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Post by Brooklyn Harris on May 27, 2009 15:24:07 GMT -5
Radioactive Spiders and Kryptonite  
I think I forgot to breathe
FULL NAME: brooklyn adele harris
NICKNAMES: brook, lyn, brick
AGE: eighteen.
BIRTHDAY: april 1st.
SEXUALIY: straight.
JOB: forks graduate , photographer for local paper.
SPECIES: human? yes, i think so.
CANON: noooo, sorry! but if need be, i shall make one!
I’m nothing but a human, after all. Nothing special.
GENERAL APPEARANCE:In all honesty Brooklyn doesn’t really picture herself to be stunningly beautiful, nor does she think she is a world class model of any sorts, but she does not picture herself as the ugliest thing and or person alive, no. Brooklyn knows she is not completely unfortunate and does have some radar of beauty about her. Delia was beautiful, according to Paul, but then again Paul is bound to be biased; they are married and very much in love, after all. Still Brooklyn is full of honesty and she isn’t afraid of hurting someone when she progresses this honesty in to full sentences; she believes that her mother was beautiful, and still is, although she was when she was Brooklyn’s age (photographs, not by any means some form or machine capable of time transportation). So you could say that Brooklyn inherited her mother’s teen beauty; she certainly got features from plenty of people in her ancestor family. Most of them had blonde hair, as a matter of fact, at least on her father’s side. Her mother however had gorgeously chocolate brown hair, just like Ryder inherited. She has various different opinions on different styles of clothing and as we have established she does not feel worried about whether or not she would be answering back to the people whom label her things because of what she wears or how she does her makeup and all that jazz. Still if someone has an opinion on her appearance she will want them to say it outright as Brooklyn values honesty even if what is going to be said isn’t particularly nice.
The most extreme thing Brooklyn has ever done to her hair is probably dying it bright green. Yes you heard correctly - bright green. This wasn’t supposed to be permanent dye, but then again mistakes do happen and all you can do is to hope to learn from them. Brooklyn certainly learnt; it was something she never intended to do ever again. You see the situation was that the school was having a fundraising week, and on the last day, the Friday, you could dress up and do whatever whacky things to your appearance that you could think of. Brooklyn bought green wash in wash out dye, hoping that when she washed her hair that evening that it would simply wash out. She ended up dying her hair bright green and enjoyed the day immensely, dressing up as a sadistic schizophrenic, but when she got home to wash out her hair, it didn’t work - sure, the dye faded a little, but now her hair resembled a heavy mixture of the bright green and the summer grass colour green. Eventually though after waiting a few weeks and having a literal and valid excuse for having disfigured coloured hair during school when it was not permitted, Brooklyn bleached her hair back to the bright blonde she was born with. However, one day Brooklyn decided that her blonde hair wasn’t what she wanted and instead she dyed it bright orange. Her style’s somewhat original and she doesn’t really cater much for cutting her hair; short hair is something she could never put up with, having done so once and then spent the next few years growing it out, refusing to have a single inch cut off - well, maybe she had the tiniest bit, like the dead ends, but aside from that nothing epically dramatic was cut off; Brooklyn loves her hair, but she doesn’t obsess over it. Strangely enough she never uses hairspray in her hair at all, save the one day where she dyed her hair bright green and dressed up; that was the only time she’s ever gone over excessive with hairspray.
Despite living in Vegas all her life, safe for when she moved, Brooklyn has incredibly pale skin. Not just the normal pale that comes from not being in the sun because she always finds a way to be outside - or at least most of the time when she is in the right frame of mind and or mood to - but the kind that comes from family heritage. Delia wasn’t incredibly tan, but she wasn’t very pale, either. Sort of a nice healthy mixture, despite having grown up in Chicago. Now Paul on the other hand had a history of paleness in his family. Her pale skin against her bright blonde hair - and now also orange - looks sort of strange, especially with glowing green eyes. Brooklyn, in all honesty, couldn’t really give a shit about what people say due to her complexion and the colour of her hair, and anything else they find they cannot stand or they simply want to mock because they have nothing else better to do with their lives. Her eyes as we have said are bright green, which is somewhat unusual, but they stand out more than the rest of her appearance does. The rest of her features are innocent and young looking, giving her a ‘cute’ appeal, if you will, for lack of better wording and or description. In some ways this bothers her, but in general Brooklyn doesn’t think twice about it. Being seen as younger than her given age isn’t something she finds too worrying, although it fails when she had to carry around an ID card everywhere she goes to prove she’s actually the age she says she is.
MOST LIKED FEATURE: probably her hair.
MOST HATED FEATURE: ewwww, stupid fingernails. nom nom.
HERITAGE: a tinnnnyyy bit japanese, but otherwise straight vegas-ness.
ETHNICITY: white?
You’re not the only vampire I know.
GENERAL PERSONALITY:
First and most important thing you have to know about Brooklyn is that she is like marmite. Yes, strange comparison — however it is true. You either love her or you hate her; in between is fine, but with her you usually have a preference towards one or the other. Because in all reality, deep down Brooklyn is a sweet and caring girl. If you’d known her in her youth then you would know what I am talking about; she was fun, a free spirit and always laughing, talking to people like there was no tomorrow and dancing around with no matter who; she was constantly happy. Now that doesn’t mean to say that she isn’t now, but somewhere in her childhood she built up a barrier — no one can get through to her now. She has a stubbornness about her and trouble accepting things. Her attitude towards most things has changed and she has a highly unpredictable nature. Mood swings are highly regular with this girl as she can be nice to the people she knows and mean to those whom she doesn’t. Don’t take it personally; she’s not like the other girls who will be nice to any guy they meet. If Brooklyn has an opinion on someone she wont be afraid to voice it.
Some people would say that she inherited her stubbornness from her father. Others would say that it was just her upbringing that caused her to be so irritatingly stubborn. Either way, Brooklyn is highly and extremely stubborn. If she has an opinion on something she isn’t very likely to change it. In fact it is more likely that hell shall freeze over, or that items will really be free to buy, or even that pigs shall fly. Brooklyn sticks to decisions that she makes without giving any sign of swaying to another; if her mind is set on one particular thing it is highly unlikely to change anytime soon. When she was younger her mind used to be filled up with all kinds of possibilities, but her wall has become an object deemed unbreakable and she refuses to back down and let the concrete crumble under the weight of a hammer. She’s stubborn over decisions and extremely stubborn when it comes to budging on an opinion. To some people this is a serious sign that tells them to step away from her; to Brooklyn it is simply a persona of life. If she chooses to have a strong belief in something then why shouldn’t she be allowed to have it? Clearly it is a free country in terms of having particular thoughts.
Giving up was never anyone’s style, not deep down. Someone who gives up, in Brooklyn’s opinion, really isn’t a strong enough being to cope with the worst of times. If she wants to get something accomplished there really is no stopping her in her goal to complete what she wants to be completed; she is not about to give up anytime soon, not when she knows that there is the slightest possibility for succeeding. Naturally if the course she is on is deemed hopeless and that there is proof that no one shall be able to get through whatever it is that needs getting through then Brooklyn shall resign, but most of the time when she has her mind set on something she cannot rest until it is put down. It’s all built up from her paranoia that things are there that aren’t really, that problems arise that don’t exist. Yes, Brooklyn has slight paranoia but she has her reasons to be so. She’s not willing to give up on anything. You may ask what the point of this is, but Brooklyn was raised to believe that there was always something there that could be used for whatever purpose necessary. Therefore she was not willing, anytime soon, on absolutely anything. This links to her stubbornness in her inability to accept certain things.
Brooklyn’s biggest goal in life is to publish a comic book that people will enjoy and love and talk about in their friendship groups and try to draw the characters and imagine story and plotlines from said characters. She has a full heart, deep down. What she doesn’t want people to see is her true vulnerability; she doesn’t want people to unveil the truth about her, about what happened to her; Brooklyn cannot stand for anyone’s pity. She hates being seen as a weaker being simply because she is a girl and everyone nowadays expects them to have some sort of lie in their lives. Well to tell you the truth Brooklyn hates liars and cannot stand for them. She hates being lied to and she hates lying herself even if the cause is a reasonable one. Then again liars always get found out in the end and the lies are always unburied, unveiled and the truth comes out. That is what Brooklyn is particularly afraid of; the truth.
Fear is not out of style; it’s not an inhuman quality and it never fades no matter what you try and do. A part of Brooklyn always tries to bury her fear deeply within her body, cover it so the world will never see that she is afraid of certain things. Inhuman? Some people may think that she’s being inhuman simply by not letting anyone know what she’s really feeling. Brooklyn hasn’t learnt that it’s okay to show people what you’re really feeling, that it’s okay to tell people that you’re afraid of something. She hasn’t learnt this and she doesn’t plan to anytime soon. Stubborn much? Everything seems to be linking to her stubbornness, doesn’t it? Then again Brooklyn’s never really been too fond of showing her emotions, even when she was little. She used to be the kind of person to forget her own troubles and instead focus on everyone else’s. Nowadays she doesn’t really focus on anyone’s, not hers and certainly not anyone else’s — unless of course the person is her friend and then and only then will she go out of her way to help them. If they are simply an acquaintance, if Brooklyn does not know them then she shall not bother to go out of her way. Brooklyn does allow people to get close to her… but not too close. It’s a sort of mask that she puts up to conceal and keep people separate from herself. She’s not unwilling to make friends; Brooklyn adores making friends, but she can and she will see to it that nobody gets ferociously close. Everybody has their own personal bubble they don’t want popping, don’t they?
This girl is very uncontrollable. If she wants to go out and get drunk then she will go out and get drunk. Not saying that she necessarily does, but if she wants to there’s nothing that will stop her. She can go crazy on just about anything; hyperactive nature simply from indulging in her favourite snack — skittles, or anything containing sugar. She’d stay away from drinking simply because she knows that too much and she could start talking; Brooklyn doesn’t want to talk because she’ll say something that she never meant to. People say the most inexcusable things when they’re under the influence of alcohol; they do crazy things that they wouldn’t normally do because the alcohol makes them relax and changes people’s resistance to things. Too much and you’ll end up with obscure poisoning. Horrible poisoning. You’d be throwing up this way and that. Not particularly good. As much as Brooklyn knows that it will pass, she doesn’t like the feeling of having a churning stomach and being unable to leave the bathroom at any desired time.
There’s something about this girl that enables her to put up with people whom are particularly irritating. Of course Brooklyn can be the first to notice that she can sometimes irritate someone but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she’ll stop. There’s a first time for everything but Brooklyn isn’t the irresponsible type. She’s not about to screw up her life because she’s not thinking properly. However Brooklyn knows when enough is enough. She’s not going to intentionally go to someone and purposefully antagonize them to the point where they will end up having a huge massive fit. She’s not someone who believes in violence, nor does she support the action. Brooklyn has no interest in fights what so ever and prefers to remove herself from any situation that may invoke one of any kind. People who resort to violence, under the influence or not, are not particularly likes of this girl and she prefers to stay as far away from them as she possibly can. Even though she’s stubborn and wont be afraid to voice her own opinions Brooklyn doesn’t want to get herself involved in any kind of fight.
Being isolated is one thing. Being completely confined to the point where you’re incapable of breathing in a restricted space is another. Brooklyn cannot stand being cut off from anything really and if she’s surrounded by people in a space where they’re pushing her further and further back in to a corner then she’s likely to do something very extreme. Anything, in fact, to get herself out of the confinement. She has claustrophobia which means that she doesn’t like and cannot physically stand being in tight spaces; she doesn’t like being forced in to one particular place for any length of time and she will have to force her way out of such a position if she finds herself in one. However exceptions to this are the fact that if she is in a party where people are dancing round her she can put up with that kind of situation for a certain length of time. Not for too long, mind you, but she shall have to remove herself for a while to regain herself. This has been the situation for as long as she can remember; when she was little she used to hate being in a restricted location for too long and it is the same now. Of course now Brooklyn can just move whenever she feels uncomfortable, which she has an uncanny precision for detecting; her uncomfortably.
If someone has something to say about someone then they should just say it to their face. That is the universal truth that Brooklyn goes by. If someone is honestly and truthfully going to be hurt to this revelation then yes it is probably best if nothing is said to them, but if it is someone posing as their friend pretending to be nice to them… well Brooklyn thinks that they have the right to know. Honesty is the best policy, as you know, and honesty is something Brooklyn feels is extremely important in any kind of relationship, intimate or simply friends. So what if she isn’t actually telling everyone the truth when she says that she’s absolutely fine? There’s no harm in shielding people from her truth; it’s not going to hurt anyone, her truth, and so Brooklyn doesn’t feel the need to say anything. On the other hand if she has an opinion about something she isn’t likely to sit back and keep her thoughts to herself. Once again honestly really is the best policy and that is a truth Brooklyn is very stubborn about. Again with the stubbornness! Are you beginning to see a pattern here?
It’s not a lie that Brooklyn enjoys strange things that other people wouldn’t really look twice at. She takes great care of anything she receives even if she doesn’t particularly like it. Her biggest concern mounts for her dog; Brooklyn is highly protective over her dog and would do anything to keep her happy and content. Mind you, wouldn’t anyone for their loved pets? Brooklyn’s had her dog for a year now and yet still she has a strong attachment to her. Sweet, really. You can really begin to see that she isn’t spiteful and arrogant as she comes off to be, but really a sweet caring and loving girl that would do anything for the people she loves. Or perhaps she’s simply afraid of loving people, and being loved in return. She has her reasons to be, after all. Her unpredictability can often make people scarce of her, but in the long run she’s a somewhat good friend to have — extremely loyal, practically always there for her friends when they need her, and, despite appearances, she’s a great listener.
HOBBIES: badminton , taking photos.
DISLIKES: liars , betrayers , those who hold grudges , arguments , foolishness , two-faced people , fakes , money-grabbers , rumours , heat waves , meat , attention-grabbers , spam mail , confinement , busted , fussers , people who hover , her enemies , eggs , mornings , james , hurt , polygamy , drunks , being confused , lies , deceit , being underestimated , being controlled , smug people , people jumping to conclusions , fire ,
LIKES: something that interests her , game cube , games , mind-stimulating activities , going out , hanging with friends , ben and jerry’s , travelling , her job , having a good time , parties , evenings in , movies , popcorn , late nights , shows , music , writing , guitar hero , rock band , reading , indulging her interests , being around people , colourful objects , crazy antics , the joker , photography , being herself , new surroundings , home , whose line is it anyway? , her guitar , nightmare before christmas , skittles , wine gums , bubblegum , bubbles , her dog ,
FEARS: dying young , having her heart broken again ,
SECRETS: has rp. retinitis pigmentosa... in other words, she is slowly going blind. slowly.
We can’t all be freakishly strong.
GENERAL HISTORY:Brooklyn was born on April 1st to Delia and Paul Harris. Delia prefers to be called Dee (very original) but you cannot really get much out of Paul, can you? So Paul and Delia met through that of a client’s acquaintance. Love at first sight? That may be so, but it was hidden under a veil of arrogance, if you will. Paul was extremely stubborn and very subjective; he had an opinion and he stuck to it unless he was proved completely wrong. Delia was set out to prove Paul wrong about the client they were helping, and so the two discovered that they had a lot more in common than they were making out to have. Paul, surprisingly, was the first to give in. As they were in a meeting, simply the two of them, discussing the client’s current condition and whether or not it would be better for her if they moved her to a mental health care clinic, Paul admitted that he enjoyed Dee’s company a lot more than he was letting on. Delia, shocked by the revelation but also knowing that it did no good to jump and squeal, admitted the same. It was perhaps the first time either of these two had been completely honest about their feeling to one another. Still it worked, what both of them had done - they were both now extremely pleased with how they’d admitted to one another their feelings, and so they got together and became ever more closer as they got to know one another - Paul learnt that Delia’s mother had died from a fatal heart condition, and Delia in turn learnt that Paul had proved his parents wrong against all the odds and had actually become a doctor against all claims that he wouldn’t make it. Both married not a year later after having been engaged for four months, prior, and it was no shock to them when Delia fell pregnant; they were expecting a baby boy.
Ryder was born on the 5th of March. He was the first of two children for this couple, so far, and was born with a very distinguishable mop of blonde hair; his father’s hair - honey, golden. His eyes were bright sky blue and his cheeks were shaded red with a pale surrounding complexion. Within a year he was walking and babbling coherent words - or almost coherent - and attempting to string inconsistent sentences together. Delia and Paul spent every waking moment with their baby boy; he was their first, after all, and therefore they had an excuse to want to do everything perfectly. Then, when the baby boy was three years old, the married couple of three years had another baby. This time however the baby was a girl. Now the couple had known that they were expecting another child, and they knew that it was going to be a girl, but they had a very long time troubling over names. Paul liked Lorelei, Roxanne, Holly and Penelope, as where Delia liked Poppy, Devon, Brooklyn and Helena. In the end they both compromised and came up with a somewhat unique name, or so they thought: Brooklyn Adele Isabeau Harris. It was a stretch - they took Sophy from Delia’s mom’s name, and Isabeau from Paul’s sister’s daughter’s name ‘Isabelle’ and fashioned it to merge with ‘beauty’. Choosing Ryder’s name hadn’t been nearly as much hassle because Delia had always loved the name Ryder ever since she was a little girl, not to mention that her mother loved the name too and had always been saving it for a son, and so it only seemed right. Fortunately enough Paul loved the name Ryder. However we are now on the birth of their second child.
It just so happened that on April 1st there was a downpour of snow, glittering in the faint light. Delia was extremely concerned about getting to a hospital because the roads were iced over and some were blocked off; various were closed and snow simply littered the ground more than wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Paul on the other hand was not worried one bit. He’d packed the bags, prepared them all for their trip to the hospital, and was positively determined to get there without any troubles what so ever. Of course things do not always go as planned, but for once it did - for these two luck was on their side. They arrived at the hospital safely, although Delia was ever more concerned more than usual because the baby wasn’t supposed to be coming yet, but when it did little Brooklyn was a fighter. This was where her Nan on her father’s side said that Brooklyn had inherited some extremely strong traits from her mother and father; stubbornness, persistence, consistency and independence. So she was a little fighter, all throughout her early years. If she wanted something she would not give up on it - oh no Brooklyn would continue wailing to her heart’s content. Her toddler years were not much better although she was slightly more advanced than her brother, attempting to strike up a conversation by the time she was one even though she couldn’t pronounce half her words properly; she was walking, grabbing at anything that glowed and or looked remotely shiny and interesting - she had a habit for tailing round after things that moved, particularly the house cat. In all honesty she was a bit of a tearaway, but since when did anyone really care? She was a child, exploring the world in her own little way. Naturally of course these were just her years starting out, not the ones where the so called magic happened.
As she grew up Brooklyn was incredibly close to her mother. Not in the girly kind of way you would expect where the mother would dote on her daughter buying her pretty frilly dresses and bows and ribbons and making her look like something out of a fairytale book, no. Rather they were close in terms of bonding; Delia had always been the motherly type from a young age and having her own daughter was like having all her Christmases all at once. Of course she loved her first child - her son Ryder - with all her heart, but she was exceedingly pleased when she had a daughter as well, someone to dress up and buy clothes for. Although as said they were not close in those terms; Brooklyn was stubborn still and she never once gave in to anyone, which Delia liked the most about her little girl. That Brooklyn had inherited her stubbornness and that there was no way Brooklyn would back down to anyone - she was also an extremely confident child who didn’t mind voicing her own opinions or getting them heard. In fact Brooklyn was always voicing any thoughts she may have on anything (or as it so happened anyone at all that she saw or heard about or just generally spoke about) - these were at various points in her upbringing and continued right up to the present day, and she still does it now. Brooklyn’s attitude towards people never really got in the way of making friends because as she went to playgroups and interacted with other people she didn’t really become the person she was at home; Brooklyn adapted a new personality when she was around others, and talked to them as if they had known each other all their tiny little lives. Brooklyn always had a smile on her face, especially when she was around her friends.
First days at school can be challenging to anyone. Brooklyn didn’t really have much of a problem interacting with people as she had great confidence and was extremely forward in her confrontations with people; one of her problems were that she didn’t seem to take in to consideration how others felt when she said something. This however was something she learnt to stop doing after the first few months and she became an extremely… you could say cute, caring and sweet girl whom loved to surround herself with other people and interact with as many as she could. She loved having friends and she loved helping other people; you could see through her lies so easily without even having to know her. It became incredibly predictable when Brooklyn was going to do something by the expressions on her face, although she never lost her determination for anything. At home however was a different story - Brooklyn maintained her stubbornness and her unwillingness in to giving in to others and continued to voice out her thoughts. Younger years at school do move on however and you never really do grow old and tired of anyone. Brooklyn made friends she would have kept for the rest of her life had it not been for the events that happened in her early teen years that shaped the rest of her life so far.
In all honesty, James wasn’t anyone special. He wasn’t captain of the school’s soccer team, or the handsomest guy in school; he wasn’t even that brilliant at sports in general, but to Brooklyn he was something special. She was fifteen, well old enough to think for herself. Well she was certainly doing that. Brooklyn didn’t like being controlled and being a teenager gave her that perfect leash she had been looking for - an escape from her (as she saw it) confinement. Still like every other teenager she did have boundaries, and she did actually keep to them. But, as we were saying, or rather as we were talking about - James. To Brooklyn she was the first boy she had ever truly liked. Sure people had crushes everyday - people fell in love with music stars and actors and all sorts, but Brooklyn really couldn’t think about any of those people whenever she saw James. He had deep chocolate hair, hazel eyes and a look that constantly carried innocence wherever he went - a sort of childish look, always adorable looking and never quite resembling someone whom had grown up. He was labelled names that he didn’t care about, simply because he sat with a notebook and earphones and listened to music whilst writing music. He was a creative boy whom nobody really paid attention to aside from Brooklyn. The two developed a rather close relationship, Brooklyn accompanying him on acoustic as they tried vigorously to come up with melodies to the lyrics that he wrote. Neither expected anything to come of it; they were both simply two great friends messing around and having a great time. Still as you know nothing lasts forever. That doesn’t necessarily apply to everyone, because everyone has their fault, their weaknesses and flaws that make them human along with their strengths and quirks that make them an individual being, but that’s not really the point here. The point is that Brooklyn couldn’t possibly of seen anything wrong with her relationship with James, especially when he asked her out just after five to six months of knowing one another. At the age of seventeen, she really didn’t think that anything could go wrong.
So as we have said they had been going out for just over seven months; Brooklyn had been having the time of her life with James. He was someone she could genuinely confide in without having the worries of anyone telling anyone else. The couple were viewed as outsiders, almost, as a different part to everyone else. Weirdoes, the odd ones out because they sat there playing guitars, singing and writing music. As they grew closer and closer Brooklyn thought she could confide in James her greatest secret. It wasn’t some stupid crush secret; they both knew that the other fancied the other. No, this secret was absolutely important, and serious - Brooklyn had never been anymore serious than she had ever been before in her life. After confiding her secret in him, Brooklyn felt so much better, metaphorically speaking. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders and that she could breathe and relax knowing that someone finally knew. However things were not to be as she had imagined them to be - Brooklyn went to school not a week later, and during that week everything had been fine with her and James, only to find that he’d been parading round the school with a girl off of the cheerleading team, and he laughed whilst looking at her across the field. Brooklyn had never felt so betrayed in her entire life, and without a second’s thought she ran home, unwilling to stay in the same school as he was for any further length of time.
After this was the first time ever Brooklyn and her brother had ever really spoken to one another. They didn’t have a particularly close relationship as they had grown older. More so as they gained age they also gained awareness that they weren’t particularly fond of the other and therefore didn’t really speak, but when Brooklyn arrived home, for the first time ever in floods of pouring tears, Ryder took hold of his younger sister and comforted her; he told her that everything was going to be all right and that she’d find someone else and get married and have ten children and live forever. Brooklyn shook her head, all the while tears falling, staining his shirt with messy mixed salty water. Nobody knew her secret, only James and the doctor whom had diagnosed her knew, and so she couldn’t agree with what her brother Ryder was saying. After her confession to her brother, even though she didn’t confide in him what she had done so to James, Brooklyn locked herself up in her room and began picturing the last year in her mind, everything that had happened over the last year, and realizing that it meant absolutely nothing. The happiness she had felt didn’t mean a thing anymore because she felt absolutely terrible. Not even the wonders of Las Vegas interested this poor girl’s mind. So she resorted to the only thing she knew; writing and playing her guitar.
FAMILY: paul and delia - mother and father. ryder - brother. dog - ringo (yes, she considers her dog to be a part of her family).
Stupid, thieving, annoying vampire!
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: Carlisle had to remember to keep blinking every now and then, to move ever so slightly because humans never stood still for long periods of time, to tug at his doctor’s coat every so often, to tap the pen against the side of his leg as he waited for the girl to respond - these were all actions he was hoping would convince people further that he was as human as you could get. It was fortunate that the legends about vampires weren’t true, as they were portrayed in books, that vampires didn’t come out during the day. Still, the sun was right though; Carlisle wouldn’t be able to go out in the sun without causing a bit of a commotion, so he would reserve his sick days for very sunny spells. He could drink holy water, if he wanted to, he could go near garlic, though it didn’t exactly appeal to him very much, although if he had to he’d eat it - and throw it up later, as vampires had to do. He didn’t sleep in a coffin - in fact this vampire didn’t sleep at all. Surprised? Carlisle wasn’t; he’d lived with it for over three hundred years, so why bother dwelling on it now?
He watched as the girl responded to his voice at last. She seemed distracted; Carlisle could hear her heartbeat clearly, and she seemed unsettled; the beat was off, too, and he was suspecting that that was because of her blood loss. Blood which was spilling on to the floor. “You might want to call someone to clean that up,” he leant over towards the receptionist, hearing her heart rate pick up too, and whispered carefully to her. “It might unsettle people who are all ready feeling nauseous.” She didn’t hesitate when she obeyed his suggestion, rather she went to it right away. Ah. That might have something to do with how calmly Carlisle delivered the request. It was amusing in a way, how he could hear their heartbeats pounding ferociously against their chest, how he could tell whether or not they were lying about something, or just generally feeling uncomfortable. Not always though - Jasper was excellent at that, but Carlisle did have talents he’d picked up on over the years. Of course someone’s heart rate nearly always increased when they were lying, especially if they hadn’t learnt to compose themselves for this kind of situation.
Once Asphodel had passed him Carlisle effortlessly swung the door close, pulled down the blinds so that no one could see in, and slid delicately in to the chair - one of those ones that spun around, even though Carlisle didn’t need to spin around to get any a exhilaration; he had the car and running to do that. Still it proved useful when he needed to change between the examination table and the computer, although he slipped the paper he’d gotten from the reception on to a clipboard and drummed the pen against said clipboard - another human habit. She seemed very uncomfortable, and Carlisle began listening to her heart. Now it was just the two of them, and that she was in closer proximity to him, Carlisle could easily smell the blood now - fresh, very fresh… it couldn’t have been more than an hour old, two at the most. So what had she been doing? At least she’d had the common sense to come down to the hospital, but still… he was unnerved a little by how she seemed to not care too much. Alarmed, Carlisle watched once again intently as she sat herself down on the table - he didn’t even need to tell her to do so, and watched as she eyed the room again. Was there a problem? Carlisle had plenty of time, so he sat patiently, somehow knowing that she’d be the one to start talking.
With every move she made, Carlisle was quick to calculate everything she did. The blood was an extremely heavy wave rocketing through the air, especially from the napkins, from her jacket, from the blood on her wrists. Now it was definitely confirmed - she’d done this to herself. Carlisle was alarmed, but he still didn’t have a problem with controlling himself around the blood. He almost forgot to blink in his shook and hurriedly did so, quietly watching her movements until her eyes seemed to settle uncomfortably on her arm. Carefully and without any sudden movements Carlisle moved the chair over to the bed, and reaching up gently touched his hand to her forehead. “You seem a little cold,” he said, turning his attention back to the paper. He withdrew his hand and scribbled something down, his script elegant even with the speed in which he was writing. He then rested two fingers against the side of her neck, hoping the contact wouldn’t make her feel anymore uncomfortable than she all ready seemed to be. “Pulse is a little slow, but it’s picking up.” He could have told that by her heartbeat, but he didn’t need to when he could just check her pulse as he had just done. Once again he withdrew his hand and wrote on the sheet.
“Ash it is then,” he said with a smile. His aim was to get the girl to feel comfortable talking to him so he could get out of her why she’d done this to herself and if anything else was bothering her. “Asphodel’s a nice name though.” He said with a small smile. “Found abandoned and full of remembrances?” He’d picked up one or two things. So would you if you’d lived as long as he had. He stood to go round and pick out some soft cotton wool and water, and placed them on the small trolley, before moving both that and the chair back to the girl. Then, just as effortlessly, he heightened the chair so that he was the same height as she was as he sat back on the chair, the trolley beside him, and carefully he reached for her arm, and began gently wiping away the blood from the cuts so he could see the wound more clearly. “No,” he said, looking up at her. “You’re not bothering me at all. It’s what I’m here for.” The blood, the whole lot of blood, and yet Carlisle simply was not bothered by it. He knew Jasper might be, but then again, Jasper was slowly getting there. “Here,” he reached in to his pocket and pulled out a tissue, handed it to Ash and continued cleaning up the cuts. “There’s no need to cry,” he said gently. “Everything’s fine - I’ll stitch these up, give you some Tylenol, and then you can go home.” Carlisle was trying to sound positive, only considering after he’d said that that perhaps she didn’t want to go home - that the reasoning as to her doing this had been because of home difficulties. Still he didn’t want to jump to conclusions, and would let her explain if she wanted to.
As Carlisle started on her other arm, he heard Asphodel intake a deep breath. So, either the doctor was imagining things, or Ash wanted to speak - or was going to, whether she wanted to or not. He was right though, so he wasn’t imagining things - Ash began to speak, and out of politeness Carlisle quickly finished cleaning the other arm before jotting down the information she gave - Asphodel Aurora Monroe, check. Sixteen years old, check. Born on October 31st… well, that was interesting. He noted her name, age and birthday down, even though her name was all ready on the sheet. Born in Honolulu Hawaii, obviously moved to Forks - her parents were dead, so she was with foster parents here. This he noted down, too. Oh. She had Leukaemia... Carlisle looked up at her with sympathetic eyes. He also got down her blood type in case any transfusions were needed in the future, if she came in again - O positive. On average 37.4% of the population of the USA had that same blood type; in fact it was the highest blood type, on average, in the USA.
Picking up from where he left, Carlisle gently took something else from the trolley as he’d picked out all the items he’d need to help this girl. He threw the two pieces of cotton wool in the nearby trash can and took out another. “This might hurt a little,” he said, as he covered the tiny cotton piece in a liquid that was used to cleanse the wound to stop infections getting through. “Let me know if it gets too much.” And gently, holding her arm in the most delicate way possible, he stroked the cotton piece over the wounds on one arm as carefully as he could. He didn’t want to hurt her; she seemed in enough pain as it was all ready. “Is everything okay at home?” He asked as if it were an everyday question. He threw that piece of cotton wool in the trash can and got another piece, this time covering the wounds on the other arm - after covering it with the liquid, of course. “You can tell me, Ash. I’m not going to tell anyone you don’t want me to.” It would do best to get her trust as much as he could. After cleansing the wound, Carlisle preceded to pick up the needle, but before he started on the stitching, he looked to Ash to see how she would respond to his question first. Again, the blood still didn’t bother him, but her seclusion was puzzling this one doctor’s mind.
Carlisle was going to be completely honest - he honestly didn’t believe a thing that Asphodel was saying. If she had just slipped, she would have gone in to accident and emergency, but she hadn’t - she’d bypassed that entrance and come straight to the main one where people only came usually to visit others or have appointments booked, occasionally for really small trivial things, or just to find out where someone they wanted to visit/see was. However this girl’s intentions didn’t seem so innocent - she had huddled herself in a corner of the entrance room after signing in, blood soaking her clothes, dripping on to the floor, and all the while never uttering a single word. So something had to be up, whether she was going to admit it to someone or not, or if she was one of those girls who didn’t like how they were, how they looked, and were just looking for an escape from it all. Unless she didn’t fall in to any of the previous categories, and just generally was unhappy with life itself. Still Carlisle really couldn’t understand — she was distancing herself from everyone else in the room, and didn’t seem to care that she was losing a lot of blood. Maybe the real reason as to her coming down here had been because she didn’t want to upset the people at home, the ones who were looking after her. Either way it was Carlisle’s job — his duty — to look after people who came in and to make sure that they felt the best possible. He was a doctor, after all. However, this girl was going to make things particularly difficult, especially if she was going to continue lying so ineffectively. “I’m sure it did,” he said carefully, his voice pronouncing each letter clearly within his accent, a mixture of different cultures. Her heart rate had picked up — she was nervous then.
To top it all off, she had begun to shiver. Carlisle couldn’t offer a jacket up because her arms were the source of the injury here, and therefore he couldn’t cover them up. However… he looked around the room, eyes darting back and forth between all the items, scanning everything, even the hidden objects, far quicker than any human could; this was done without giving anything away — the girl would have no reason to doubt that he was human at all. There, just poking out from one of the cupboard doors, he spotted something that may help. Giving Asphodel a smile Carlisle picked himself up from the seat and practically glided across the room, pulled out the blanket without even so much as straining himself, closed the cupboard door and came back to the chair, sat down and covered Ash’s shoulders. “There — I noticed that you were shivering.” He said, appearing considerate. Carlisle had the patience to be as he was; he did have all the time in the world, after all. Add to that how his shift didn’t end for a while, so he was safe talking to Asphodel and getting enough information out of her to subdue the slight fear in him that was perhaps worrying how this girl may do something more advanced; more desperate.
He smiled gently as he continued cleaning up the blood. First things first, he had to make sure that the wounds weren’t clogged up with anything, so that was the point in getting the excess blood off her arm and surrounding the wounds. Then he had to cleanse the wounds to stop infections getting in, and then he had to stitch them up, much for the same purpose of the cleansing. Trust her? Carlisle glanced up at Ash, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What would those reasons be?” He asked calmly. Carlisle didn’t have problems with trying to keep a straight face or anything like that. In fact, Carlisle was genuinely confused at this point — concerned too, to the point where he wanted to press the matter further. “If you’ve hurt yourself, Asphodel, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He continued, gently stroking the cotton wool around the wounds on her arm. “Sometimes people need an escape from things. I know I do sometimes, and sometimes it feels as though no one will listen to you, or that no one will understand how you’re feeling. But believe me, Ash, you’re a better person than they are. Whoever’s giving you trouble, whoever’s making you want to do this—” He motioned gently to her wounds, “— they’re not worth it.” Jasper always understood how people were feeling. Carlisle couldn’t match up to that, but he offered the best advice he could. If Jasper were here he’d be able to decipher this girl’s problems a lot easier than Carlisle could, but he couldn’t expect Jasper to do that. Besides, there was absolutely no need — Carlisle would figure out what was bothering this girl, and why she’d done this to herself in the first place.
Perhaps his advice hadn’t been the right source of comfort, or not in the right context. Still he noticed, as he was cleaning the blood away, that her arms held scars, and these ones looked extremely old. Either she’d been doing this for many years, or something else had happened to her… Carlisle looked at them briefly whilst he continued his work, attempting to work out the cause behind them. Many things could have caused this, and not all of them had ‘suicide’ or ‘self infliction’ in the meaning. Her heart beat was picking up again; Carlisle wasn’t sure what he should do at this point. Something was distressing her, something was upsetting this girl, and she had awkwardness in being here that had nothing to do with the, unbeknownst to her, vampire at her side. The vampire that wasn’t like the vampires in legends. As said, Carlisle was actually pretty pleased about this. He was out in the day, though never in the bright sunlight, but that was a rare occasion in Forks. Still, out in the day, he didn’t sleep although no one aside from the entire vampire community and Bella knew this, as well as the wolves, of course. Perhaps the only true one was the blood drinking, and even that wasn’t one-hundred percent true, because Carlisle was, as his family so affectionately called themselves, vegetarian vampires. Strictly animal blood only. Carlisle was happier with this, a lot happier than having deaths on his hand from killing humans and drinking their blood — the fact that the vampire venom would seep in to the human’s bloodstream meant that the human would either be turned, or have to be killed. So it was animal blood all the way, figuratively speaking.
Of course he couldn’t object to her request, but he could puzzle over it, seeing as it was a little strange. Then again someone asking to lay down in a hospital wasn’t all too strange — perhaps she wasn’t feeling well, and not just from the blood loss. Or perhaps her not feeling well was partly or completely caused by the blood loss. Either way, Carlisle didn’t object, even though she didn’t really wait for his answer. “Of course you can,” Carlisle said, listening carefully to her heart rate. He gently let go of her arm as she lay, before continuing, easily taking hold of her other arm without much effort at all. Gently he rested a hand once again on her forehead, before frowning to himself. “Hmm,” he said, looking about the room once more. “I wont be long — I promise.” Carlisle got himself up and walked over to the door and left the room, swiftly closing the door behind him. He didn’t want to leave the girl on her own for too long, but the moment he was out the room and heading towards the staff room on the left, he was stopped by the quizzical looking receptionist. Quizzical indeed — she began asking him questions as he stepped foot in to the staff room. “She’s fine. I’m just getting her some water and light medicine; she’s feeling a little sick.” He explained quickly, walking round the room and grabbing what he needed. Once he had what he needed for Asphodel, he went back to the room, and just as easily closed the door behind him, smiling as he saw Ash still lying there as she had been when he’d left. “Here.” He said, holding out the small plastic cup of water, as well as pouring out some strawberry flavoured Calpol, and he handed it to her, before sitting back down, placing the bottle of Calpol on the trolley.
At she had been honest with him, or as honest as she saw fit. Carlisle could tell she was hiding something particularly close to her chest; her heart rate gave everything away. The beat of her heart increased like the pounding of the drums leading up to someone’s execution — Carlisle had seen his fair share of those when he was a young vampire. Even when he’d been alive, he’d led a hunt after the vampires himself, which was how he was turned in to one. He wouldn’t view his past actions back then when he’d still been human as a mistake, else he wouldn’t be here today. Rather Carlisle was pleased with how things had worked out, especially as he’d found a way to coexist with humans without feeling at all tempted by their blood; this girl was a perfect example of how blood just didn’t phase him. “At least you’re not on your own then; at least there are people who are there for you.” He had decided, whilst he was out getting her the medicine for her sickness, that he needed to press this matter further and further in to her head; she was not alone, and there were people there who cared about her. However Carlisle knew that it was going to take a lot for him to get this in to her head, especially as she seemed to have resorted to self harm as a form of escaping whatever nightmare plagued her life. Carlisle had dealt with it before though, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise. Even so, every time it did happen, he always wondered why they did it. Sure, they must have their reasons, but surely nothing could be bad to end your own life. Then again Carlisle really wasn’t one to talk — he’d tried numerous times over and over to end his life when he’d discovered what he was, and he’d failed. The same couldn’t be said for humans, unfortunately.
A habit? Carlisle had to stop himself saying something that may come across as too forward. Or, if he wanted to phrase it differently, too protective, or fatherly. Still he knew that self harm could be a bad habit, as she had called it, for some people, or just a habit in general — did it make her feel better, cutting herself? Did she feel some sort of equality when she did so? Carlisle didn’t know the answers to these, or why she was doing this to herself; his own conscience wouldn’t be effected either way, but still, it wasn’t a comforting thought knowing that you knew someone who had gone too far with their self infliction, and you never took the time to pay attention to that person’s needs. This is what Carlisle was aiming to do right at this point — he had the time, so why not use it? “Do you need any help, Asphodel?” He said, looking at her, eyes washed with concern. “I can prescribe you some anti-depressants if you need them.” Of course he could, he was a doctor. However that didn’t make it right; what if she had been on anti-depressants before coming here, and those clearly hadn’t worked? If some of those scars on her arms were from previous self inflictions, then surely she would have worked out that she had some sort of problem, and she needed something to help her? Unless she didn’t want help… Carlisle blinked a few more times, shifting his weight a little — once again, human habits.
The doctor shook his head. “No. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I’m here to listen, too. So you can talk as much as you like.” He smiled again, and for lack of better description, his smile was full of warmth and realism — it was a genuine smile. He wasn’t faking anything, and even if he was Ash wouldn’t be able to tell. For a little while Carlisle let a calm silence unfold around the room. He took his stethoscope from around his neck, placed the plugs in his ears and placed the small metal end on the girl’s chest. This was another human action he’d picked up on to perform; he certainly couldn’t go around checking people’s heartbeats by ear; someone would definitely notice something was up then. “Your heart’s stabilizing; that’s a good thing. Is anything else troubling you?” He smiled again and then added: “I haven’t poisoned that medicine, you know. Trust me, it’ll make you feel a lot better.” It would help, at least, but as long as she believed that she would be getting better, then she would. Sometimes medicine helped, but also it was psychological, and if people genuinely believed that the medicine was helping them get better, then they would. Of course the medicine helped, but it was an observation Carlisle had made over the many years he’d been doing this job. Interestingly, Carlisle never grew tired of being a doctor. He loved it — he was helping people, and that made him happy.
Half a smile formed on the vampire’s lips. “Let me know if this hurts at all.” He said gently, looking once more at the girl before beginning to stitch the wounds together. He kept a light yet steady grip on the girl as he moved the needle in and out her skin, numbing the area with a small injection before he started. She shouldn’t feel too much pain because of the small dose of anaesthetic. Oh, there was some small side effect. “It’s a good thing you’re laying down; some people get a little sleepy after they’ve had some anaesthetic. It’ll pass though, so don’t worry — it shouldn’t make you fall asleep.” It certainly shouldn’t, he noted in his mind. Carlisle listened intently to her story, continuing his fast yet careful work on her wounds. Once she was finished however, he was three quarters of the way through finishing the stitching on the arm closest to him, and since he was an excellent at multitasking, Carlisle spoke whilst finishing the stitching. “I’m sorry about your parents,” he said with a sympathetic look, eyes not leaving the wound. “It’s not your fault Ash that your parents died, or that you were diagnosed with cancer. Plenty of people fight through cancer — some die, some don’t; I’m not going to lie to you about that. But if you’re strong enough you’ll be able to get through this, and I think that’s what your parents would have wanted. They’d want you to fight through this horrible thing that’s happened to you. I hardly think that self infliction is the way to go.” He gave her another smile, finishing up on the stitching on that arm, before carefully reaching out for the other. Before he did anything though, he rested another hand against her forehead, continuously checking her temperature. “Are you feeling any better? You look a little woozy.” He said, watching her facial expression for any sign of change.
What Asphodel didn’t know was that Carlisle found it extremely easy to tell whether or not someone was lying. He was a vampire, after all, and when you became a vampire your hearing did enhance, as well as your ability to hear heartbeats, and if you were lucky have a few extra abilities — like Edward did, the ability to hear other’s thoughts, so he could tell without a problem if someone was lying. However, in this case, Carlisle had to rely on the beating of the heart, and whether or not it hiccupped or skipped a beat whenever the person in question said something. This girl was intriguing though; she obviously had a secret, something she didn’t want anyone else to know, and it were almost as if that if she told someone her whole life would fall apart. Carlisle didn’t want that; she seemed distressed enough as it was, without all this business about her suicidal nature coming through, or just dominating her life in general, but still… he couldn’t help but think what had caused all this to plague her with such horrific nightmares, nightmares that she was experiencing to this very day. The fact that Carlisle couldn’t dream was something he was somewhat happy with on occasion, because he was sure half the things he saw at the hospital would give his former human self nightmares. He was pretty sure that Asphodel would come up, occasionally, and he’d be bothered about the thought of suicide, yet again not that he could do anything about what she wanted. If her wish, her desire was to go and continuously try to kill herself, then Carlisle was not going to stop it. He’d encourage against it, but he wouldn’t stop her from doing something that she wanted to do. It was a stupid thing, and it was pretty reckless, but that was Ash’s decision, not his. Carlisle knew what it was like to try and kill himself, but he had the advantage when he couldn’t actually die from what humans would try and attempt. He wouldn’t ever try it again, but he couldn’t say the same for Asphodel.
You… bit a pillow? Why?
NAME: maddie.
AGE: 456.
GENDER: female.
YEARS ROLEPLAYING: "a while".
LOCATION: teh UK and proud -peace-
HOW DID YOU FIND US: amazing person called ari... who incidently plays aries, i believe.
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