Post by mhaimeo90 on Mar 19, 2006 14:55:42 GMT -5
Character's Name; Aidan Darcy Madadh
Name I want to be called; Shoe/Alli/Aidan (whichever you wish, really.)
Character’s Nickname(s); Aidan, Mad-hatter (after her last name)
Race; Werewolf
Grade; 10th
Age; 16
Birthday; Oct. 13, 1989
History; She has just moved in from across the Atlantic, from good old, much missed Ireland. It had been a rather quick move, the family’s roots dug out of the ground quite quickly. She had grown up in little Kilkenny, and enjoyed it wholeheartedly, until subtle signs of werewolf behavior started creeping into her everyday life. Her mother then revealed the family secret. Well, her mother’s family secret. Her father had no idea that he was married to a long race of werewolf generations. Perhaps if he had looked at the wolf-covered coat-of-arms that his wife kept in her study, he would have suspected something. The Madadh family is one of the last lines of werewolves in Ireland, many having already been hunt down long ago. It was Aidan’s father’s idea that they move to the States, as a nice job offering was given to him in Richmond, and being the business man, he took the opportunity. So here they are, in a wee farm town hours from Richmond. Aidan found the town rather dull.
Important Relationships; She is distant with her mother, because the woman had not told her of her werewolf secret until she was thirteen, and she had a habit of holding a grudge. Her father was nice enough, and they cared for the same music, but he was always just too busy... Well, she did have her cat, Mhaimeo. It was strange, really. Cats usually didn’t get along with the werewolves, but since young Aidan had saved the ragged little kitten from a hail storm, the two had gotten along quite well. The nickname Mad-hatter often came from her tendency to talk with Mhaimeo.
Mannerisms; She tends to be a bit of a loner, unless you get her to open up, then it’s hard to get her to shut up. When she is nervous or anxious she tends to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet, and when she’s in a good mood you may find her humming or singing. Or when she’s depressed. Or angry. Or melancholy. Or in the shower. So, she sings a lot. In the end, despite her habit to talk with others and make friends easily enough, she can be rather distant.
Fears/Dislikes; Being called Mad-Hatter drives her, well, mad, really. What was the matter with just Aidan? Brussels sprouts isn’t exactly one of her favorite things either. She is absolutely pertified of heights, ever since she was stuck on top of a ferris wheel, and it started to storm. She also is a vegetarian, a very difficult diet for a werewolf. While a human she sticks strictly to vegan code, but sometimes, when the transformation is upon her, she can't control herself, and the next morning she still tastes blood.
Likes; Her home country, being back at home, and dreaming of not being in the U.S. Well, she likes music as well. And just staying at home on a rainy, misty, Ireland day, stroking Mhaimeo and listening to the rain.
Hobbies; Playing her acoustic and tin whistle, reading, drawing, writing, working on those blasted werewolf traditions
Music; Celtic Woman, Dervish, Cherish the Ladies, The Corrs, Leahy, Jason Mraz, Breaking Benjamin, The Beatles, U2, Theory of a Dead Man, Nickelback
Appearance; Brown hair, straight one day and wavy the next, stops abruptly at her shoulders. She’s of an average weight and height, believing that food tastes good and that the American anorexics were insane, but jogging at least twice a week is good for you. Her eyes are a brilliant shade of green, but in some lights they appear to be hazel. Her skin is neither tan nor pale, but somewhere in the middle. She tends to wear comfortable clothes, instead of squeezing herself into some “fashionable” -wear. So, jeans, clog-like shoes, and a hoodie/t-shirt is just fine.
Personality; At first, she can be shy, quiet, and unmanageable. But she’ll warm up eventually, and then you may just have to place a hand over her mouth to stop her from talking and/or singing. Her warm, thick Irish accent is welcoming and attracting, and it adds an pleasant effect to her voice, which is beautiful enough as it is.
Sample RP intro; “Och, woman, can’t you see I’m trying to doze. Leave me here to die, why don’t ya,” mumbled a barely audible voice beneath heavy covers. The woman, Lisa Madadh, only laughed and threw those thick blankets back, revealing a tangled mess of a daughter, huddled in a fetal position.
“Forget it. Up, up, mah dearie, before I spank that big bottom of yourn,” The daughter only groaned and turned over, pulling a pillow over a tangled mess of mahogany hair. Mrs. Madadh snorted and peered into the boom box on the dresser. She smiled as she fiddled with the dials. In a split second a roaring blast of the nasal-sounding bagpipes, cheerfully calling forth a new day.
“Up and at ‘em, Aidan. I’m getting tired of rolling you out of bed. Now, you’re going to school today, and you’re going to enjoy it, ye hear?” Her mother had that serious, I’m-your-mother-so-listen-to-me-or-else tone of voice which snapped young Aidan awake. Or maybe it was the bagpipes. Either way, she wasn’t going to stick around. Mrs. Madadh left, feeling her duty had been fulfilled.
Aidan first stood, shaking away the sleep in her head vigorously. She dragged her feet to the mirror, and emerald eyes peered open, only to snap shut again. What a mess. She glanced over at the clock. 7:20. Crud. Firstly she turned off the god-awful bagpipes. She wasn’t even sure why she enjoyed listening to them so much. They were horrible in the morning. She then immediately moved to the closet, wherefrom she yanked a pair of blue jeans and a white hoodie, with the word, “Dublin” emblazoned on the front in orange and green. Got to display the home colors, right? She slipped all these on before heading to the bathroom. There she brushed her teeth, trussed up her face, et cetera. The stuff any young woman will do in front of a mirror, basically. Once she was done she rushed down the stairs and pinched an apple from the fruit bowl. Using her fingernails she tore through the fruit’s soft flesh, handing a small chunk to Mhaimeo, who was peering up at her with expecting glowing eyes. He took it greedily, munching on the sweet apple happily as Aidan tore into it herself.
“I really don’t want go to this blasted school, mum,” she said through mouthfuls to Mrs. Madadh, who was cleaning a frying pan in the sink. Mr. Madadh had already left for work. It was a two hour drive from here to Richmond.
Mrs. Madadh’s voice held no sympathy for her daughter as she replied in a monotonous tone.
“Tough for you, then. You may miss Kilkenny, but your father really needs this job of his.” She dried the pan, looking up to the mantle above the nearby fireplace. The Madadh family’s coat-of-arms was hung there. It was a dark navy blue color, divided into four sections. One contained a knot, for trusted family relationships. Another held a sword, for many victories in small inter-clan battles. Another held an open palm, for the willingness for peace. The last one held the lion, for nobility. But the one thing that stood out was in the middle. It was the silhouette of a wolf’s profile, muzzle upward in dignity and defiance. It was the wolf that displayed the Madadh’s werewolf traditions. Mrs. Madadh looked upon this shield often, perhaps reminiscing upon the days when she was a young werewolf. Aidan herself turned to look at the shield, but found herself instead looking at the twin sword blades behind it. She wasn’t always sure why they had them. Sure, they were beautiful, but whenever she asked her mother on their history, she would simply shake her head and change the subject.
Aidan sighed and shrugged her ragged back pack onto her shoulders, knowing it was useless to argue with her mother. The woman could be so stubborn sometimes. She turned for the door, when her mother called out to her.
“I love you, Aidan. Remember to keep your secret a secret.”
Keep your secret a secret. The family motto, practically. But Aidan nodded and waved as she closed the door.
“Love you too, mum. I will.”
What would lay in store in Cold Creek for a young werewolf?
Celebrity Playby; Lisa Kelly
Name I want to be called; Shoe/Alli/Aidan (whichever you wish, really.)
Character’s Nickname(s); Aidan, Mad-hatter (after her last name)
Race; Werewolf
Grade; 10th
Age; 16
Birthday; Oct. 13, 1989
History; She has just moved in from across the Atlantic, from good old, much missed Ireland. It had been a rather quick move, the family’s roots dug out of the ground quite quickly. She had grown up in little Kilkenny, and enjoyed it wholeheartedly, until subtle signs of werewolf behavior started creeping into her everyday life. Her mother then revealed the family secret. Well, her mother’s family secret. Her father had no idea that he was married to a long race of werewolf generations. Perhaps if he had looked at the wolf-covered coat-of-arms that his wife kept in her study, he would have suspected something. The Madadh family is one of the last lines of werewolves in Ireland, many having already been hunt down long ago. It was Aidan’s father’s idea that they move to the States, as a nice job offering was given to him in Richmond, and being the business man, he took the opportunity. So here they are, in a wee farm town hours from Richmond. Aidan found the town rather dull.
Important Relationships; She is distant with her mother, because the woman had not told her of her werewolf secret until she was thirteen, and she had a habit of holding a grudge. Her father was nice enough, and they cared for the same music, but he was always just too busy... Well, she did have her cat, Mhaimeo. It was strange, really. Cats usually didn’t get along with the werewolves, but since young Aidan had saved the ragged little kitten from a hail storm, the two had gotten along quite well. The nickname Mad-hatter often came from her tendency to talk with Mhaimeo.
Mannerisms; She tends to be a bit of a loner, unless you get her to open up, then it’s hard to get her to shut up. When she is nervous or anxious she tends to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet, and when she’s in a good mood you may find her humming or singing. Or when she’s depressed. Or angry. Or melancholy. Or in the shower. So, she sings a lot. In the end, despite her habit to talk with others and make friends easily enough, she can be rather distant.
Fears/Dislikes; Being called Mad-Hatter drives her, well, mad, really. What was the matter with just Aidan? Brussels sprouts isn’t exactly one of her favorite things either. She is absolutely pertified of heights, ever since she was stuck on top of a ferris wheel, and it started to storm. She also is a vegetarian, a very difficult diet for a werewolf. While a human she sticks strictly to vegan code, but sometimes, when the transformation is upon her, she can't control herself, and the next morning she still tastes blood.
Likes; Her home country, being back at home, and dreaming of not being in the U.S. Well, she likes music as well. And just staying at home on a rainy, misty, Ireland day, stroking Mhaimeo and listening to the rain.
Hobbies; Playing her acoustic and tin whistle, reading, drawing, writing, working on those blasted werewolf traditions
Music; Celtic Woman, Dervish, Cherish the Ladies, The Corrs, Leahy, Jason Mraz, Breaking Benjamin, The Beatles, U2, Theory of a Dead Man, Nickelback
Appearance; Brown hair, straight one day and wavy the next, stops abruptly at her shoulders. She’s of an average weight and height, believing that food tastes good and that the American anorexics were insane, but jogging at least twice a week is good for you. Her eyes are a brilliant shade of green, but in some lights they appear to be hazel. Her skin is neither tan nor pale, but somewhere in the middle. She tends to wear comfortable clothes, instead of squeezing herself into some “fashionable” -wear. So, jeans, clog-like shoes, and a hoodie/t-shirt is just fine.
Personality; At first, she can be shy, quiet, and unmanageable. But she’ll warm up eventually, and then you may just have to place a hand over her mouth to stop her from talking and/or singing. Her warm, thick Irish accent is welcoming and attracting, and it adds an pleasant effect to her voice, which is beautiful enough as it is.
Sample RP intro; “Och, woman, can’t you see I’m trying to doze. Leave me here to die, why don’t ya,” mumbled a barely audible voice beneath heavy covers. The woman, Lisa Madadh, only laughed and threw those thick blankets back, revealing a tangled mess of a daughter, huddled in a fetal position.
“Forget it. Up, up, mah dearie, before I spank that big bottom of yourn,” The daughter only groaned and turned over, pulling a pillow over a tangled mess of mahogany hair. Mrs. Madadh snorted and peered into the boom box on the dresser. She smiled as she fiddled with the dials. In a split second a roaring blast of the nasal-sounding bagpipes, cheerfully calling forth a new day.
“Up and at ‘em, Aidan. I’m getting tired of rolling you out of bed. Now, you’re going to school today, and you’re going to enjoy it, ye hear?” Her mother had that serious, I’m-your-mother-so-listen-to-me-or-else tone of voice which snapped young Aidan awake. Or maybe it was the bagpipes. Either way, she wasn’t going to stick around. Mrs. Madadh left, feeling her duty had been fulfilled.
Aidan first stood, shaking away the sleep in her head vigorously. She dragged her feet to the mirror, and emerald eyes peered open, only to snap shut again. What a mess. She glanced over at the clock. 7:20. Crud. Firstly she turned off the god-awful bagpipes. She wasn’t even sure why she enjoyed listening to them so much. They were horrible in the morning. She then immediately moved to the closet, wherefrom she yanked a pair of blue jeans and a white hoodie, with the word, “Dublin” emblazoned on the front in orange and green. Got to display the home colors, right? She slipped all these on before heading to the bathroom. There she brushed her teeth, trussed up her face, et cetera. The stuff any young woman will do in front of a mirror, basically. Once she was done she rushed down the stairs and pinched an apple from the fruit bowl. Using her fingernails she tore through the fruit’s soft flesh, handing a small chunk to Mhaimeo, who was peering up at her with expecting glowing eyes. He took it greedily, munching on the sweet apple happily as Aidan tore into it herself.
“I really don’t want go to this blasted school, mum,” she said through mouthfuls to Mrs. Madadh, who was cleaning a frying pan in the sink. Mr. Madadh had already left for work. It was a two hour drive from here to Richmond.
Mrs. Madadh’s voice held no sympathy for her daughter as she replied in a monotonous tone.
“Tough for you, then. You may miss Kilkenny, but your father really needs this job of his.” She dried the pan, looking up to the mantle above the nearby fireplace. The Madadh family’s coat-of-arms was hung there. It was a dark navy blue color, divided into four sections. One contained a knot, for trusted family relationships. Another held a sword, for many victories in small inter-clan battles. Another held an open palm, for the willingness for peace. The last one held the lion, for nobility. But the one thing that stood out was in the middle. It was the silhouette of a wolf’s profile, muzzle upward in dignity and defiance. It was the wolf that displayed the Madadh’s werewolf traditions. Mrs. Madadh looked upon this shield often, perhaps reminiscing upon the days when she was a young werewolf. Aidan herself turned to look at the shield, but found herself instead looking at the twin sword blades behind it. She wasn’t always sure why they had them. Sure, they were beautiful, but whenever she asked her mother on their history, she would simply shake her head and change the subject.
Aidan sighed and shrugged her ragged back pack onto her shoulders, knowing it was useless to argue with her mother. The woman could be so stubborn sometimes. She turned for the door, when her mother called out to her.
“I love you, Aidan. Remember to keep your secret a secret.”
Keep your secret a secret. The family motto, practically. But Aidan nodded and waved as she closed the door.
“Love you too, mum. I will.”
What would lay in store in Cold Creek for a young werewolf?
Celebrity Playby; Lisa Kelly
