Post by Nora Vamille Blackwell on Sept 21, 2010 16:51:43 GMT -5
Nora Vamille Blackwell
[/center]Everyday Info.
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Birthday/ Zodiac: 19/12/88 - Sagittarius
Occupation: Police Constable for Scotland Yard
Nationality: English
Location: 66 Tollington Road, Islington, Greater London [/ul]
Physical
Appearance:
Celebrity Claim: Saoirse Ronan
Emotional
Personality:
Nora is an incredibly timid, reclusive young woman both through her own choice and those of people around her. She wants to live a simple life, knowing her own boundaries and deciding to work with them. She is quite happy to be in her own company, occasionally going to the cinema or bowling by herself, much to the amusement of several members on the force.
Under ‘personal pressure’ she will crumble. Even finding out that somebody considered her friend would cause her great distress, having terrible social issues and is completely unable to initiate any conversation without turning a bright scarlet. However when she has something to focus all her thoughts and energy she becomes someone entirely different, her mind becomes fixated and she is willing to do almost just about anything to attain her goal; she becomes a leader rather than the follower role which she prefers to maintain.
Nora, though lacking any strong relationships, is loyal to those who show loyalty, believing in the concept of karma. She detests any person who is out to deliberately hurt anyone else, having often being on the brunt of the situation, one of the reasons which lead her to Scotland Yard.
Talents:
- Is an excellent runner, both sprinting and long distance.
- High IQ
- Usually is a very good judge of character.
- Is able to interpret data and analyse information quicker than most.
Strengths:
- Very fit and has a naturally low heart rate.
- Is very competitive.
- Is a hard, determined worker.
- Adapts and can learn things at an extraordinary rate.
Weaknesses:
- Chocolate
- Family
- Unable to relate well to people her own age or most people in general
- Lacks real life skills and common sense
Likes:
- Being of use.
- Having something to test her mind.
- Exercise
- Honest, open people
Dislikes:
- Having ideas and thoughts imposed onto her.
- Being the centre of attention.
- Causing anyone any hurt or upset.
- Bullies.
History:
Nora had always bonded with her grandfather whom she had renamed Pops after the many times he had taken her to the park and bought her favourite Popsicle to share. Her grandfather taught her everything he knew and was usually the life and soul of any party whereas her grandmother tried to instil ‘good morals’ and manners whilst remaining permanently sombre. During her teenage years Markus would often treat her to the latest CD or take her out to watch a film, as she lacked any friends she never had a particular issue with being seen in public with a man with a receding hairline.
For a substantial part of her childhood Nora was at the forefront of being bullied having issues with both early-acne and braces. As a result, she never had much confidence talking with other people, not being able to trust them as they would often turn on her as soon as look at her. She found that after one particular attack upon which she had been pushed, shoved and punched by a group of boys at least 2 years older than her she managed to vent her anger and hurt into running. She found that she had a natural ability for running, more-so running away.
Nora managed to form a semi-normal childhood after that, focusing on both her running and studies, trying to avoid falling behind, running in with the wrong crowd and dodging her grandmother where ever possible. That was until she turned 14. She had barely begun Year 10 when she received a phone girl from the Demon Lady instructing her to “return home” as quickly as she could. Pops had suffered a severe heart attack during the morning and had died before noon.
She pulled out of school for 2 ½ months to try and combat the depression that loosing him meant. She had accepted that she might never be normal, never have friends but the only thing that got her through the day was arriving home from school to see his large grin and popsicle sitting in his hand. When she returned to school, she didn’t even bother to run from any students, too mentally weak to bring herself to be any more of a coward than she felt.
Still Nora completed her GCSEs and A-levels at her local comprehensive school obtaining As and A*s across the board. She had worked in a small clothes shop in the town centre which she continued to do 6 months after leaving school and when a friend of hers, daughter of the Superintendent of the local force, informed her that an opening had become available. She realized that she wanted to pursue a job that was somewhat worthwhile, to bring some good in a world full of darkness. She applied and was accepted fairly quickly and rushed into training.
She worked for a large period of time as part of Stanwell Police Force, around 4 years officially as a PC but due to the incredibly low crime rates, she was often stuck with tedious secretary work. However during early Spring 2010 the first murder in over 70 years was committed in the area, Nora managed to lead a team to find the culprit and successfully managed to capture him and transfer him to High Down Prison. After an opening became available in central London her boss decided to put her in for transfer, as she had repeatedly complained that she would be doing better in a more built up area.
Nora moved to an apartment in Islington, much against her grandmother’s wishes so that she could get to work more conveniently. She originally struggled with the sudden surge of necessary independence however after a week or two she eventually adapted and became more competent around the house. She also became even more secluded as she was too reluctant to go out of her way to make any friends. She eventually decided to adopt a dog, Henry, feeling crushed by not having anyone need or depend on her. Her grandmother, though she’d never admit it, had grown ever more reliant on Nora for the most basic of things as she continued to grow older and that became the focus of her life.
Four months after she moved, she found herself moved to another section of Scotland Yard, under the beckoning call of Inspector Lestrade.[/ul]
Extra Things
Sample RP:
Taken from HEX, same as before.
My name is Dr. John Watson, aged 31, medical doctor trained by the army in hand-on-hand and weaponry combat. Recently returned from Afghanistan through an honourable discharge from services as part of the British army after suffering permanent damage to my upper femur, which affects my ability to walk without aid though my therapist has pinned it down as a psychosomatic injury.
John stared blankly at the screen, toying with hitting the enter button, it would be his first entry on his blog. It was bare with only a small photo and a banner with his name across however his ‘followers' section was continually expanding, Harry's work no doubt. A faint smile spread across his face as he slammed the delete button, what was the use in reiterating what everyone already knew or trying to explain his own life story to people whom he didn't know. His therapist believed it might help him recover from his ‘injury', by retelling his stories and writing down any other events that were to occur within his life. She simply could not accept that his injury was down to having a piece of shrapnel thrust into his leg. He sighed as he shut the lid of his laptop. It was pointless.
He picked up his drink of coffee and sipped on it, feeling the heat scorch his throat. He looked around before picking up a newspaper that had been left on the side and quickly turned to the jobs section; his army pension barely covered the costs of his one-bedroom flat let alone the costs of further bills or food. He glanced over the jobs, nothing that he could do, he either didn't have the correct qualifications or they were jobs that involved heavy labour. He shut his eyes for a moment, wishing that he was back in the hot desert aiding his comrades not stuck in a dingy café in south London. Well there is no use complaining, you're here and there isn't much you can do other than make things simpler for yourself.
He picked himself off the chair, pulling on his familiar black military jacket however he caught sight of someone rushing in to order a take-away coffee and stopped. There was a face, a face he couldn't quite put a name too. He turned around and looked at John with the same facial expression that he was probably pulling. Then he smiled. That smile hadn't changed since they were at school together; the smallest memory of setting off a cherry bomb in the girl's toilets replayed itself in his mind, followed by his distinct remembrance of him smiling as Goldie Newman ran, screaming and covered in water. Mike Stamford.
“Mike?” John limped towards the man, leaning on the walking stick as lightly as he could manage without causing himself pain.
"John?”
Indeed it was the same Mike Stamford whom had been raised in the same town several miles from Surrey, the same boy who had shared his aspirations of finding a medicine that would cure all diseases before realizing that was unattainable had moved to the dream of doing some good in the world and the same Mike Stamford that had attended Bart's medical school with. A wide smile spread across Mike's face as he took in John's appearance.
“It is you! Last I heard you were out in Afghanistan, on the front line bandaging the boys up.”
“I guess that's one way of putting it. No, I was honourably discharged. Leg.” He indicated his head towards his left leg, there was no obvious sign but it was still there. He sighed. There was nothing honourable about his discharge, the army had decided that due to the accident that occurred they no longer needed him and wished to save him the embarrassment of being fired for an injury. The choice had been taken away and they had left him only a pittance to cover his living costs.
Mike frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as though concerned that he had upset John, John in turn smiled back at him. It seemed as though they both wanted to catch up with each other, they hadn't seen each other in years and both of them had stories to tell. By the end of their series of stories John realized the two highly different circumstances they were in: Mike had a contented life working at Bart's Medical School; happily married with two children and had two homes, one in central London and a villa in Spain. However, Mike proved highly useful in suggestions on how John might be able to manage until he found a job, a roommate. “Who'd want me for a flatmate?”
Mike's face suddenly brightened as he let out a low chuckle, “You're the second person to say that to me today.”
John looked at Mike curiously, “Who else?”
At that Mike's smile turned down slightly but a light still remained in his eyes. “He's quite ... something. I could introduce you to each other if you like. I could take you round to see him now if you're not too busy. It won't hurt you just to meet him.”
As John looked down at the floor he tried to consider it. He wasn't the most sociable person and could be an annoyance at best but if this other person was also somewhat of a difficulty then ... maybe it would be an agreeable partnership. He clasped his hands together as he looked back up at Mike, “I'm sure whoever it is can't be as bad as me. If you're sure then I wouldn't mind you introducing us.” The light grew in Mike's eyes, like he was restraining laughter.
John was escorted to Royal Brompton and Harefield hospital and guided through the series of corridors by Mike who entertained him with tales of the new generations approach to medicine, it hadn't changed from when he was studying. He smiled and made agreeing sounds at a regular intervals, letting him know that he was listening. He wasn't one to speak when it wasn't necessary. He suddenly picked up on something as they passed another sign. “He's a mortician?” He couldn't help but noticed that at every junction there was only one reoccurring section, the morgue.
“Erm ... no,” Mike didn't sound as though he was lying but he sounded almost guilty. There was something he wasn't telling him. He sighed as John's eyebrows rose. No man in there right mind would spend unnecessary time at a morgue, death was an inevitable part of work as a doctor but it wasn't a place that was nice to be regardless and it was something universally avoided.
“Then why are we—"
“It's one of his pastimes ... part of his job should I say.” He meant pastimes; he'd always been a poor liar. John remained silent as his friend lead the way into a lab that was already in use. A man was already in there and he hadn't seemed to notice the newest entries into the room. He watched the man very carefully trying to pick up on something that made him especially strange.
“Watson. Dr. John Watson.” He extended his hand courteously towards the man. He gave a half-hearted smile and tried to remember a name Mike had given him. The more he thought about it, he realized how vague Mike had tried to be with him.
Anything Else: I can write another role-play if you’d prefer.
Oh yeah, Henry is my dog. I decided I blathered on about him enough to put him in. Sos. XPWhere You Found Us: Still via a friend.
Other Characters: John Watson and I do love him so.
