Post by marta elizabeth o'brien on Sept 3, 2009 13:22:49 GMT -5
MARTA.elizabeth.O‘BRIEN
"quiet,serene,cautious"
HEY, MY NAME IS 'MANDY' AND I'M 'TWENTY-SEVEN'. I'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR THE BIG SUM OF 'FOURTEEN YEARS+' MY OTHER CHARACTERS WOULD
BE 'TAYLOR & baby (pending)& CLARISSA & HEATHER(pending approval)'
- - - name, Marta Elizabeth O’Brien
- - - nicknames, Marty
- - - gender, Female
- - - sexuality, Heterosexual
- - - occupation, Bartender (Stags Head Pub)
- - - species, Vegetarian vampire
- - - eyes, pale honey
- - - hair, soft blonde
- - - build, lithe, slender
- - - weight, 118 lbs
- - - height, 5’8”
- - - fashion sense, Marty is a fan of the phrase less is more, and perhaps not in the same way that so many of the modern women might translate the saying. She prefers to keep the colors of her outfit to a minimum, keeping in the neutral or jewel tones, depending upon her mood, and tends to keep the lines of her outfit flowing, softer and more feminine. Her accessories are often delicate, flowers or sparkling gemstones, opals or pearls, though every once in a while she will offset her feminine sensibilities with touches of leather -- something of it, the feel of it beneath her fingertips has fascinated her over the centuries, the softer and suppler the material has become over the ages.
She almost always wears skirts, usually longer, sweeping styles, and very rarely will she be found in pants. She prefers neutral colors, rarely opting for anything overly vivid or bright, still aspects of her upbringing that she hasn’t weaned out entirely. She does usually keep her hair down, however, depending on the length of it, either with the sides pulled back in a barrette or clip, or the entirety let down to hang mostly straight around her in waves of soft blonde.
Examples of outfits: www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=11838949; www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=11711711; www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=11693227; www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=11695122; www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=11722828
- - - loves,…feeding (does)
- - - loathes,…cruelty
- - - overall personality, She moves gracefully, perhaps even more so than others of her kind, and is soft spoken and genteel in mannerisms. With an easy, gentle smile offered to almost everyone, it is easy to assume that she is just as warm and friendly as her demeanor would suggest, and while she does not readily make enemies, she does not easily make friends either. Past hurts have caused her to grow more cautious than she might have been in her human years, and she is protective of her inner self.
She is, in most regards, a gentle soul, kind and considerate, quick to listen and offer words of comfort where she can, she prefers to avoid violence whenever she can. Her creator‘s methods of hunting and nonchalant violence always seemed somewhat appalling to her, and since she left his company, she has settled into the vegetarian lifestyle with relief, though still every now and again she might catch herself lingering over the smell of a particular human, though she would be reticent to admit so.
- - - hometown, London
- - - family, none living
- - - pets, half a dozen+ stray cats
- - - overall history, Marty was born under the name of Marguerite Leslie Masterson in the mid 1800‘s, in the year of 1853 to the family of a lowly titled noble family in London. She was the youngest of several children, and with more title than money to back it, she was not considered high on the list of eligible bachelorettes as she grew, despite her obvious beauty and grace.
During the course of her schooling, in limited academic courses, etiquette and dancing, it became apparent that she had talent above others of her age, and she was offered a scholarship to the Sadler‘s Wells Theatre troupe. It took only limited deliberation for her parents to agree, as it saved them the costs of caring for her and her education, as well as eliminated the concern for a dowry, as she would earn her own wages if she proved talented enough. Marguerite was, in all truth, happy with the arrangement, she had discovered a passion and ecstasy in the dance, a liberty that she would never be allowed in main stream society or even in polite company and conversation, and it was to her a gift.
By the age of fourteen, she had proven herself again and again, and was moving rapidly up through the ranks of the company, and at fifteen she had been given two of the lead roles of the season. Her name became the chant, the encore at the end of each performance, and she was golden. She was loved, and she loved that. The sharp jibes, the whispered and snide comments of the other dancers for the most part would pass her by unnoticed, content to ignore the questioned comments of how she rose to stardom from those that simply lacked the natural talent that she had been granted.
It was the last night of the season of her eighteenth year that brought everything to a head, growing old, in the eyes of the producers and managers, despite the fact that she worked just as hard still, and danced just as well, when she was told she had a suitor, she accepted his calling card despite the fact that she rarely would allow such familiarity or personal visits. The man that entered ensnared her heart in that first moment, his smoldering gaze, his voice of satin and allure, his stylish and elegant attire, his words that wooed her.
He spoke of a life, together, the two of them, forever, she at his side as his wife and beloved, and for him, she gave up everything, to dance in his arms and feel his lips against hers.
It was their wedding night that ended her, that took her life from her, replacing it with something else, something fierce and cold, seething rage and burning hunger, three days and nights of seeming unendurable, unending pain. Through it all she heard his voice, soothing and wheedling, cajoling and cursing, urging her through it, telling her of the life they would live together, forever, his immortal bride, his china doll dancer, porcelain and marble, stone and blood, ice and fire. When finally the agony ended, when the relief of ice touched her skin, her veins, he took her in his arms, made her his bride in flesh, but yet not in soul, something… something between them was missing.
Something was different, then, than it had been before, between them. Something had changed, as he tried to show her the steps to the new dance that he had brought her into, using their allure, their beauty to draw others in, to lure in innocent and guilty alike, to take and feed, to make what they wanted theirs… and somehow, this was the one dance that she could not perfect, that she could not find the rhythm to. She tried, for the love that she had felt for him before, she tried to leave her old life, her old self and old morality behind, but it was not her, she was not what he wanted.
For several decades, she followed him, slipping more and more into the background, growing all the more distant from him, from life, her vitality and energy fading, a depressing finding its way into her soul as she grew weaker, finding herself unable to feed, unable to play the games that he played, unable to feed from the humans, but knowing no other way.
Finally, he left her, having grown weary of her misery, her unspoken sadness and the silent accusations that he heard, felt in her presence, in her gaze. She spent another ten… twenty years in this state, wandering in solitude, finding comfort and solace in her loneliness, knowing it was the only way that she would be safe, that the humans would be safe from her hunger. A dozen ways she tried to die, but failed, until at long last she found what it was that would sate her ravishing hunger, rather than the occasional hunter or wanderer that she came across and would, in a frenzy, feed from… but no, the blood of the animals, the creatures of the wild, of dirt and rock, of cave and trees would cease the fire that burned anew and forever in her veins.
And so again, her life began anew, struggling to find her way, to find a way to relate what she was with what she had been, to justify the lives spent, taken that she might live, with the fact that she would live, had to live, that there had to be some purpose, some reason for her existence. It was in this state, wandering still through the countryside, staying clear of any largely populated cities, trusting herself only around a few numbers of humans at a time, that she found Hugo and Becca… or rather, they found her, and recognizing some sort of a kindred spirit in her, took her in. Together, the trio has relocated, as of late to Dublin, where they have settled in for some years now.
