Post by zoe1 on Jan 3, 2010 15:08:08 GMT -5
JASPER MARIE ASHBY.
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* FEELS JUST LIKE WE'RE LOSING CONTROL.
and if you let go, then i'll let go tonight.[/center]
TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF.
"do i really need to tell you? shouldn't you know everything there is to know about me? my name's jasper. yeah, screw the twilight jokes and the, 'but that's a guy's name!' jokes; i've heard them all the fuck before. get some new fucking insults. my middle name is marie and my last is ashby. just because when i was asked for my last name i made it up. i don't really remember my real last name .. but no one knows that. nicknames .. whatever you can shorten jasper to. jasey, jasp. whatever. i barely answer to anyone anyway. i'm sixteen .. i think. i'm pretty sure. that's what the people here told me. my birthday is may nineteenth, so i think i'm almost seventeen. i'm a female - what, couldn't you see that? use your fucking eyes; it's not like my boobs are non-existant - and, to be honest, i couldn't care less about who you are, i'll still do you. it doesn't matter to me, at all. i look like willa holland; whoever that is. my hair's brown, curly, and long, and it just .. lies there. it never does what i want so i've just .. given up. my eyes are a sort of .. bluey-greeny-grey. i don't know what they are. they're just eyes; does it really matter what colour they are? i don't know my height and weight; i've forgotten them. i think i'm five foot .. something. six? seven? i'm .. not hugely tall, but i'm not tiny either. i'm pretty skinny though; if i breathe in and i look in a mirror, i can count my ribs. and my hips poke out. people say i shouldn't be so thin. but fuck them."
TELL US ABOUT YOUR MEDICAL HISTORY.
[/size][/font]"i can't remember anything. i don't even know if i have a family. i can't remember what school i went to, i can't remember anything i ever learnt in class, i can't even remember my real last name. i just know i'm called jasper. hell, i don't even know how old i am or when i was born. i've been in a few car crashes, according to the people here, and that's what made me lose .. memories. i hate that! i'm only sixteen! ( apparently. ) i shouldn't be losing memories already. i hate that i can't remember anything about myself, at all. i literally woke up here knowing nothing. i also sleepwalk. that probably contributed to my .. memory loss. bumping into things, i don't know! i've been classed as 'unstable', which doesn't make any sense whatsoever. i'm perfectly stable. i just have my angry moments, like everyone else."
HOW CAN WE ACCOMODATE YOU BETTER?
[/size][/font]"you can accomodate me by leaving me the fuck alone. i don't like people talking to me; if i look like i'm alone, that's 'cause i want to be alone. i can't stand people faffing around me, asking if i want this, if i want that, do i feel okay? do i want to go to the nurse? and all the time i give the exact same answer to every single question; no, i don't. i'm more than capable of looking after myself and anything they can do, i can too. i don't need people buzzing around me, getting things for me; i'm not made of fucking china. i'm not going to break the minute i get up or move or something. i just don't like people in general; too much drama trying to remember all the social niceties and what you can and can't do in a civilised conversation and what you should and shouldn't do. it doesn't help that i can't remember half of the things that i should know. i hate the idea that people know there's something wrong with me .. i hate that there is something wrong with me. i don't want to be diagnosed with anything, because i don't think there's anything wrong. i hate people pitying me, i don't like them to think i'm just another little girl who's so fucked up she can't function. i hate it when people know more about me than i do; it just makes me feel stupid, and small, and no one should be allowed to make anyone feel like that. like, if they know my birthday or my age or even my last name, they shouldn't be allowed to talk to me in a way that makes them sound superior. the only things i really like, are drink, cigarettes, and sex. pretty hard to come by the first two in this dump, but as long as the person i'm with doesn't fucking talk to me, i'm good with fucking anyone. when i'm bored, i fuck. when i'm annoyed, i fuck. when i'm angry, i fuck. i fuck all the time, only because it's the one thing i know how to do. it's the one thing i'm good at and if i excell in one thing, then why shouldn't i carry it on? if i'm good at it, i'm damn well going to do it over and over again, whenever i want. i don't have many secrets. just a lot of things about me that i keep to myself. i can't stand people knowing that there's something wrong with me and that i can't remember anything. i'm so scared that i'm going to die and no one's ever going to remember me. i don't like the thought that one day, i'm going to become obsolete, and it won't matter what the fuck i do, i'm never going to leave an imprint on anyone. i'm so scared of dying it's unbelievable, and old age. i hate the idea that i'm going to get old; what's wrong with staying like this for eternity? no wrinkles, no saggy skin, no tits to the floor because gravity's a bitch. no hair falling out in clumps, no white body hair because suddenly my body's forgotten how to produce brown hair. i just want to stay looking like this forever. i want to stay this healthy forever because it means i can fuck more and i can do more. i'm also shit scared of getting pregnant. the doctors said i've had a kid before, and i can't remember who it was, what i named it or anything. i'm apparently a mom and i don't know anything about my kid. i don't think i want to; i'm not a kiddy friendly person."
TELL US ABOUT YOUR PAST.
[/size][/font]"they said they found me on the side of a road in boston. i wasn't wearing much; bra, knickers, thigh-highs and stilletoes. they took me to hospital and said i had pneumonia, almost fatal liver damage and acute anorexia. they also said i'd been hit by a car a few times. i don't remember any of this; it's all what the doctors have told me. i didn't wake up for days, which made the people at the hospital run around in a panic because they didn't know what had triggered it. i'd slipped into a coma just .. like that. apparently, they couldn't wake me up for weeks, and when i did wake up, i tried to run away, but i'd been tied to my bed. apparently i'd been sleepwalking for a while and the ties were more a precaution than anything else. i screamed bloody murder and demanded to be let go. they said they would, the minute i gave them a next of kin. and i couldn't. i don't know who my family is. fuck, i have a baby and i don't even know what it is. that's the only thing i know about my family, though. i don't know if i have a mom, or a dad, or sisters or brothers, or aunts or uncles or grandparents or godparents or anything. i just know i have a kid. but i don't want a kid; me and children don't get on. we never have. the less i know about it and the less it knows about me, the better. the doctors said the car crashes made me lose my memory. i don't even care anymore."
IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE?
[/size][/font]"no, nothing."
THE MASTERMIND BEHIND IT ALL.
[/size][/font]hey, my name is ZOE.[/color] i have EIGHTEEN[/color] tracks spinning on my record. this is my FIRST[/color] character. i have been roleplaying for TWO YEARS[/color]. the password is SILLICONE, SALINE, POISON, INJECT ME, BABY.[/color].[/font][/size]
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she shivered, and pulled the sleeves of her coat, two hoodies, three jackets and a cardigan down over her pale hands. long, emaciated fingers curled into the multiple fabrics in an attempt to warm them up, and, as an afterthought, delved into her trunk and retrieved three pairs of woolen gloves. they wormed their way into them, navigating the warm fabric easily, as though they'd made this journey a hundred times over; they had. pulling gloves on and wearing more layers than anyone could even possibly comprehend was a regular occurance for kitty. she got cold far too easily. she could have saved all this hassle by simply conjuring a jar of flames, or by dragging mr. fuzzball around with her ( he had a hot water bottle concealed in his stomach ) but she didn't know the charm and spending so much time away from hogwarts in multiple hospitals the world over had led kitty to forget where she put things. she wriggled her feet into her trusty black uggs - with difficulty; she had four pairs of socks on - and finally got up out of her bed. ordinarily, dinah would have been worried about the fact that she was waking up at half past eleven in the morning, because usually, that meant she was due for a week in the hospital wing and plenty of throwing up. however, today was a saturday, and therefore nothing to be worried about. kitty felt .. well, for the first time in weeks. she didn't feel sick, dizzy, disoriented. she just felt cold, and tired. but dinah was used to the cold; she was from a place in france that was usually subjected to day after day of glorious sunshine. adjusting from that climate to the harsh bitterness of scotland was difficult, to say the least.
she stumbled her way down the hufflepuff dorm staircase, stopping to yawn more than a few times. she was still wearing her blue and silver striped flannel pyjamas - a present from titus; she'd got him exactly the same in gold and black - which probably wasn't helping with how tired she felt. in the end, a seventh year climbed up the stairs and allowed her to slide down, picking her up carefully at the bottom and carried her up to the great hall. it was well known within kitty's house that she didn't eat nearly enough food, and it was also well known that kitty didn't like people knowing how vulnerable she was. nowadays, she ate simply to appease people; she knew if she refused, it would only get back to titus sooner or later. the seventh year set her down on a bench and started engaging her in conversation, talking about this, that, and the other; was it true kitty'd had a muggle cast before? how about crushes, had she had them? kitty gently corrected him and informed the seventh year that they were called crutches, and that yes, she had, when she'd broken her foot, and then again when the bone in her leg decided to break. had she had surgery before? why? when? what for? and did she get stished?
"stitches," dinah replied, calmly pulling a pear yoghurt towards herself and folding her legs on the bench. she was small and skinny enough to be able to manage that easily. "i 'ad my appondeeks out." even after being in the united kingdom for almost five months, dinah still hadn't managed to rid herself of her heavy french accent. it made for quite a few interpretation errors.
"cool. .. can i see?""
"of course not," kitty replied, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. "i am weareeng too many clothes. et i must go to ze queeditch peetch. i wish to watch ze team practice." she pushed her half eaten yoghurt away, and grabbed a napkin, grabbing the full rack of white toast and wrapping it in it. she convinced the person she was with to conjure her her flames, and hugged it happily against her thin body and the toast, keeping it warm. she let the older hufflepuff carry her as far as the grand staircase, and then insisted he put her down; she hated being treated as though she were about to break at any moment.
she settled into the quidditch stands as best she could, shivering slightly, despite her many layers of clothing and portable flames. she pulled the scarf around her neck just a little bit tighter, and produced a hat from somewhere underneath her multiple layers, pulling it down until it covered her ears and at least warmed them up. she gingerly pulled a piece of toast out from the pile she'd pinched, and looked up, eyes easily following the path of the small, golden snitch, and the boy chasing it. kitty had always loved quidditch; she'd just never had the time to learn how to fly and she was in hospital too regularly for her to make the practices. the sooner she was diagnosed, the better. kitty wanted to at least learn how to fly before she died. she watched as the captain called the team together and strained to hear anything through her hat and the wind, watching as the team dispersed and disappeared into the changing rooms.
"kitty!"
kitty looked up; she hadn't even noticed that people had started to come out of the changing rooms. it took her a while to notice who was talking to her - and currently hugging. she hesitated before speaking, just in case she'd got it wrong. ".. andy!" she grinned. picking up the napkin beside her, she offered him the remaining eight pieces of toast. "brought you breakfast," she blinked at him, deciding he'd be warm enough to stop her shivering. she gently pulled him into the seat next to her, and then buried into his side; she hated scottish weather.
she stumbled her way down the hufflepuff dorm staircase, stopping to yawn more than a few times. she was still wearing her blue and silver striped flannel pyjamas - a present from titus; she'd got him exactly the same in gold and black - which probably wasn't helping with how tired she felt. in the end, a seventh year climbed up the stairs and allowed her to slide down, picking her up carefully at the bottom and carried her up to the great hall. it was well known within kitty's house that she didn't eat nearly enough food, and it was also well known that kitty didn't like people knowing how vulnerable she was. nowadays, she ate simply to appease people; she knew if she refused, it would only get back to titus sooner or later. the seventh year set her down on a bench and started engaging her in conversation, talking about this, that, and the other; was it true kitty'd had a muggle cast before? how about crushes, had she had them? kitty gently corrected him and informed the seventh year that they were called crutches, and that yes, she had, when she'd broken her foot, and then again when the bone in her leg decided to break. had she had surgery before? why? when? what for? and did she get stished?
"stitches," dinah replied, calmly pulling a pear yoghurt towards herself and folding her legs on the bench. she was small and skinny enough to be able to manage that easily. "i 'ad my appondeeks out." even after being in the united kingdom for almost five months, dinah still hadn't managed to rid herself of her heavy french accent. it made for quite a few interpretation errors.
"cool. .. can i see?""
"of course not," kitty replied, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. "i am weareeng too many clothes. et i must go to ze queeditch peetch. i wish to watch ze team practice." she pushed her half eaten yoghurt away, and grabbed a napkin, grabbing the full rack of white toast and wrapping it in it. she convinced the person she was with to conjure her her flames, and hugged it happily against her thin body and the toast, keeping it warm. she let the older hufflepuff carry her as far as the grand staircase, and then insisted he put her down; she hated being treated as though she were about to break at any moment.
she settled into the quidditch stands as best she could, shivering slightly, despite her many layers of clothing and portable flames. she pulled the scarf around her neck just a little bit tighter, and produced a hat from somewhere underneath her multiple layers, pulling it down until it covered her ears and at least warmed them up. she gingerly pulled a piece of toast out from the pile she'd pinched, and looked up, eyes easily following the path of the small, golden snitch, and the boy chasing it. kitty had always loved quidditch; she'd just never had the time to learn how to fly and she was in hospital too regularly for her to make the practices. the sooner she was diagnosed, the better. kitty wanted to at least learn how to fly before she died. she watched as the captain called the team together and strained to hear anything through her hat and the wind, watching as the team dispersed and disappeared into the changing rooms.
"kitty!"
kitty looked up; she hadn't even noticed that people had started to come out of the changing rooms. it took her a while to notice who was talking to her - and currently hugging. she hesitated before speaking, just in case she'd got it wrong. ".. andy!" she grinned. picking up the napkin beside her, she offered him the remaining eight pieces of toast. "brought you breakfast," she blinked at him, deciding he'd be warm enough to stop her shivering. she gently pulled him into the seat next to her, and then buried into his side; she hated scottish weather.
