[bethlem college] Application: Liz Whitaker
Player Name: Batya
Player Email: batyatoon at gmail dot com
Player Journal: batyatoon
Character Name: Liz Whitaker
Character Journal: porcupineliz
Preferred Character Tag: liz whitaker
Age: 29
Major Job: Newly hired teacher of biochemistry.
PB/Physical Description: PB is Kacie Sheik. Tall, blonde, lots of curly hair.
Magical/Racial Affiliation: Witch.
Powers and Abilities, If Any: Experienced witch. Can set up wards for protection or warning, can do low-level healing, can scry with varying range and success, has theoretical knowledge of offensive combat spells but has never used them, knows a lot about the properties and uses of herbs and other common ingredients of spells.
Personality (100ish words): Liz gets angry easily, and doesn't hide it. Depending on what's caused it, her anger will either pass as quickly as it came ... or set like concrete and be near-impossible to budge. Aside from that, she's a generally cheerful and upbeat person, as quick to laughter as anger. She's a reasonably competent teacher, if not an inspired one; it's research, not teaching, that draws her to academia. She can also be Scary Beyond All Reason, if you're a student of hers. (Or if you're not.)
She's got a pretty good self-image, a lot of confidence, and a Mission In Life. She isn't used to feeling insecure or uncertain of her ground; when it happens, she ignores it if possible, and tends to get angry (sometimes at herself) if not.
History (200-300 words): Liz is a witch from a very long line of witches -- nine generations ("that we're sure of") on this continent. Tradition is very, very important in her family. Some might say a little too important, and there are times when Liz is among that "some". Because while a strong focus on tradition is good in many ways, it also frequently means having little patience for anything new. Or any new way of looking at anything old. And that kind of includes what Liz most wants to do.
Because Liz may be a witch, but she's also a scientist. And she's got no patience at all for anyone who says that it's impossible to be both. Witchcraft has rules: observable, consistent, teachable rules. Which means that there's no reason it can't be analyzed, and researched, and explained in its own terms.
This is the main reason she sought out the job at Bethlem College (instead of the position her mother wanted her to take at Radcliffe, for the family connection): because from what she's been able to glean from hearsay and scrying, this little corner of South Dakota has a magical population that's wildly diverse, if weirdly well-hidden. The former is exactly what she needs; the latter she didn't anticipate giving her much trouble.
Since coming here this past summer, though, she's found it to be slow going. She hasn't been able to find any local practicioners of magic to talk to, and while she's entirely aware of the presence of supernatural beings of many kinds, she hasn't yet been able to work out a safely diplomatic way to approach them. (Nor has she twigged to how many of each are present in the student body, although she has strong suspicions about there being ghosts on campus.)
But she's pretty sure she'll get there sooner or later.
Dorm Request: N/A. Liz lives in town.
Classes: She teaches. Not sure about her schedule!
Clubs/Extracurricular activities/Special information: N/A
Writing Sample:
Liz is halfway between West Hall and Yeats Library, and walking briskly, when she spots it: a squirrel perched on a low-hanging tree branch, waving one forepaw like someone trying to flag down a taxi -- and staring straight at her. She comes to a stop for a moment to look at it, then hoists her bag further up on her shoulder and cautiously steps closer.
Maybe it's her imagination, but the squirrel really does look like it's trying to communicate something urgent. If it is, Liz thinks sourly, it'll be the most communicative creature she's met since her arrival.
"Yes?" she says, as though it's a student who's come to her office during off hours; not exactly hostile, but not entirely welcoming. "Did you want something?"
The squirrel gesticulates insistently, flicking its tail from side to side. It keeps up the stare, which is starting to get a little disconcerting.
Liz moves a little closer, and lowers her voice. "Can you understand me?"
It gives a vigorous nod that shakes the branch, rustling the leaves, and a tiny fizz of intrigue -- and, she has to admit it, excitement -- goes through her. Sentient animal? Enchanted or otherwise shape-changed human? Weresquirrel? (God help us, faerie?)
"Can you speak at all?"
Headshake. Headshake, gesture, gesture.
"I'm sorry, I can't --" Liz glances over her shoulder, on the off-chance that what it's trying to communicate is for the love of god, look out behind you. Lowering her voice still further: "I can't understand you. Do you need help?"
Pause. Tail twitch; uncertain nod.
"You do need help, but that's not what you're trying to tell me?"
Eager nod.
"Does someone else need help?"
Vehement nod. The branch trembles.
"... Help in general, or help from me in particular?"
The squirrel hesitates for a moment, then gestures directly at her. Its paws aren't equipped for pointing, but that's very clearly what it's trying to do.
Beat. Liz sighs, and unshoulders her handbag, holding it open. "You'd better come inside."
Player Email: batyatoon at gmail dot com
Player Journal: batyatoon
Character Name: Liz Whitaker
Character Journal: porcupineliz
Preferred Character Tag: liz whitaker
Age: 29
Major Job: Newly hired teacher of biochemistry.
PB/Physical Description: PB is Kacie Sheik. Tall, blonde, lots of curly hair.
Magical/Racial Affiliation: Witch.
Powers and Abilities, If Any: Experienced witch. Can set up wards for protection or warning, can do low-level healing, can scry with varying range and success, has theoretical knowledge of offensive combat spells but has never used them, knows a lot about the properties and uses of herbs and other common ingredients of spells.
Personality (100ish words): Liz gets angry easily, and doesn't hide it. Depending on what's caused it, her anger will either pass as quickly as it came ... or set like concrete and be near-impossible to budge. Aside from that, she's a generally cheerful and upbeat person, as quick to laughter as anger. She's a reasonably competent teacher, if not an inspired one; it's research, not teaching, that draws her to academia. She can also be Scary Beyond All Reason, if you're a student of hers. (Or if you're not.)
She's got a pretty good self-image, a lot of confidence, and a Mission In Life. She isn't used to feeling insecure or uncertain of her ground; when it happens, she ignores it if possible, and tends to get angry (sometimes at herself) if not.
History (200-300 words): Liz is a witch from a very long line of witches -- nine generations ("that we're sure of") on this continent. Tradition is very, very important in her family. Some might say a little too important, and there are times when Liz is among that "some". Because while a strong focus on tradition is good in many ways, it also frequently means having little patience for anything new. Or any new way of looking at anything old. And that kind of includes what Liz most wants to do.
Because Liz may be a witch, but she's also a scientist. And she's got no patience at all for anyone who says that it's impossible to be both. Witchcraft has rules: observable, consistent, teachable rules. Which means that there's no reason it can't be analyzed, and researched, and explained in its own terms.
This is the main reason she sought out the job at Bethlem College (instead of the position her mother wanted her to take at Radcliffe, for the family connection): because from what she's been able to glean from hearsay and scrying, this little corner of South Dakota has a magical population that's wildly diverse, if weirdly well-hidden. The former is exactly what she needs; the latter she didn't anticipate giving her much trouble.
Since coming here this past summer, though, she's found it to be slow going. She hasn't been able to find any local practicioners of magic to talk to, and while she's entirely aware of the presence of supernatural beings of many kinds, she hasn't yet been able to work out a safely diplomatic way to approach them. (Nor has she twigged to how many of each are present in the student body, although she has strong suspicions about there being ghosts on campus.)
But she's pretty sure she'll get there sooner or later.
Dorm Request: N/A. Liz lives in town.
Classes: She teaches. Not sure about her schedule!
Clubs/Extracurricular activities/Special information: N/A
Writing Sample:
Liz is halfway between West Hall and Yeats Library, and walking briskly, when she spots it: a squirrel perched on a low-hanging tree branch, waving one forepaw like someone trying to flag down a taxi -- and staring straight at her. She comes to a stop for a moment to look at it, then hoists her bag further up on her shoulder and cautiously steps closer.
Maybe it's her imagination, but the squirrel really does look like it's trying to communicate something urgent. If it is, Liz thinks sourly, it'll be the most communicative creature she's met since her arrival.
"Yes?" she says, as though it's a student who's come to her office during off hours; not exactly hostile, but not entirely welcoming. "Did you want something?"
The squirrel gesticulates insistently, flicking its tail from side to side. It keeps up the stare, which is starting to get a little disconcerting.
Liz moves a little closer, and lowers her voice. "Can you understand me?"
It gives a vigorous nod that shakes the branch, rustling the leaves, and a tiny fizz of intrigue -- and, she has to admit it, excitement -- goes through her. Sentient animal? Enchanted or otherwise shape-changed human? Weresquirrel? (God help us, faerie?)
"Can you speak at all?"
Headshake. Headshake, gesture, gesture.
"I'm sorry, I can't --" Liz glances over her shoulder, on the off-chance that what it's trying to communicate is for the love of god, look out behind you. Lowering her voice still further: "I can't understand you. Do you need help?"
Pause. Tail twitch; uncertain nod.
"You do need help, but that's not what you're trying to tell me?"
Eager nod.
"Does someone else need help?"
Vehement nod. The branch trembles.
"... Help in general, or help from me in particular?"
The squirrel hesitates for a moment, then gestures directly at her. Its paws aren't equipped for pointing, but that's very clearly what it's trying to do.
Beat. Liz sighs, and unshoulders her handbag, holding it open. "You'd better come inside."