Synodiporia: Application (last updated: 9/16/2017)

[runawaystory]

P L A Y E R;
NAME: Cheshire (formerly Ivory and Horn)
AGE: 16+
PLAYER JOURNAL: ivoryandhorn
TIMEZONE: EST
CONTACT: ivoryandhorn @ dw/gmail/plurk
OTHER CHARACTERS PLAYED:
Previously (as Ivory and Horn): Iwamine Shuu (Hatoful Boyfriend), Alice Liddell/Harmony (Heart no Kuni no Alice PG/AU), Ace (Heart no Kuni no Alice), and Quinn Quentes (OC)
Currently: Ace (Heart no Kuni no Alice)

C H A R A C T E R;
NAME: Rosalie Chou
CANON: OC
POINT IN CANON: post-epilogue
AGE: 24
APPEARANCE:

Rosalie is a twenty-four-year-old biracial woman. Her father was a Chinese immigrant, her mother was an Irish immigrant, and her appearance reflects that. Other than her race, there's not much that's remarkable about Rosalie. She's 5'5" and unremarkable in build. Due to various events, her entire left arm, including the shoulder, is covered in shriveled leathery skin that's a mottled red in color. Her left hand's nails are more like thick black claws. As such, Rosalie always wears long sleeves and gloves in order to keep the arm hidden. I am using Emma-Lee Moss/Emmy the Great for her PB.

Due to her home era, Rosalie's clothes, hair, and make-up hew to 1930s style. One of the two-piece suits from this image is a good representation of the outfit she arrived in. Even when blending into other worlds, Rosalie will prefer clothing that is as close as possible to 1930s aesthetic conventions. Overall, Rosalie tries to present an image that is ladylike, professional, and well-kept, within the bounds of limited budget (back home) and circumstance (Jaunts). The only deviation from that ladylike image is her bag. Rather than use a dainty handbag or purse, Rosalie prefers to use a beat-up leather satchel slung across her body to hold her necessities.

CANON HISTORY:

World Background

Rosalie is from a 1930s USA that's similar, but not quite the same, as the 1930s of our history. The major difference between her world and ours is that in hers, the supernatural exists: demons, ghosts, magic, and more are all real, though not known to the general public. Airships also remain a viable form of transoceanic transportation, though only the wealthy can afford tickets. Her world also varies from ours in many other ways, big and small, but the existence of the supernatural is the major point.

On an OOC note, Rosalie comes from a tabletop campaign themed on classic pulp horror, but historical veracity wasn't the group's priority, so this sentence is my catch-all cop-out for any possible anachronisms in her speech, etc. Though for the purposes of RP I will be attempting to be a little more historically accurate than we were during the campaign.

Growing Up

Rosalie's parents were a Chinese man and Irish woman in 1900s San Francisco. The pair had a tempestuous romance that ended abruptly shortly after Rosalie's birth, when her father was deported back to China, never to be seen again. Over the next few years, Rosalie's mother worked her way back to her family in New York City. Her mother's family wasn't exactly happy to have them move back in, but they grudgingly made space for them. It wasn't necessarily a cozy or loving upbringing, but Rosalie's mother worked hard to make sure she never went hungry or cold. Rosalie's mother died when she was sixteen, and the atmosphere at home cooled even more toward Rosalie. By then, she was working odd jobs in order to build up some savings, with the dream of moving out of the chilly home.

She harbored bigger dreams, though. Rosalie greatly admired the muckracking reporters of her time and grew up with romantic, starry eyed dreams of becoming one of those controversial figures, dragging the masses kicking and screaming to the hard, ugly truth. However, she could not find any newspaper willing to give her any kind of job, even as a secretary--let alone teach her how to write and investigate. The only such job she could find was with the Supernatural Times ("Weird Business is Our Business!"), a weekly rag that was considered a laughingstock because it was run by a single editor who actually believed in the supernatural nonsense that was published in its smudgy pages. It only survived due to the fact that it was funded by similar, but significantly wealthier, crackpot believers.

As a reporter at large for the Supernatural Times, Rosalie traveled all over the USA, chasing down stories of various supernatural findings. It was an exhausting job that she felt was deeply humiliating, though the pay was decent and she got to see a lot of the country on the newspaper's dime. Most of the supernatural happenings that she encountered were hoaxes, though. Rosalie dreamed of exposing a big hoax, maybe exposing some insidious extortionate cult, thus making her name as a reporter. Though she occasionally encountered the truly supernatural, she convinced herself that it was all fakery. Her denial was so strong that, even when she acquired a personal "ghost" that persisted in haunting her with strange noises and other poltergeist-y shenanigans, she convinced herself that it was all in her imagination. Probably just stress.

The Affair of the Evil Book

On a routine tip from her editor, Mr. Crabapple, Rosalie ended up in the rural New York town of West Port. There she met up with two old contacts of hers, a drunk ex-British Army medic named Westwood and disgraced policeman Detective Terrence Owen, persuading them to help her investigate reports of a mysterious haunted house. Surprisingly, the reports of strange noises and lights turned out to be true, and the three of them snuck into the house to investigate. Exploring the flooded basement, they encountered a mysterious book on a blood-splattered lectern, as well as strange footsteps hunting them down. The three of them barely escaped with the book in hand.

Rosalie led the group back to New York City, where they met with one of her other contacts, the extremely wealthy amateur magician William Dorschet, who was also one of the Supernatural Times' chief investors. Examining the mysterious book, William decided it would be best to contact a medium of his acquaintance for help in conducting a seance. His hope was to contact whatever entity seemed to be possessing the evil book. Though Rosalie had initially encountered the medium he hired, Ivy, as a charlatan, Ivy's powers proved true in this instance and the group did in fact make contact with a supernatural entity of some kind. However, the seance was ultimately a bust, and the book struck back at them, resulting in William's mansion being burnt down.

Disturbed, the group continued investigating the book and its origins, even returning to West Port in order to examine where it had been found. They soon found that strange undead creatures were coming after them, presumably for the book, and barely escaped West Port with their lives. Following a lead from one of Rosalie's extensive network of occult experts, and hoping to put some distance between themselves and the creatures, the group headed to London in an airship. However, complications arose from Rosalie's "ghost", which was actually a demon who was possessing her and had a keen interest in the book. The demon revealed itself in the form of an eyeless doppelganger of Rosalie, orchestrating the airship's crash in order to force Rosalie to make a deal with it. Rosalie eventually did so in order to save William's life.

Adventures and investigations continued, eventually bringing the four of them into contact with a black-hatted magician who offered them an exorbitant sum of money for the book. They turned the offer down but were forced to relinquish the book anyway. However, William used magic to track the book to a rundown castle in the Irish countryside. There, they infiltrated a cult that had made the castle its secret headquarters. The infiltration failed when the black-hatted magician, who was in the employ of the cult leader, exposed their true identities. The group learned that the book had come through a otherworldly portal, and the portal's presence was causing the world to destabilize. The end of the world was imminent, but it was not clear how long they had before the world imploded. The portal could only be closed if the book was returned to the other side of it before a closing ritual was carried out. The cult leader offered them a deal: anything the group wanted, in exchange for traveling to the portal's remote location and closing it. With few options, the group agreed.

The trip to the portal was fraught with peril, as they encountered dangers both supernatural and mundane. Events culminated in a battle with the black-hatted magician, who had sold them out to Nazis interested in the book, portal, and the power that both held. After escaping the Nazis, the group managed to get to the portal, defeat the black-hatted magician, and close the portal. However, the battle was not without cost. During the fight against the magician, Rosalie began to lose her battle of wills against the demon, who mutated her left arm into a huge red demon arm in order to help her defeat the black-hatted demon. Though they ultimately won, William's mind was destroyed in his efforts to finish the portal-closing ritual and he died.

Then, after the portal had been closed, Rosalie's demon fully took over her body and tried to kill the rest of the party, angered at being cheated out of the end of the world. Westwood and Ivy were forced to fight for their lives once more as Rosalie struggled to regain control of her body. She succeeded just in time, but the demon left a parting gift in the form of her permanently mutated arm. She, Westwood, and Ivy made their battered way back to the cult. There, as agreed, they received their rewards. In Rosalie's case, the demon was permanently exorcised from her -- but her arm could not be restored. With the book dealt with and the world safe, the group went their separate ways.

Epilogue

Rosalie and Westwood ended up sticking together. Drawing on the generous expense account she still received from the Supernatural Times, Rosalie went in search of magical knowledge or practitioners who might be able to fix her arm, relying on illusion charms to hide her arms grossly mutated nature. The fact that her demonic limb made her both sensitive to and attractive to supernatural phenomena only made her more eager to restore it, and her life, to normalcy. Eventually, one of the magical types they encountered managed to shrivel the hugely distended limb back down to human size. It was easier to hide from mundane eyes, but its supernatural properties were untouched.

Rosalie's continued search for help was quickly hampered by the fact that the Supernatural Times' budget had dwindled significantly without funds from the now-deceased William. Rosalie taking shameless advantage of her expense account to travel all around the US and beyond in search of help for her arm didn't do the newspaper's finances any favors. Eventually, the Supernatural Times was forced to shut down and Rosalie was out of work while the US was still deep in the Depression.

In desperation, she kept herself and Westwood alive by selling fictionalized and sensationalized accounts of her magical adventures as pulp fiction. The magical properties of her demonic arm unfortunately assured that she never lacked for new material to fictionalize, but her fiction proved extremely popular. No longer in danger of starving, and with a new source of funding behind them, Rosalie and Westwood continued their journey to fix Rosalie's arm once more.

CANON PERSONALITY:

Rosalie is a self-interested and self-serving individual. While not notably lacking in empathy, when push comes to shove her priority is always herself and her safety. This is because she grew up in a household where she was never anyone's priority except for her mother's -- and even then she had to mostly fend for herself, as her mother put in long hours at work in order to keep her clothed and fed. Rosalie never resented her for that, but it had a big impact on how she approached the world nonetheless. Her mixed heritage didn't help, as it isolated her. So Rosalie learned pretty fast that the only way to make sure her needs and desires were met were to put herself first in her own mind, rather than put everyone else first.

Still, she longed for recognition. She didn't want to be loved, which seemed a conditional and fickle thing to her, but she wanted to be known. In her youth, with mostly cast-off newspapers for reading material, she decided that to be a journalist was the path to the recognition she desired. Journalists, in her mind, were controversial individuals who weren't nice but could not be ignored. That was what Rosalie wanted for herself. It wasn't necessarily a realistic view of the journalistic profession, but it was a dream that kept her going. It's in pursuit of that dream that some of Rosalie's better qualities come through: dedication, stubbornness, ambition, an ironclad work ethic. Once she set her sights on the goal of become a real journalist, no setback could shake her from that path.

The fact that she was thwarted in her desires and could only find work writing for the laughingstock Supernatural Times only hurt her pride and made her desire for a big break even greater. Despite hating her job, or rather the humiliation that came with it, Rosalie was a hard worker and took her deadlines seriously (even if she thought what she was writing was laughable). As her job often required weaseling out details from frequently odd or reclusive folk, Rosalie became quite adept at socializing with and charming people.

She was not above using slightly dirtier tactics as well, such as manipulating Owen into helping her with a helpless ingenue act. While not exactly a master of manipulation, Rosalie is ultimately a cynical and pessimistic soul and believes that it's possible to get anyone to do anything, if you can just find out what they want and then provide it. There is no gift without strings. If she finds a button that makes it easier to get people to do what she wants, she's shameless about pressing it.

However, for all that Rosalie talks a big game about journalism and its value for shining a light on the truth, and for all that Rosalie even believes that, at heart Rosalie is not a brave or courageous individual. Her selfishness extends to a very healthy (some might say overdeveloped) sense of self-preservation. In short, she is a coward. While she's not entirely scruple-free, when danger looms there always comes a point where Rosalie decides her best option is to cut and run -- no matter who she might leave behind.

Over the course of her supernatural adventure with the book, she slowly began to shed some of that cowardice. Mostly because she began to feel guilty about the fact that it was essentially her fault that her companions had become entangled with the book and were suffering for it. However, someone who was able to convince herself that ghostly noises were just her imagination for months on end is quite capable of stuffing any vague stirrings of guilt into a dark box and ignoring its existence without qualm. Learning to put herself on the line for the others was a long and uneven process, as her sense of guilt and responsibility had to battle a lifetime of putting herself first. Still, the affair did have an effect on her, as afterwards she took it upon herself to help provide for Westwood out of a sense of responsibility towards him.

(Added 9/16/2017) Her previous run in Synodiporia led to Rosalie being pushed out her comfort zone repeatedly through various situations and infiltrations. The tastes of various different lives and flavors of herself gave her a lot of food for thought, but often in uncomfortable or saddening ways, so she wound up trying to keep herself separate from her infiltrations, with mixed success. The various powers she acquired, including the ability to raise the dead and become a werewolf, made her nervous and depressed. For someone whose pre-Syn wish had been to return to a normal life, increasingly wild abilities made her feel increasingly alienated from normalcy, hope of returning home, and her own humanity. Infiltrations and worlds that were close to her own or touched on having relatively normal lives made her increasingly homesick, which didn't help matters. All in all, she wasn't in a good place when she left and probably won't be when she returns.

POINT OF DEPARTURE:

Infiltration could affect Rosalie's character in a lot of ways, mostly because hers is a personality that is defined by a few very solid principles. For example, one of Rosalie's core character traits is her self-interest and cowardice. Being infiltrated into a role where that character trait results in even worse damage to those around her, or where it's inverted entirely to reckless courage, are both very divergent options that nonetheless are rooted in Rosalie's character and would force her to confront various facets of her personality. Rosalie is very much a person who's in transition; she wants to be wholly human again, she wants the success she's longed for, and she is in the starting stages of letting go of some of her most self-interested instincts. Infiltration, as a thing that happens to her, would definitely be something that continually pushes her along her character arc, whatever it's eventual shape. Even so she would be really unhappy about infiltration, because it's yet more supernatural weirdness happening to her against her will and she's really so over that. Even gaining skills would result in mixed feelings, which would be another thing that could interact with her past (i.e. the demon arm) in interesting ways.

ABILITIES:

Mundane

- journalism (this covers writing and grammar, but also includes related skills like interviewing people, charming interviews and information out of people, and editing. The Supernatural Times was a laughingstock, but they took their work seriously, so Rosalie is legitimately skilled in this area.)
- spiritual/occult knowledge (Rosalie knows quite a bit about many areas, mostly through her work for the Supernatural Times and the many, many experts she's had to weasel interviews out of. She has acquired more specific knowledge as time passed but is by no means an expert.)
- driving (beginner, 1930s-era car only)
- shooting (beginner, 1930s-era pistol only)
- anything a working single woman from 1930s New York would have known

Supernatural

- magic (beginner; she is capable of simple protective charms and wards and that's it. Rosalie has the potential to do more, but as she is anxious to quit all magic stuff forever, she has consciously avoided practicing this skill.)
- demon arm (her left arm is the relic of a demonic possession. It's covered in shriveled, leathery, mottled red skin, and comes with short black claws, which are extremely tough and sharp. It also comes with some supernatural properties. Most notably, it has increased Rosalie's sensitivity to supernatural phenomena while simultaneously making her attractive to supernatural creatures, including magicians. The arm is also extremely impervious to damage and extremes of temperatures. However, it is not noticeably stronger than a regular human limb and its sensations are muted, as if that arm feels everything through a thick glove.)
- from Synodiporia

INVENTORY:

- clothes
- leather satchel containing:
- wallet
- pencils
- penknife
- several notebooks
- lots of chalk, in boxes
- make-up bag with make-up
- spare gloves, two pairs

ANYTHING ELSE WE SHOULD KNOW? I would like to app her as a veteran Traveler who went missing after Belljar Island. This is a reapp.

M A R K S;
JUSTIFICATION: n/a, already marked by Tower
VETO: n/a

S A M P L E S;
Both samples are based off of Test Drive Prompt #28.

ACTIONSPAM SAMPLE:

Hey everyone. A bunch of us have found each other, figured it was time to test out the network and see if it's still working. And lucky me, I drew the short straw. You'd think we'd have heard each other thinking away at each other by now, though...

Anyway, to recap: we were in Belljar Island, trapped with a bunch of other people who'd been trapped there for a while. No direction from the Trumps whatsoever. We stayed there for, oh, one and a half months before most of us decided to cry uncle and admit defeat. And now we're here.

Were we supposed to admit failure? Was it all just some kind of head game? Or did they just take pity on us? Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.

Alright, alright. Business. We're going to be stuck here for a while, I'm guessing. So we'd...better do a head count? Make sure we all made it? ...Okay, looks like it's a head count. And once again, the short straw...

In my group there's--[Rosalie names about a half dozen people.]

Anyone else, pipe up, would you? If you're out there. If you can hear me.

PROSE SAMPLE:

Rosalie woke with two things: a splitting headache, and deep regret for the drinking that had caused it. But after admitting defeat in the face of godly machinations, getting absolutely blackout drunk had seemed like a fairly reasonable course of events. Really, after Moebius and the Spark, she felt that no one could accurately blame her for bee-lining for the nearest bar as soon as they'd arrived in Belljar Island.

Now, of course, bars were a distant thought. She was back in Liminal Space -- obviously. Unless they'd dipped back and out of it while she was out, but Rosalie was pretty sure she hadn't been unconscious for that long. And where else could she be but Liminal Space? Though this wasn't like any Liminal Space she could remember. It didn't even have that eerie vague familiarity that some of the others ones had had, brushing up as they did on memories that Moebius had all but obliterated.

She was in a bare white room, totally empty except for an iron stand, from which hung a brass bell. There was one closed door. No windows. No other Travelers.

"I'm too hungover for this," Rosalie moaned. Or tried too. She felt her lips and lungs moving, but absolutely no sound emerged. Rosalie felt her mouth and throat, but everything felt just fine. Her lungs were wheezing in and out, as usual. Her heart was pounding from adrenaline, also as usual. Focusing on those bodily sensations made her realize that she couldn't even hear air whooshing in and out of her. Panic went up another notch. Where was everyone? Well, the room was too small for all of the Travelers, but usually they weren't isolated like this. Probably.

"Key word 'usually,'" Rosalie said to herself. Absolute silence met the attempt, but old habits died hard.

Shaking her head -- carefully -- to clear some of the hangover fog, Rosalie got to her feet. The swish of her skirt also made no sound, as did the tapping of her heels on the floor as she made her way over to the door. She shook it. It felt very firmly locked. Well, there went that. Now what was she supposed to do? She could try screaming and kicking at the door, and in fact was starting to work her way toward a good panic, but if this room was silencing her, then would anyone on the other side hear? The thought of being trapped in this empty white room made her skin crawl. She'd had quite enough of that blank sterile thing in Moebius.

So. No sound. Door locked. That left her with the bell. Rosalie nervously examined the bell and the stand all over, careful not to disturb it even the slightest bit. And who knew what a bell, which existed to make sound, would do in this room, which existed to obliterate any sounds that were made. But she desperately did not want to stay alone in this soundless room, without even the noise of her breathing to tell her she was alive. Anyway, as long as she was stuck in here she was a sitting duck for anything else that might be in Liminal Space, and she might not even heard any of it coming.

Still, that wasn't a reason to be stupid about testing the bell. Rosalie retreated to the far side of the room -- near the door, just in case -- and rooted through her satchel for something appropriately small and easy to throw. She came up with a pencil. It had served her well and faithfully, through Lord knew how many Jaunts that she could no longer recall, but perhaps now it was time for it to serve another purpose. Taking her aim with care, Rosalie pitched the pencil underhanded at the bell.

Luck was with her. The pencil hit the bell square on the side, bouncing back towards her as the bell rocked on its stand. No sound at all from it -- but from beside her, there was the unmistakable thunk of a lock turning. After the room's enforced silence, it was loud as a gunshot. Relief flooded Rosalie. Though the noise had renewed her headache, she didn't even pause: Rosalie snatched up her pencil and yanked the door open, throwing herself outside. All the little sounds of movement came back to her; the sound of heavy fabric swaying around her legs, the sounds of her labored breathing, the steady stream of curses under her breath as the sudden movement jarred her poor aching head even harder.

Back in the room, the bell was still once more. The door shut behind her as Rosalie turned toward the sound of voices down the hallway. They were familiar, though she couldn't make out the words; they seemed to be still for the moment but who knew how long it was last? Her every instinct was to run toward them. In fact, she'd already stumbled in the direction of the voices without even thinking. Alone and hungover was no condition in which to be facing this Liminal Space. Safety in numbers and all that.

But after a few steps Rosalie stopped, hesitated, and then backtracked. With her trusty pencil she scrawled a few words on the plain wooden door she'd just exited, describing what lay within, and how to get out in case anyone was stupid enough to investigate. Just in case. Rosalie opted not to think too hard about why she was wasting time while all those safe, familiar voices could be leaving her behind as she wrote. Whatever, whatever, it didn't matter, she just had to get it done, just a few more words.

Alright. Her message was finished. Only then she let herself follow her instincts and head for the precious safety of those voices.