Post by ashlyn louise lightwood on Jul 19, 2011 12:54:50 GMT -5
( ASHLYNlouiseLIGHTWOOD !? )
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{[/color] HELLO HELLO BABY[/b][/color]
you called i can’t hear a thing i have got not service in the club you see
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full name. Ashlyn Louise Lightwood.
nicknames. Ash, Ashie, Ashers, Lynni, Lulu (if they know her middle name).
gender. Female.
birthday. June eleventh.
candles. Seventeen.
orientation. Heterosexual.
occupation. Part time shadowhunter, full time still being tutored dammit.
member group. Nephilim.
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[/color] WHAT WHAT DID YOU SAY[/b][/color]are you breaking up on me sorry i cannot hear you i’m kinda busy
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other important stuff. Born on a sweltering June morning, Ashlyn’s parents always joke that she inherited half of her traits from the summer. Her hair, a nest of fiery curls and wisps of ember, is from the sun. Her freckles are from the all of the summer’s discarded watermelon seeds, spit carelessly across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her hazel eyes, which range from gold to green to grey depending on the day, are reminiscent of the sun’s decent into the Hudson that particularly rainy sunset. Her temper comes from the heat, stealthy and unexpected in its approach and vicious and unrelenting upon its arrival. Her easy going attitude from the lazy rivers bordering Manhattan; her social skills from the bustle of activity that summer always bring to the already-busy island; her flirtatiousness from the cool, sweet ice cream.
All of their joking aside, it’s apparent that Ashlyn is her parents’ daughter- a slightly taller version of her mom with her dad’s lean, sinewy muscles, catlike grace and- occasionally- his golden eyes. She always just smiles half-heartedly at their prods about her sharp tongue being from the broken glass littering the streets after late night parties, knowing full well that she inherited her snarky comebacks and knowledge of just the right thing to say to inflict damage from her dad; her mom was too sweet for such things. She got his arrogance, too, his self-assurance in himself and his lack of self-preservation. Ashie’s forgotten just how many times she’s jumped into battle while all of her cousins stared at her like she was crazy. But she got her parents’ angel blood, and like her dad she’s a better fighter than most, with a level head and strong sense of what’s gotta be done has gotta be done, no whining.
Then there are just some things about Ashlyn’s personality that didn’t come from the summer, or her DNA, but rather EAH- everyone around her. Coming from a family filled with boys (nine, compared to the five girls), her tomboy interests, like a fascination with sports and rough housing and videogames, are easily explained. For the first year of her life, she just got smooshed in with the boys during playtime simply because there were no other girls for her to be paired up with. Then all of a sudden there were two girls, her sister and her cousin, and when her mother or aunt tried to make her play with them, she pouted and toddled back over to play with her friends, the boys. As she grew older, and the boys fell into the “boys only, no girls allowed” phase of their life, and Ash took it with good grace. She tiptoed over to the girls, a much smaller and far more exclusive group, only to be surprised by their acceptance of her with open arms. Despite her boyish interests, her sister and cousin taught her the importance of dressing like a girl as they entered their preteen years. If she wanted boys to like her- boys that weren’t related to her, and boys who could like like her, they corrected when she opened her mouth to protest- she needed to dress like a girl so they wouldn’t get confused. (Not that there could be any confusion. Ashlyn got her curves early, way before she knew what to do with them.) So came her instinct to dress in girly-girl clothes, with bows and ruffles and frills and glitter, no matter how pointless she thought the ruffles and glitter were. Somewhere between then and now, she’s managed to come to a healthy balance with her wardrobe- feminine enough to keep her from looking like she’s been stealing clothes from her older brother’s closet, but masculine enough to keep her looking like the badass shadowhunter she is and not some pansy who would burst into tears if- heaven forbid!- her nail broke.
All of Ashlyn’s crazy quirks can be explained, except for her unusual fairytale-esque outlook on life. The way she sees it, she’s a princess locked up in her tower, waiting for her prince to come. Not to save her from her tower; she’s perfectly capable of doing that on her own. No, she’s waiting for her prince to come and sweep her off her feet, to be the love of her life and lead her to her happily-ever-after. She’d never tell anyone, but it comes partially from wishful thinking and partially from the examples of love that her life has provided. With all of the burdens of being a shadowhunter- the social isolation of being home-schooled, the late hours and grueling work of hunting, the scars and the bruises and the broken bones- it’s pretty easy to see why she wants just one thing in her life to be easy, thoughtless and handed to her on a silver platter. The fact that real love requires a lot of work slouches her shoulders and frowns her lips. But with her parents being the epic love story that they are, and her uncle Alec passing on aging so he can stay with the love of his life forever, it just seems obvious that the only way for love to exist is if it follows fairytale rules. Because what’s a life of demons and faeries and warlocks if it doesn’t end with a happily-ever-after?
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[/color] JUST A SECOND[/b][/color]it’s my favorite song they’re gonna play and i cannot text you with a drink in my hand eh
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name/alias. Danger!
experience. Four and a half years.
factoid. I have red hair?
codeword. ADMIN EDIT
sample.
{ but when the sun comes up
I’ll still be around, 'cuz it’s summertime.
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[/color]Food!
Bronwyn came to a teetering halt balanced on her toes, craning her neck to catch another whiff of that wonderful cinnamon-y smell that had just dragged her out of her lonesome thoughts. The power suited businesswoman who’d been unfortunate enough to get caught behind her in the flow of traffic mercilessly- and purposely, Bronwyn was sure- rammed into her, knocking the brunette into a stumble before sashaying away with the clack clock clack clock of heels. Bronwyn narrowed her eyes as she glared at the woman’s disappearing blonde head, but the next inhale brought her out of her silent fume at the woman’s lack of manners, New Yorker or not. Right, there was food lurking nearby. Righting herself, she waded through the sea of people until she stood safely on the outskirts of Manhattan traffic.
The source of the delectable odor became apparent once the tide of bobbing heads and ever-moving bodies disappeared. Starbucks loomed before her, all pastries and styrofoam cups. Bronwyn’s lips twisted into a half smile as she shouldered open the door. Food was just was she needed right now, and not just because her stomach had suddenly decide to stage a noisy, rumbling revolt and try to claw its way out of her body to get to the food faster. Food would- hopefully- take her mind off of the last five hellacious days. Ever since school had broken for the summer, her social connections had been slipping. Everyone was busy. They already had plans. They were leaving for vacations with their families. They had internships to be at. Blah blah blah. The bottom line remained: they didn’t have time to chill with measly little Bronwyn Beckett. Five days without any physical human contact or face time with her buds had left Bronwyn feeling a bit abandoned and a lot sulky. She knew herself well enough to know that food would distract her, if only for few minutes.
Cool air traced its icy fingers over her still warm, sun-kissed skin as she sidled into line to place her order, pushing her sunglasses up from the bridge of her nose to rest in her dark hair. Her blue eyes scanned over the glassed-in treasure chest brimming with blueberry scones, banana nut muffins and other such yummy goodies. Mouth watering at the thought of sugar sugar sugar, she swallowed and tore her eyes away from the pastries before her body convinced her brain that everything looked too scrumptious to pass on. She didn’t have enough money for that- after all, she wasn’t one of the ones fortunate enough to have a fancy dancy internship this summer. Oh well.
Bronwyn stepped up to the register when her turn finally came. She ordered a frozen coffee to combat the heat, and a double chocolate muffin to appease her grumbling tummy. Money was exchanged, and the poor, frazzled looking barista smiled tiredly and told her they’d call her name when her order was ready. She nibbled on the muffin the barista handed her, sidestepping out of the way of the flux of other paying customers. Her eyes flitted over Starbuck’s assembly of tables as she waited, ticking off the number of people in the room. Seems she wasn’t the only one without anything better to do on a Tuesday afternoon. Seventeen other unfortunate souls, mostly of the older crowd, sat in clusters of two or three, or huddle on their laptops. Her heart sank when realization struck that she was probably the youngest one here. What? Didn't people her age like caffeine anymore?
“Bronwyn?” the barista making drinks asked, stumbling over her name like the letters clashed over each other in his mouth. She sighed, mentally cursing her parents for the billionth time about their choice in her name. She took her drink and made her mind up on the spot. Sliding into the seat across from the only person who looked to be around her age, she smiled and tried to look friendly and not starved for human interaction.
“Hi!” she chirped, smiling broadly. It occurred to her that maybe she should have checked to make sure there weren’t bits of muffin stuck between her teeth first, but it was too late for that now. “I’m Bronwyn. We don't really know each other, but maybe we should. Fate and all that.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if fate was explanation enough for everything.
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words : seven three four[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size] [/quote]
lyrics : “wet hot american summer” cobra starship
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[/justify]This character application was made by danger (aka pixified of caution 2.0). The lyrics are from the song “telephone”, which belongs to Lady Gaga. I don’t claim those. But all the rest is mine. Just because I didn’t post it on caution doesn’t make it not mine. Do not remove or edit this credit under any circumstances. Just don’t. I really don’t want to have to dig my shotgun out of the closet and come hunt you down for stealing all of my hard work.
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