Name: Madeleine Jenson (Mad-eh-len.)Age: Fourteen••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Appearance:Her thin hair had been previously layered, but it’s grown out quite a bit since she was nine years old. Madeleine has been locked up for five years now. Her skin has grown even paler, as white as ivory now. Her clothes are simple- no bright colors, just grays, blacks, and brown for her. At least, anything that’s dark. Her normal attire is a light gray long sleeve button-down blouse with a dark gray and black plaid vest and some dark black skinny jeans. Her feet stay bare. She likes to walk through the halls swiftly but quietly. Even Madeleine’s eyes are a dark liquid ash color while her eyebrows arch over them, curved atop her eyes.Orientation: StraitGender: Female••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Personality:Madeleine is usually a quiet child, but when she does talk, she’s snappy and cocky. Her mouth has always been smart, shooting remarks here and there when she doesn’t want to answer a specific question. Madeleine is deathly scared of the sun; running inside every time it tried to make an appearance through the clouds. In her dorm that she shares, she keeps the curtains tightly closed. Madeleine tends to go a bit loco when there is blood, even its not within sight- if she can smell it, her animal will take over and it is not a pretty sight. Her mind is trouble so; it seems to think she is a vampire. She will eat nothing of human food unless she is forced to by the doctor who gives her her daily dose of medication.History:It all started when Madeleine was six years old, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Madeleine’s parents, Evangeline and Alexander, were overjoyed when she was born; healthy and happy; she was the cutest child they had ever seen. Everything was perfect; they took her home, smiles still glued to their faces as Evangeline laid Madeleine down in her crib for the first night. She was as normal as could be, and her parents were loving and kind, or that was until Alexander was laid off- his dignity burned along with it. He became madder, sometimes hurting his wife if she ever disagreed with him. Soon, he was a monster to their neighbors. Everyone learned to hate him from then on. Even Evangeline’s heart broke. He had made so many bruises and cuts on her, she even thought about doing it. Doing what everyone was scared of. She thought of committing suicide if it wasn’t for Madeleine. Evangeline forced her way through it, almost destroying herself in the process as she protected Madeleine from Alexander. Sometimes he would disappear for days, only to come back drunk and bedraggled. His stubble growing longer, until he would shave again. But all through this, Evangeline raised Madeleine, keeping her away from Alexander as much as she could, but even then, he would force his way into her room, which scared his wife to death.Madeleine grew. She started school up that spring, glad to be away from home, where her parents’ fought constantly. The only thing that occupied her was the books she had borrowed from the local library. Of course, her father would be enraged if he ever saw her with a book that someone would enjoy. He hated happiness. Even if it was swarming around his daughter as her mind created fairy tales and imaginary friends’.A few years later, she turned nine. Madeleine was the quiet one at school and her mind wandered into dream land until the teacher would snap fingers in front of her face. All the kids teased her, only because she read the whole recess period, her mind obsessed in the vampire novel she was currently reading. The kids teased and bullied her, yelling that she would turn into a vampire herself, and that’s when everything started to happen.Her mind spun a tale that wasn’t true, but real enough to her. Madeleine had always had a light pearl skin tone, but her when she looked at her arms, only one thought came to mind: I’m so pale...It can’t be... And from then on she was terrified of going out in the sun, she kept telling herself it would burn her and melt her to the ground. Madeleine wouldn’t eat anything her mother prepared for the meals and Evangeline began to worry about her daughter.She stayed in the shadows of her room all day, rocking herself back and forth, telling herself she was a monster. Evangeline would come in; trying to talk to her daughter, maybe force some sense into Madeleine’s mind, but it was no use. Her daughter screamed and hissed at her if she went near the curtains. They had been tightly drawn shut and another dark blanket hung over the curtain bar, as if to give an extra layer of the protection so the sun wouldn’t be able to penetrate.Every time Madeleine smelled food, her stomach twisted in pain. She had been so hungry...So hungry, she could eat anything. The doctor had come to see her the other evening; she faintly heard him outside her door, telling her parents she was mentally ill and she really be sent to a hospital. The next day she could hear her parents yelling and things were being smashed. Her mother rushed into Madeleine’s room, her face full of tears as she wrapped her daughter in a hug, even though Madeleine hissed and growled, trying to get away until the faint, salty scent of blood stung her nostrils. Everything was a flash after that, her mother was screaming and she found herself atop her mother’s chest, grabbing at her neck where blood dripped from a cut on her cheek.Madeleine heard Alexander enter the room yelling until he froze at the sight before him. He ripped Madeleine off of Evangeline and was holding her arm so tightly it hurt her to where she cried out in pain. His voice was strong and full of anger towards his wife. “See what I mean? She’s gone loco!” And with that, he yanked her off towards the car. Her finger nails dug into her father’s arm, drawing blood. Madeleine bit down on it, trying to get away as she kicked and struggled against his death grip, but he heaved her into the back of the car and locked then slipped into the driver’s seat, pushing the lock on the doors.From then on, she lived in the asylum, only visited by a strange boy who seemed to take interest in her. She just ignored him though. The nurses had her locked up in a separate room for a few years, until they put her in with another girl that liked snakes. Madeleine hadn’t talked a word in several years- her mind was blank. The boy always sat on the other side of the visitor glass, watching her intently for the hour, though she didn’t say or do anything. Madeleine wasn’t certain why he always came to see her. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Current Placement: Patient-- Low securityObsessions:When Madeleine is alone, or confused, or scared, she goes and sits in the shady corner of her dorm room which is sheltered in a small tent she constructed of blankets to keep the sunlight out, and to hide from certain things. It’s her only safe spot in the asylum; where everything is clean and sterile, shadowy and creepy. It’s where she can burrow, sneaking away from her nightmares that haunt her even when she’s awake.Other: Anyone is welcome to make the random boy that visits her.
Name: Ethan Jacob WheelerAge: 14DOB: 15 AugustGender: MaleOrientation: StraightAppearance: A shock of straw-blonde hair covers Ethan’s head, falling in a mess to the nape of his neck and into his eyes. Said eyes are a soft sapphire blue glimmering with curiosity, knowledge, and the typical jumpiness of a young geek. These eyes are hidden, however, by rectangular black-framed glasses decorated here and there with random colored markers. Ethan’s never been that tall, hitting only about 5’5, not to mention lanky, and dressed in the kind of clothes that always draw the wrong attention- jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts with various nerdy slogans on them. The typical nerd, Ethan is. Perfect bully magnet. Personality: Ethan is, well, a geek. He is clever, friendly, fairly quiet, and always a little nervous of potential bullies. As a long-time potential victim of bullying he’s always afraid of attacks from anyone around him. Although a little jumpy Ethan is a smart boy, clever and sharp, just a little quirky and a fine talker as long as he’s with people who won’t shove him down a toilet.Likes: Clean glasses, Minecraft, Dr. Pepper, rubber band balls, the music by Fort Minor, Old coins, the artwork of Mike Shinoda.Dislikes: Wet notebooks, bullies, McDonald’s food, old 3D, loud cars, and vampire novels. Traits: When his glasses are dirty he’ll remove them and polish them on the hem of his shirt. Or even any time he's nervous or at an akward moment in a conversation.History: Ethan is the typical school geek. He’s the middle man in a family with four kids, the first one to complete a video game and a science fair champion three years in a row. As such, no duh, he was a natural bully magnet. Elementary school was torture. He was one of the most picked-on kids in the school, always on the edge. But one day, making his way as quietly as possible through the halls of the school, he heard something that made him incredibly curious. “They took her to the asylum… said that she couldn’t go into the light. She thinks she’s a vampire.” It caught his ear quite a bit, and curiosity got the best of him. That day, after school, he went to the asylum bent on seeing the vampire girl. It was such an alluring sight, one he stared at for the whole visiting hour every week. She was such a strange girl, one that he continued to look at week after week for years. He doesn’t understand her, but he longs to and that’s why he goes to visit so often. Current Placement: VisitorObsessions: Visiting Madeline every week. Watching the mysterious girl every week seems like a therapy of some sort, an escape from the tortures of school.Other:
Name~ Suzanne Elise Amaranta Willis Nickname~ SuzyAge~ ElevenDOB~ August fifth, 2000Gender~ GirlOrientation~ UndeterminedAppearance~ Upon first glance, Suzy probably wouldn't pass for a psychopath. Rather skinny, not unnaturally pale, hair neat and tidy, always well rested. On a good day, sometimes even her eyes will lose the look of a hardened maniac.Hair as black as midnight falls to her midback in sleek waves, though as an addict to hair styling Suzy tends to put it up in all sorts of crazy looks. Her eyes are relative to a kaleidoscope- shifting shades of green, blue, grey, and hazel and surrounded by thick lashes that correspond rather well with her pale, thin, deep-set face. She seems a truly sickly child, in fact- thin-lipped, quite pale, bony, and slightly flat-chested even for her age.But pray that that is the only side of little Suzy that you see. In one of her 'moods', when she can go from sweet to psycho with the touch of a finger, she is the stuff that can make any of the most stoic nurses panic. The expression of imminent terror, they call it- her eyes bug out, becoming a lot larger than normal. Thin lips part to reveal perfect teeth, bared in a psychotic grin. And leaning in towards you just a little, she gives it just a moment before she charges.Personality~ Hope and pray you only see the calm side of little Suzy. Although even that cannot be described as quite 'sane'. Although sweet, rather articulate, and quite creative, she is an incredibly stubborn child. Also prone to mood swings, overreacting, and immense exaggeration, she's grown a rather spoiled attitude as well seeing as her parents were rather well-to-do.But it's the other side that feeds nightmares. When she flashes the imminent terror look, nurses know to get her to the room. Before it's too late.In one of her moods, Suzy is violent. Uncontrollable. Prone to grabbing onto someone, primarily a boy, and not releasing her grip. Laughing maniacally, she is capable of doing things that no sane person could. Likes~ Hair styling, project runway, mySpace, Pokemon, Lady Gaga, and Bruno Mars.Dislikes~ Twilight, thrillers, mud puddles, rock music, the color grey, sci-fi, and grape soda. Traits~ When boredom arises, she tends to play with her hair. Randomly just braiding and unbraiding it, binding it with one of many hairties that decorate her thin arms.History~ Once, there was a little girl born to a perfect family in a big house in the suburbs. Her mommy and daddy were well-to-do people, with a perfectly manicured lawn and perfectly behaved kids named Suzanne and Willy, who both got perfect grades. Willy played soccer and Suzanne was the best in her orchestra class. The symptoms started small. Originally only whenever she had sugar of any kind, she'd get a little riled up. Especially after a long day.But when she almost strangled one of the boys in her class, hanging on to the back of his neck and not letting go, things started getting serious. Her parents scraped her sugar intake to the bare minimum, making sure she was never unsupervised. They didn't want their perfect reputation in the neighborhood ruined. Then it all blew up in their faces, not to mention in the worst possible way.Suzy and Willy and her parents were in the kitchen one evening, just enjoying themselves and playing around. Then Suzy, in the height of one of her fits, found the knife drawer. And just as Willy was running at her (they were playing tag, you know) she whipped out the fillet knife. After that, it was pandemonium. Willy collapsed on the floor with a bloody knife in his chest. Her father called the police, her mother the ambulance. No one could diagnose Suzy's condition. Something unexplainable. So they shipped her off to St. Peter's, abandoning her completely. At the time, little Suzy was just eight years old. Three years she's been in the asylum now, and her condition has not improved.Current Placement~ Patient- High securityObsessions~ Playing with her hair. When she's bored, when it gets messed up, when someone comments on it. She carries a mass of hairties on her arms, and she'll bind up her mane of black with anywhere from three to nine of them.Other~ She is still banned from sugar of any kind- especially kool-aid and popsicles. Liquid sugars are the worst for her condition, no doubt about it.
Name~ Azalea Clarisse DrakeNickname/akas~ ‘Z’ by her brother, ‘Zalea for shortAge~ SixteenDOB~ 26 DecemberGender~ FemaleOrientation~ StraightAppearance~ Hello.Can’t we get it over with and just say that this gal’s a hooka? It’s in her posture, her garb, her hairstyling, her attitude. There are quite a few very bad words that can be used to describe Azalea- hooker’s the least harsh.Long, raven-black hair is her defining point- the difference between her and her twin. It flows down to her shoulder blades in thick sleek waves, commonly down and arranged in a way that flatters her perfectly. Now and again it’ll cover her eyes- bright, alluring orbs of green wreathed by thick lashes- but it isn’t often.Curves? Perfection. All the right places, all the perfect thicknesses. And Azalea ain’t afraid to show it, as demonstrated by her wardrobe. She’s a mid-height girl, about 5’7, and weighs in at a perfect 120 pounds. Personality~ There are quite a few bad words that can describe Azalea, and she’s used them to describe others as much as they describe her. Honestly, I’d have to put b/tch right there at the top.She’s a hooka, she’s a cusser, she’s a half-sized can of aerosol pepper spray waiting for a target. And she dreams of murder. No, she hasn’t yet actually murdered. But she looks at it in the principle of a voodoo doll. Create a look-alike- then destroy it brutally. Sometimes it’s a simple drawing, sometimes it’s a human-shaped item of food, sometimes it’s literally a stuffed doll made to look like the one she hates. But she always wants to kill. And trust me- one day she will. Someone with her determination is bound to get the prize. Likes~ Murder, dreams of murder, skintight clothes, designer shoes, vamp novels, Lady Gaga.Dislikes~ Rock’n’roll, tasteless morons, overprotective (in her opinion) nurses, and someone who keeps her away from her bloodlust.Traits~ This girl cusses. A lot.History~ It’s hard to say when this all started, but let’s go back to the beginning. Azalea and Alexander were born to a quiet house, to kind parents, with everything they could want. Azalea showed promise in her drawing early, and when it became available was enrolled in a school for the arts. It was probably around her seventh birthday that it actually started. Imagine the scene: The children with their mother in the kitchen, icing some gingerbread men. Then mother looks over at Azalea, and she’s relishing in the devouring of her cookie- bit by bit, first the arms, then the head, then all the way down to the legs. “What are you doing?” She asked, a little shocked.“I’m pretending this is Joey Wheeler.”The school bully. Azalea was pretending to eat the school bully. And relishing in it. Concerned parents went to the principle, and the principle went to the guidance counselor, and the guidance counselor went to Azalea. And she started to draw him- and gruesome representations of the guidance counselor in her notebook weren’t exactly child-friendly. It got worse as time passed, though. Anyone who’d bothered her, even once before apologizing, got drawn. Her sketchpad was swiftly filled with bloody, intensely macabre drawings of teachers, students, random strangers- anyone. Or she ate them, or tore them to bits. It all depended on how angry she was at them and how much paper she had.Her parents were bound to find out eventually. Just about the same time as Alexander was busted, her parents found her notebook laying around. Immediately they were shocked by the gruesomeness- but then they saw the names. Inscribed on every drawing was a name, whether it was a real name or the title of ‘Stranger’. Now seriously concerned, they spoke to St. Peter’s about having both of their children enrolled. It was doable, and the nine-year-old twins were put into the Asylum. Azalea’s been there seven years- her issues have not improved.Current Placement~ Patient- Medium securityObsessions~ Drawing renditions of her enemies. None of them are the same- but the macabre touch is always there. There’s always a touch of blood, sometimes from a knife or a bullet or any way of making them die. Azalea doesn’t truly get violent with her hated ones- but her dreams of it are only too vivid.Other~RELATIONSHIPS~Alexander~ Azalea’s twin- and a fellow inmate. His symptoms are similar, but not identical. Violence? Definitely. (To be posted later)
Name~ Alexander James DrakeNickname/akas~ 'Xander, XAge~ SixteenDOB~ 26 DecemberGender~ MaleOrientation~ StraightAppearance~ He wants out...Attractive certainly runs in the family. Although he doesn't flatter it half as much as his sister, Alexander is quite the looker.Black hair falls to just the nape of his neck, always perfectly brushed back. It fluffs out a little, just a little, and covers his ears completely. Eyes differ from his twin's in that they are a deep chocolate brown, but they still glitter with the intensity of a potential murderer. Thick lashes accessorize them, and although on a boy they still look good. It's slightly more obvious in Alexander's face that there is a bit of Hispanic in the bloodline- olive skin, high cheekbones, and the face shape show it well. Not to mention his amazing tan and his height, which is a rather unusual 5'9.Personality~ Alexander is definitely not his sister, no matter how much alike they look. More serene, calm, friendlier and less violent. But he still has potential. His darker side, combined with an analytical mindset, not to mention his love for sharp objects, make people think of a serial killer when they talk to him no matter how friendly he's being.Likes~ Sharp objects, classic rock, quiet afternoons, a non-b/tchy sister. Dislikes~ Embarrassing moments, irritable nurses, losing his knives, getting negative feedback about his sister (Although he's used to it), and mainstream music.Traits~ General silence- he talks little.History~ Xander's life starts in the same place as Azalea's. In fact, it starts four minutes prior to hers- he's the elder twin, and all his life he's been told it shows.It's easy to track Alexander's obsession to the source and date. It started the day that his grandfather gave him his first pocketknife. A simple Swiss Army knife, with three blades and a screwdriver. His family were iffy about it- a four-year-old getting a knife? But his grandfather talked them into it. It was only two inches long, after all. And he'd make sure it didn't hurt anyone. So his parents relented, and Alexander got his knife. "Take good care of it," his grandpa instructed, "And make sure you never lose it." Alexander took this immensely seriously. He polished it and cleaned it and sharpened it and... tested it. The first time he watched the red blood dripping from his fingertip, he was awed. But it was more the sharp feeling of the blade than the blood. The addiction continued, and by the time he was nine he had over twenty knives that he'd scraped together. But sadly it was a secret, and when his parents caught the nine-year-old in his room with a bloody hand and a box of knives, they freaked. Soon enough his sister's notebook was found, and the two were off to St. Peter's. His condition has not yet improved.Current Placement~ Patient- Medium SecurityObsessions~ His knives. He actually managed to smuggle one in seven years ago, and he keeps it in pristine condition.Other~RELATIONSHIPS~Azalea~ Xander's twin sister and fellow inmate. Her obsession may not be knives, but it was enough to land her here.
Name~ Viktor Joshua KirkeNickname/akas~ VikAge~ 18DOB~ 25 MayGender~ Male Orientation~ StraightAppearance~ Appreciate it while it lasts- that smile won't last long.I see you.Let a man have his peace.It seems that Viktor hasn’t done much to his English appearance since he left his old home. Hair is still cut like it was, style is still what it was then. Hair a deep brown, almost black, falls to the top of his shoulders in thick natural waves that are pushed neatly out of his face and over his ears. A shadow of dark stubble lingers, covering his chin and giving him faint sideburns.Eyes a deep chocolate brown peep from between narrow lids, framed by thin lashes and slightly arched eyebrows that are somewhat masculine anyway. More often than not they glimmer with suppressed grief, but sometimes a smile will break free. A strong face matches finely with a strong build complete with the strong jaw, broad shoulders, and firm build of a full-grown man fresh out of youth. Viktor is quite tall- almost six feet, and muscular from his years of working out back in England.Personality~ Upbringing in a well-to-do home has left Viktor with a chivalrous attitude and good education, leaving him courteous and logical in interaction. Clever too and incredibly logical, definitely not one to venture into something without thinking. Yet year-round care for Cassandra has left him stressed for her wellbeing not to mention anguished, and when he noticed he immediately locked them away to prevent their becoming a liability. All the rest of his emotions went too, leaving him a polite but utterly emotionless young man.Likes~ The work of Charles Dickens, classic rock, hot coffee in the mornings, quiet afternoons under the peach tree, and calligraphy.Dislikes~ American government compared to British, mainstream pop, American football, sour candies, clutter, and Cassandra’s harder days.Traits~ He has deliberately maintained his British accent, and it comes up clearly when he speaks.History~ Well, I’m sure you already know Vik is an Englishman. His parents were incredibly well-to-do, and he was an only child raised in a big house in London. Sadly, even opulence has its downsides- it was more for image than anything else that the dark-haired child born to Emiline Kirke was kept. Viktor Joshua Kirke was christened in the June of 1993, and after that put in the care of a nanny as his parents went about their daily business. When he was four, he was quickly put in a private primary school where he remained until he was eleven, and then he proceeded into secondary school where he met her.On his first day of secondary school he met Cassandra Kaine, a veritable princess in the eyes of an eleven-year-old boy. Fair-haired, sweet-voiced, and as well-to-do as his family but much more cared for. The two swiftly became fast friends, and actually started dating in the summer of his fourth year. Sadly, the happy pair’s life was not to last. In Viktor’s fifth year, there was an attack at the school. A shooter fired directly across the line of windows on the right side of the school’s fourth floor, which happened to be where he and Cassandra were studying. Viktor was unharmed, but Cassandra was caught in the line of fire and shot twice in the chest. She survived- but never the same.The girl became paranoid. Jumpy. Unable to attend school due to fear, and sent into a panic at the sight of firearms or the law enforcement officers on every corner of a London street. Her parents were incredibly concerned, and when her condition did not improve they decided to send her down to a well-known asylum in America known as ‘St. Peter’s.’ When Cassandra left, Viktor was heartbroken. Immediately he approached his parents and asked to visit America on grounds of helping Cassandra. To his shock, the Kirkes refused with flying colors.“You are the son of the most proficient business man in London! I won’t have our reputation tarnished by a son that wants to run off and help his crackpot girlfriend.” The way his father spoke of Cassie was infuriating. Direct refusal was the next thing to come, and the sixteen-year-old boy was swift to pack his bags and the amount of money he’d been piling up over the years. After that, he left. Without regrets. Regardless of the fact that his parents threatened to disown him, he journeyed to America and there he stayed. The first thing he did was go to St. Peter’s and visit Cassandra. The girl was overjoyed to see him, and when he discovered her condition was getting worse- in fact, she was unthinkably paranoid now- he immediately got himself a room at the asylum and took a position as her personal caregiver. Two years have passed since his arrival in America, with him working an alternate job off of asylum hours to pay his bills and caring for Cassandra all the rest of the time. Current Placement~ Volunteer- Cassandra’s special caregiver.Obsessions~ Calligraphy. The concentration and delicacy involved is an excellent stress release, and during his spare time he’ll grab his personal pen and leather-bound notebook to write.Fair yet so fragile...His pen is a British creation, and the last birthday present his parents gave him before he left England permanently.Other~ Viktor has no contact with his parents save the unsigned Christmas cards he gets every year. Any active member is welcome to make Cassandra- PM me to work out the details.RELATIONSHIPS~Cassandra Kaine~ His once-was girlfriend and fellow brit, not to mention the channel for all his care. His affections have turned more brotherly, it seems, and truly they never really kissed before the gunner's bullets left her a frightened little girl.
Name~ Moire (Moy-rah) Amiree Spinnet Nickname/akas~ TBAAge~ SeventeenDOB~ 29 MayGender~ FemaleOrientation~ StraightAppearance~ The gods are waiting.They want out.Well, if anything Moire can certainly pose as the asylum’s poster child. She certainly looks the part of a mentally handicapped person- continually tousled hair, distant eyes, the continual mutterings. Eyes the color of burnt hazel are always drawn from reality, sometimes glazed over in thought or hallucination. Her hair always looks like she’s rolled out of bed after a nightmare- tangled and matted in all the wrong places, frequently unwashed. When neat (which is far from often) it falls about down to her breastbone in loose black curls.Delicate face is slightly heart-shaped, eyes framed with arched brows and thick lashes. Neck when seen is slender and womanly, jaw line delicate. Lips are a light coral-pink and often turned into a distant frown, lessening the beauty of an otherwise pretty face.Moire is tiny. Standing at a meager 5’3, weighing in at just 100 pounds, incredibly pale and bony into the bargain. sometimes it’s a wonder she manages to stay on her feet. More often than not dark circles indicate lack of sleep, but some say this is lessening. Few agree. Personality~ Some (Many, in truth) wonder why the heck Moire is still alive- after all these years in the asylum, nothing about her has changed. Mood is ever-distant, opinions indifferent. She is almost emotionless, hardly sociable unless jerked out of her absent aura.‘Tis a shame that the younger Moire did not stay- the bright, friendly child that was more social than one could imagine the current Moire. It would have been better for her to stay that way. Likes~ Any representation of the Greek gods- she hordes them. Another thing that she’s managed to keep after her transformation- she loves grape soda. For some unusual reason.Dislikes~ Being kept away from what she wants to do, losing her gods, and being pressed into stressful activity.Traits~ She carries a ballpoint pen in her pocket at all times, and that’s what she uses to draw her phrase everywhere she goes.History~ Understanding Moire is difficult. But hey- let’s just start at the beginning and go from there.She was born to a major in Celtic mythology and a major in Greek mythology in the year 1994. Her mother, the Celtic major, gave her the name Moire and her father as the Greek major gave her her middle name. As scholars her parents were successful, keeping the house warm and stomachs full. And of course, she naturally grew up knowing a lot about mythology.But that was all it was, until Moire was thirteen. It was the day that her father finally cracked and took her along to the museum where he worked, and the day that a very special statue was brought for examination and display. It turned out to be a statue of the god Apollo, shaped from perfect white marble and with an incredibly lifelike quality even for its time period. It was pure white- unpainted like some. Several people complained that they’d heard something inside it, but thirteen-year-old Moire ignored the talk and approached the statue. And then, foolishly, she looked into its eyes.The first thing she heard was the voices. Then the images- then the one flash of writing going across her vision.Οι θεοί θα πρέπει να ελευθερωθεί. At the time, she didn’t know what it meant. But that hardly mattered as the images stopped and she crumpled to the floor.Later, reports from bystanders said she’d frozen in place staring into the statue’s eyes. For a few moments she’d just stood there rigidly, then collapsed. Her father took her home, and they thought she’d be okay.Then the hallucinations started. The same visions she’d seen in the god’s eyes: The twelve gods of Olympus, snatches of Greek writing, words in an unknown language. She was never able to remember them long enough to explain them to her parents- until she started writing one on the walls.For some reason, her mother wasn’t surprised. Neither was her father. Quickly translating them, he related them to his wife alone and explained the situation. “Possible hallucinations- something Greek. Definitely happened in the museum.” Mrs. Spinnet knew better than to argue, and they quickly agreed to send her to St. Peter’s for treatment. Four years has passed since the museum, and not only has she not improved but she’s declined. Despite her parent’s care they wound up neglecting their daughter, and now she has no visitors. Just declining into certain mental breakdown, she wanders the halls of the asylum.Current Placement~ Patient- Medium securityObsessions~ To the confusion of everyone else on their meaning, she has a tendency to write the phrase she supposedly ‘saw’ in the statue’s eyes everywhere she can. Anything that’s still for more than three seconds is go- her clothes, the walls of her room, all over her skin. It’s not surprising to catch her doodling it on couch cushions or tablecloths.Other~ In all their mysterious glory…Οι θεοί θα πρέπει να ελευθερωθείUpon enrolling her Mr. Spinnet revealed that the letters mean "The Gods must be freed", which rather fits in with her connection with Apollo. No one knows for sure what happened or how as of yet.RELATIONSHIPS~
Name~ Emmiline Ava MinstrelNickname/akas~ Em, EmmyAge~ SixteenDOB~ Thirty-first OctoberGender~ FemaleOrientation~ UndeterminedAppearance~ Top Hat!Hair Net.Cookie. Or two?Tricycle?A once-was brunette, Emmiline has since run a can of magenta hair dye through her chocolaty brown locks. Now it falls just to her shoulder blades in pinkish-red locks, parted neatly off to the side of her heart-shaped face. Brown eyes are framed by thick lashes and arched eyebrows that show the previous color of her hair, neatly tweezed like any teenage girl’s eyebrows. Emmy is a small girl, only hitting about 5’4, but she’s also weighted moderately enough that she doesn’t look unhealthy. She weighs about 110 pounds, curved delicately. A sweet smile is always painted on tiny carnation-pink lips, and more often than not eyebrows are risen in a quirky expression of surprise. Her wardrobe reflects a quirky attitude: short but well-flared dresses, bright socks, glittery fabrics, and vibrant jewelry. Brightly painted fingernails and eyeliner applied as thickly as possible add to this.Personality~ Emmy is a quirky child. She hasn’t grown into her teenage maturity yet, still into her more childish state of mind. In the daytime she’s friendly, a little wary, but only too cheerful. Emmiline is a people person, it’s all too clear. She also tends to be a little gullible, which has wound up her undoing.It’s the nighttime that makes Emmiline so paranoid, ready to scream at the slightest sound or shadow. They haven’t really managed to understand her fear, or to clear it. Her fears are a little more than accelerated in the nighttime, or whenever the darkness threatens something she can’t see. Likes~ Grape soda, being warm, colored markers, PIXAR movies, K-Pop, Nerd candies, hats, and the TV show Glee. Dislikes~ Singing (She’s terrible at it), suspenseful movies of any kind at all, antisocialists, politics, and diet sodas.Traits~ She’s always wearing a hat, for one thing. For another, she never even bothers to try the goop they serve in the cafeteria for meals. History~ Before starting, let’s just clear up a few things.First, Emmiline’s mother was very paranoid about everyone in her family being in bed by nine o’clock each night. Even on new year’s, mind you. Secondly, the bedrooms occupied by her and her elder brother were connected by a single closet. Third- Joey Minstrel loved keeping his younger sister on his toes.Emmy’s early years were fairly normal. Her family was middle-class, her school about average, and her parents loving. Sadly, things like this never last and this one poofed in her ninth year. One night while Mr. and Mrs. Minstrel were out, the babysitter decided to let the two watch a movie. Ironically enough, it was Monsters Inc. Not that bad, right? To the gullible nine-year-old child, it was her undoing.The babysitter started the movie a little late, for one thing. They hadn’t even seen Boo before the children’s parents returned and called the movie off. The sitter took her movie home, and they never saw it again. The second problem was Emmy’s own gullibility. Having seen only enough of the movie to see Scareers in action, it only encouraged her childish fear of the monsters in her closet.Emmiline’s third problem was Joey. Her thirteen-year-old brother found his sister’s fear a perfect outlet for his own sadistic nature, beginning to torture the nine-year-old with his own brutality. He started with the normal stuff: whispers before bed, growls in the heating vents, the works. Then he finally broke the dam with his ultimate prank.Ten-year-old Emmy had been sent to bed, and an hour had passed so Joey could be sure his parents were asleep. Emmy wouldn’t be asleep, he knew- she was far too alert and wary of the monsters. Donning a Halloween mask, he added his old monster pajamas into the mix and hid in the closet that joined their bedrooms. He started the routine with a few growls, venting his amusement into the ruse. He wasn’t disappointed when her fear increased, and then a few whimpers escaped the girl’s lips. His inner brute encouraged he growled again, and then with this unusual glee he slid the doors open. The roars and screams that followed could have been from any little kids playing at monsters- but Emmy’s screams were too panicked and Joey’s laughs of glee too loud. But it was the snapping for the poor girl- the final breaking point.After the last prank, childish fear grew to paranoia. Nightmares spilled into her waking world, increasing into the hallucinations of a crazed girl. Her parents had already been concerned- but when the Minstrels caught her poised with a knife above her chest they were a little more than just concerned. Investigations ensued, and the Minstrels finally unearthed little Emmiline’s fears. The monsters. She claimed that perhaps when she died, they’d stop coming and leave her family alone. Then Joey finally decided to come clean, and the fourteen-year-old let his secrets loose. The pranks, the pain, the whispers. And then the bullying at school. The peer pressure, the anguish, the down casting. The hunt for an outlet that he finally found in his frightened sister. So things were decided: Joey was sent to a student counselor, and Emmiline was sent to St. Peter’s.Six years have passed finally, and amazingly she’s improved if but a little. Hallucinations and nightmares have calmed, and her parents tend to visit now and again. Joey visited, once. He came and stood on the other side of the visitor’s glass looking at her, simply mouthing the words “I’m sorry” before turning away. She never saw him again, although her parents frequently speak of him during their visits. Current Placement~ Patient- Low SecurityObsessions~ Hats. Emmiline finds in them a security, the feeling of a firm covering on her head and sometimes over her eyes. She has at least a dozen hats stowed in her closet, one on her head at all times. Another is keeping away from the monsters- or so she thinks. The doctors have diagnosed her with mild schizophrenia into the bargain, and no one has been surprised. Other~RELATIONSHIPS~
Name: Chloe StricklandGender: FemaleAge: 15Appearance: Chloe is always told she looks older than she is. With her dark mahogany hair and skin followed by her long legs. She’s 5’6; pretty tall for her age. She almost always has her hair yanked back in a messy bun, or a neat ponytail. Maybe even a braid; but that’s only when she’s in a good enough mood to fix her hair. Her eyes are sea foam green, very light and pale. If you look close enough, you might find that there are gorgeous flecks of blue and gold, making them brilliant in the sunlight. Chloe likes smearing on a light layer of Glitter Gloss on her lips, usually strawberry or cotton candy flavor. Good morning, sunshine...Sassy girl.Kiss me?Orientation: StraitPersonality:Even though Chloe might not look too friendly at times, she can be the bubbliest girl you’ve ever met. Whenever something exciting happens, she’s right there with everyone, jumping up and down. When something good happens to her, or she can’t wait for something, Chloe likes to clap and squeal. Some people think she’ annoying and that makes her sad.Chloe is very sensitive with her feelings and if someone bullies her, she might just burst out in tears right there and then. She hates when people are mean to others. History:Chloe’s mother and father knew she was special from the day she was born. Born to Suzanne and Martin Strickland, she was their first child, followed by her little sister Melody. She lived with her family for four years in Australia and after that, they moved to America so Martin could take on his promotion. When Chloe was four years old, she began babbling about stars being born after her mother dropped two pans together; making a loud ringing noise.Suzanne dismissed it as nothing, as her daughter was just a child. After they moved, they enrolled Chloe into school. That’s when everything went downhill for the darling girl. Her teacher asked her to repeat the alphabet when Chloe started talking about how A was the color blue and violet mixed together; it was calm, confident and always in control. B is female. A southern belle. She named each letter followed by a color and its own personality, and that’s when everyone started to worry.She would tell her friends that the black numbers on their tests were so pretty. Her friends asked her why, and she answered with colors. Suzanne took her to a doctor and he told them she had synesthesia. Cleo is able to see black and white in color, and everything at a different perspective. Her mother didn’t like this. Chloe’s father wasn’t allowed to make a decision. Suzanne was always bullying him into agreeing with her. That’s when Cleo was put in St. Peter’s, at the age of eight. Suzanne said that Chloe was crazy; a failure.Current Placement: Patient; low securityObsessions: Music. Chloe is obsessed with music and is always humming or whistling. She constantly writes new songs and bangs them out on her keyboard.Other: She speaks with an Australian accent.
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