(no subject)
PLAYER
✧ NAME: Megan
✧ LJ USERNAME: sanestlunatic
✧ CONTACT (EMAIL, AIM, MSN, PLURK, ETC.): sanestlunatic (at) livejournal
✧ CURRENT MUSE LIST: Owen Harper, the Eleventh Doctor
CHARACTER
✧ NAME: Alexia Tarabotti
✧ SERIES: The Parasol Protectorate
✧ HISTORY: Alexia's father came to England, married an English woman (her mother), then disappeared - and died. Meanwhile, having given birth to something as shocking as a half-Italian daughter, Alexia's mother remarried a proper Englishman and had two more daughters. And so, Alexia grew up with a slight Cinderella complex - except that the evil stepmother was, in fact, her birth mother - not at all aided by the fact that she was soulless.
In fact, she found this out at the tender age of six, when an agent from the Bureau for Unnatural Registration (BUR) came and informed her of the fact. Though she wasn't quite sure what it meant, she was equipped with her father's library, which had an unusual amount of information on supernaturals and preternaturals. (Rather less on preternaturals, of course, but she had also inherited her father's journals, which gave her a first-hand account of what it was like to be soulless, to a certain extent.)
In addition to being soulless, Alexia was a bluestocking and half-Italian, all of which combined to make her an undesirable marriage prospect. Unusually for someone of her social standing, she never had a coming out season; her mother chose to save money for her two younger sisters' seasons, as ball gowns and the like were extremely costly.
However, being a spinster had the advantage of making her a suitable chaperon for her sisters - so, while she still attended social events, she was (relatively) free to do as she pleased, which, in many cases, involved rummaging in libraries. It was, in fact, in one of these libraries that she came across a rather strange rove vampire, who she inadvertently murdered with a wooden hairstick. This, regrettably, attracted the attention of head BUR agent Lord Maccon (also the Alpha of London's resident werewolf pack) and his assistant and Beta, Professor Lyall. She had previously drawn Lord Maccon's ire via inadvertent application of a hedgehog to his backside, and, since then, had not been one of the werewolf's favorite people. However, they soon found themselves embroiled in a rather peculiar murder investigation.
✧ TIMELINE: Shortly after the beginning of the first book.
✧ PERSONALITY: It's difficult to say whether Alexia is exceptionally pragmatic because she's soulless or because she just is; either way, she has a good deal more common sense than most delicately-reared Victorian ladies. She eschews the flightiness and timidity of the rest of her kind, though she is quite willing to feign such attributes when she finds it necessary. (The thought of actually having the vapours is, of course, absurd, but it does distract people from asking awkward questions.) She dresses quite sensibly, following fashions - sometimes a touch too closely, so that an observer might notice something vaguely off about her outfit, even if it's perfectly de mode. (Of course, this excludes the parasol she always carries with her - one that's been specially-made, loaded with buckshot in its silver tip.)
She is also possessed of an exquisite set of manners, feeling that this ought to compensate for her lack of a soul, or at least keep people from guessing about her true nature. However, society tends to fixate mainly on the fact that she's extremely educated - she speaks French and has a passing familiarity with Latin, plus she likes to keep up to date on the latest scientific developments, all of which are Highly Inappropriate for a woman of her age and station in life. Luckily, as a declared spinster, she's allowed her eccentricities.
In fact, she's been a spinster, more or less, as long as she can remember; her mother's always told her about how hopeless her chances of marriage are. Her nose is too big, her skin is too olive, she has rather too many curves - and it certainly doesn't help that she's practically a bluestocking. Her two younger half-sisters echo these sentiments, and, after a lifetime of having it beaten into her head, Alexia is mostly convinced that they're right. Her father left her shortly after she was born, and that only adds to the feeling of worthlessness.
She also tends to befriend the strangest people - her best friend is Ivy, a merchant's daughter with a penchant for horrible hats, and she's rather fond of Lord Akeldama, a flamboyant rove vampire. She's successfully managed to hide her true nature from her family and (mortal) friends thus far - including her mother, who never knew about the soulless state of her first husband - but this does not enhance her social acceptability. Nor does the fact that she finds scientists more interesting to converse with than stuffy old lords.
✧ ABILITIES/POWERS: Alexia is soulless - this has no effect on normal people, but her touch returns supernaturals (vampires, werewolves, and ghosts, in her world) to their previously mortal state (or, in the case of ghosts, permanently exorcises them).
✧ TIME OF ARRIVAL: day
✧ MASK DESIGN:
✧ PLACE OF SOLACE: Her library. There's not much of a physical description in canon, but it has lots of books - primarily her father's acquisitions on supernaturals and/or sex. (Her father was very Italian.) However, there's quite a number of books, covering a number of subjects.
SAMPLES
✧ FIRST PERSON: [The young woman studying the PORTAL might be described as handsome, rather than beautiful, with strong cheekbones and a distinctly Roman nose, but she's still good-looking, just not necessarily by the standards of Victorian high society. She's spent a good deal of time thoroughly examining her surroundings, but can't ascertain as much as she'd like about the situation. Being intelligent and deductive, however, she's figured out how the device works, though it's unlike anything she's seen before.]
How unusual. The mirror is rather like something out of a children's tale, is it not? I feel as though I ought to address it in rhyming couplets - unfortunately, my ear for poetry is quite dreadful, I assure you.
[There's a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Yeah, it's okay, she's used to being a hopelessly prosaic soulless girl. No soul = no creativity = no poetry.]
This device is most perplexing, though. It is obviously intended for communication, but, I must admit, it is utterly unlike anything I have previously encountered. The aethographers allow for wireless communications, but, as I understand, it is rather limited, and only transcribes short text messages.
- Judging from the information I have managed to gather thus far, I feel safe in assuming that the Queen and King in this note are not Victoria and Albert? Particularly as Albert's been dead for years now, and monarchs - or consorts, since Prince Albert was never king - do tend to avoid transformation. It would be a political nightmare should a supernatural rule the country-
[pause] It seems I have been remiss in introducing myself. I am Miss Alexia Tarabotti, and I do look forward to making your acquaintance.
✧ THIRD PERSON: Alexia eyed Ivy's hat with suspicion. Though she loved her friend dearly, her sartorial taste was questionable at the best of times, and she often thought that Ivy ought to be banned from every milliner's shop in London. This particular atrocity was the same shade of green as a head of cabbage, and, in fact, strongly resembled the vegetable. Green taffeta wreathed the crown of the hat, giving the layered appearance of a cluster of foliage atop the wearer's head. The kindest thing to be said of Ivy's chapeau was that it was more subdued than most of her wardrobe - in that it had neither false flora nor fauna.
Still, it was not the sort of hat one wanted to be seen in the company of while strolling through the park; only Alexia's devotion to her friend - and the fear that it might be replaced by something still worse - kept her from throwing the offending article beneath the wheels of a passing carriage.
"Alexia, are the rumors I've heard about the Worthingtons' garden party true?" Ivy asked breathlessly. Alexia had, of course, been anticipating the question; though Ivy's social status wasn't nearly high enough to warrant an invitation, being the daughter of nothing more than a mere merchant, she followed the gossip papers religiously. Felicity, Alexia's stepsister, had (rather scathingly, it must be said) informed her of the exceptionally titillating account given of her escapades while the family was eating breakfast.
"Well, honestly, Ivy," she protested, "how was I supposed to know that Lord Maccon would choose that seat?" Up until that point, after all, it had been occupied by the odious Captain Wentworth, the real target of Alexia's prank. "I just hope the poor creature wasn't crushed to death." Captain Wentworth's frame was slight; the same could not be said of Lord Maccon, who fit the physical archetype of an Alpha werewolf quite admirably, even if he was an abhorrent and barely civilized man (and Scottish, to boot). He had, in fact, been quite breathtakingly angry; had it been closer to the full moon, and were Alexia not so capable of defending herself against any supernatural threat, she might have been genuinely frightened by the Alpha's deep growling voice and glowing amber eyes. Instead, the whole thing had been rather amusing, at least for Alexia. Her sisters - who had been chasing after Captain Wentworth the entire afternoon - failed to share her view of the situation, but they were generally of the opinion that Alexia's mere existence ruined their marriage prospects. As far as Alexia was concerned, she had been doing them a favour - for, in lieu of introducing the hedgehog to his backside, she had - most inadvertently, of course - upset her teacup in his lap, which had involved the regrettable sacrifice of some quite good tea.
"A most irritating man," she explained to Ivy.
"Captain Wentworth or Lord Maccon?"
She pursed her lips, thinking. Her mother would have chided her for the lines such an expression would invariably etch into her face - not that a confirmed spinster such as Alexia had to worry about these things. "Both," she said decisively, "but Wentworth is the one Felicity was making eyes at, and quite deserving of a hedgehog to his nethers. I do suppose I ought to have been more considerate of the hedgehog's feelings, though."
✧ NAME: Megan
✧ LJ USERNAME: sanestlunatic
✧ CONTACT (EMAIL, AIM, MSN, PLURK, ETC.): sanestlunatic (at) livejournal
✧ CURRENT MUSE LIST: Owen Harper, the Eleventh Doctor
CHARACTER
✧ NAME: Alexia Tarabotti
✧ SERIES: The Parasol Protectorate
✧ HISTORY: Alexia's father came to England, married an English woman (her mother), then disappeared - and died. Meanwhile, having given birth to something as shocking as a half-Italian daughter, Alexia's mother remarried a proper Englishman and had two more daughters. And so, Alexia grew up with a slight Cinderella complex - except that the evil stepmother was, in fact, her birth mother - not at all aided by the fact that she was soulless.
In fact, she found this out at the tender age of six, when an agent from the Bureau for Unnatural Registration (BUR) came and informed her of the fact. Though she wasn't quite sure what it meant, she was equipped with her father's library, which had an unusual amount of information on supernaturals and preternaturals. (Rather less on preternaturals, of course, but she had also inherited her father's journals, which gave her a first-hand account of what it was like to be soulless, to a certain extent.)
In addition to being soulless, Alexia was a bluestocking and half-Italian, all of which combined to make her an undesirable marriage prospect. Unusually for someone of her social standing, she never had a coming out season; her mother chose to save money for her two younger sisters' seasons, as ball gowns and the like were extremely costly.
However, being a spinster had the advantage of making her a suitable chaperon for her sisters - so, while she still attended social events, she was (relatively) free to do as she pleased, which, in many cases, involved rummaging in libraries. It was, in fact, in one of these libraries that she came across a rather strange rove vampire, who she inadvertently murdered with a wooden hairstick. This, regrettably, attracted the attention of head BUR agent Lord Maccon (also the Alpha of London's resident werewolf pack) and his assistant and Beta, Professor Lyall. She had previously drawn Lord Maccon's ire via inadvertent application of a hedgehog to his backside, and, since then, had not been one of the werewolf's favorite people. However, they soon found themselves embroiled in a rather peculiar murder investigation.
✧ TIMELINE: Shortly after the beginning of the first book.
✧ PERSONALITY: It's difficult to say whether Alexia is exceptionally pragmatic because she's soulless or because she just is; either way, she has a good deal more common sense than most delicately-reared Victorian ladies. She eschews the flightiness and timidity of the rest of her kind, though she is quite willing to feign such attributes when she finds it necessary. (The thought of actually having the vapours is, of course, absurd, but it does distract people from asking awkward questions.) She dresses quite sensibly, following fashions - sometimes a touch too closely, so that an observer might notice something vaguely off about her outfit, even if it's perfectly de mode. (Of course, this excludes the parasol she always carries with her - one that's been specially-made, loaded with buckshot in its silver tip.)
She is also possessed of an exquisite set of manners, feeling that this ought to compensate for her lack of a soul, or at least keep people from guessing about her true nature. However, society tends to fixate mainly on the fact that she's extremely educated - she speaks French and has a passing familiarity with Latin, plus she likes to keep up to date on the latest scientific developments, all of which are Highly Inappropriate for a woman of her age and station in life. Luckily, as a declared spinster, she's allowed her eccentricities.
In fact, she's been a spinster, more or less, as long as she can remember; her mother's always told her about how hopeless her chances of marriage are. Her nose is too big, her skin is too olive, she has rather too many curves - and it certainly doesn't help that she's practically a bluestocking. Her two younger half-sisters echo these sentiments, and, after a lifetime of having it beaten into her head, Alexia is mostly convinced that they're right. Her father left her shortly after she was born, and that only adds to the feeling of worthlessness.
She also tends to befriend the strangest people - her best friend is Ivy, a merchant's daughter with a penchant for horrible hats, and she's rather fond of Lord Akeldama, a flamboyant rove vampire. She's successfully managed to hide her true nature from her family and (mortal) friends thus far - including her mother, who never knew about the soulless state of her first husband - but this does not enhance her social acceptability. Nor does the fact that she finds scientists more interesting to converse with than stuffy old lords.
✧ ABILITIES/POWERS: Alexia is soulless - this has no effect on normal people, but her touch returns supernaturals (vampires, werewolves, and ghosts, in her world) to their previously mortal state (or, in the case of ghosts, permanently exorcises them).
✧ TIME OF ARRIVAL: day
✧ MASK DESIGN:
✧ PLACE OF SOLACE: Her library. There's not much of a physical description in canon, but it has lots of books - primarily her father's acquisitions on supernaturals and/or sex. (Her father was very Italian.) However, there's quite a number of books, covering a number of subjects.
SAMPLES
✧ FIRST PERSON: [The young woman studying the PORTAL might be described as handsome, rather than beautiful, with strong cheekbones and a distinctly Roman nose, but she's still good-looking, just not necessarily by the standards of Victorian high society. She's spent a good deal of time thoroughly examining her surroundings, but can't ascertain as much as she'd like about the situation. Being intelligent and deductive, however, she's figured out how the device works, though it's unlike anything she's seen before.]
How unusual. The mirror is rather like something out of a children's tale, is it not? I feel as though I ought to address it in rhyming couplets - unfortunately, my ear for poetry is quite dreadful, I assure you.
[There's a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Yeah, it's okay, she's used to being a hopelessly prosaic soulless girl. No soul = no creativity = no poetry.]
This device is most perplexing, though. It is obviously intended for communication, but, I must admit, it is utterly unlike anything I have previously encountered. The aethographers allow for wireless communications, but, as I understand, it is rather limited, and only transcribes short text messages.
- Judging from the information I have managed to gather thus far, I feel safe in assuming that the Queen and King in this note are not Victoria and Albert? Particularly as Albert's been dead for years now, and monarchs - or consorts, since Prince Albert was never king - do tend to avoid transformation. It would be a political nightmare should a supernatural rule the country-
[pause] It seems I have been remiss in introducing myself. I am Miss Alexia Tarabotti, and I do look forward to making your acquaintance.
✧ THIRD PERSON: Alexia eyed Ivy's hat with suspicion. Though she loved her friend dearly, her sartorial taste was questionable at the best of times, and she often thought that Ivy ought to be banned from every milliner's shop in London. This particular atrocity was the same shade of green as a head of cabbage, and, in fact, strongly resembled the vegetable. Green taffeta wreathed the crown of the hat, giving the layered appearance of a cluster of foliage atop the wearer's head. The kindest thing to be said of Ivy's chapeau was that it was more subdued than most of her wardrobe - in that it had neither false flora nor fauna.
Still, it was not the sort of hat one wanted to be seen in the company of while strolling through the park; only Alexia's devotion to her friend - and the fear that it might be replaced by something still worse - kept her from throwing the offending article beneath the wheels of a passing carriage.
"Alexia, are the rumors I've heard about the Worthingtons' garden party true?" Ivy asked breathlessly. Alexia had, of course, been anticipating the question; though Ivy's social status wasn't nearly high enough to warrant an invitation, being the daughter of nothing more than a mere merchant, she followed the gossip papers religiously. Felicity, Alexia's stepsister, had (rather scathingly, it must be said) informed her of the exceptionally titillating account given of her escapades while the family was eating breakfast.
"Well, honestly, Ivy," she protested, "how was I supposed to know that Lord Maccon would choose that seat?" Up until that point, after all, it had been occupied by the odious Captain Wentworth, the real target of Alexia's prank. "I just hope the poor creature wasn't crushed to death." Captain Wentworth's frame was slight; the same could not be said of Lord Maccon, who fit the physical archetype of an Alpha werewolf quite admirably, even if he was an abhorrent and barely civilized man (and Scottish, to boot). He had, in fact, been quite breathtakingly angry; had it been closer to the full moon, and were Alexia not so capable of defending herself against any supernatural threat, she might have been genuinely frightened by the Alpha's deep growling voice and glowing amber eyes. Instead, the whole thing had been rather amusing, at least for Alexia. Her sisters - who had been chasing after Captain Wentworth the entire afternoon - failed to share her view of the situation, but they were generally of the opinion that Alexia's mere existence ruined their marriage prospects. As far as Alexia was concerned, she had been doing them a favour - for, in lieu of introducing the hedgehog to his backside, she had - most inadvertently, of course - upset her teacup in his lap, which had involved the regrettable sacrifice of some quite good tea.
"A most irritating man," she explained to Ivy.
"Captain Wentworth or Lord Maccon?"
She pursed her lips, thinking. Her mother would have chided her for the lines such an expression would invariably etch into her face - not that a confirmed spinster such as Alexia had to worry about these things. "Both," she said decisively, "but Wentworth is the one Felicity was making eyes at, and quite deserving of a hedgehog to his nethers. I do suppose I ought to have been more considerate of the hedgehog's feelings, though."