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Application: Ruby City
Mar. 12th, 2013 08:25 pmPLAYER
Name: Onion
Personal Journal: N/A
E-mail: Puppy417@AOL.com
AIM/MSN/etc:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
ohniohn
CHARACTER
Name: Ib
Canon: Ib
Timeline: Post-game, “Promise of Reunion” ending.
If playing another character from the same canon, how will you deal with this?: N/A
Personality: Ib is the nine-year-old only child of an upper class family from an unspecified part of the Westernized world. Her mother is rather strict, emphasizing propriety and mental enrichment in how she raises her daughter. She refuses to spoil Ib with childish things, but ensures that she has the best in finery, education, healthcare, and opportunities and experiences in general. On the other hand, her father tends to be much more lenient, doting on his little girl whenever he can. For example, on Ib's most recent birthday, her father gave her a large stuffed rabbit (earning him a scolding from his wife), while her mother gave her a lace handkerchief with her name embroidered in the corner.
Though she loves the fun her father contributes to her upbringing, Ib takes much more after her mother as her primary nurturer. In that vein, Ib is very mature and capable for her age. She is independent enough to explore the first art gallery she's ever been to by herself; brave enough to face the gallery when it turns demented (also by herself, for a good portion of the game); intelligent and observant enough to make her way through the dark gallery; and responsible enough to keep her handkerchief with her the whole time.
The word most used to describe her is "quiet", and as such, most people don't know much about her. It isn't that she's shy or uncaring -- in fact, it's quite the opposite. Ib is just not a child who talks when she has nothing to say (another mark of her maturity). When she does, however, she isn't afraid to speak her mind rather plainly, with the well-meaning innocence present in most children. Otherwise, one will find that she directs an intent, inscrutable stare at who- or whatever has her attention. Because of her reserved demeanor (and the possibility of her coming off as outright creepy; even those who know Ib well can become unnerved by her red-eyed gaze), very few of her more boisterous peers have befriended her, though she is well loved by the adults who take the time to get to know her.
Despite how mature she seems to be, Ib still is a little girl. She loves bunnies, and dislikes vegetables and exercise; and though she was taught not to whine, she will pout when faced with something she doesn't want to do. Being young, she naturally has some trouble reading and doing other things on her own, and she often needs to ask for help. Though she has a strong mental constitution for a girl her age, she still has fears and will seek comfort from someone she trusts when she is scared. She is very curious and soaks up information like a sponge; her willingness following the metaphorical White Rabbit down the rabbit hole has gotten her into varying amounts of trouble (including her ordeal in the Guertena gallery).
Perhaps the greatest thing Ib learned from both her parents is their love and caring, and when she finally warms up to a person, she becomes very attached to them. This manifests in two ways: first, Ib will sometimes take on a protective, almost mothering role toward them (such as when she stops Garry from smashing a mannequin head out of fear-induced frustration, and when she wraps his cut hand with her handkerchief after their final confrontation with Mary); and second, she allows herself to be honestly childlike around them (such as when she accepts the candy Garry tries to comfort her with after she passes out and has a nightmare). Ib is not a terribly demonstrative child, but it's easy to tell when she trusts someone by how often she grasps their hand.
First Person: Sample from the Test Drive meme
Third Person: It wasn't until the train was rolling into the station, brakes emitting a long, dull screech, that the unconscious girl's eyes fluttered open, and she lifted her head from leaning on the window. She blinked a few times to clear her bleary vision, and once the disorientation of awakening passed, it took Ib no time to realize she was no longer in her bed, where she'd fallen asleep the night before. In fact, she had no familiarity with where she was. Never having been on a train before, she couldn't even determine that much -- just that she was in some sort of moving vehicle, and that there was a dense fog outside the window. A mix of curiosity and fear filled her chest, and though she wanted to investigate immediately, her mother's voice scolded her from the back of her mind, telling her not to move until whatever this was came to a complete stop.
The train became still and silent seconds later, until the pneumatic hiss of the door's opening mechanism pierced the air. Leaning her head into the walkway, Ib scanned over the car interior; there were a great number of seats identical to the one she was in, but no one filling them, as far as she could tell. She shifted up onto her knees to peek over the seat back, hoping for a better view, until she heard something metallic clatter to the floor. Her eyes followed the sound over the armrest to find a pocket watch, gold against the gray aisle carpeting. Her brow furrowed; it must have fallen when she moved, but when had such an item come into her possession? She gingerly stepped down from the seat and moved into the walkway, bending down at the knees to grasp and inspect the watch. It certainly wasn't her father's... Perhaps someone had lost it? Ib took another glance around the train, but still, not a soul was around. She straightened herself and looked to the open doors again; what she could see of the platform was also empty.
In that moment, Ib felt something move her; as though her mother had grasped her shoulders and given her a gentle push toward the doors. However, when she turned over her shoulder to see who was there, she was met with nothing. The uneasiness that was growing inside her suddenly swelled and, half by instinct, half by the same force that had begun her steps, she continued toward and out the doors, ready to figure out where she was, and maybe find the person who'd dropped the watch.
Name: Onion
Personal Journal: N/A
E-mail: Puppy417@AOL.com
AIM/MSN/etc:
CHARACTER
Name: Ib
Canon: Ib
Timeline: Post-game, “Promise of Reunion” ending.
If playing another character from the same canon, how will you deal with this?: N/A
Personality: Ib is the nine-year-old only child of an upper class family from an unspecified part of the Westernized world. Her mother is rather strict, emphasizing propriety and mental enrichment in how she raises her daughter. She refuses to spoil Ib with childish things, but ensures that she has the best in finery, education, healthcare, and opportunities and experiences in general. On the other hand, her father tends to be much more lenient, doting on his little girl whenever he can. For example, on Ib's most recent birthday, her father gave her a large stuffed rabbit (earning him a scolding from his wife), while her mother gave her a lace handkerchief with her name embroidered in the corner.
Though she loves the fun her father contributes to her upbringing, Ib takes much more after her mother as her primary nurturer. In that vein, Ib is very mature and capable for her age. She is independent enough to explore the first art gallery she's ever been to by herself; brave enough to face the gallery when it turns demented (also by herself, for a good portion of the game); intelligent and observant enough to make her way through the dark gallery; and responsible enough to keep her handkerchief with her the whole time.
The word most used to describe her is "quiet", and as such, most people don't know much about her. It isn't that she's shy or uncaring -- in fact, it's quite the opposite. Ib is just not a child who talks when she has nothing to say (another mark of her maturity). When she does, however, she isn't afraid to speak her mind rather plainly, with the well-meaning innocence present in most children. Otherwise, one will find that she directs an intent, inscrutable stare at who- or whatever has her attention. Because of her reserved demeanor (and the possibility of her coming off as outright creepy; even those who know Ib well can become unnerved by her red-eyed gaze), very few of her more boisterous peers have befriended her, though she is well loved by the adults who take the time to get to know her.
Despite how mature she seems to be, Ib still is a little girl. She loves bunnies, and dislikes vegetables and exercise; and though she was taught not to whine, she will pout when faced with something she doesn't want to do. Being young, she naturally has some trouble reading and doing other things on her own, and she often needs to ask for help. Though she has a strong mental constitution for a girl her age, she still has fears and will seek comfort from someone she trusts when she is scared. She is very curious and soaks up information like a sponge; her willingness following the metaphorical White Rabbit down the rabbit hole has gotten her into varying amounts of trouble (including her ordeal in the Guertena gallery).
Perhaps the greatest thing Ib learned from both her parents is their love and caring, and when she finally warms up to a person, she becomes very attached to them. This manifests in two ways: first, Ib will sometimes take on a protective, almost mothering role toward them (such as when she stops Garry from smashing a mannequin head out of fear-induced frustration, and when she wraps his cut hand with her handkerchief after their final confrontation with Mary); and second, she allows herself to be honestly childlike around them (such as when she accepts the candy Garry tries to comfort her with after she passes out and has a nightmare). Ib is not a terribly demonstrative child, but it's easy to tell when she trusts someone by how often she grasps their hand.
First Person: Sample from the Test Drive meme
Third Person: It wasn't until the train was rolling into the station, brakes emitting a long, dull screech, that the unconscious girl's eyes fluttered open, and she lifted her head from leaning on the window. She blinked a few times to clear her bleary vision, and once the disorientation of awakening passed, it took Ib no time to realize she was no longer in her bed, where she'd fallen asleep the night before. In fact, she had no familiarity with where she was. Never having been on a train before, she couldn't even determine that much -- just that she was in some sort of moving vehicle, and that there was a dense fog outside the window. A mix of curiosity and fear filled her chest, and though she wanted to investigate immediately, her mother's voice scolded her from the back of her mind, telling her not to move until whatever this was came to a complete stop.
The train became still and silent seconds later, until the pneumatic hiss of the door's opening mechanism pierced the air. Leaning her head into the walkway, Ib scanned over the car interior; there were a great number of seats identical to the one she was in, but no one filling them, as far as she could tell. She shifted up onto her knees to peek over the seat back, hoping for a better view, until she heard something metallic clatter to the floor. Her eyes followed the sound over the armrest to find a pocket watch, gold against the gray aisle carpeting. Her brow furrowed; it must have fallen when she moved, but when had such an item come into her possession? She gingerly stepped down from the seat and moved into the walkway, bending down at the knees to grasp and inspect the watch. It certainly wasn't her father's... Perhaps someone had lost it? Ib took another glance around the train, but still, not a soul was around. She straightened herself and looked to the open doors again; what she could see of the platform was also empty.
In that moment, Ib felt something move her; as though her mother had grasped her shoulders and given her a gentle push toward the doors. However, when she turned over her shoulder to see who was there, she was met with nothing. The uneasiness that was growing inside her suddenly swelled and, half by instinct, half by the same force that had begun her steps, she continued toward and out the doors, ready to figure out where she was, and maybe find the person who'd dropped the watch.
