purpose
• A few changes of clothes
• Obscenely gaudy bright red backpack in which all of this is stored

Starter Pokemon: "Wukong” (Male Chimchar), level 5

Biography:

Born and raised in Jubilife by a father who regarded Pokemon trainers as cowardly thugs that frittered away their families’ assets gallivanting around the world, and a quiet, hesitant mother whose opinion was never valued as an equal, Gil grew up with the desire to travel and develop a perspective of her own. Partially out of defiance, partially because she couldn’t stand staying in the same place for very long, Gil made it her life’s ambition to see the world with her own eyes and forge a future by herself - much to her father’s displeasure.

People are a product of their environment, and people also don’t develop such severe opinions for no reason. Gil’s older brother Liam, a Pokemon enthusiast to an almost obsessive degree, had wasted hundreds of dollars on schooling and occupational preparation only to succumb to anxiety, freak out, turn his back on everything the day of his final exams, and devote his life to Pokemon breeding.

He picked up a Chimchar from the Sinnoh Lab and just like that, the existence of Liam Chevalier was no longer acknowledged.

Gil was envious, of course, because she really didn’t think it was fair he got to follow his life’s ambitions, whereas she was stuck pursuing some mundane, boring desk job she didn’t want. She almost considered asking to visit, maybe see if he’d breed her a Lillipup for a pet - sane company, her excuse was.

Of course, due to Edward Chevalier’s volatile nature and propensity for lashing out at what he perceived as insubordination with a rough cuff to the ear, this opinion was wisely kept silent after the first few confrontations. In the back of Gil’s mind it festered, and she nourished it with resentment. Clandestine mock-battles in the schoolyard, surreptitious exchanges of what her father scornfully dubbed “filthy propaganda” - such as professional statistics and recordings of tournaments - anything Gil could get her hands on was used as artillery.

Edward wasn’t totally oblivious, because Gil wasn’t exactly the paragon of stealth, but he remained silent - holding out for the hope his daughter was just “going through a phase” and that it’d all “blow over and she’d come to her senses”. Her mother, Dana, on the other hand, silently cheered her on with an almost savage sort of satisfaction. Her daughter was succeeding where she had failed, and maybe, if Gil was lucky, Gil would have the opportunities Dana never got the chance to experience.

The tension built, rapidly escalating when secret desires turned into bold proclamations, Gil eventually stopped attending school, and her grades dropped from “decent” to “nonexistent”. Everything came to a head the day Edward stumbled blearily down the stairs at four in the morning, having been jolted from sleep by a large crash, and found his daughter cramming supplies into a backpack, shoes on her feet and a few Pokeballs at her belt.

The resulting argument could have woken the dead, and just like that, Gil was fleeing her home, with shouts threatening to call the authorities at her back and the sun in her eyes, and for the first time in her life, everything was going as it should be. The black sheep of the family had taken her throne, estranged and all the better for it.

She managed to contact Liam, made arrangements to stay with him in his current Kanto residence for a few years, maybe to get on her feet and figure out how she was actually supposed to go about training Pokemon, and as celebration (because he’d missed his little sister, really, he did), he offered her one of the offspring of his very first starter.

For someone so grumpy, Gil really was a sentimental idiot.

Notes/Other: Gil despises the cold, hence her preference for Fire-type Pokemon. Rarely, if ever, wears short sleeves.

The Road To Indigo (Pokemon RP: Chapter 1: Intros and Out We Goes!) (Open for Applications!)

Should I move my character's sheet to the 'Characters' tab now?