Post by Kitty Maeve Lyons on Aug 21, 2013 4:01:28 GMT
Katherine Maeve Lyons
Gender; female
Birthday & Age; fourteen/april, twenty-two.
Sexuality; heterosexual
Occupation; baker.
Membergroup; local
Playby; carey mulligan
Appearance:
Likes; Reading, Jane Austen, peaches, dressing up for no reason, gold shoes, tea, history documentaries, trains.
Dislikes; Confrontation,
Strengths; Kind, good memory, loyalty, loving.
Weaknesses; Guarded, anxious, stubborn, timid.
Secrets; Kitty was the last to see her father alive before he took his own life before his cancer reduced him to nothing. She blames herself for not stopping him.
Goals; to open her own bakery, to own 1000 books and read each and every one. To travel to Ireland to meet her mother's family. To get over her fear of love.
Personality:
Mother; Aoife Lyons, 49, a teacher in Ireland. Kitty loves her mother dearly and misses her since she moved away a year and a half ago to care for her ill mother.
Father; Sean Lyons, 49, n/a. Before his passing, Kitty and her father were incredibly close and his passing two years ago has left a permanent wound in Kitty's heart. He was one of the few people able to cox her to speak her true feelings.
Sibling; Daveigh Lyons, seventeen, student. Kitty and her sister and two very different people but are very close. Once she turns eighteen, her sister will be moving back to Westridge from Ireland to live with her sister.
Other; n/a.
History Overview;
Your Alias; Lady.
Experience; eight years.
Timezone; EST.
Other Characters;n/a.
Roleplay Sample;
Birthday & Age; fourteen/april, twenty-two.
Sexuality; heterosexual
Occupation; baker.
Membergroup; local
Playby; carey mulligan
Appearance:
Kitty finds her appearance quite average. She is of average height at five foot five, average weight at one twenty five and average features, or she believes at least. In her personal opinion, she finds her eyes to be her greatest feature, coffee brown and incredibly expressive. At times Kitty curses her appearance, as she finds her face shape makes her appear years younger than she truly is. Although a blessing to many, it can be quite the curse when she's occasionally mistaken for a high school student.
Kitty is a very feminine creature, wearing primarily soft colours and patterns. She has a gentle style that compliments her gentle personality. She often wears dresses and has a fondest for sparkly footwear. Kitty hasn't had long hair since she was sixteen and she's quite fond of her short hair. She loves to wear headpieces as not much can be down with so little hair. It's simple and easy to care for, she also loves how much it makes her feel like a flapper.
Kitty is a very feminine creature, wearing primarily soft colours and patterns. She has a gentle style that compliments her gentle personality. She often wears dresses and has a fondest for sparkly footwear. Kitty hasn't had long hair since she was sixteen and she's quite fond of her short hair. She loves to wear headpieces as not much can be down with so little hair. It's simple and easy to care for, she also loves how much it makes her feel like a flapper.
Likes; Reading, Jane Austen, peaches, dressing up for no reason, gold shoes, tea, history documentaries, trains.
Dislikes; Confrontation,
Strengths; Kind, good memory, loyalty, loving.
Weaknesses; Guarded, anxious, stubborn, timid.
Secrets; Kitty was the last to see her father alive before he took his own life before his cancer reduced him to nothing. She blames herself for not stopping him.
Goals; to open her own bakery, to own 1000 books and read each and every one. To travel to Ireland to meet her mother's family. To get over her fear of love.
Personality:
Kitty is very much a bookworm. She often keeps to herself and her words are often given good thought before she speaks them. If related to any of her beloved Austen heroines, Kitty resembles Jane Bennet and Catherine Morland the most. She is timid creature who often keeps her true feelings quietly hidden away. This habit is also a by product not only of her shyness but her lack of self-confidence which has lead to a very guarded heart and anxiety. She's spoken rarely of her anxieties to anyone, and worries herself to tears over trivial things.
Kitty is a kind, gentle soul. For those whom she does show her heart, such as friends and family, she is painfully caring and generous. She loves to put a smile on the face of her loved ones and has a particular fondness of going out of her way to do things for them. She is loyal nearly to a fault and will stand by the side of someone she holds dear regardless of what they have done. Oddly enough, Kitty has a great moral compass and has the bad habit of seeing good in bad people.
She is a young woman who see's the best in others, the worst in herself and despite this, speaks little of any of it to few people. There was a time when she was more open but since her father's passing, her anxiety has increased greatly and her fears have sent her into silent suffering.
Kitty is a kind, gentle soul. For those whom she does show her heart, such as friends and family, she is painfully caring and generous. She loves to put a smile on the face of her loved ones and has a particular fondness of going out of her way to do things for them. She is loyal nearly to a fault and will stand by the side of someone she holds dear regardless of what they have done. Oddly enough, Kitty has a great moral compass and has the bad habit of seeing good in bad people.
She is a young woman who see's the best in others, the worst in herself and despite this, speaks little of any of it to few people. There was a time when she was more open but since her father's passing, her anxiety has increased greatly and her fears have sent her into silent suffering.
Mother; Aoife Lyons, 49, a teacher in Ireland. Kitty loves her mother dearly and misses her since she moved away a year and a half ago to care for her ill mother.
Father; Sean Lyons, 49, n/a. Before his passing, Kitty and her father were incredibly close and his passing two years ago has left a permanent wound in Kitty's heart. He was one of the few people able to cox her to speak her true feelings.
Sibling; Daveigh Lyons, seventeen, student. Kitty and her sister and two very different people but are very close. Once she turns eighteen, her sister will be moving back to Westridge from Ireland to live with her sister.
Other; n/a.
History Overview;
Kitty had a simple, but good, life. She grew up in a small, warm home that would of made for a good hallmark greeting card, by appearances at least. Both her parents came over from Ireland right after her birth, her father teaching at the Academy and her mother opened a flower shop. Her parents were a less gothic version of Mortica and Gomez Adams. But despite their happiness, money was often tight, gifts were usually small and their life plain and simple.
When she was five, little Daveigh was born and their life was tighter than before, especially with her mother being off work. Luckily enough, as they both grew older, things got easier, her mother's floral shop got more popular and for once they felt largely comfortable.
Kitty's comfort was limited to her home, as her timid personality and vicious love for books made her an ideal target for school yard tormenting. Her middle school years were harsh, often leaving Kitty on her own, isolated from her peers. It altered her greatly, she trusted few, she worried, she feared people's true intentions. Kitty tried for years to get over it but the bullies mark stayed. She was grateful for the day she found a good group of friends but all through high school she feared the people that made her feel so horrible.
By the time Kitty was in college studying English, her family was rattled by her father's cancerous diagnosis. They did what they could but, in the end, her father made the decision to choose his own ending date. No more humiliation, no more pain, no more suffering. Kitty was the last to see him alive on a walk, she had seen him across the way. Their meeting had been brief, he'd told her how much he loved her. His demeanour had worried her but he'd assured her all was well.
They found him the next day in his car on the edge of town, looking more peaceful then he had in ages.
Less than six months after his passing, her mother made the decision to move back home to Ireland. Her mother was ill and needed proper care, and so with her youngest daughter in tow, she left Westridge temporarily behind. Kitty was once again thrust into the world on her own. She felt as if she'd lost her entire family, despite what was left of it still being well and alive.
Kitty finished her English degree silently and now it sits quietly, untouched, unused. As much as Kitty loves books, she had found love somewhere else; baking. For as long as she could remember, Kitty adored baking and half way through college she got a job at the local bakery. She never imagined it would spark in her a passion, a dream of her own.
She still dreams of writing books or even editing them but for now Kitty's heart lies in baking. Her job, her books, her cat and her few friends are her life. They keep her sane, they keep her grounded and they keep her afloat.
When she was five, little Daveigh was born and their life was tighter than before, especially with her mother being off work. Luckily enough, as they both grew older, things got easier, her mother's floral shop got more popular and for once they felt largely comfortable.
Kitty's comfort was limited to her home, as her timid personality and vicious love for books made her an ideal target for school yard tormenting. Her middle school years were harsh, often leaving Kitty on her own, isolated from her peers. It altered her greatly, she trusted few, she worried, she feared people's true intentions. Kitty tried for years to get over it but the bullies mark stayed. She was grateful for the day she found a good group of friends but all through high school she feared the people that made her feel so horrible.
By the time Kitty was in college studying English, her family was rattled by her father's cancerous diagnosis. They did what they could but, in the end, her father made the decision to choose his own ending date. No more humiliation, no more pain, no more suffering. Kitty was the last to see him alive on a walk, she had seen him across the way. Their meeting had been brief, he'd told her how much he loved her. His demeanour had worried her but he'd assured her all was well.
They found him the next day in his car on the edge of town, looking more peaceful then he had in ages.
Less than six months after his passing, her mother made the decision to move back home to Ireland. Her mother was ill and needed proper care, and so with her youngest daughter in tow, she left Westridge temporarily behind. Kitty was once again thrust into the world on her own. She felt as if she'd lost her entire family, despite what was left of it still being well and alive.
Kitty finished her English degree silently and now it sits quietly, untouched, unused. As much as Kitty loves books, she had found love somewhere else; baking. For as long as she could remember, Kitty adored baking and half way through college she got a job at the local bakery. She never imagined it would spark in her a passion, a dream of her own.
She still dreams of writing books or even editing them but for now Kitty's heart lies in baking. Her job, her books, her cat and her few friends are her life. They keep her sane, they keep her grounded and they keep her afloat.
Your Alias; Lady.
Experience; eight years.
Timezone; EST.
Other Characters;n/a.
Roleplay Sample;
Mavis was never one to regularly frequent any part of Manhattan. There were few exceptions to this, however, that frequently made a liar out of the young woman. The Theatre District was one of Mavis' favourite places in New York and next to that was Central Park and, depending on her mood, Times Square. It wasn't the restaurants or attractions that usually brought her into manhattan but the people. She enjoyed people watching immensely. She always found, that when she felt particularly lonely, just watching strangers from a far and putting together histories for them in her head always made her feel a little bit better.
But she also had friends, of sorts, scattered around upper and midtown Manhattan. People she saw regularly and people she knew personally. For her, it was an inspiring, All wakes of life cramped together. It was a place of free entertainment and, as she was struggling financially, she went there often. Like many of the people she'd watch one the side walks, she was one such penniless musician.
On particularly bad days, Mavis would venture all over New York, playing to the nameless. It helped. Sometimes it was a necessity, sometimes it bought her a new pair of shoes or a new book Today was such a day. She'd begun in the Theatre District, making no less than five dollars in the hour she'd been playing. Some days were slow, other's she struck gold. But now, in need of a change of scenery, she'd made her way over to Central Park.
She hoped for good things, she always did, even if a tiny part of her knew it might just be another day. Her spirits were high because of the warmth in the air, however with clouds and the occasional breeze. Which, to her, was the perfect water. And, above all else, it was late in the afternoon and the sun cast cornflower glow over the famous park.
For a while, with her guitar strapped to her back, she roamed the trails. She watched people watching on their own, she watched groups of preschool aged children laugh and run away from their guardians for that afternoon. She smiled at the groups of giggling girls, the barking dogs and crying babes. For her, just being able to observe life made her appreciate it rather than mourn the loss of it.
Finally, she settled herself down on a bench. Starting, she found, was always mildly difficult but she'd gotten used to it. With a long sigh, her guitar upon her knee, her guitar case open at her feet and the sun shining down on her back, she began plucking the chords. There were some days that she'd play with no hopes of 'tips' from kind strangers and music appreciators. Some days she just wanted to play for them. Some day she just wanted to play for the wind.
And, as the contents of her bank account were making her particularly sad, she hoped she'd be lucky enough to be distracted by the words of someone willing to speak to her, even if for a moment.
But she also had friends, of sorts, scattered around upper and midtown Manhattan. People she saw regularly and people she knew personally. For her, it was an inspiring, All wakes of life cramped together. It was a place of free entertainment and, as she was struggling financially, she went there often. Like many of the people she'd watch one the side walks, she was one such penniless musician.
On particularly bad days, Mavis would venture all over New York, playing to the nameless. It helped. Sometimes it was a necessity, sometimes it bought her a new pair of shoes or a new book Today was such a day. She'd begun in the Theatre District, making no less than five dollars in the hour she'd been playing. Some days were slow, other's she struck gold. But now, in need of a change of scenery, she'd made her way over to Central Park.
She hoped for good things, she always did, even if a tiny part of her knew it might just be another day. Her spirits were high because of the warmth in the air, however with clouds and the occasional breeze. Which, to her, was the perfect water. And, above all else, it was late in the afternoon and the sun cast cornflower glow over the famous park.
For a while, with her guitar strapped to her back, she roamed the trails. She watched people watching on their own, she watched groups of preschool aged children laugh and run away from their guardians for that afternoon. She smiled at the groups of giggling girls, the barking dogs and crying babes. For her, just being able to observe life made her appreciate it rather than mourn the loss of it.
Finally, she settled herself down on a bench. Starting, she found, was always mildly difficult but she'd gotten used to it. With a long sigh, her guitar upon her knee, her guitar case open at her feet and the sun shining down on her back, she began plucking the chords. There were some days that she'd play with no hopes of 'tips' from kind strangers and music appreciators. Some days she just wanted to play for them. Some day she just wanted to play for the wind.
And, as the contents of her bank account were making her particularly sad, she hoped she'd be lucky enough to be distracted by the words of someone willing to speak to her, even if for a moment.