Post by Fagan Lay on Jun 24, 2011 1:13:02 GMT -5
[/font]FAGANMARIELAY!?
[/center]Hey! I go by Cheshire. I am seventeen and I'm loving it. I have been roleplaying for eight years and I don't plan on stopping any time soon. I have just one character on this site and I think they're pretty amazing! If you want to contact me you can by pm.
Name: Fagan Marie Lay
Nickname: Fay
Age: Seventeen
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Straight
Playby: Deborah Ann Woll
Member Group: Junior Demi-god ;; Daughter of Apollo
Appearance: Fagan is tall and lean. She's about 5"7, but she's a little underweight for where she should be. She's strong and in shape, thanks to all the hero training she has to endure. She's grown into her body, now that she's older, and is a rather attractive girl. Her left shoulder is weaker then her right, due to a dislocation when she was a child.
Fagan as long red hair, that's naturally wavy. Her eyes are bright and blue and happy. Her skin is rather pale; ironic for a daughter of the Son God. Her hands and fingers have calluses all over them from drum sticks and bows alike.
Personality: Fagan is a friendly, happy person. She has a hot temper, but it takes a lot to bring it out of her. When it's drawn, there's no turning back. You will witness a temper tantrum worthy of the Gods. Usually shooting something at the range, or pulling through a cadence a few times will calm her down.
Fagan's one true love is music. She's been making music ever since she could remember. She can play piano, guitar, drums, and sax. Give her enough time and she can pick up a new instrument and play it perfectly. She's a drummer at heart. There's nothing more soothing then tapping out rthymes on a Remo pad. Fagan also enjoys playing jazz, on her alto saxophone. Improving is her favorite, though she enjoys playing anything from Benny Goodman. Fagan also has a wonderful Saprano voice.
Fagan also loves archery, and she's very good at it. But then again, what child of Apollo couldn't shoot a bow like a champ? Fagan has a high tolerance of pain, which may just be her stubborness; but she's noticed that small wounds and bruises heal much quicker if she exposes them to the sun light. First aid is another of her natural talents; though she'd rather not let people know unless it's an emergency. She gets a little queasy at the sight of blood.
Fagan is very loyal; showing the deepest devotion to her loved ones. Family is very important to her, and friends are a close second. She trusts very easily, perhaps too easily; and when she is betrayed it's complete heartbreak for her. She can be as angsty as any teenager, but is usually in a bright, sunny mood. She has a good sense of humor, and is pretty funny when you get her going. She loves to pull pranks, and enjoys annoying everyone with corny jokes.
Fagan has always been a bit of a tomboy. Her bestfriends have always been boys, and she's always been just one of the guys. She gets along with everyone, and she has plenty of girlfriends. She'd just rather hang out witht he guys; the drama's not so big and it's something nice to look at. Fagan can't help being a flirt, even with her best guy friends.
Ohh, and by the way. If you could, just skip the jokes about her initials. She's heard them all. Yes it's very funny that her initials stand for 'fail my life' as well as 'Fagan Marie Lay'. We don't need to point it out. Thanks, buddy.
Likes: music (drums & sax), books, archery, pranks, reptiles
Dislikes: the cold, clowns, bad grammar, picture taking, birds
Mother: Morgan Lay, forty-nine, archaeologist and professor
Father: Apollo, immortal, Olympian God
Siblings: countless demi-gods
Pets: Kamodo, the Leopard Gecko
History: Fagan grew up in Pittsburgh, Pa. The only family she'd ever known was her mother. She knew very well what she was and who her father was; her mother had told her thousands of times how they had met over in Greece. But there was always a sense of doubt lingering around her. Was this even possible? She got her answer on her seventh birthday, when Apollo showed up at the local Chuck E. Cheese's unexpected.
It was a bit of a weird day. First she had to deal with this spazz-child named Grant, who kept throwing pepperoni slices at her. Then this stranger appears at her party; only, he's not a stranger. Her mother knows him, and very well, I might add.
The third weird thing was that an arcade game exploded. It was so random. There was a small fire burning, and one of the worker's rushed over with a fire extinguisher to put it out. Instead of being smothered by the white foam, the fire flew from the destroyed game, and wrapped around Fagan; forming a giant snake. The fire coiled around her, but she didn't scream out in pain. The fire snake slithered up the length of the girl's body, and exploded in a bright sun above her head. The sparks fell down, but Fagan was still unharmed.
Everyone was staring at what had just happened. Of course, most of the people standing there had not seen the magical fire coil around the girl; or the bright sun bursting above her head. But her mother had seen, and Apollo had watched from the table; sipping on his coke.
Happy birthday, daughter, he said with a warm smile.
It was on her seventh birthday that Fagan was claimed by her Olympian father. After that day, Fagan's faith never wavered. She loved her father with all her heart, despite his absence. She bombed her mother for answers, asking for even more detail on how she and Apollo had met.
Morgan was an archaeology student working on a dig site North of Athens. She'd gotten left behind by accident, and a man picked her up just as the Sun was setting. He took her to a little bar for dinner; and at some point in time the man and the wine managed to talk her into singing some karaoke.
Morgan had a beautiful, oparetic voice, and the man found himself love struck; sitting at that little table. Sometime later, Fagan was the front page news for Morgan and the man. The man confessed himself to his lover, and stayed with her through out the long nine months; even calling for his sister to personally look after Morgan during her labor. And that was the origion of Fagan Lay.
Sadly, her origion story is more exciting then her early life story. Either Fagan was very unimportant, or Pittsburgh was much more polluted then people thought. Monsters and dangers were never a problem for Fagan; though she was a bit of a problem in school. Fagan thought figured since her father was the God of Prophecy, she could also see the future. That wasn't the case, but it didn't stop her from annoying the teachers with predictions. She was adored by her music and English teachers though. Even at a young age she showed a talent for music and poetry.
Fagan went through elementary and junior high in Pittsburgh. Then one day in the summer a letter came, inviting Fagan to enroll in Richmond High School: a boarding school in California for demi-gods and mortal kids alike. Fagan was thrilled by the idea; her mother, not so much. She soon gave in though, and Fagan was on her way to California.
Code Word: -removed by admin-
Roleplay Post
Fagan sat at the bar, swishing the ice cubes in her coke around with the bright yellow straw. Artemis would wring her is she knew Fagan were drinking this "poison." Then again, she was an all knowing goddess; of course she knew she what her Hunters were drinking, when, and where. Still, she'd not been scolded yet by some beast or sign, so why ruin a good thing? Fagan picked up the straw and took a long sip of the fizzling liquid.
The night was quiet, but it was so beautiful. Finally summer was here. She should be out on the Hunt, but she'd been volunteered, along with a few other Hunters, to stay at the academy. Not that she didn't love it here. It was great; but being on the Hunt was something different. Something, unreal: ethereal.
She was usually dressed up when she came to the club, but that was only because she was down in the cabaret. She'd been performing for the past few weeks down there; singing and playing various instruments with her half-brothers and sisters. Tonight was a night for herself; a night to relax. She'd actually picked out an outfit that wouldn't piss of her Sisters. A comfy, gray dress, sandals, and only her wooden bracelet for jewelery. Her red hair was down and wavy, kept at bay with a headband decorated with a peacock feather. She'd already sworn eternal celibacy; might as well find another way to honor the goddess of marriage.
Not too many of the kids were on the roof tonight. A few other demi-gods, a couple Titan kids, the usual. It was kind of weird, but it was the beginning of summer. There were a lot more cooler places to hang then the roof top of Orion's. Not that the club's not cool, but it gets old, you know?
From the corner of her eye she saw a young boy approach the bar. Really young; like, baby young. Not baby like diapers and throw-up babies. Like, child baby: like baby-faced little boy baby. Dressed up like some sleaze ball record producer from Hollywood; not that the kid was a sleaze ball. Look at that face. He's just a baby. Fagan kept her attention on her ice-cubes.
The boy spoke, and out came this accent. This pure, unadulterated British cadence. If John Lennon and Julie Andrews met up, and their voices had a baby.. Then that baby would sound like this boy here. It was lyrical; and it was now that Fagan realized the kid was rambling on about sugar. A moment later she realized that he wasn't Olympian. He was a Roman.
You're at a night club and you order tea? Fagan laughed, flashing the boy a dazzling smile. You guys really do like your tea, huh?
The night was quiet, but it was so beautiful. Finally summer was here. She should be out on the Hunt, but she'd been volunteered, along with a few other Hunters, to stay at the academy. Not that she didn't love it here. It was great; but being on the Hunt was something different. Something, unreal: ethereal.
She was usually dressed up when she came to the club, but that was only because she was down in the cabaret. She'd been performing for the past few weeks down there; singing and playing various instruments with her half-brothers and sisters. Tonight was a night for herself; a night to relax. She'd actually picked out an outfit that wouldn't piss of her Sisters. A comfy, gray dress, sandals, and only her wooden bracelet for jewelery. Her red hair was down and wavy, kept at bay with a headband decorated with a peacock feather. She'd already sworn eternal celibacy; might as well find another way to honor the goddess of marriage.
Not too many of the kids were on the roof tonight. A few other demi-gods, a couple Titan kids, the usual. It was kind of weird, but it was the beginning of summer. There were a lot more cooler places to hang then the roof top of Orion's. Not that the club's not cool, but it gets old, you know?
From the corner of her eye she saw a young boy approach the bar. Really young; like, baby young. Not baby like diapers and throw-up babies. Like, child baby: like baby-faced little boy baby. Dressed up like some sleaze ball record producer from Hollywood; not that the kid was a sleaze ball. Look at that face. He's just a baby. Fagan kept her attention on her ice-cubes.
The boy spoke, and out came this accent. This pure, unadulterated British cadence. If John Lennon and Julie Andrews met up, and their voices had a baby.. Then that baby would sound like this boy here. It was lyrical; and it was now that Fagan realized the kid was rambling on about sugar. A moment later she realized that he wasn't Olympian. He was a Roman.
You're at a night club and you order tea? Fagan laughed, flashing the boy a dazzling smile. You guys really do like your tea, huh?
Fagan turned in her bar stool to face the boy. He was a cutie; kinda short for the age he looked. His eyes were intense, but they had a beautiful quality to them. Now that she looked at him full on, he looked even younger. Sure the Romans where hardcore, but he seemed so young.
My name's Fagan, and don't worry: there's no ban of coffee,[/color] she winked. Don't look so nervous kiddo; we're all family here![/color]
He wasn't though. He was Roman. A distant cousin twice removed and then thrown back in for the sake of peace. But this kid was so young. Fagan had hunted enough to pick up on fear, and she could sense the uneasiness of the boy.
What's your name, Shorty?[/color][/quote]
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote]
