Post by Georges Couthon on Jan 6, 2008 21:35:35 GMT -5
The Roleplayer
Name: Vexy!
Contacts: E-mail: mezzo.elle@gmail.com
AIM: BurntOutEnds@aim.com
Roleplaying Experience: Seven or eight years now.
Activity Level: Fairly active, as long as college doesn't get in the way.
Favorite Book(s): I have dozens, but here are a few:
Cat's Cradle- Kurt Vonnegut
Lullaby- Chuck Palahniuk
The Poisonwood Bible- Barbara Kingsolver
Grendel- John Gardner
No Exit- Jean-Paul Sartre
In Cold Blood- Truman Capote
Silent Spring- Rachel Carson
The Keys of the Kingdom- A. J. Cronin
The Waste Land- T. S. Eliot
The Bell Jar- Sylvia Plath
The Time Machine- H.G. Wells
...can you tell I love reading?
The Character
Full Name: Evelyn Nora O'Brien
Nicknames: Lynn, Ms. O'Brien (at work).
Age: 26
Side: Neutral- she's not sure which side she's on, as she often has to represent criminals in courts and, at times, becomes friends with them (usually those charged with misdemeanors such as petty theft or vandalism).
What are they? Lynn is a siren, but a rather diluted one after years of interbreeding with the human race. The sound of her voice alone cannot command someone to do something, but it can provide a very powerful suggestion. Many criminals have gone free because of this little talent she has; however, she's made a few (female) enemies in the process. Those that are of a different race (werewolf, vampire, etc.) are not affected by her power of persuasion.
Occupation: Defense Lawyer.
Physical Characteristics
Height: 5’0"
Weight: 105 lbs
Build: Slim, slight. She's quite petite, but she keeps her physique in check by spending hours in the gym three days a week and running three miles every morning.
Eyes: A dark, warm hazel-brown. They're quite wide and enticing in an almost childlike way.
Hair: A very distinct color of orange-red: something that's definitely noticed in a crowd and probably her most prominent feature. The color is a definite signifier of her Irish/Scottish heritage. It's cropped to her shoulders, and, though she straightens it in the morning, it keeps a natural wave most of the time. Naturally, her hair is extremely wild in an almost untamed sort of way.
Skin color: A porcelain, fair color, which she keeps unburnt with a routine of strong sunscreen every day. Occasionally, she gets a dusting of freckles along her shoulders. Again, it's indicative of her strong heritage.
Face
Distinguishing Features: As a siren, she's got a very memorable, attractive face. Her wide, round eyes give an air of innocence (though she is anything but), topped by long lashes and well-groomed eyebrows. Her cheekbones are high, round, and regal, with a natural pink flush; they balance out her wide, rounded jaw. Her nose is small and upturned slightly, adding to her delicate features. She has full, plump lips that she occasionally bites at when she's thinking.
Dress?
Favorite clothing: Tailored, fitted business suits that flatter her figure. Again, she knows she's rather attractive, so she has no problem flaunting it with skirts that are tight but not sluttish, satin blouses that she leaves unbuttoned at the first few buttons, and well-fitted jackets that she leaves undone most of the time. Often times, she'll wear heels (because she's only five feet tall) that are a quite high, along with real silk stockings. If she's not in suits, her favorite thing to be in is formalwear: little black dresses, evening gowns, and cocktail dresses (though she doesn't get the occasion to wear them except at functions and fundraisers for her firm).
[b[Least favorite clothing:[/b] Ratty old workout clothes. Though she wears them at the gym, she hates being seen in them. They make her feel grungy and rather disgusting. Her pride is in appearing as a classy woman, and in clothes that she regularly sweats in, class seems to be gone. She also hates wearing things that cross the line from sexy to sluttish unless she's wearing lingerie.
Jewelry: Much of her jewelry changes with her outfit, but there is one thing she keeps constant. It's a necklace that was given to her on her sixteenth birthday, when her mother informed her of her siren heritage. It's a thin chain with a small silver charm, delicately engraved with a celtic knot and set with a small emerald in the center.
Style (Elegant, shabby…): Extremely classy. She likes turning heads and she likes it when people feel that she's unattainable.
Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and Attitudes
Intelligence Level: High. She's obviously intelligent enough to have made it through Wellesley College's law school with honors and pass the BAR exam.
Biggest Weakness: Losing. She hates losing with a passion, particularly in court. If she does lose, it is a devastating experience for her and she usually has to take a few days off of work to recuperate. Lynn is rather spoiled- she's used to getting what she wants, when she wants it; and anything else is very upsetting to her.
Skills:
-Public speaking. Besides being able to persuade people with her voice, she has a natural knack for making powerful and moving speeches.
-Writing. When she was younger, she used to make up fantastic, enchanting stories and it seems that she hasn't lost the knack- though she never shows these writings to anyone.
Downfalls:
-Physical strength. Though she trains at the gym, Lynn is still a very small person and as a very small person, she's weaker than most others.
-Math. While she managed to pass her college math courses, it was only through "persuading" her male professors. Now, she pays someone to do things like taxes and she probably wouldn't know if you short-changed her at the supermarket.
Strengths:
-She's extremely self-confident: she knows she's beautiful and she knows that, most of the time, she finds a way to get what she wants.
-She's crafty. Though this is kind of a required trait for a lawyer, she's able to think outside the box and make odd connections that are usually key in getting her clients' cases dismissed.
-She's got a fairly good sense of humor and likes to joke around- as long as it's not at her expense, of course.
-She's extremely focused. Once she knows what she wants, she pursues it wholeheartedly until it's hopeless or she gets it.
Flaws:
-She's arrogant. Sure, at times her self-confidence can be a good thing, but it's a double-edged sword that often gets on others' nerves.
-She's a very, very sore loser. If she loses in court (which is a rarity) she'll often take days off of work to recover from it and will hold a grudge against her opposition for a very long time.
-She's extremely impatient during day to day things. She hates waiting in lines and feels like she's got more of a right or a privilege than others to do things.
-This almost goes without saying, but she's manipulative. If one were to condense most of Lynn's characteristics, one would realize that she's a spoiled brat who loves getting what she wants and doesn't particularly care who she hurts to get it. She's the center of her own universe.
-She's promiscuous, but then again, she's a siren.
-She fears emotional attachment. Relationships are a no-no for her.
Oddities/Habits:
-She taps her right foot when she's impatient or nervous, but never her left.
-She takes two showers a day- once after her run and once after she gets home.
-Her purse is always equipped with a plethora of beauty supplies.
-She chews at her lip when she's feeling annoyed or is thinking deeply.
-Her right eyebrow tends to twitch when she's extremely upset.
Likes:
-being in court
-winning
-makeup and beauty
-being competitive, particularly with her older sister
-jury selection
-sex
-touching people/being touched
-running, even if it does get her sweaty
-fine food
-fine wine
-expensive clothing
-formalwear
-heels
-turning heads
-trashy romance novels
-true crime novels
-jazz music; particularly big band swing
-going out to clubs
-chick flicks
-action movies
-zombie movies
-people that smell nice
-men with deep voices
-dogs
-chinchillas
-her pet parrot, Nobie
-live theater
Dislikes:
-rain
-snow
-being cold
-rap music
-country music
-cheap sheets
-cheap clothes
-bad lawyers
-people that win over her
-men who have longer hair than her
-historical fiction novels
-bad horror movies
-gross comedies
-fake jewelry
-people that get in her way
-greasy skin
-greasy hair
-not having her nails or her hair or her makeup done
-spicy food
-traffic
-snakes
-any kind of insect
-lizards
-being injured
-sunburn
-losing anything
-ill-fitting clothes
-feeling intimidated or out of control
-being sweaty outside of the bed
-children
-being "involved" with anyone romantically
History:
Evelyn was born on January 8th, 1982, to two very happy parents, after a tumultuous pregnancy and an emergency C-section at the Carney Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts.
Her mother, Dr. Kelly McLaughlin-O'Brien, was a dentist, working full time up until the near the time of her birth. She had met Evelyn's father (Joseph O'Brien) at a convention when she was 34- he was a salesperson for dental chairs, and, by her own reminiscence, "a rather greasy but stubborn guy". Her mother often told the story of how, when first approached by Joseph, she turned him down immediately and told him to clean up a bit before he could even speak to her.
Two years later, after months of searching, a much more refined Joseph turned up on Kelly's doorstep, and the rest was, as they say, was history.
Their first child was another girl, born a year and a half before Evelyn: Kassidy Maura. And Kassidy hadn't wanted a baby sister- no way, no how.
So from the day she was born, Evelyn had a sibling rivalry to deal with.
The two were always at each other's necks, fighting and squabbling. If Kassidy made a tower of blocks, Evelyn knocked it over. If Evelyn made a finger-painting, Kassidy ripped it up. Though there was no reasonable explanation for it, there was always bad blood between the two girls; something that baffled their parents for years and years.
When the two started school, Kassidy was always the smarter one. Evelyn only kept her grades up to compete with her sibling- otherwise, she was busy making friends and being a social butterfly. Even as a child, she recognized the ability to get what she wanted- if she inflected her voice a certain way, people tended to bend to her whim. Her sister, however, never did; and Evelyn made it her life's mission to make her older sibling's life absolutely miserable, particularly when the two hit high school Often, Evelyn would bat her eyelashes and ask gangs of older boys to heckle her sister or even beat her up, depending on how bad of a mood Lynn was in that day. And Kassidy was just as bad- Lynn often found spiders or snakes in her locker and there were always nasty rumors about her private life- that she did the entire football team, that she'd been arrested for prostitution once... the list went on.
It got so bad that the fighting began to spread to their parents. One day, Evelyn came downstairs and her father had his bags packed- and Kassidy with him.
What a glorious day! Evelyn was ecstatic that her sister was leaving, even if she was going to miss her father and her mother seemed forlorn. It was the first and only time she'd ever smiled in a non-malicious way towards her sister. It was also the year that her mother spilled the secret to Lynn that she was, in fact, a siren; and her sister was too.
The two didn't see each other for almost ten years after that, ten long years of being a spoiled only child for both of them.
Evelyn graduated from her high school near the top of her class, and immediately shipped herself off to the University of Connecticut- where she was far enough away so she could live on her own and do what she liked (not that she didn't anyway) but close enough to visit her mother. Her college days were carefree, with a lot of sex, drugs, rock and roll, and parties. Her grades were unimpressive in her first year, but she quickly figured out that she could put her power of manipulating people to good use by becoming a lawyer- that's what they did anyway, right?
Graduating from UConn a year early in 2002, she decided to stay closer to home for law school. While Harvard was her first choice, she didn't get in because of her freshman grades, so she settled for going to Wellesley- a college with a very good law school. The only problem Lynn had with it was the fact that it was an all girl's school. Most of her night she spent on neighboring campuses, where she could find, meet, and manipulate young impressionable men.
Her first job offer was in Shawl as soon as she graduated in 2006, magna cum laude, as a defense lawyer. Her chosen field was criminal defense because it gave her a rush in mock trials to get an innocent conviction, even if the criminal was guilty. It was a sense of power she had over the lives of everyone else in a city, to let a criminal go free. Even though it was dangerous, most were grateful to her, so she felt no fear of attack; and she didn't care about everyone else. They could rot in hell for all she cared.
Her current job allows her a very liberal salary, like most lawyers, especially since her conviction rate for criminals is so low.
How does she fit? Well, she's a defense lawyer. She'll probably butt heads with the police force and the detectives more than once, particularly in court. Plus, she defends the criminals, which gives interaction there.
Roleplay Sample: If there was one thing she hated, it was being out of control. Okay, so most people hated that but she hated it more than others. She supposed that being a workaholic with a God complex (it went hand in hand with being one of the top surgeons in the Northeast) made it that much worse, but it wasn't something she was going to complain about. No. She was a doctor. She wasn't going to berate someone innocent- she was finding herself someone to blame, and then... then the slaughter would begin.
A small hand shoved itself through ginger-colored hair, which for some reason she had bothered to style in the morning, before she had left for this place which, she reasoned, was her own personal refuge, changed into her own personal hell. However, the styling was moot, as her hair was tucked beneath a scrubcap. The strands that did manage to escape were just the wrong shade between orange and brown.
Usually, her skin would be covered with freckles, but the good doctor had covered those "miniature abominations" (as she called them) with makeup; also hiding the bruise-like circles that seemed to nest themselves under her wide, almost-childlike eyes. However, the illusion of youth was ruined by the faint lines of crow's feet around the corners (she had already gone through the whole "oh my god, I'm aging" phase long ago, and now just dealt with the fact that she wasn't in her early twenties anymore).
Hey, she was supposed to be one of the best. Might as well look it- or at least attempt to.
Bluntly put, she was scrawny, and not in the delicate, attractive way- in the undersized, sickly way. She had always been of a petite size, but, being an on-call attending at an urban hospital had deprived the young lady of more than a few meals over the years, and now she barely had any meat on her at all. Sure, she could try to hide this flaw as well with a push-up bra and a pair of stilettos, but it didn't really do anything when it was under the untailored scrubs and the pristine white labcoat she constantly had wrapped around her frame.
Ah, her labcoat. Her pride and joy- well, joys, as she had about five of them; three in the hospital and two for her own personal use, a 'just in case' sort of thing. It was just like any of the other labcoats worn in a hospital, only it lacked the stains and smells of chemicals, but that wasn't what she loved. What she loved was the monogram that rested on the right side of her chest.
"Dr. Alexandria Flynn, MD
Head of Neurosurgery
Carney Hospital"
Ah, to be the head of Neurosurgery- it was a glorious thing; and here it was, proudly displayed in royal blue script on her beloved coat- all she had to do for an (usually unnecessary) ego boost was look at the coat and be reminded about just how damn good she was. It was her lifeline. Said coat was unbuttoned as raced towards the ER after the "911" page, her sneakers squeaking against the tile floor- yes, pumps were the preferred manner of footwear for someone as short as her, but being on stilettos for twenty-nine hours at a time wasn't healthy and it certainly wasn't comfortable. This hadn't been a good day thus far, anyway.
Of course, her morning hadn't started off well, either- though it had started much earlier.
Twenty-nine hours earlier (7:00 AM):
"Dr. Flynn!"
Great. She had just gotten here and someone was calling her already. A resident- Moran. Jeff Moran, she discerned, after a very furtive glance at his nametag that he had, apparently, not noticed (or was too afraid to mention, which was funny, because he was easily three times her size).
"Make this quick, Moran. I have an open-brain biopsy at seven thirty and-"
"Already cancelled, ma'am."
"Excuse me? Someone cancelled my surgeries without consulting-"
"All surgeries have been pushed back, ma'am. There was a mass casualty incident about twenty minutes ago. We've been waiting for you to get here-"
"What kind?"
"What?" The resident stammered.
"What kind of mass casualty incident, Moran?"
"Oh. Uh. Shooting. Guy opened fire in a supermarket, shot himself in the head."
"How many?"
"We're not sure."
"That's all. Thank you."
"But-"
"Go, Moran. Go save lives." Flynn barked, already tired of this stammering mess of a surgeon.
When she got to the ER, with beds in the hallways and exam rooms being used as makeshift ORs for minor surgeries, she knew it was going to be a very, very long day.
At the time she had no idea how long.
Nineteen Hours Earlier (5:00 PM):
She had just come out of her second brain surgery in under ten hours. She was tired. She was cranky. And when she saw that poor, lost little first-year intern run up to her, holding an infant wrapped in a heating blanket, she knew that things were going to get a hell of a lot worse.
"What?" Her voice was snappy, edgy, and the intern flinched. Good.
"Ma'am- um. They- he was found in a dumpster, ma'am. His umbilical cord's still attached and-"
"And why isn't he in neonatal?"
"CT shows extensive internal injuries."
"Get me a surgical team-"
"I can't, ma'am. All the residents are in surgery, and the interns are down in the pit doing sutures."
"Just get me a team, a team of interns if you have to!" Her arms flailed about, nearly hitting the intern in the face. She was stressed, and it wasn't getting better. When the interns had gathered themselves (some nervously, some excitedly), she spoke calmly and clearly.
" I know this is an... unusual situation," her voice was calm and firm as she spoke to the unexperienced bunch before her, "but I am not letting this infant die, and neither are you. Are we clear?"
It had been a four hour surgery.
The baby had died on the table.
After the surgery ended, Dr. Flynn had calmly gone to the nurses' station, picked up the paperwork on the baby, and then had retreated back to her office.
Once she was there, she began to feed the paperwork and charts on the infant through a paper shredder.
Failure was not an option for her.
Present (12:00 PM)
Flynn bustled herself into the ER, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump again, like it always did with the impending thought of holding a scalpel, of cutting someone open. The shooting. More surgery. Her lack of sleep.
She was saving a life. That's what she had to remind herself of- she was saving lives here. That's what the scalpel was for, that all the blood and gore she saw wasn’t for nothing or for her own benefit.
A friend had warned her, long ago, about the numbness. Her resident during her surgical internship had told her, and she remembered. "Alex," she had said. "You have an edge. I respect that you have an edge." Monica. That had been her name. Monica Moitoso, a brilliant cardiothoracic surgeon. "But I've seen people go down your path. You keep your edge. Then you go numb. Then you self-destruct."
It was ironic, really. Ten or fifteen years ago, if her med-school self had seen this person she had become, she would have called it pathetic. Sure, she still had her edge, but it was different now. Her job was everything- she'd stabbed plenty of people in the back over the years to keep her own mistakes under wraps, and she wasn't stopping now.
Hell, she was rarely outside of the hospital /physically/, and almost every word she spoke was an order. A social life was out of the question. Alliances and allegiances were being thrown out the window daily, because surgery was all about getting ahead. And that’s really why she saved lives. To better herself. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that. That it wasn’t about the patients, about the lives. It was about the power, the thrill of playing God. And the higher up on the ladder she was, the more she could do that.
Surgery was all about power. And it was something she craved.
Which was why the thought of a person to be fixed in the ER was causing her heart to pump just a little faster- someone was going to give her the power over life or death, willingly, just because she had a little paper that said she'd passed the tests to become a surgeon.
For some reason, that little bit of knowledge always sent a rush of blood to her head.
Any last words? I'm pretty darn good with graphics if you need them- I'll gladly give you a sample if you ask.
Name: Vexy!
Contacts: E-mail: mezzo.elle@gmail.com
AIM: BurntOutEnds@aim.com
Roleplaying Experience: Seven or eight years now.
Activity Level: Fairly active, as long as college doesn't get in the way.
Favorite Book(s): I have dozens, but here are a few:
Cat's Cradle- Kurt Vonnegut
Lullaby- Chuck Palahniuk
The Poisonwood Bible- Barbara Kingsolver
Grendel- John Gardner
No Exit- Jean-Paul Sartre
In Cold Blood- Truman Capote
Silent Spring- Rachel Carson
The Keys of the Kingdom- A. J. Cronin
The Waste Land- T. S. Eliot
The Bell Jar- Sylvia Plath
The Time Machine- H.G. Wells
...can you tell I love reading?
The Character
Full Name: Evelyn Nora O'Brien
Nicknames: Lynn, Ms. O'Brien (at work).
Age: 26
Side: Neutral- she's not sure which side she's on, as she often has to represent criminals in courts and, at times, becomes friends with them (usually those charged with misdemeanors such as petty theft or vandalism).
What are they? Lynn is a siren, but a rather diluted one after years of interbreeding with the human race. The sound of her voice alone cannot command someone to do something, but it can provide a very powerful suggestion. Many criminals have gone free because of this little talent she has; however, she's made a few (female) enemies in the process. Those that are of a different race (werewolf, vampire, etc.) are not affected by her power of persuasion.
Occupation: Defense Lawyer.
Physical Characteristics
Height: 5’0"
Weight: 105 lbs
Build: Slim, slight. She's quite petite, but she keeps her physique in check by spending hours in the gym three days a week and running three miles every morning.
Eyes: A dark, warm hazel-brown. They're quite wide and enticing in an almost childlike way.
Hair: A very distinct color of orange-red: something that's definitely noticed in a crowd and probably her most prominent feature. The color is a definite signifier of her Irish/Scottish heritage. It's cropped to her shoulders, and, though she straightens it in the morning, it keeps a natural wave most of the time. Naturally, her hair is extremely wild in an almost untamed sort of way.
Skin color: A porcelain, fair color, which she keeps unburnt with a routine of strong sunscreen every day. Occasionally, she gets a dusting of freckles along her shoulders. Again, it's indicative of her strong heritage.
Face
Distinguishing Features: As a siren, she's got a very memorable, attractive face. Her wide, round eyes give an air of innocence (though she is anything but), topped by long lashes and well-groomed eyebrows. Her cheekbones are high, round, and regal, with a natural pink flush; they balance out her wide, rounded jaw. Her nose is small and upturned slightly, adding to her delicate features. She has full, plump lips that she occasionally bites at when she's thinking.
Dress?
Favorite clothing: Tailored, fitted business suits that flatter her figure. Again, she knows she's rather attractive, so she has no problem flaunting it with skirts that are tight but not sluttish, satin blouses that she leaves unbuttoned at the first few buttons, and well-fitted jackets that she leaves undone most of the time. Often times, she'll wear heels (because she's only five feet tall) that are a quite high, along with real silk stockings. If she's not in suits, her favorite thing to be in is formalwear: little black dresses, evening gowns, and cocktail dresses (though she doesn't get the occasion to wear them except at functions and fundraisers for her firm).
[b[Least favorite clothing:[/b] Ratty old workout clothes. Though she wears them at the gym, she hates being seen in them. They make her feel grungy and rather disgusting. Her pride is in appearing as a classy woman, and in clothes that she regularly sweats in, class seems to be gone. She also hates wearing things that cross the line from sexy to sluttish unless she's wearing lingerie.
Jewelry: Much of her jewelry changes with her outfit, but there is one thing she keeps constant. It's a necklace that was given to her on her sixteenth birthday, when her mother informed her of her siren heritage. It's a thin chain with a small silver charm, delicately engraved with a celtic knot and set with a small emerald in the center.
Style (Elegant, shabby…): Extremely classy. She likes turning heads and she likes it when people feel that she's unattainable.
Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and Attitudes
Intelligence Level: High. She's obviously intelligent enough to have made it through Wellesley College's law school with honors and pass the BAR exam.
Biggest Weakness: Losing. She hates losing with a passion, particularly in court. If she does lose, it is a devastating experience for her and she usually has to take a few days off of work to recuperate. Lynn is rather spoiled- she's used to getting what she wants, when she wants it; and anything else is very upsetting to her.
Skills:
-Public speaking. Besides being able to persuade people with her voice, she has a natural knack for making powerful and moving speeches.
-Writing. When she was younger, she used to make up fantastic, enchanting stories and it seems that she hasn't lost the knack- though she never shows these writings to anyone.
Downfalls:
-Physical strength. Though she trains at the gym, Lynn is still a very small person and as a very small person, she's weaker than most others.
-Math. While she managed to pass her college math courses, it was only through "persuading" her male professors. Now, she pays someone to do things like taxes and she probably wouldn't know if you short-changed her at the supermarket.
Strengths:
-She's extremely self-confident: she knows she's beautiful and she knows that, most of the time, she finds a way to get what she wants.
-She's crafty. Though this is kind of a required trait for a lawyer, she's able to think outside the box and make odd connections that are usually key in getting her clients' cases dismissed.
-She's got a fairly good sense of humor and likes to joke around- as long as it's not at her expense, of course.
-She's extremely focused. Once she knows what she wants, she pursues it wholeheartedly until it's hopeless or she gets it.
Flaws:
-She's arrogant. Sure, at times her self-confidence can be a good thing, but it's a double-edged sword that often gets on others' nerves.
-She's a very, very sore loser. If she loses in court (which is a rarity) she'll often take days off of work to recover from it and will hold a grudge against her opposition for a very long time.
-She's extremely impatient during day to day things. She hates waiting in lines and feels like she's got more of a right or a privilege than others to do things.
-This almost goes without saying, but she's manipulative. If one were to condense most of Lynn's characteristics, one would realize that she's a spoiled brat who loves getting what she wants and doesn't particularly care who she hurts to get it. She's the center of her own universe.
-She's promiscuous, but then again, she's a siren.
-She fears emotional attachment. Relationships are a no-no for her.
Oddities/Habits:
-She taps her right foot when she's impatient or nervous, but never her left.
-She takes two showers a day- once after her run and once after she gets home.
-Her purse is always equipped with a plethora of beauty supplies.
-She chews at her lip when she's feeling annoyed or is thinking deeply.
-Her right eyebrow tends to twitch when she's extremely upset.
Likes:
-being in court
-winning
-makeup and beauty
-being competitive, particularly with her older sister
-jury selection
-sex
-touching people/being touched
-running, even if it does get her sweaty
-fine food
-fine wine
-expensive clothing
-formalwear
-heels
-turning heads
-trashy romance novels
-true crime novels
-jazz music; particularly big band swing
-going out to clubs
-chick flicks
-action movies
-zombie movies
-people that smell nice
-men with deep voices
-dogs
-chinchillas
-her pet parrot, Nobie
-live theater
Dislikes:
-rain
-snow
-being cold
-rap music
-country music
-cheap sheets
-cheap clothes
-bad lawyers
-people that win over her
-men who have longer hair than her
-historical fiction novels
-bad horror movies
-gross comedies
-fake jewelry
-people that get in her way
-greasy skin
-greasy hair
-not having her nails or her hair or her makeup done
-spicy food
-traffic
-snakes
-any kind of insect
-lizards
-being injured
-sunburn
-losing anything
-ill-fitting clothes
-feeling intimidated or out of control
-being sweaty outside of the bed
-children
-being "involved" with anyone romantically
History:
Evelyn was born on January 8th, 1982, to two very happy parents, after a tumultuous pregnancy and an emergency C-section at the Carney Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts.
Her mother, Dr. Kelly McLaughlin-O'Brien, was a dentist, working full time up until the near the time of her birth. She had met Evelyn's father (Joseph O'Brien) at a convention when she was 34- he was a salesperson for dental chairs, and, by her own reminiscence, "a rather greasy but stubborn guy". Her mother often told the story of how, when first approached by Joseph, she turned him down immediately and told him to clean up a bit before he could even speak to her.
Two years later, after months of searching, a much more refined Joseph turned up on Kelly's doorstep, and the rest was, as they say, was history.
Their first child was another girl, born a year and a half before Evelyn: Kassidy Maura. And Kassidy hadn't wanted a baby sister- no way, no how.
So from the day she was born, Evelyn had a sibling rivalry to deal with.
The two were always at each other's necks, fighting and squabbling. If Kassidy made a tower of blocks, Evelyn knocked it over. If Evelyn made a finger-painting, Kassidy ripped it up. Though there was no reasonable explanation for it, there was always bad blood between the two girls; something that baffled their parents for years and years.
When the two started school, Kassidy was always the smarter one. Evelyn only kept her grades up to compete with her sibling- otherwise, she was busy making friends and being a social butterfly. Even as a child, she recognized the ability to get what she wanted- if she inflected her voice a certain way, people tended to bend to her whim. Her sister, however, never did; and Evelyn made it her life's mission to make her older sibling's life absolutely miserable, particularly when the two hit high school Often, Evelyn would bat her eyelashes and ask gangs of older boys to heckle her sister or even beat her up, depending on how bad of a mood Lynn was in that day. And Kassidy was just as bad- Lynn often found spiders or snakes in her locker and there were always nasty rumors about her private life- that she did the entire football team, that she'd been arrested for prostitution once... the list went on.
It got so bad that the fighting began to spread to their parents. One day, Evelyn came downstairs and her father had his bags packed- and Kassidy with him.
What a glorious day! Evelyn was ecstatic that her sister was leaving, even if she was going to miss her father and her mother seemed forlorn. It was the first and only time she'd ever smiled in a non-malicious way towards her sister. It was also the year that her mother spilled the secret to Lynn that she was, in fact, a siren; and her sister was too.
The two didn't see each other for almost ten years after that, ten long years of being a spoiled only child for both of them.
Evelyn graduated from her high school near the top of her class, and immediately shipped herself off to the University of Connecticut- where she was far enough away so she could live on her own and do what she liked (not that she didn't anyway) but close enough to visit her mother. Her college days were carefree, with a lot of sex, drugs, rock and roll, and parties. Her grades were unimpressive in her first year, but she quickly figured out that she could put her power of manipulating people to good use by becoming a lawyer- that's what they did anyway, right?
Graduating from UConn a year early in 2002, she decided to stay closer to home for law school. While Harvard was her first choice, she didn't get in because of her freshman grades, so she settled for going to Wellesley- a college with a very good law school. The only problem Lynn had with it was the fact that it was an all girl's school. Most of her night she spent on neighboring campuses, where she could find, meet, and manipulate young impressionable men.
Her first job offer was in Shawl as soon as she graduated in 2006, magna cum laude, as a defense lawyer. Her chosen field was criminal defense because it gave her a rush in mock trials to get an innocent conviction, even if the criminal was guilty. It was a sense of power she had over the lives of everyone else in a city, to let a criminal go free. Even though it was dangerous, most were grateful to her, so she felt no fear of attack; and she didn't care about everyone else. They could rot in hell for all she cared.
Her current job allows her a very liberal salary, like most lawyers, especially since her conviction rate for criminals is so low.
How does she fit? Well, she's a defense lawyer. She'll probably butt heads with the police force and the detectives more than once, particularly in court. Plus, she defends the criminals, which gives interaction there.
Roleplay Sample: If there was one thing she hated, it was being out of control. Okay, so most people hated that but she hated it more than others. She supposed that being a workaholic with a God complex (it went hand in hand with being one of the top surgeons in the Northeast) made it that much worse, but it wasn't something she was going to complain about. No. She was a doctor. She wasn't going to berate someone innocent- she was finding herself someone to blame, and then... then the slaughter would begin.
A small hand shoved itself through ginger-colored hair, which for some reason she had bothered to style in the morning, before she had left for this place which, she reasoned, was her own personal refuge, changed into her own personal hell. However, the styling was moot, as her hair was tucked beneath a scrubcap. The strands that did manage to escape were just the wrong shade between orange and brown.
Usually, her skin would be covered with freckles, but the good doctor had covered those "miniature abominations" (as she called them) with makeup; also hiding the bruise-like circles that seemed to nest themselves under her wide, almost-childlike eyes. However, the illusion of youth was ruined by the faint lines of crow's feet around the corners (she had already gone through the whole "oh my god, I'm aging" phase long ago, and now just dealt with the fact that she wasn't in her early twenties anymore).
Hey, she was supposed to be one of the best. Might as well look it- or at least attempt to.
Bluntly put, she was scrawny, and not in the delicate, attractive way- in the undersized, sickly way. She had always been of a petite size, but, being an on-call attending at an urban hospital had deprived the young lady of more than a few meals over the years, and now she barely had any meat on her at all. Sure, she could try to hide this flaw as well with a push-up bra and a pair of stilettos, but it didn't really do anything when it was under the untailored scrubs and the pristine white labcoat she constantly had wrapped around her frame.
Ah, her labcoat. Her pride and joy- well, joys, as she had about five of them; three in the hospital and two for her own personal use, a 'just in case' sort of thing. It was just like any of the other labcoats worn in a hospital, only it lacked the stains and smells of chemicals, but that wasn't what she loved. What she loved was the monogram that rested on the right side of her chest.
"Dr. Alexandria Flynn, MD
Head of Neurosurgery
Carney Hospital"
Ah, to be the head of Neurosurgery- it was a glorious thing; and here it was, proudly displayed in royal blue script on her beloved coat- all she had to do for an (usually unnecessary) ego boost was look at the coat and be reminded about just how damn good she was. It was her lifeline. Said coat was unbuttoned as raced towards the ER after the "911" page, her sneakers squeaking against the tile floor- yes, pumps were the preferred manner of footwear for someone as short as her, but being on stilettos for twenty-nine hours at a time wasn't healthy and it certainly wasn't comfortable. This hadn't been a good day thus far, anyway.
Of course, her morning hadn't started off well, either- though it had started much earlier.
Twenty-nine hours earlier (7:00 AM):
"Dr. Flynn!"
Great. She had just gotten here and someone was calling her already. A resident- Moran. Jeff Moran, she discerned, after a very furtive glance at his nametag that he had, apparently, not noticed (or was too afraid to mention, which was funny, because he was easily three times her size).
"Make this quick, Moran. I have an open-brain biopsy at seven thirty and-"
"Already cancelled, ma'am."
"Excuse me? Someone cancelled my surgeries without consulting-"
"All surgeries have been pushed back, ma'am. There was a mass casualty incident about twenty minutes ago. We've been waiting for you to get here-"
"What kind?"
"What?" The resident stammered.
"What kind of mass casualty incident, Moran?"
"Oh. Uh. Shooting. Guy opened fire in a supermarket, shot himself in the head."
"How many?"
"We're not sure."
"That's all. Thank you."
"But-"
"Go, Moran. Go save lives." Flynn barked, already tired of this stammering mess of a surgeon.
When she got to the ER, with beds in the hallways and exam rooms being used as makeshift ORs for minor surgeries, she knew it was going to be a very, very long day.
At the time she had no idea how long.
Nineteen Hours Earlier (5:00 PM):
She had just come out of her second brain surgery in under ten hours. She was tired. She was cranky. And when she saw that poor, lost little first-year intern run up to her, holding an infant wrapped in a heating blanket, she knew that things were going to get a hell of a lot worse.
"What?" Her voice was snappy, edgy, and the intern flinched. Good.
"Ma'am- um. They- he was found in a dumpster, ma'am. His umbilical cord's still attached and-"
"And why isn't he in neonatal?"
"CT shows extensive internal injuries."
"Get me a surgical team-"
"I can't, ma'am. All the residents are in surgery, and the interns are down in the pit doing sutures."
"Just get me a team, a team of interns if you have to!" Her arms flailed about, nearly hitting the intern in the face. She was stressed, and it wasn't getting better. When the interns had gathered themselves (some nervously, some excitedly), she spoke calmly and clearly.
" I know this is an... unusual situation," her voice was calm and firm as she spoke to the unexperienced bunch before her, "but I am not letting this infant die, and neither are you. Are we clear?"
It had been a four hour surgery.
The baby had died on the table.
After the surgery ended, Dr. Flynn had calmly gone to the nurses' station, picked up the paperwork on the baby, and then had retreated back to her office.
Once she was there, she began to feed the paperwork and charts on the infant through a paper shredder.
Failure was not an option for her.
Present (12:00 PM)
Flynn bustled herself into the ER, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump again, like it always did with the impending thought of holding a scalpel, of cutting someone open. The shooting. More surgery. Her lack of sleep.
She was saving a life. That's what she had to remind herself of- she was saving lives here. That's what the scalpel was for, that all the blood and gore she saw wasn’t for nothing or for her own benefit.
A friend had warned her, long ago, about the numbness. Her resident during her surgical internship had told her, and she remembered. "Alex," she had said. "You have an edge. I respect that you have an edge." Monica. That had been her name. Monica Moitoso, a brilliant cardiothoracic surgeon. "But I've seen people go down your path. You keep your edge. Then you go numb. Then you self-destruct."
It was ironic, really. Ten or fifteen years ago, if her med-school self had seen this person she had become, she would have called it pathetic. Sure, she still had her edge, but it was different now. Her job was everything- she'd stabbed plenty of people in the back over the years to keep her own mistakes under wraps, and she wasn't stopping now.
Hell, she was rarely outside of the hospital /physically/, and almost every word she spoke was an order. A social life was out of the question. Alliances and allegiances were being thrown out the window daily, because surgery was all about getting ahead. And that’s really why she saved lives. To better herself. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that. That it wasn’t about the patients, about the lives. It was about the power, the thrill of playing God. And the higher up on the ladder she was, the more she could do that.
Surgery was all about power. And it was something she craved.
Which was why the thought of a person to be fixed in the ER was causing her heart to pump just a little faster- someone was going to give her the power over life or death, willingly, just because she had a little paper that said she'd passed the tests to become a surgeon.
For some reason, that little bit of knowledge always sent a rush of blood to her head.
Any last words? I'm pretty darn good with graphics if you need them- I'll gladly give you a sample if you ask.
