02-11-2009, 04:34 PM
Name: Tanith Fitch (not selected branch)
Appearance: Black hair tinted purple with hair dye, yellow eyes. Has a scar across her right eye and eyebrow as a result of an accident in her welding class; she is not blind in that eye but she is astigmatic in that eye and has to wear a single contact lens to try and correct it. Has two small tattoos on the outer corner of her eyes and temples; it looks vaguely like purple dragon scales.
Bio: Tanith grew up in Shephard's Glen; born there, raised there, she'd probably die there too if the monsters didn't stop appearing. When she was sixteen, a piece of metal was flung from another welding booth in her class and cut a line down her face, narrowly missing her eye; she quit the class but continues welding as a hobby and job, she also occasionally helps out at the car repair when they need someone to weld. Her father is a doctor and her mother is a manager at the local grocery mart. In the past several years she's noticed her younger cousin, Martha, had become more withdrawn; the reason why was beyond her, though it may have been to do with the fact she was an only child... Tanith has one older brother who left Shephard's Glen for a university outside of town and she hasn't heard from him since the mist enshrouded the Glen. As a result of her worry and anxiety, she has occasional anxiety attacks where her heart beats irregularly and they usually settle down on their own; she hasn't had to go to the hospital for them yet but if she has another one, her father'll probably drag her kicking and screaming. She hates hospitals.
Personality: Tends to be more a realist than a pessimist, though if the occasion calls for it she's definitely more pessimistic than anything else. Her fear of hospitals is unfounded; she's just always been scared of them, ever since she was little.
Nightmare Monster if your character has one and the story behind it: It's a vaguely dragon-esque beast with sharp pieces of metal for teeth; in its chest, when it stands up on its hind legs, you can see a cage sticking out of the left side and what appears to be a bird/butterfly monstrosity inside that flaps its wings erratically. Its claws and the end of its tail are various surgical apparati. It stands for her heart's anxiety-caused flutters, her fear of hospitals and metal shrapnel, and for some reason her adoration of dragons.
Etc.: Has a mild allergy to various kinds of flowers, and is allergic to one specific breed of dog which unfortunately is the same one that created the infamous Lurker dogs. Also is very stubborn and has a 'my way or the highway' attitude.
Another gloomy day in Shephard's Glen. Population: 353- cancel that, 347. The Summersons disappeared last night. Tanith wrote down the names that had been posted on the board; more and more people kept going missing, just disappearing in the dead of night and barbed wire, for some reason, appeared on the doors and windows of the houses of the missing families, barring entrance from all sides. She took a black permanent marker and drew it across the listed names, shaking her head in mild despair, and she stuffed the notebook and marker back in her bag, walking away from the oversized corkboard-like billboard; it was pretty low to the ground, low enough to pin things to. Wonder if anyone's bothered going to school today. Probably not. Teachers're all gone, so's the principals. She rubbed her right eye, pushing the contact lens back in place, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets, still walking down the misty road; nobody drove cars anymore, the gas station having dried up, so it was fairly safe.
The school loomed up ahead, a three story brick building covered in dead and decaying ivy and moss. ...On second thought, maybe I'll go see if Dad needs any help today. She gulped, staring at the building; it just gave her the creeps now. Even before the weird fog had rolled in overnight, sometimes in the dead of night you could hear metal grinding on the ceramic tiles of the floor. She could definitely hear it now; a low, grating, grinding wail vaguely reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. She crossed her arms, pulling on the sleeves of her jacket, and shivered, not because of the cold. "Come on, 'nith, the Bogeyman isn't real," she mumbled.
I stare at the girl in the mirror: T-shirt, torn up jeans, no beauty queen.
But the way that you see me, you get underneath me, and all my defenses just fall away, fall away.
I am beautiful with you, even in the darkest part of me. I am beautiful with you;
Make it feel the way it's supposed to be!
You're here with me: Just show me this and I'll believe I am beautiful with you!
Last edited by Silent_Wolf : 02-11-2009 at 04:37 PM.