mightbeconcussed | polychromatic Application

Name/Nick; Kristi
LJ name: bashipforever
Other characters currently played:
[ Inara Serra :: Firefly :: only_fell]
[ Rick Castle :: Castle :: cuffmeonce]
[ Myrnin :: Morganville Vampires :: trapdoor_spider]
E-mail: writer@allengames.com
AIM/messenger: rageiscute

Character: Lucy Locke
Abilities:
Lucy is just a girl so she doesn’t really have any abilities unless you count a fierce pout which she wields whenever she thinks it might help her and often when she doesn’t. She’s of average intelligence and as a college student, she really doesn’t have any particular knowledge that anyone else would be lacking. She can cook but she often injures herself in some minor way like cuts her finger, burns her arm—things like that. Lucy was raised as a Southern Belle so she knows how to have high tea, throw a garden party, a ball or host a five course dinner. All of which are fairly useless in real life.

Flaws/weaknesses:
Her weaknesses are fairly common to the average human. She has horrible road rage, stands up in her convertible and yells at the people in front of her. She doesn’t like to sit still or wait in line but she deals with it. For some reason put her in a car, stick her in traffic and she becomes the crazy lady she really is inside. In general, she’s incredibly impatient and she has no willpower when it comes to…well most things but it’s most prevalent when she’s out shopping. Lucy doesn’t mind blowing most of her paycheck on a pretty pair of expensive shoes. She figures she can always eat ramen for a month and candle light is totally romantic. She likes to have things her way and can be prone to little fits of temper when they aren’t. Mostly pouting but occasionally there is foot stomping. She’s not easily goaded into real anger though. She talks too much, to the point of annoying and doesn’t really know when to stop. She’s aware that she’s being annoying and she’s got the ability to stop—even though she’s claimed before to have advance Tourette Syndrome. She doesn’t—she just sort of self propelled and doesn’t see the need to stop. Lucy has commitment issues to the point that she jeopardizes her life, her goals and her relationships. She won’t show up to classes in school. When it comes to guys, she employs a deflect and avoid tactic that makes Kate Hudson in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days look laid back (on purpose) or she gives a guy the number for the local pizza hut with the internal excuse that ‘he’ll get more good out of it’. After all, she takes more work than a pizza. It’s her way of skipping the inevitable him avoiding her phone calls or never calling when he says it will thus skipping the whole broken heart thing she’s certain every tryst will end in. She pushes the people in her life to the point of breaking because of these issues because if they stay despite everything, they’re worth keeping and having.
She has allergies; nothing life threatening but the usual dust and pollen allergies that drive people insane at various times of the year. She’s in good health besides that but she is incredibly clumsy, just as likely to trip over her own feet as an imaginary crack in the sidewalk. Her medical file is lengthy just because she’s made a lot of trips to the emergency room due to honest accidents like slicing her finger during cooking, falling down the escalator, falling off a stripper pole during pole class etc ad nauseum. At one time a doctor asked her if she was abused at home. She’s never been injured seriously enough to require more than one night in a hospital.
History/background:
Lucy is 22 years old. She grew up in Birmingham, Alabama the only child of Lily and Jim Locke. The Locke family has had money for ages but Jim increased it many times over by investing in a host of startup companies that happened to do well. Investing is sort of what her father does. As a result of his good fortune, Lucy has been pampered her whole life. She only half jokes that she was twelve before she realized the Chronicles of Narnia were not about her because her father calls her Princess Lucy. Her mother likes her mint juleps but was never an abusive or audacious alcoholic. Functioning is probably the best description. Sometimes Mama had a headache and couldn’t attend PTA meetings or girl scouts. Her father always filled that role and never made it seem more than normal. As a result Lucy has been known to enjoy her own mint juleps. She was raised Southern Baptist but when she’s not home, she falls behind in her church attendance, as in she doesn’t go at all.
Lucy is an avid, obsessive fan of Alabama University Football. She keeps a countdown, knows the names of everyone on the team and their positions. She goes to every football game and often claims the team is her husband. Football is almost a religion for Lucy. The whole game makes her happy and does for her what meditation does for others.
She met her best friend in kindergarten and they were almost inseparable after that. Jill wasn’t really part of Lucy’s social circle but they stuck together in spite of it. She was a cheerleader in high school in spite of her clumsiness. Many football games ended in injuries but nothing more serious than a broken arm or leg. When Lucy was 16 she did what every 16 year old cheerleader was supposed to do and she went out with the Quarterback of the football team. Like any 16 year old girl, she fell in love quickly, easily and Mike Wilson ended up being her first. Everything was fine for several weeks until she caught him at a party with one of the other cheerleaders. A few weeks later she found out she was pregnant. For better or worse, she didn’t tell Mike—refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the full extent that he’d hurt her—and went to an abortion clinic with a fake ID and five hundred dollars meant for a shopping trip. She went with Jill and never told her parents or Mike. That kicked off her commitment issues and she only padded them with a string of bad date choices over the years. Lucy tends to value pretty over personality; primarily because it’s easier on her to ditch pretty the morning after than it is personality.
After graduation—Lucy was never driven enough to be a good student, settling for average—She attended Alabama University in Tuscaloosa. She lives in a dorm there and goes home on a regular basis. She’s currently majoring in Philosophy but still has no ambition or goals. In fact the reason she picked Philosophy is because she’s pretty sure philosophers don’t do anything. That’s exactly what she wants to do, plus shopping. She figures she’ll just go to college until Daddy cuts her off or until she’s hit by the Goal Fairy. She’s been in college for three—almost four years and still has a couple of semesters before she gets her bachelor’s degree. She’s already planning on grad school after that. It’s a way of avoiding making that big decision about her future and one more way her commitment issues waylay her life.
Lucy has a deep southern accent but she does not sound like Scarlett O’Hara. That’s more Georgia. Think Sweet Home Alabama and everyone *but* Reese Witherspoon. She lives with the mentality that boys do the physical labor. Girls supervise the housework, cook and do all the girly things
Personality:
Lucy is perpetually happy. There is little a new pair of shoes, coffee and a compliment won’t fix for her. She’s also persistent, annoying, stubborn, supportive of her friends, protective of anyone she perceives weaker than her as well as loyal. She’s blunt to the point of it being a fault. She has no filter between her brain and her mouth. If Lucy thinks it, she says it; sometimes without realizing the damage or embarrassment it could cause. She has intense commitment issues in regards to romantic relationships. She doesn’t get paranoid or emo about them, but she flirts with the same frequency that she breathes and takes very little in life seriously. She can be incredibly demanding on someone’s time but is willing to allow them to be just as demanding back. She’s not easily offended or angered or driven away. Her general retort in a fight is to stick her tongue out but she has been known to throw a punch or kick some shins when really goaded. It’s definitely her last resort though because of the aforementioned klutz factor and the slow fuse.
Lucy means well in nearly everything she does. That doesn’t mean that everything she does turns out well. She certainly rarely intends on hurting people. Of course like most humans, exceptions can be made for the people that hurt her. She’s as vulnerable to revenge as the next person. She is an only child unaccustomed to being told no and won’t often take you seriously if you tell her no. She’s prone to pouting and has no concept of personal space, either her’s or anyone else’s. She’s content to share everything she owns and often forgets what she’s loaned out (like books or clothes). This is more based on the idea that the supply of ‘stuff’ is endless than any saintliness on her part. She just never grew out of the teenage girl stage where you load all your clothes to your BFF and vice versa. She likes a party and has no ambition or direction. This drives her father a little crazy sometimes but Lucy likes living in the now. The future and what she’s going to do in it is for later at some unspecified time. She is crazy OCD organizational wise but particularly closets. She’ll rearrange hers at least seasonally and often, she’ll rearrange other people’s given permission. Lucy has a problem with sticking to a schedule, she’s forgetful and she gets side tracked easily. Her attention span is just too short.
Lucy’s happy, bubbly personality really isn’t a front for anything. Bad things happen and she reacts accordingly but her life has been alright and she figures she can go through life sad or she can go through it happy. She’d rather be happy on the whole. She rolls with the punches remarkably well and looks for the bright side in any situation.
When she does get glum, she wants ice cream, sweet tea, sweet potato pie and a host of other traditional Southern foods. She stuffs herself silly, watches Resident Evil and fishes for compliments from everyone she knows. She never stays glum for long. Lucy is a bit like a hummingbird. She moves really fast and just does her thing but she’s always just sort of suspended in space never really moving forward.
When it comes to dealing without Jill, Lucy is almost frantic in her coping. She’ll go go go all the time, keep herself entirely busy and chatter to everyone imaginable. She’ll also be certain to get a roommate or a pet. Eventually she’ll level out, take some time to breathe and miss her best friend then continue doing her thing because she doesn’t know how to sit still for long.
Background setting: [the setting your character came from before PC] Earth 2010 Birmingham, Alabama
Physical description:
http://images.teamsugar.com/files/users/0/3987/26_2007/CS-Kristen-Bell.jpg
http://www.filmschoolrejects.com/images/kristen-bell-sexy02.jpg
Lucy is short, coming in at just 5’1. Her entire stature is very petite. She weighs around 100-110lbs. This means she’s a bit flat chested and doesn’t have many curves. She has been known to say she’s built like a boy. Through the grace of good genetics, a metabolism that’s insane and an inability to sit still, Lucy is in fairly good shape. She wears high heels a lot and usually dresses fashionably. She’s got blue eyes, fair skin and long wavy blonde hair.
Sample RP:
The table is cold underneath her back and the paper crinkles, too loud in a room that’s too quiet. There’s a pile of magazines several years old in a plastic magazine rack attached to the wall. The promise of losing ten pounds in two weeks glares at Lucy from the cover of a Good Housekeeping. She wants to pull her knees to her chest but she’s pretty sure there’s some law that says she has to lie here, heels in stirrups even though she’s shivering.
“Should have bought the stripey knee socks.”
The kind on parodies of Catholic School Girls and Goth angels. The whole image makes her stifle a giggle that comes out like a snort. Really a place like this ought to have more respect for their patients. Customer service, competition driven; it’s not as if the doctors and nurses are the ones left half naked in a hospital gown. Lucy looks over at the closed door and tears well in her eyes. She forces them down then sits up abruptly, nearly choking and gagging on all the emotion she won’t give into. It’s an odd sensation, not giving into her feelings and not voicing her thoughts. She doesn’t have much experience in restraint…which is precisely how and why she ended up here. Practice restraint, she thinks. Check. Check. Giving into tears and wailing would seem too much like defeat and while she’s never minded falling or finishing last, she’s not going to let this—him—beat her. Not this time.
There’s a muscle in her calf that’s twitching and another in her eyes. She has her hands fisted by her side because they’re shaking—what’s the cliché? Trembling like a leaf and leaves that tremble get knocked down, pushed along the sidewalk and eventually sucked up in a leaf blower. Lucy doesn’t think they’ve given her enough Xanex for this. Obviously. She should have nabbed some of her mother’s before they’d left the house that morning. Her mom’s soft, drawling voice cuts through her thoughts of defeat and leaves dumped in a compost pile once they’ve been sucked up. Maybe the analogy is better than she first thought. Her mother is tsking as she tells her Sugar, s’no use cryin’ over spilt milk but does this qualify as spilt milk? Because Lucy thinks this falls into the ‘leaping before you look’ category of phrases and sayings. As she didn’t look and she leapt. Me and Alice; falling down, down, down but I’m pretty sure that drink me and getting bigger than a house isn’t a safe sex warning.
She looks up to the ceiling and swallows that lump in her throat again. Nearly hysterical laughter erupts from her and fills the room. They have pictures of baby animals and their mothers on the ceiling. There’s a gorilla and its baby as well as a lioness and her cubs. She’s still laughing, tears trickling down her cheeks, when the door to the room opens and people walk in. She doesn’t look over at them because she doesn’t want to see his face. She can’t help but see the nurse when she comes to her side, a gentle smile on her face. She looks like someone’s mother and Lucy thinks it’s a theme here. Or a joke. A really bad joke.
“How are you feeling, Sugar?” The nurse’s hand flits near her hairline, fingertips touching then flying away. Her expression and her nerves broadcast that already this one seems complicated.
“Don’t you think it’s inappropriate?” Lucy asks, her eyes meeting the nurse’s directly. The laughter is gone and has been replaced with hardness that changes her features. It makes her look older yet more vulnerable.
“What?” The nurse is thoroughly confused; it shows on her face, eyes wide, eyebrows arched toward a widow’s peak. She looks to the doctor, lining his equipment up and preparing for the ‘procedure’ but he doesn’t have any answers for her. Those are locked inside Lucy.
“Baby animals and their mothers on the ceiling,” Lucy responds, making the decision to put the nurse out of her misery and clarify. “I mean…shouldn’t you have pictures of women being doctors and lawyers, strong and independent. Something showing the successful lives they went onto live. Afterwards.” There’s weight to that word and she pauses to give it its due. That’s why she’s here. That’s what she’s counting on. Afterwards. “I mean…really, this is an abortion clinic. I had to come through a whole crowd of people with signs and pictures of babies and their mothers. People condemning and people pleading. One lady told me I was going to Hell. As if I don’t know that already. Southern Baptist baby. All the way.” She’s not even sure how or why that relates to the stupid pictures of baby animals on the ceiling but it does. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it just relates to everything inside her that is twisted and writhing, cramping, protesting and pleading.
“We find our patients do better when they have something to focus on,” the nurse responds but her hands are fidgeting, shaking as they brush Lucy’s hair back from her face. It is the answer she’s been trained to give when the pictures on the ceilings are questioned but it’s obvious they’ve never been questioned in quite this way. It’s not an answer that satisfies Lucy’s outrage but the nurse isn’t certain there is an answer that would satisfy anything about this girl fidgeting and accusing on her table.
“It’s incredibly friggin’ inappropriate. Get a TV or put a half naked boy up there!” Lucy almost yells, jerking away from the woman’s touch. Her reaction pulls the doctor’s attention from his preparations. “And you need a rug in here. Some art on the walls, maybe a pillow or two.” Because decorating will fix this. It’s ridiculous but the décor is something that Lucy can stand to focus on.
“Ms. Locke, if you’d just calm down-“ the doctor starts.
“I’m calm but you’re inappropriate and I can’t do this when there’s some doe-eyed baby gorilla looking down at me.” The tone of her voice is a thread snapping, everything coming unhinged like the crest of a wave just before it smashes everything beneath it to pieces.
She stands up on the table, oblivious to the doctor and the nurse both clamoring to stop her. Warnings of insurance claims and injuries swirl up around her legs, scarcely reaching her ears. She goes up on her toes—Like ballet class, up, up, up on your toes. Toe Pointe! I was never any good in ballet Her fingertips hook beneath the edge of the posters stuck to the ceiling, fingernails digging into the acoustic tiles, cramming powdery white dust under her nails. Manicure please and why didn’t I get a pedicure yesterday? Her knees shake and a giggle trickles along her throat because she thinks she can hear them knocking over all the other noises in the room. Her pieces are pushing apart like ice floes fleeing as fast as they can, jagged bits bumping and swaying against each other, bobbing beneath frigid water to surface again, colliding. She pulls the pieces back, corralling them into herself with each shred of paper. The sound of the ripping and shredding overwhelms the nurse’s pleading and the doctor’s quiet warnings. He is on the phone, probably calling the beefy security guard that stands outside the clinic door. At least he’s cute. He could be my focus object. Once the posters are down, in pieces around the table, scattered across the floor Lucy sits ridiculously meek and then lies down, feet in the stirrups and hands folded just beneath her breasts. The nurse and the doctor are staring at her, mouths agape.
“Perhaps we should reschedule.”
“I’m not rescheduling,” Lucy responds. “You do this now or I go find another abortion clinic that doesn’t have inappropriate baby animals on their ceilings and you lose my money. I’ll also tell everyone I know what horrible Martha Stewarts you make. I’m not changing my mind and I’m not having a crisis of conscience. I’m redecorating your room in a more tasteful manner. Would it kill you to DVR some HGTV and watch it at night?”
There’s a minute where she thinks the doctor is having a crisis of conscience but he rolls his table of equipment over and begins the procedure. The nurse, apparently, has no other job outside of stroking Lucy’s hair until she reaches up and slaps the nurse’s hand away then she’s just standing there, all her purpose stripped. Lucy almost feels guilty but she figures if she starts feeling guilt for anything now she’s going to drown. She knows she’s supposed to focus on something else, anything else; except drowning and guilt. The beefy security guard never arrived so she picks the reason she’s here. Mike Warren, quarterback of the football team and the hottest thing going in college. He’s a junior and she’s barely eighteen. She thought she was a very lucky girl. She thought she was that pretty, that smart, that much fun. It turned out she was just that naïve.
The doctor is humming and that draws her attention back to the room. Lucy puts her hands over her ears because she thinks she can hear the doctor scraping her insides out and she bites her lip against asking what happens to all those parts of her after this. She’s pretty sure they go in a red biohazard bag and get tossed away in a dumpster somewhere then she reminds herself they’re parts of Mike too and she doesn’t wonder so much. Tyler Durden would have made soap. Her stomach twists, revolting against the pop culture reference burned in her brain; she can feel the bile rise against the back of her teeth. She swallows it down, burning her throat, refusing to throw up. At least nurse-y would have something to do. She knows she should say this is what hurts the most out of everything he did to her. It’s what everyone expects; it’s what a good Southern Baptist girl would feel but the truth is that this is just the way it feels like it should end. There’s so much pain locked away inside of her and there should be some physical sort of ritual for it. She’s already burned all the little things left over from a relationship; ticket stubs, notes passed, voicemails saved, that cheap heart pendent that turned her skin green, his letterman’s jacket. It’s only fitting that she get rid of this too. The callousness of her thoughts make her stomach twist again. It’s easier this way, to think this way. To be this way. Daddy would be so disappointed.
When they’re done, she’s left alone with her clothes on a hard plastic chair along with a sheet of instructions. She gets dressed, promising herself she’ll throw the clothes away when this is all over. As soon as she walks into the waiting room, her best friend is there, her hand tightly squeezing hers. Lucy gives her a weak smile and nods. They’ve got a hotel room for the night and a lot of ice cream to get through.
“Our secret, Jilly. Right? I don’t ever want him to know how he almost ruined my life.”
“Our secret, Luce. I promise.”
Sample post:
So I told him that I thought we were better as a special occasion sort of thing. Like the classic car you keep in the garage because if you drove it every day it’d always be in the shop. I’m not entirely sure he bought it but he agreed to leave our face to faces to parties and booty calls—Jill are you even listening to me?
[Lucy is standing in front of the fountain with a really fantastic Prada bag –price tag still attached--in her hand. She’s looking around wildly.]
Jilly Bean?
[She looks down at the bag in her hand]
Oh Holy Bear Bryant…does this mean I shop lifted? I swear I was going to buy it. Not that that ever works in the movies or the TV shows. It’s like the standard excuse for shop lifters. I bet it’s the excuse Wynona gave but honest, I mean it. I was going to pay for it until I got—where is this? Kidnapping carries a very serious penalty and I am not someone you want to abduct. Especially if you’re an alien. Oh God…it’s aliens isn’t it? I want to chime in with being opposed to aliens. Unless you’re Max Evans. Then you can abduct me anytime.
[She pauses to take a breath and note that the scenery is not one she recognizes]
This is definitely not Roswell, New Mexico.
[And a final glance down at the bag before she tucks it firmly beneath her arm]
At least I got to keep the bag…

polychromatic Application

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