InsaneJournal

Character Info; Source work and parents: Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf; Perrault’s Little Red Riding Hood Name: Faelen Cassidy Age: 19 Played By: Cintia Dicker Where do they live in Port Manteau?: The Bathos Source of income: Prostitute Personality: From her father, Faelen inherited a tendency toward stalking, fearless pursuit and quiet determination. From her mother, she inherited a taste for danger, fierceness and barely controlled sexuality. From both of them, she inherited a need to survive and the ability to do so, no matter the situation. Faelen is a slow burn. You’d notice her grace and sensuality before you’d notice the keen intelligence in her blue eyes. Clever, with the gift of education that her mother and father had not had, she is dangerously astute and exceptionally able to take care of herself. When she wants something, she gets it, be it money or man or woman, and any fear she harbors she can push out of the way and into some closeted place inside herself. With those she cares about, she is open and doesn’t hide her vulnerability, and she has a tendency to care too much, to put herself out there too much, to need and want too much from people, to expect too much from them. In this, she is like her mother and nothing like her father. She is a risk taker, even where her emotions are concerned, where her friends are concerned. She doesn’t hold back, and she doesn’t reel herself in. Once she burns, she burns long and she burns hard. Her morals, however, are just this side of skewed. She enjoys the woods (she's a wild thing), abandoned places and architecture. She has a passion for freedom, and she's unconventional in her mannerisms and her pursuits. She adores art and literature, though her tastes tend to be vibrant in both. She doesn't care for music, TV or movies, preferring to do rather than watch. She likes candles and natural lighting, and she hates glaring overhead lights and artificial surroundings. She sleeps with her windows thrown open so she can hear the night, and she loves the stars and the moon and can often be found looking in her telescope until the sun rises. Parents' story: Red’s decision to leave had been twofold: One, it was just obvious Literari was going to hell, even to a little girl. She’d been there for long as she could recall, and every day the sky got darker and the grass underfoot got colder. There hadn’t been any new folk for years, and people were leaving in droves. Reason one: Common sense. Two, she was itching to see something new. Word was that the world beyond was huge and full of a million-and-one things needing exploring. Her momma’s cottage was all well and good, but a girl got tired of running from a Wolf eventually, and even the Woodsman was starting to bore the dickens out of her, what with his insistence on being so good all the time. It got real tiring after a spell. Reason two: Adventure! So she kissed her momma goodbye one morning, and she left. Just like that. Eight years old and not a place in the world to go, and she’d taken off without a care. Turns out that the human world was real fond of cute little redheads, and she’d gotten picked up by a kindly police officer within hours of crossing. She’d told him, with a bat of her blue, blue eyes, that she didn’t have no one in the world, and he’d taken her to the station. A foster home had followed, and then an “adoption” by some real rich folks in a real bad line of work. Red didn’t mind even a smidgen. She came from a place where villains were commonplace and outnumbered the good folk, and while her own villain was furry, he was also lecherous and murderous, and so a world where people got killed for money and power wasn’t anything new to her. She’d given up a cottage in the woods for a huge estate behind an equally huge fence in the warm, sticky South. She’d given up her red hood for expensive hand-milled cottons and imported skirts that were too short for her age. She’d given up boredom for excitement. Still, she hadn’t been born into the family, and it wasn’t something anyone let her forget real quick. She led the life of an educated pampered princess for eight years, but by the time she was eighteen she was working with the other girls in the house, entertaining during parties and gatherings. Unlike some of the other girls, who hated their lot in life with a vengeance, Red loved it. She was a visceral, voracious young woman, and she enjoyed the attention and the jewels and the pretty, pretty words - on the surface. Plus, she knew that Wolf was still chasing her, and she was trying her damnedest to make him jealous so he’d show his face. She hadn’t seen him close since they’d come over, but she knew he was there. She’d caught glimpses of dark hair and steel-blue eyes in the shadows of alleys and cities alike. Little did she know the hell that would rain down on them when she managed to make him jealous, to draw him in, to catch him. It’d seemed simple at first. She’d drawn him into one of those crowded rooms in the estate where beautiful, young girls lined up for sex. He’d paid, and she’d run, led him on a chase as she always had back home. It was a game at first, coquettish laughter and sensuality and nothing serious. But that changed when she’d taken him to her bed, and she’d ended up crying in his arms and carrying his child. She didn’t know he made his way in the world killing people for pay; she probably wouldn’t have cared if she had known. The next nine months, which she’d spent locked in a home for pregnant women from the estate, made her not care about anything but getting home again, where life was simpler. An early morning cesarean and then she’d been returned to her job and her life, and the baby (a single birth, she’d thought. A girl. She hadn’t stopped to realize boys were set aside for another life) stayed behind, waiting to be placed with a family as she had. She’d known full well, when she’d sent the Wolf to get the baby, that she wouldn’t be living out the day. She hadn’t cared. History: Faelen was born while Red still lived in the estate she worked out of, though she only knew that because she’d been told as much by her father. He’d also told her how they killed her mother when she’d sent him to rescue her. This was just before telling her he was the Big Bad Wolf and that her mother had been Red Riding Hood. She’d been three at the time, and she’d spent the past three years of her life with her "aunt" and "uncle" - tales, it turned out, and friends of her father from Literari. When her father walked through the door one day that summer, she’d had no idea who he was, but her aunt and uncle had kissed her goodbye, and she’d left with him. She’d grown up in an abandoned Victorian house in the woods with only her father for company. He’d spent the past three years, he’d told her, trying to find her mother’s body, and once he’d found it, he’d come for her. She had a tutor from the nearby village, but no friends. The woods were her playground and the large, abandoned home her dollhouse. She had the best education her father could buy for her, and she learned as much about books as she did about guns and knives. By the time she was ten, she was as lethal as any serial killer and as precise as any cop. She’d wander off for days, looking for old haunted homes like her own, and she’d always come home to find her father waiting for her. She grew up loved, but he filled her mind with his hatred, and by the time she was sixteen it had become her own. She wanted to find out what had happened to her mother, she wanted to find out who’d killed her, and she’d wanted to make them pay for what they’d done to all of them. For breaking her father like they had, and for killing her mother, and for her own lost childhood. She stayed clear of emotional attachments, seeing how love had destroyed her father and unable to control her own emotional attachments. Once she loved, she loved. She didn't hold back, and she feared ending up like her parents had. Unbeknown to her father, she started working at her mother’s profession when she was eighteen, just to see how terrible it had been for her. And when the pamphlets started showing up about Port Manteau just before her nineteenth birthday, she told her father she was going. She was going to see if any of the abilities mentioned could help her find out what happened to her mother, she was going to see if there was a way home for him, a way back to his woods and his forests and his trees. And he’d let her go, because she was just as capable of killing someone as he was at that point. She was dangerous, and she was fierce, and she was hungry. She’d be just fine. It was Port Manteau that had to worry. Alliance: Cacophony. Future Plans: Faelen plans to set up a lucrative business in Port Manteau. She’s also interested in finding out what happened to her mother (and exacting vengeance), and she’s hoping that the abilities alluded to in the Port Manteau literature will aid her in that quest. She is also very invested in the Cacophony movement, because she knows her father wants to get home more than anything in the world (save being reunited with her mother). If someone picks up her twin brother, and he was raised to work in the criminal organization she is interested in destroying, there could be conflict there as well - hopefully of the cat and mouse variety, because Faelen was raised by someone who loves her, while her brother was raised by the crime organization. Literary conflict: Faelen will, naturally, hate/love any children of the Woodcutter. She also has issues with incarceration and being trapped, and she cannot handle being caged. This results in a severe case of claustrophobia and a panic she cannot control at being restrained and/or trapped. Ability/Powers: Faelen can turn into a red wolf at will, but she is allergic to silver in all its forms, while in wolf shape or as a human. The weakness carries beyond the limits of Port Manteau, the ability does not. Examples; First Person Community Example: Anyone willing to give a pretty southern girl, one who is real interested in architecture, a tour of one of those Aubade apartments? Word is they’re gorgeous on the inside, and I’m interested in sketching out the interiors, especially the bedrooms. I’ll come alone, and I won’t let even a person know; I’m the soul of discretion. Third Person Log Example: She was soaking in a hot, soapy bath after a long night of work. Her client, a rich doctor, had come from outside Port Manteau, and she generally liked his visits. He paid well, and he liked intelligent conversation before and after, which she appreciated immensely. Then, after, he left to go home to his wife and daughters, and she was left alone, which she didn’t like quite as much. Faelen only picked clients she liked, and she only liked men who were intelligent and rich enough to suit her needs. She didn’t use a pimp or a service, preferring to engage her clients in expensive hotel lobbies or to have them referred to her. She’d never walked a street in her life, and she’d never brought anyone to climax in a car, and she intended to keep it that way. The phone rang in the distance, and she ignored it. Time enough for whoever it was later. Right now she was feeling melancholy, and she didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. She wasn’t any closer to finding out who’d killed her mother, and the abilities that had been touted in all the pamphlets were noticeably missing. She let her fist fall against the side of the tub in frustration. What was the point of being here if she wasn’t accomplishing a damn thing?