Post by SHEGORA HAKAN on Jun 25, 2011 17:21:48 GMT -5
SHEGORA COLLETTE HAKAN
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NICKNAMES: - - -
AGE: 23
BIRTHDAY: November 19th
ORIENTATION: heterosexual, asexual
MEMBER GROUP: tourist
PLAY-BY: adriana lima
EYES: icy aquatic blue/green in color, slanted, cat-like and expressive
HAIR: mid-back when loosely curled, dark brown, glossy
HEIGHT: 5'9"
WEIGHT: 135 lbs
BODY TYPE: athletic, willowy, well-proportioned
TATTOOS?: a delicate pattern of stars in the inside of her left ankle.
PIERCINGS?: just typical stud ear piercings.
SCARS?: nothing special, old scraped on her knees and palms from roughhousing when she was younger.
OTHER: -
LIKES: warmth, the ocean (any body of water really), realism, sci-fi, drab colors, pottery, coffee, gardening, motocross
DISLIKES: nagging, overanalyzing, scrutiny, touching certain textures in anything ( food, fabrics ), heroics/dramatics, dependant women.
SECRETS: why she's in Hayfield
FEARS: the dark, ski-masks
HABITS: going out for a run before anything else in the morning, misplacing her car keys and only her car keys, baking when she's upset, playing with the tips of her hair.
QUIRKS: overreacts with revulsion when she touches a certain fabric, loves the smell of laundry, very prone to buying art.
PERSONALITY: Shegora... where to begin. She's always been known to have a cool, somewhat reserved personality; not anti-social, but definitely not the first person you'd approach in a crowd. She radiates an aura that she is thinking, at all times, regardless of how neutral the situation seems to be, and truth be told she is. Something as simply as sitting in a coffee shop turns into a psychological study when she gets bored, so it's no surprise that she's inclined to be observant. Even though she's no nonsense, Shegora is fairly easy to get along with, for men and women, because she is painfully tolerant to bitching and often has good advice.
Shegora can sometimes be a bit of a stick in the mud because she doesn't drink much, and for good reason. Self destructive and wild, it seems that substances and booze don't mix with the feral New Yorker. She's a subdued person to a point, but believes strongly in certain things and certainly isn't afraid to speak up about them. Despite being notably reclusive, she seems to be in a state of perpetual irony seeing as she rides a hight octane Kawasaki sport bike most of the year which makes a noise like no other. She seems to find the most unexpected things and wants to involve them in her life, which speaks also for her love of drab colors yet the vibrant paintings in her apartment.
An unfortunate paradox in her personality is her affectionate side. She's but a girl, subject to the wonts of sexuality and companionship, but her resilient love for Drystan causes her to be extremely hot and cold. She can flirt, but in an instant she can feel uncomfortable and lash out. She's been faithful since Drystan's death but hormones are hormones and sometimes she can come across as frisky. Her pursuers are often short lived after she draws them near with a smile before swatting them away cattily, her reactions well out of her own control.
MOTHER: Delilah Sahar, nurse, alive
FATHER: Tex Hakan, corporate exec, alive
SIBLINGS: - - -
OTHER: Drystan Tay, boyfriend, dead
PETS: Tuck the black and white cat.
HOMETOWN: New York, New York, US
HISTORY: Shegora was raised in a well-off family where he father brought in the majority of their family income. She lived a ridiculously normal life, achieving high grades as was due in her private school, and was encouraged into ballet, tap, singing and other 'ladylike' activities. As she grew into the early teenage years, the typical rebellion began and she insisted on hiphop instead of ballet, and soccer instead of tap, and piano instead of singing. It wasn't enough - under the close supervision of her parents, she could not grow into who she wanted to be.
Eventually she turned to less refined arts - soccer remained, but martial arts took the place of hip hop and piano. It was through this that she met Drystan, a mysterious but becoming young man at the age of 18. They quickly became amorous and things unravelled from there.
Drystan was recruited into the New Age Mafia, and Shegora was ultimately dragged along for the ride. She became witness to murder plots, sworn to secrecy, and eventually came to live amongst criminals. She lived three years of her life that way until one day, not long after the mob had decided to 'take things up a notch', Drystan was shot and killed in a shootout.
So began the destructive streak - a tattoo, drinking, substance abuse, and general depression. She didn't show up anywhere on time, couldn't keep a job, and furthermore was tearing her family apart. A year later, they decided she needed to be away from the big city and sent her for some rest and relaxation in Hayfield. She is already enjoying the quiet community atmosphere, and doesn't seem too unhappy to have been isolated from her family. The murders haven't been a huge deal to her yet due to their frequency in New York, but she may find that they'll become a bigger issue as the people around her begin to react.
RP SAMPLE: Manhattan was in as good as mood as ever, and if you wonder how an entire city can be in a good mood, you never paid much attention to sociology.
Waving was not common for New Yorkers; beyond acquaintances, most prefer to distance themselves from the crowds in the streets. Mentally, at least, even if they can’t avoid the hustle of the last legs of their work commute. It’s no one’s fault, nor is it any ingrained distemper - it is merely the mass of people, within with it would require incessant smiling if everyone returned each little grin. In a small town, you are still strangers, but you are strangers brought together on the same path. In the foot-per-foot perimeters of the downtown hub, it’s necessary to keep one’s eyes averted so no one confuses you for staring; after a while, one forgets what it feels like to be looked upon unexpected, and feels alienated when it eventually does happen again.
Falean Leone was no stranger to the affects of constantly distracting herself on the way to work, so familiar with the tall street signs and dotty neon signs that were not as populous as they were closer to Times. She always kept her head low, stormy eyes flickering between her hands as they clutched her phone to her destination. The excited chatter of the tourists hardly fazed her any more; it was nothing but a hum outside her iPod’s lilting tunes. When they said life in New York was never boring, they’d obviously never lived there.
She’d woken up early that morning, but she was used to it by now even if she no longer had to be. School was over for the next few months, but the early wakeup, so automatic that she didn’t even need a clock any more, had not faded yet. It was a good day to be awake early - the sun was shining through the smog; it was a thursday in the beginning of April, so there were fewer tourists and thus fewer taxis and furthermore fewer everything. New York had always been a city of abundance, but it would ration itself when it came time to.
Beyond the weather, the day was bright and new, from the reflections off the tall, glass plated buildings to the uncommonly dulled chatter of pedestrians. The horns seemed to have lessened. Traffic was smooth. It was as if the warmest day of the new year had brought with it Spring tidings and a new attitude. New York was happy.
PASSWORD: periwinkle
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