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Player Name: Suu
Player LJ: persephonics
Player Instant Messenger Type and Handle: AIM: I Am Your Crisis
Player Email: the.rosario.impale@gmail.com
Player is over 16 years of age, Y/N?: Y
Character: James St. Cyr (Turk: Martial Arts F)
Fandom: FF7: Before Crisis
Personality: James is the only child of the leader of a mercenary troupe centered near Icicle Inn, but she'd likely identify as just a member of the tribe, not even bringing her father's identity into it. She's intensely private, since as a kid privacy was in short stock.
She enjoys her job, to an extent-- fighting is what she loves to do, and she does it well, with a martial-arts style that is a mix of kickboxing and her own liquid style. She's purely professional, though-- she doesn't tend to go out of her way to hang out off the clock. She's had an easy time adjusting to Turk lifestyles, though living on her own still throws her off sometimes.
She secretly has a bit of frustration that she's unable to 'connect' well; but she shrugs it off. Contributing to this is a moderately heavy 'Icicle' accent (think Icelandic), which the usual Midgarian doesn't really understand well.
Even so, she's got a few friends-- she's able to keep companionable silence with the quieter of her Turk coworkers, and has no issues going to the bar after work with those ones. She doesn't quite trust any of them, particularly Reno (who she deems as 'always up to something stupid'), but she's growing warmer toward them, bit by bit. She's also been in the midst of an 'arrangement' with a civilian bartender, who believes her name is Lili and that she is a painter recently out of Corel. Only two parts of this are a lie-- she does paint, though she won't admit it aloud and it's part of the reason she'll never bring friends home to her apartment-- it's basically two mattresses and three unfinished canvasses. She doesn't let her 'friend' know the truth about her both out of a sense of privacy and also because if she gets killed, she'd rather not leave anyone grieving more than they have to.
She can be tactful, she just has trouble speaking with any femininity or making the emotional connections necessary to do that. But she shows her loyalty in actions-- she may not appreciate some of her coworkers much out loud, but she'd sooner take a bullet than see them killed, since she believes that while the mission overcomes all, the pieces that move the machine are much more important.
She's got a strong affinity for colder climes, and while spending some time in Costa del Sol, she ended up sitting in the shade most of the day, or in the hotel room, fan on. She does badly in hot weather and it does slow her reaction time a bit-- she's slowly training herself out of it.
History: James was born "James Chastity St. Cyr" to James St. Cyr (Big Jimmy) and Lili St. Cyr (nee Gray), leaders of an Icicle mercenary troupe. Her mother died on mission when James was three, and her father and she were slightly estranged as the man threw himself into work. The raising of his daughter was left to the rest of the troupe, particularly to his second in command, Juliet, who trained her to fight using her fists and feet, with intent to introduce a weapon into the mix as she got older. But James had a strong talent in martial arts, instead of the tonfa she was going to be trained in, and Jules made the executive decision to keep training her as such. As James grew up, she was somewhat in the minority as the female front-liner, and so she spent most of her time with the boys of the troupe, and picked up their straight-forward habits. She's not 'manly' or 'butch', she's just... distressingly direct.
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When she was eighteen, she moved to Midgar for reasons known only to her. There, she developed a reputation for being 'not for fucking around with', and after she landed a low-grade ShinRa soldier in the hospital while still half-intoxicated, the Corporation took notice of her. She did some spot-work for a few of the mafia bosses, save for the up-and-coming Don Corneo, because he was just skeevy and also she couldn't quite guarantee she wouldn't try to kill him, which is just unprofessional. Eventually, she was scouted for the Turks at the age of 23 by Veld, who was convinced they needed more firepower. She's been working with the Turks ever since, after a year and a half of training and another half-year of full Turkdom. She can see herself making this a permanent career-- she likes the stability and benefits and she appreciates the healthy fear Midgar has of Turks.
A link to an image of the character: http://bluerosia.fc2web.com/illust/kakutou.jpg
Sample log entry: James has hated summer most of her life, and it's really no wonder why here in Midgar-- it's sweltering hot, even on the upper level, and there's little respite unless she wants to go to the office instead of her meagre living space. She's kicking herself now for not getting an air conditioner while she still could; as it is, she doesn't want to waste her energy on casting controlled Blizzard spells, nor is she keen on risking her work on the newest oilpainting she's been doing-- too cold, and the paint could freeze and the colors warp; too warm and they'll melt, particularly in the sun. She could go see Loveless (again), since the theater's cool and dark and she honestly has little else to do with there being no missions-- she's of little use dealing with the higher-ups, her paperwork gets done too quick for any of the leaders to complain, and hanging out with her fellow Turks only has the barest bit of appeal right now. But lying around idle doesn't do anything for her, either. And sitting here mentally debating is just silly. There's really only one good option in this kind of weather, and she'll take it.
She shucks off the loose clothing she wears when the weather gets too bad, and she puts on something more suitable for what she's planning-- workout clothing. The gym is air-conditioned, too (a benefit of being a Turk; high-class facilities were available 24/7 and she would be on first-name basis with the staff there if it weren't for her forbidding aura), which would be a pleasant distraction from this insufferable heat.
Or would have, had her PHS not beeped at her. A call from HQ. A mission.
Sighing, James flipped it open and hit 'talk'. It just figured.
Sample journal entry:
St. Cyr, reporting.
The mission was successful, with no casualties and a clean kill on the target. I left the disposal of the body to other agents; I'm no good with that sort of thing. I'm sure we weren't overheard or spotted, even with Rod's inane chatter. It was a good choice to leave Samantha at HQ-- the report of a shotgun would have been hard to explain in the residentials. It was easy enough, as targets go. All ends have been tied up, and I await further orders. If I'm needed, I'll be in the gym on the 64th floor until close of business.
St. Cyr, out.
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