Post by Aleenah Lilliana Logan on Mar 21, 2009 13:01:07 GMT -6
Let's Talk About You!
Name: Courtney
Age: 15
Years RPing: 3
Other Characters on Larkin Academy:none
Name: Courtney
Age: 15
Years RPing: 3
Other Characters on Larkin Academy:none
The Mask!
Character Name: Aleenah Lilliana Logan
Canon or Original: OC
Group: Junior
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Appearance:
Aleenah has dark brown hair and brown eyes to match. She has naturally tan skin, and isn’t pale. She doesn’t wear much make up, and she doesn’t need it anyway. She has perfectly white, straight teeth, and naturally light lips. She has a small petite figure, and is well developed. She wears nice clothes, and loves dressing up. She always looks original, and she always look beautiful.
Personality:
likes
||Parties
||Guys
||Getting dressed up
||Music
||The renaissance era
||People
||Herself
||Compassion
||Writing
||Reading
||Dinner
||Love
||Poetry
||Concerts
||Being herself
||Originality
dislikes
||Love
||People leaving
||Forgetting things
||Cars
||Doctors
||People who only see the outside, not the in
||Cell phones
||”Magic”
||Being so smart
||People finding things out
||Losing people
||Media
||Love
secrets
||She has never been in love
||She’s smart, but no one notices
||She wishes she could have lived in a different century, ‘cause she doesn’t fit in this one
Family:
mother|| Loraine; Home maker;
father|| Jason; Police man;
History: Aleenah was a typical seventeen-year-old. She lived for parties with friends, hanging at the next towns malls, picking up guys. She lived in Europe for the first eight years, and started a new life in a very small town of Mesa, California, population: 210, when her parents decided they wanted a new life, after losing pretty much everything. She liked the small area, but hated the lack of parties, room, and the travel time. She’d commute all over the area just for something to do.
She wasn’t always so old fashioned. She used to be by herself for a long time, getting into her favourite time period, after Loraine and Jason, a young couple barely in their mid 30s, showed her her European background. Her father loves to spoil her. And sometimes she wishes he wouldn’t, but most of the time, she likes it.
All in all, Aleenah’s young, but wise beyond her years, continuously living in a changing world, and just wishes she could move on. Aleenah’s very complicated and she’s deep. She goes with what she can. Living it up every second of the day.
Almost Done!
Anything else you want to say: nuh uh
Play By: Rachel Bilson
Rules Phrase:did you hear the news?
RP Sample: (third person, it doesn't have to be for the character you're applying for, it can be from anywhere)
This isn't Aleenah, it was my character Quint's for another site. It's my best rp sample i've EVER done.
Quint looked around to see nothing. Absolutly nothing. There was nothing left in the world to him. He was gone now, and nothing else mattered. He looked to his left to see a vast aray of white. He looked to his right to find the same image. He started walking, walking towards nothing. He felt like he was in one of those things he used to watch on tv, one of those dreams where random spots would turn up and he ended up falling through a black hole on the floor. But no spots showed up. Nothing showed up.
His black boots clunked on the floor. It was the only noise that was made, and he was growing confused. He looked to his left again, and nothing. The white continued. Again to the right, to see nothing. He stopped walking and held his hand out. He grasped nothing, but he knew there was something out there still. He heard a noise and whipped around. But still nothing. He looked back to what he thought was the front, but he wasn't sure anymore. He was stuck in white. He looked above him to see white.
He sat down where he stood trying to think of the possiblities. It never got dark, it never got light. He didn't believe it was a dream, or a nightmare. Quinton didn't dream, and he knew it must have something to do with muggles. He thought of the last time he saw his parents, the last time he saw his sister.
His father stood in uniform, about to go on his shift. He stared at Quinton with disgust, wondering how he could have gone so wrong. He had learned to accept Quinton's weird style, as long as he didn't embarress the Saft family. But he couldn't get over his son's magic. He sighed, watching as the boy just sat at the table staring down in disgust at the food on his plate.
"We gave you everything Quinton. Everything you asked for. You could give us something in return," his father said, grabbing his coat. Quint looked up at the man who never liked him.
"You didn't give me the one thing i needed though. You gave me no respect, no love. You gave Angel what she wanted. You gave me nothing. You gave me what you thought i wanted," Quinton said, pushing his plate across the table and standing up, ready to leave.
His father just stared. He was a non-violent man, and he didn't believe in abuse. Not physically anyway. But verbally, you would think that Quint was the most injured of all. "You chose not to accept it." His father put the coat on and opened the door, and walked out, his face full of shame. Quinton looked away, and heard the door slam shut.
Quinton looked into the white again. He knew it wasn't actually there, but he saw the face of his mothers. He hated her face with a passion when he lived there. But sometimes he felt like he needed to see it again, not just in a memory. His mother was ashamed of him, but she also actually did love him, unlike Clint Saft.
It was hours after his father was gone that his mother had come home. She had been shopping, which was an everyday thing. Quinton could remember like it had just happened yesterday, even though it was over two years ago. He was in the yard, book in hand, wand in pocket. His mother was walking up the side walk.
"What are you doing?" she asked in disgust when she saw that he was outside looking the way he did. She had been dying to give the boy a haircut for years, but seeing him outside and in public made her queezy. He wasn't aloud outside when he wanted to be like that, so Quinton never went outside.
He looked up at his mother, frowning. "It's called reading. I bet you used to know how to do it before you discovered credit cards," he said, looking at her new purchases, five bags sat at her feet. She frowned deep at him. "Watch your mouth young man. You could be more appreciative. Two of these bags are yours," she said. She didn't realise it anymore, but her nose was permanently stuck in the air. He closed his book, The book thief, and stood up.
"Go ahead and take them back. Or maybe you could not be so cold and give them to the less fortunate. I'll never wear them, and they'll just sit in your closet, gathering dust on such designer clothes. But hey, I could do it for you." He said, looking down at the clothes in the bags. He looked back at Brianna and frowned. She had done work.
"Quinton Herrlich Saft. Do not speak to me that way," she said, glaring at him with pure loathing. The look didn't affect him so much anymore, but when he was younger he wished he could crawl under a rock. "Do not think you are better than this family because you're a freak that can do magic."
"Then stop acting like you're better than everyone else in the world!" He shouted at her. "The world does not center around Clinton and Brianna Saft!" He turned around and walked away from his mother.
Quint hadn't thought about that moment for a long time. She wasn't always like that, but if he did something she didn't approve of she couldn't stand it. She got mean.
The whiteness was never ending. There was no feeling to the whiteness, not even when he sat down. It was hard, but soft, silking, but rough. He was loosing all his scenses, and he stood up again. He looked to the right this time, and saw a face much like his own. His twin sister was standing with the family. He didn't consider her his twin anymore, and it was just the three of them. The Safts had finally gotten what they wanted.
Angel Saft was a princess. She got everything she asked for just by looking at her parents with her big blue eyes. She had had them permanently changed when she was 10, because she couldn't stand Quinton's eyes, and she didn't want to have the same ones. The thought made him want to throw up.
Angel had been corrupted by her mother at the age of ten. But Quinton didn't believe that she was all bad. Because she was an actress, she always acted around her parents. At night, she would always sneak in and give Quinton the food he wanted to eat, and she would assure him it was okay.
Quinton had finally had enough ridicule from his parents, and he was sick of his sister's swings. She was always doing that, acting, but she always said she wasn't acting. But that night, she came into his room again. She didn't like his room, it was always dark, and messy, and it was full of hate. But she went in anyway.
Of course Quinton was packing when she came in. She saw him and gasped. "What are you doing?" she almost shouted, and Quinton quickly covered her mouth. She pushed away his hand in disgust.
"What does it look like? I'm leaving," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He went back to his bag, and went back to putting his clothes into it. He kept looking at her.
"You can't leave!" She said, shouting again. She backed away to the door. She looked angry. Quinton thought that it was only because if he was gone she wouldn't be so special. But she always would be. He quickly pulled out his wand.
"Don't do it," he said. He was only fourteen at the time, and doing magic would get him kicked out of school, but he was willing to do anything to get out of that house. She just nodded. "You didn't see anything Angel. You just go back to your room and be the favourite. Have fun being 'mommy and daddy's' favourites." and with that he grabbed his bag. Angel went out of the room and down to the end of the hall. She opened the door of her room and dissapeared.
Quinton took his leave and didn't see her again. But he didn't care. He was smart enough to finally leave, he was smart enough to make it through.
Looking into the white again was nerve racking. He was seventeen, barely an adult, and he was alone. He wasn't scared, but he didn't feel so brave either. He just wanted to go back to Hogwarts, but it didn't seem to be happening in the white. He wasn't alone, anymore though. He hadn't realised that someone else had walked in, and there were more than one set of footsteps.
"You're a hard one to find, Quinton," a voice said. A familiar voice. Quinton jumped up and wirled around. He saw the aged face of his father, the worried face of his mother, and the bored face of his sister. His father stepped forward to touch Quinton, but he jumped back.
He hadn't spoken in so long, his voice was scratchy and it sounded lethal. "Get away from me." He pulled his wand out and pointed it at his father. He looked from one face to another and to another and back. "What do you want? Where am I?" He asked, searching their faces for answers.
"We want you to come home, Quinton," his mother spoke up. She looked so young still, but sounded so old. He shook his spiky head.
"Never," He said, his wand still raised. His father took no notice of the wand.
"This, dear boy, is an isolation tank. There is no way out. You cannot escape, you are coming home," he said. He had thought he had one. But he hadn't.
Quinton smiled, and started to laugh. "Oh dear stranger. You have forgotten that I am not a kid anymore, and that i have magic. There's always a way out for me, but there's never one for you," he said, pointing his wand else where, towards the never ending white. He shouted a spell and the wall broke imediatly and he could see things again. Trees and things. He ran and jumped out the broken wall, and Quinton had left again, to be gone from the Safts forever. They had almost caught him, but he refused to let them.
His black boots clunked on the floor. It was the only noise that was made, and he was growing confused. He looked to his left again, and nothing. The white continued. Again to the right, to see nothing. He stopped walking and held his hand out. He grasped nothing, but he knew there was something out there still. He heard a noise and whipped around. But still nothing. He looked back to what he thought was the front, but he wasn't sure anymore. He was stuck in white. He looked above him to see white.
He sat down where he stood trying to think of the possiblities. It never got dark, it never got light. He didn't believe it was a dream, or a nightmare. Quinton didn't dream, and he knew it must have something to do with muggles. He thought of the last time he saw his parents, the last time he saw his sister.
His father stood in uniform, about to go on his shift. He stared at Quinton with disgust, wondering how he could have gone so wrong. He had learned to accept Quinton's weird style, as long as he didn't embarress the Saft family. But he couldn't get over his son's magic. He sighed, watching as the boy just sat at the table staring down in disgust at the food on his plate.
"We gave you everything Quinton. Everything you asked for. You could give us something in return," his father said, grabbing his coat. Quint looked up at the man who never liked him.
"You didn't give me the one thing i needed though. You gave me no respect, no love. You gave Angel what she wanted. You gave me nothing. You gave me what you thought i wanted," Quinton said, pushing his plate across the table and standing up, ready to leave.
His father just stared. He was a non-violent man, and he didn't believe in abuse. Not physically anyway. But verbally, you would think that Quint was the most injured of all. "You chose not to accept it." His father put the coat on and opened the door, and walked out, his face full of shame. Quinton looked away, and heard the door slam shut.
Quinton looked into the white again. He knew it wasn't actually there, but he saw the face of his mothers. He hated her face with a passion when he lived there. But sometimes he felt like he needed to see it again, not just in a memory. His mother was ashamed of him, but she also actually did love him, unlike Clint Saft.
It was hours after his father was gone that his mother had come home. She had been shopping, which was an everyday thing. Quinton could remember like it had just happened yesterday, even though it was over two years ago. He was in the yard, book in hand, wand in pocket. His mother was walking up the side walk.
"What are you doing?" she asked in disgust when she saw that he was outside looking the way he did. She had been dying to give the boy a haircut for years, but seeing him outside and in public made her queezy. He wasn't aloud outside when he wanted to be like that, so Quinton never went outside.
He looked up at his mother, frowning. "It's called reading. I bet you used to know how to do it before you discovered credit cards," he said, looking at her new purchases, five bags sat at her feet. She frowned deep at him. "Watch your mouth young man. You could be more appreciative. Two of these bags are yours," she said. She didn't realise it anymore, but her nose was permanently stuck in the air. He closed his book, The book thief, and stood up.
"Go ahead and take them back. Or maybe you could not be so cold and give them to the less fortunate. I'll never wear them, and they'll just sit in your closet, gathering dust on such designer clothes. But hey, I could do it for you." He said, looking down at the clothes in the bags. He looked back at Brianna and frowned. She had done work.
"Quinton Herrlich Saft. Do not speak to me that way," she said, glaring at him with pure loathing. The look didn't affect him so much anymore, but when he was younger he wished he could crawl under a rock. "Do not think you are better than this family because you're a freak that can do magic."
"Then stop acting like you're better than everyone else in the world!" He shouted at her. "The world does not center around Clinton and Brianna Saft!" He turned around and walked away from his mother.
Quint hadn't thought about that moment for a long time. She wasn't always like that, but if he did something she didn't approve of she couldn't stand it. She got mean.
The whiteness was never ending. There was no feeling to the whiteness, not even when he sat down. It was hard, but soft, silking, but rough. He was loosing all his scenses, and he stood up again. He looked to the right this time, and saw a face much like his own. His twin sister was standing with the family. He didn't consider her his twin anymore, and it was just the three of them. The Safts had finally gotten what they wanted.
Angel Saft was a princess. She got everything she asked for just by looking at her parents with her big blue eyes. She had had them permanently changed when she was 10, because she couldn't stand Quinton's eyes, and she didn't want to have the same ones. The thought made him want to throw up.
Angel had been corrupted by her mother at the age of ten. But Quinton didn't believe that she was all bad. Because she was an actress, she always acted around her parents. At night, she would always sneak in and give Quinton the food he wanted to eat, and she would assure him it was okay.
Quinton had finally had enough ridicule from his parents, and he was sick of his sister's swings. She was always doing that, acting, but she always said she wasn't acting. But that night, she came into his room again. She didn't like his room, it was always dark, and messy, and it was full of hate. But she went in anyway.
Of course Quinton was packing when she came in. She saw him and gasped. "What are you doing?" she almost shouted, and Quinton quickly covered her mouth. She pushed away his hand in disgust.
"What does it look like? I'm leaving," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He went back to his bag, and went back to putting his clothes into it. He kept looking at her.
"You can't leave!" She said, shouting again. She backed away to the door. She looked angry. Quinton thought that it was only because if he was gone she wouldn't be so special. But she always would be. He quickly pulled out his wand.
"Don't do it," he said. He was only fourteen at the time, and doing magic would get him kicked out of school, but he was willing to do anything to get out of that house. She just nodded. "You didn't see anything Angel. You just go back to your room and be the favourite. Have fun being 'mommy and daddy's' favourites." and with that he grabbed his bag. Angel went out of the room and down to the end of the hall. She opened the door of her room and dissapeared.
Quinton took his leave and didn't see her again. But he didn't care. He was smart enough to finally leave, he was smart enough to make it through.
Looking into the white again was nerve racking. He was seventeen, barely an adult, and he was alone. He wasn't scared, but he didn't feel so brave either. He just wanted to go back to Hogwarts, but it didn't seem to be happening in the white. He wasn't alone, anymore though. He hadn't realised that someone else had walked in, and there were more than one set of footsteps.
"You're a hard one to find, Quinton," a voice said. A familiar voice. Quinton jumped up and wirled around. He saw the aged face of his father, the worried face of his mother, and the bored face of his sister. His father stepped forward to touch Quinton, but he jumped back.
He hadn't spoken in so long, his voice was scratchy and it sounded lethal. "Get away from me." He pulled his wand out and pointed it at his father. He looked from one face to another and to another and back. "What do you want? Where am I?" He asked, searching their faces for answers.
"We want you to come home, Quinton," his mother spoke up. She looked so young still, but sounded so old. He shook his spiky head.
"Never," He said, his wand still raised. His father took no notice of the wand.
"This, dear boy, is an isolation tank. There is no way out. You cannot escape, you are coming home," he said. He had thought he had one. But he hadn't.
Quinton smiled, and started to laugh. "Oh dear stranger. You have forgotten that I am not a kid anymore, and that i have magic. There's always a way out for me, but there's never one for you," he said, pointing his wand else where, towards the never ending white. He shouted a spell and the wall broke imediatly and he could see things again. Trees and things. He ran and jumped out the broken wall, and Quinton had left again, to be gone from the Safts forever. They had almost caught him, but he refused to let them.