Post by snalf on Sept 11, 2011 18:26:39 GMT -5
ROSALIN
If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything.
Name: Rosalin
Age: Twenty three
Gender: Female
Prisoner: Outlaw
Crime: Murder and Arson
Craft/Rank:
For those who fight for it, life has a flavor the sheltered will never know.
Appearance: Rosalin is a woman of shapely statures, body structure firm and developed. Her skin has a tanned, roasted tone, weathered from spending as much time as she could outside. Long brown chocolate colored hair was curly, and when unkept, was pretty much just frizz. And let it be known, it almost always was unkept, pulled back into a loose ponytail that hung between her shoulderblades.
Her eyes are green, a warm summer algae color with brown flecks closer to the pupil. She's at a decent height, 5''6. Not much could be said about her earthy toned attire, besides the fact that she probably had a lot of weapons concealed.
I lost everyone I loved. And then they locked me away. With no where to hide from the pain.
Personality: Rosalin if anything, is quiet. Not because she fears to speak, but because she enjoys the silence. She wasn't always like this. but shit went downhill. She has a strong sense of what she believes in, and in quite sharp with her tongue when talking is absolutely necessary.
She's also moderately cold, finding it difficult to show very much affection or adoration in an individual. She feels as though such bonds can endanger herself and the others. Deep down inside, she's lonely. A sad woman longing for a companion. She lost someone dear to her, whom was killed without a second thought. There is a stigma for her with things of love, and that it will only bring pain.
Then comes distrust. To entrust herself to no one, and no one to her. Life is just a big bundle of lies set out on one grand path of destruction. Self destruction. Because of that, she reads too deeply into things. Twisting honest statements into something dark and deceiving. And, not even intentionally.
Anger, a self-hate. The feeling of uselessness and rage pent up within her. A regret that she could not defend what meant most to her. These feels keep her to herself even further, as if she were punishing herself for something that, in truth, was not committed by her. She never planned to kill or destroy, just leave home with the modest plan of a better life. which, for a long time had worked. But not all things have happy endings.
Rosalin feels as if she'd done a horrible betrayal. And in her eyes, she's a failure. Failed to protect, failed to be happy, failed to achieve her goals, failed to have peace of mind. Now she strives to find a reason to go on, a reason to be OK. She's one strong willed femme fatale, and giving up just isn't her game. Because, really, she resents the failure in which she wallows.
In this seemingly fearless person's mind, she is riddled with it. Because getting close to someone means they end of something good, if there was good there in the first place. She's afraid to lose everything again, and afraid to lose herself.
She is a thing of passion, a blazing fire that is relentless to burn. Much like the flames she once spread. A passion for revenge. The revenge she received. But with the revenge, emptiness came after. She had nothing else to try to live for, and so she was a shell of bottled up emotions and hate.
Yet despite it all, she holds a sense of power. A looming confidence that perhaps is one of her fatal flaws. She can be arrogant, snarky to those who are not decent enough to even be the least bit friendly. She knows her place, but others are better off knowing their's as well.
She is almost always on guard. Alert and attentive to her surroundings, seldom will you find her in a true relaxed and calm state. Her guard perhaps is stronger around men, because at times a strong dislike for them is present. A reason for this, maybe, is because her mother had brought so many strangers into their home.
Don’t write any checks with your mouths that your ass can’t cover…
History: Rosalin never knew her father. She was born to a mother whom cared about nothing more than her Dust and plethora of 'boyfriends'. And she lived like that. In a dirty home full of strange men and drug addicts. They were poor, all their money going to the drug funds. Every man that came around was pretty different every time she seldom saw the same one twice. Disgusting, riddled with disease, and she even came to wonder how long her mother had even known her father in the first place, and whether he even knew if Rosa existed.
And so, Rosalin fled from home at the early age of twelve, tired of the filth and disgustingness of it all. She spent a year like that, wandering. Looking for scraps of food and decent water. Her life was to change in an instant. A by chance event arising from the fog.
At thirteen she found a small boy, four in age. Barely alive, underweight, and hungry. She couldn't exactly feed another mouth, but she'd find a way. Sam was her little friend, and the only thing she had. He was almost literally everything to her. But good things only last so long.
Things went smoothly for about four years, living together as almost mother and son, or brother and sister. They were the spark to each other's fire, the light to each other's sun. Life was good. All seemed well and happy, laughter and smiles were common occurrences.
Shit went downhill quickly. A bad situation, scavenging in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was seventeen, and he was eight. In a cruel twist of fate, a man and some goons decided to step in. Their pack leader even had the nerve to claim he was her father, and mention her mother. It can be now said that he was in fact the 'boyfriend' her mother had around the time of Rosalin's conception.
An unpaid drug deal by her mother. Somehow they tracked her down. Out of cold blood and twisted grins, the life of her darling Sam was ended with a blade to the heart. And in turn, her heart was more broken then it ever had been before. Anger, rage, fear, and sorrow all mixed together overwhelmed her. She'd escaped from them, but at a cost. In came the feeling of failure.
She followed them like a hound on the hunt, and by night she swept in like a silent killer and ended them. Slowly, one at a time. The thick scent of blood was in the air, and joy was truly over. Leaving that building with a crimson trail, she set it ablaze. The roar of the flames filled the night, smoke blocking the light of the moon. Revenge had been hers.
But even that was at a cost. Hellooo Jail! But, alas! she escaped when there was that prison break, and she now lives as an outlaw. Lonely, angry, and hopeless. A fiery phantom, a flaming fighter, and a blazing bitch.
Other stuff: Typos have a way of finding me. I am to use spell check. >>
Your mind can set you free. To reach your own paradise, just let go.
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Who honors those we love for the very life we live? Who sends monsters to kill us. And at the same time, things that will never die. Who teaches us whats real, and how to laugh at lies. Who decides why we live, and what we’ll die to defend. Who trains us, and who holds the key to set us free. It’s you. You have all the weapons you need. Now fight!
