Post by Rhiannon Daigon on Mar 19, 2009 18:09:37 GMT -5
[/font], About you *
Alias: Fallon or Fall
Age: 17
Experience: 2-3 years
Other characters: None, as of yet
How can we contact you? PM or AIM - just ask ;]
Rhiannon Riley Daigon
, The character *[/size][/center]
Canon or non canon? Non-Canon
Character full name: Rhiannon Riley Daigon
Age: 20
Nickname(s): Rhia, Riles
Alliance: Werewolf
Sexual preference: Straight
Likes:
- Night
- The Moon
- Exotic Scents
- Running
- Freedom
- Swimming
- Sweet Fruits
Dislikes:
- Extreme Heat
- Sad Songs
- The Ideals of the Slayers
- The Ideals of Them
- War
- Dictatorship
- Restrictions
Strengths:
- Running
- Swimming
- Fighting/Mental Capacity
Weaknesses:
- A Person In Need
- The Need To Run
- Good Music
General personality:
Rhiannon's looks can be decieving, seeing as she acts the exact opposite of that she looks, some would say. First of all, Rhiannon is somewhat of a peaceful wolf - sure, she hates the fact that so many are out to kill her kind, but if she had the choice, all of the nonsense would be stopped and some sort of harmony would be enplaced. Living in fear pisses off and bothers Rhiannon, and she sees no need for the nonsense.
On the peace note, Rhiannon usually has a soft spot for JUST about everyone, meaning that those she calls friends and those who are fellow wolves are well cherished with her. Really, she has no hate in her, unless it is planted and sewn by another, sealing their own fate in her books. Really, it takes a lot or a certain behavior to really piss the girl off, but when you find it, you'll be seeing her wrath.
A lover of her heritage, she's always up and moving, and rarely lazy. Running is a favorite, especially at night in her wolfen form. Plus, she could be called a fish, seeing as she is an excellent swimmer.
Rhiannon's usually pretty quiet, and keeps to herself, but knows how to speak up when she needs or wants to. She enjoys good music and a nice party scene every now and then, too.
As far as love goes, Rhiannon tries to avoid it like the plauge. Sure, it does cross her mind every now and then when in boredom, but she makes sure not to think on it. She's hard to get to if you are male, seeing as she takes a while to open up to them more, for some reason. She feels that most males are untrustworthy, and it takes a while longer for her to warm up to most.
, Appearance *
[/size][/center]Face claim: Megan Fox
Link: click click
Hair color: Dark Brown
Eye color: Light Blue; depending on mood/form
Height: 5'8
General appearance:
Rhiannon's looks are quite exotic, thanks to her heritage from her parents, flowing with rich latin-american and morrocan-infused blood characteristics. Her skin represents her family's threshold lands with it tanned color, as well as her sculpted body, with its interesting frames. Her build is what some would dub as just right, depending on personal tastes; she's not stick-thin, nor is she heavy-set. Due to constant moving and athletics, her body is toned, and her muscles show just enough to let others know she can handle herself.
Morrocan descent also shows in her curves, which she has aplenty. Her eye color, a light ocean blue, makes her skin seem twice as dark, but they have been known to change color, depending on mood or when she changes into wolfen form. Her hair is dark brown, and naturally thick and of long length.
She has a tattoo on her right shoulderblade, as well as on the right side of her body, hidden beneath her arm, and one on her forearm. A scar also presides on her lower left, its origins unknown.
, History *
[/size][/center]Parents:
- Arianna Daigon, mother
- Gaston Daigon, father, deceased?
Siblings: n/a
Children: n/a
History:
Rhiannon is, wholly, a true London girl through and through. Born and raised by her parents, Gaston and Arianna, she was set to be made just about as normal as a Werewolf in London could be made. Rhiannon's birth was brought about when Gaston, the werewolf infection running through his veins, eloped with Arianna and the flower blossomed within her, also inheriting the disease.
Not long after Rhiannon's birth, sadly, Gaston was killed - at least, that is what everyone presumes, to the day. The day he came up missing from the estate, and the scent of intruders led to a scene of blood and the like in the near woods, it was guessed that he was offed... but, Rhiannon believes he is still out there, somewhere, waiting to return and watching out for his family.
As a child, when the time came for her to be told about her father, she never cried; she called them liars. She wasn't heartless, of course she loved her father - it was just she didn't have the heart to just presume him dead, as they all did. Bright, curious, and willing to listen, Rhiannon expanded and grew well throughout childhood and into what some would call her youthful years, when the teens begin to appear.
As with most, her years dealing with the wolfen virus were tough, but she withstood it with as much stamina as possible, learning from her body, and experimenting to find a way to conquer it quicker.
Really, other than growing to be the woman she is today, the girl still remains in London, sick of those out to kill, and sick of those deeming her father dead.
Roleplay sample:
Good Morning, Bitchface,
The usual note left behind from one of the girls of Atomic Riot rested itself in the most superb of manners upon the forehead of Antoinette Matthews, who was just waking from another night of frollicking and then some. Usually, she would have groaned and threw the insolent yellow sticky note in the neon pink trash bin beside the makeshift bed, but this note, written in perfect prose and placed so perfectly in place, actually got the pleasure of getting a rise from the girl. Rising with one swift motion, Antoinette pawed the love note from her forehead and muffled her laugh, shaking her head and laying it down on a nearby table as she sucked in a breath of air as she stretched, noting the pain in her head and the ache in her stomach.
She was hungry, but not for food - she needed her fix. And, what really sucked the big kahuna was the fact that she, once again, had none, thanks to...thanks to... well, she really couldn't recall what had happened to her once blossoming supply, but the fact still remained that she had nothing to simmer the beast within. Pouting, she grabbed at her stomach, writhe fingers rubbing at the warm, exposed skin of her abdomen. Looking up from it, she searched the small area for her personal jesus - her cell. Shifting through doused piles of clothes and a few random tampons and old diaries, (that of which belonged to the previous night, in which Antoinette began to recall that she and the girls got a bit buzzed and went through old memories), she eventually found it, and came to find it awaiting her beckoning - seeing as there was already a voice message.
Accepting the message and taking the earful, the more the mystery speaker talked, the more of a smile began to spread across Antoinette's face. Ending the message, the girl put down the phone and literally pulled a cheer-like herkey move in the middle of the caravan. "Ah, my G. Ville - my lifesaver, my hero." Identity revealed, it's easy to see why the boy brought such joy out of the girl; they were inseperable. More importantly, both shared a wicked addiction in drugs, and within that and other things, they found solace.
Garret spoke of coming over and meeting for their annual drugapalooza, hence the date being the weeekend, as usual. AH, thank god for fridays. Telling her to get her ass out of bad and into gear, Antoinette was told to be expecting him within the hour or so. Heh, like that would be hard; she literally couldn't wait.
After taking a quick shower and changing out of what she dubbed pjs, Antoinette was lounging about the caravan, touching up on her painted toenails. She wore a simple pair of black skinny jeans paired with a tee mooched from merch and let her hair hang loose as it air-dried, thanks to one of the girls taking the hair dryer to their hotel outings. Her stomach and body still ached for what was coming, but she tried to focus fully on the job of touching up on her toenails as much as possible.
"Damn, Even - you better bring the goods, dear..."
The usual note left behind from one of the girls of Atomic Riot rested itself in the most superb of manners upon the forehead of Antoinette Matthews, who was just waking from another night of frollicking and then some. Usually, she would have groaned and threw the insolent yellow sticky note in the neon pink trash bin beside the makeshift bed, but this note, written in perfect prose and placed so perfectly in place, actually got the pleasure of getting a rise from the girl. Rising with one swift motion, Antoinette pawed the love note from her forehead and muffled her laugh, shaking her head and laying it down on a nearby table as she sucked in a breath of air as she stretched, noting the pain in her head and the ache in her stomach.
She was hungry, but not for food - she needed her fix. And, what really sucked the big kahuna was the fact that she, once again, had none, thanks to...thanks to... well, she really couldn't recall what had happened to her once blossoming supply, but the fact still remained that she had nothing to simmer the beast within. Pouting, she grabbed at her stomach, writhe fingers rubbing at the warm, exposed skin of her abdomen. Looking up from it, she searched the small area for her personal jesus - her cell. Shifting through doused piles of clothes and a few random tampons and old diaries, (that of which belonged to the previous night, in which Antoinette began to recall that she and the girls got a bit buzzed and went through old memories), she eventually found it, and came to find it awaiting her beckoning - seeing as there was already a voice message.
Accepting the message and taking the earful, the more the mystery speaker talked, the more of a smile began to spread across Antoinette's face. Ending the message, the girl put down the phone and literally pulled a cheer-like herkey move in the middle of the caravan. "Ah, my G. Ville - my lifesaver, my hero." Identity revealed, it's easy to see why the boy brought such joy out of the girl; they were inseperable. More importantly, both shared a wicked addiction in drugs, and within that and other things, they found solace.
Garret spoke of coming over and meeting for their annual drugapalooza, hence the date being the weeekend, as usual. AH, thank god for fridays. Telling her to get her ass out of bad and into gear, Antoinette was told to be expecting him within the hour or so. Heh, like that would be hard; she literally couldn't wait.
After taking a quick shower and changing out of what she dubbed pjs, Antoinette was lounging about the caravan, touching up on her painted toenails. She wore a simple pair of black skinny jeans paired with a tee mooched from merch and let her hair hang loose as it air-dried, thanks to one of the girls taking the hair dryer to their hotel outings. Her stomach and body still ached for what was coming, but she tried to focus fully on the job of touching up on her toenails as much as possible.
"Damn, Even - you better bring the goods, dear..."
Other: <3
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