Post by maddison on Sept 8, 2011 20:00:29 GMT -5
[atrb=width,410px,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border:5px solid #352020; background-image:URL('http://i54.tinypic.com/ap7e3d.jpg'); padding:5px][style=background-color:#e0e0e0; border:8px solid #e0e0e0; float:right; height:100px; width:100px] [/style][style=padding-top:4px; height:20px; border-bottom:8px solid #e0e0e0; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:28px; letter-spacing:-2px; color:#352020; text-shadow:#000000 1px 1px 2px; text-align:center; text-transform:lowercase]MADISON R. JAMERSON[/style][style=border-top:1px dotted #513131; background-color:#513131; font-size:9px; font-family:courier new; text-align:center; color:#000000]you know i liked it better before all the scars.[/style][style=margin-top:-21px; width:260px; background-color:#f2f2f2; border:1px dotted #513131; padding:3px; font-size:10px; color:#7d7d7d]► RACE: werewolf; krosa ► AGE: 03. 03. 1895 (117 years) ► SEXUALITY: heterosexual ► OCCUPATION: musician & chef[/style] [style=margin-top:-30px; height:20px; border-bottom:8px solid #e0e0e0; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:28px; letter-spacing:-2px; color:#352020; text-shadow:#000000 1px 1px 2px; text-align:right; text-transform:lowercase]about[/style][style=border:1px dotted #513131; background-color:#f2f2f2; font-size:10px; text-align:justify; padding:3px; color:#7d7d7d]► HEIGHT: 5'9" ► WEIGHT: 158.4 lbs (72 kg) ► HAIR COLOR/LENGTH: brown with a reddish tint; shoulder length ► EYECOLOR: amber/brown ► FACE CLAIM: stana katic ► OTHER:
► LIKES:
► DISLIKES:
► PERSONALITY: When it comes down to the crunch, Maddison has always been just one of those people who show how sometimes, first impressions are right, and she's either loved, or hated. Of course, opinions do change over time, and one that thick shell is cracked, she can become a more pleasant person to be around, but there are only a few rare people who ever get close, so, unless someone's spent a lot of time in the same personal space with her, that first impression is what's best to go off. The easiest way to describe this young woman is probably dark; not so much in the realms of depression or self-harm, but in sense of humour, and cynic view of the world. Of course, it's not like she sees the world as an evil, disgusting place, nor does she feels the need to change it. She just sees things as they are without sugar-coating them, doesn't try to shine a ray of light on a dark thought or claim that there's good in everyone. This woman is down to earth, grounded in the mind a soul, a woman of science, truth and observation over faith, magic and ignorance, and while it can be considered a strength, it is just as much a weakness. After all, what's life without the spark of the unexpected? Quick-witted and sarcastic, Maddison always has some offhand comment to throw at anyone, always a sarcastic remark to come back with whenever a stupid question is asked. No matter the conversation, she is rarely ever left speechless, able to make up any reply within moments, yet everything that comes out of her mouth is the truth, in some form or another. It isn't in her nature to lie, to try and turn accusations away unless they are serious enough that she needs to do so to save her own hide, and really, such unguarded truth always comes out blunt, to the point. She's not going to wrap it in sugar and ribbon and give it to the person kindly. They asked, therefore they get. Yet, there are certain things she will, not so much as lie about, as keep to herself. Maddison is really more of a hands-on person, hating to be stuck in front of a book, or a desk, reading through papers of writing essays. You know that kid back in school, the one that sits up the back of the class disrupting those around them, causing fights but never getting a question wrong? That was her, the smart-ass of the group who didn't feel the need to constantly have her nose in a book when it came to exams. Oh, she is definitely the arrogant type, always too proud, holding too bloated of an ego to back down from a challenge, too stubborn to do as she was told. However, her hands-on approach, tends to apply to more, social situations. With a temper which can flare up at no notice, she is well known for being the one in the centre of a fight, or a spar in the centre of a gym. In a way, she's always thrived off the adrenaline of the fight, always needed to rush that comes with pinning down someone, with making them yell out that she had them cornered. All her life she was told she was weak, that she was a girl therefore didn't fight, and did what she was told, and over time, her control issues came about, and she does feel that urge to prove that she isn't that girl all her so called brothers told her she was. Yet, with her temper and pride? Of course impulsiveness has to follow. Despite her quick mind, she always tends to jump in with both feet and deal with the consequences later, and while she is able to cope with them, it is more than anything a huge flaw. The arrogance, sarcastic sense of humour, and quick temper are all however, just one side, the side she puts forth to show the world, the one that everyone meets and deals with before anything else, because while it may seem like she trusts others, she doesn't. It's not a default setting so to speak to let anyone get close enough that she needs them, or that they'll want something of her. In the past, it's just caused her pain, and she isn't keen to go through that again. Under the thick skin and layers of armour though, there's only a broken girl, one who has no faith in anything, who takes everyone's views to heart and feels that need to show she's worth while, that she's important in some way. The girl inside is the protective one, the one who isn't afraid to show affection toward those who she trusts, the one who is fiercely loyal to those who deserve it. But, that girl, she's buried deep down, so while the world thinks they see the real Maddison Jamerson, truthfully? They're not even close. ► FATHER: gregory jamerson (deceased) ► MOTHER: jennifer jamerson (deceased) ► SIBLINGS: morgan jamerson (npc) brian jamerson (deceased) ► DAUGHTERS: morgana fox (deceased, still born) vivian jamerson francine jamerson (deceased) [/style] [style=margin-top:-30px; height:20px; border-bottom:8px solid #e0e0e0; font-family:georgia; font-style:italic; font-size:28px; letter-spacing:-2px; color:#352020; text-shadow:#000000 1px 1px 2px; text-align:right; text-transform:lowercase]history[/style][style=border:1px dotted #513131; background-color:#f2f2f2; font-size:10px; text-align:justify; padding:3px; color:#7d7d7d]She didn't need to watch him to know the human was amazed, his gaze moving around the large living room in awe. It was a beautiful room, even if she did say so herself with it's perfect condition victorian furniture, high roof and large windows. Yet, that didn't matter, she hadn't brought him there to show off. Walking past the fireplace, she flicked on the fake flames with a flick of her wrist, the warm glow of the heat lights taking over the pale blue of the half-moon. Waving to one of the couches, she moved over to bring the thick curtains to a close. There was so much she could be saying but like always, the words wouldn't come when she needed them. So she was waiting, waiting for the human to say something and address the reason he was there. Picking up one of the many bottles of port stacked along the edge of the room she slowly moved back to the lounges, picking two glasses as she went. It was only once she'd popped the cord though that the man spoke, curiosity more than anything in his voice. “This place is amazing. This must have costed a fortune. How did you afford it? I mean as successful as you are this seems like too much for someone so young.” Oh how naïve he was. It made her want to laugh. Snorting, Madison leaned back into the cushions, holding up her now full glass thoughtfully. “Affording it was hardly an issue, seeing as the furniture inside was all inheritance, and the house was simple.” Taking a sip, she lowered the glass to rest on her stomach, gaze sweeping over the man in front of her. “As far as my age goes, I'm not that young.” He laughed at that, but she knew it was because he really didn't understand. “Please, the oldest you could be is thirty-one? Thirty-four?” Well, that was opening enough. Holding a hand to her chest, she smirked. “As charmed as I am, you're wrong.” Looking down, she let out a breath. “I've been here so long and, I am so... not old, but tired.” Looking up, she tilted her head slightly with a frown. “I think, I'll be one hundred and eighteen next year. I don't really keep track any more.” Swirling the contents of her glass, she barely spared the human as glance as he shifted, giving an almost nervous laugh. “You're joking.” Shaking her head, she gave half a smile. “I was born in eighteen ninety five, almost at the end of Queen Victoria's reign. We weren't a rich family but we got by, which was assisted by our small numbers. My father was a musician, and my mother a poet who went under a male name. I had to older brothers by six years but that was it. We were an odd sort of family, not like the normal at the time. I spent a good period of my childhood dresses as a boy, following my brothers on their adventures and learning my father's trade. Maybe that's what made being a common woman difficult. My mother educated me, caught me to read, write and do basic mathematics which was all I really needed.” Letting out a breath, she frowned. “I was first married when I was seventeen, to the son of one of my father's associate, Isaac Fox. On the surface he seemed good enough and despite not being all hat fond, I suppose there was some sort of hope I'd grow to love him. Yet that never happened. These days, what happened would be considered abuse, mental, physical, sexual, you name it. From the moment we were joined he made life constantly painful, living torture.” She wanted to be mad, to be upset but time had left the experience just a bitter taste that she couldn't do anything with. It didn't even hurt to talk about it any more. Taking a drink, she ignored the look the disgusted look that crossed her companion's face. “I was expecting child when he got called to war. It was a life send, as awful as it sounds, that he went. He never returned. I would've been happy too, except for the fact my child was a still born.” Now, that part still hurt. She gave a dry laugh. “It's odd, the pain of loosing a child never goes but the loss of a husband is something I'll drink to any day. It led the issues though. I was twenty-three and a widow. I should have been remarried, but after my first experience? I was a tad stubborn about it. I ended up living with one of my brothers, Morgan. He's still alive, amazingly enough, still kicking, but that's entirely my fault.” It was, but she'd get to that. “I was twenty-five when I met my second husband, Thomas. He was amazing, charming and I suppose just different from everyone else. As odd as it sounds, we met in front of Big Ben. We literally ran into each other on the street.” She gave a small laugh at the memory. “We chatted for a while, and by the end of the week he'd gained my father's permission to court me. What made him different though? He didn't want me to be proper, to be just a piece of the furniture. Believe it or not, he was more content when I was dressed up in the boy way my brothers taught me and able to go everywhere with him. The more we did together though, the less I seemed to trust him though. He was just too good, too adapt to what I was feeling or wanting to do. Before we were married though, as a way of trying to prove he was trustworthy, he taught me to fight. Weapons, hand-to-hand, you name it.” “I did love him, more than the world. We married and I honestly thought he was my one and done, that I was going to grow old and die with him. The problem was, our families hated each other. Despite allowing the marriage, it was just a constant battle afterwards between our fathers and mothers. When I was thirty, it grew too much for us, and without any children to keep us together, we mutually split as much as it hurt, as his family went off to Australia to assist with the new government.” She fell silent for a moment, a long sigh escaping her jaws. “The boat they went on sunk, the exact details were never leaked.” “My father died later that year, got in the way of the Queen's troops when they were chasing a criminal. I moved with my brother to France for a change of scenery, where we didn't have the memories of father around. Mother and Brian, my other brother had disowned us both by then, Morgan because he refused to follow in father's footsteps and myself because of my two failed marriages and sharp-tongue I'd developed by then. We were there for years, my brother an engineer and myself a musician. While women still weren't really accepted in any industry, it was enough of a waste of time. I could sing, play the piano, which was enough. It was at one of the performances that I met Alphonse. He was a writer for the papers, not even close to Thomas in charm or wit, but, he was an interesting fellow. He was sweet and full of stories that kept us talking for hours.” “He continued to come to show and I continued to talk to him until we met up more than of a night. Despite Thomas, he was the most sweet-hearted, passionate lover I've ever had. We did so much together and... Maybe I would've married him. But, fate, got in the way. It was a car crash, I was thirty-five and... I would've died. But, it was a blood-moon, the only in ten years. Alphonse was there and... he bit me.. turned me into a monster to save me. We ran that night and, Morgan was turned as well while I was so out of control. In the morning it was hard to understand, but, Alphonse explained enough. We moved back to England, just my brother and I when I was thirty-seven, not many years before the second world war.” “I can still remember the raids for the war, the sirens the... devastation. My brother, he did a lot of repair work and I started assisting in the wards. But all the pain and suffering, not to mention the blood, it made it impossible to stay. I ended up as a boy again, taking part in the fighting. No one caught me and by the time the country was safe, I'd like to think I earned some stripes. It was after the war though that the Lytran King, Justin, actually offered me a position within the pack." “Now, at the time Justin was a good man, or appeared to be. He was the king of Lytran, not by blood by after fighting for it, and was very much the type of fellow I could get along with. We got along well at first, but eventually things went sour, just like every other blood thing in my life.” Tapping her nails against her legs, Maddison's jaw locked shut for a moment before she spoke again. “It was one thing to have an abusive human husband, but another thing all together when it was a werewolf. From the day after we were married, it was torture. But, it was 1950 and divorce being a common and indifferent thing was still a period of time away. I was stuck with him, not co-owning the pack with him, as his little play thing.” “Morgan had moved back to France, there was something he just liked about the place, so it was me on my own, dealing with him. Those were the worse years of my life. The only good thing came in nineteen eighty nine. For me any ways, not so much for Justin. Through one of his abusive night I managed to get pregnant. He'd never wanted children but after how long I'd waited, after every chance I'd had that hadn't worked? I couldn't just give the child up. She was born on the eleventh of September, my baby girl Vivian. I really wish she could've had a better life but... I couldn't give her that, not when she came from two werewolves. Justin decided that, because she was not wanted, Vivian was supposed to take his anger and beatings whenever he so felt like it. But, I didn't let him. It was my goal for the first years of her life to keep her from him but, not every time could I. Sometimes I'd be locked away, others unconscious. The most damage Vivian ever received was when I was pregnant with her little sister, locked away from sight. Francine was born the seventeeth of june, when vivian was five. Those two little girls they gave me something to live for, they really did. I could take the beatings as long as I had them and they were both as healthy as they could be in the conditions. I just... Remember Vivian always asking if they were wanted, if I wanted them gone like Justin did. It broke my heart every time that the two of them had the right to believe that they weren’t wanted or loved.” “Eventually. I snapped. Vivian was ten, Frankie was five. Justin and I had been arguing again when he'd knocked me backward too hard against the set of draws in our bedroom. I was out for three hours but when I woke up... I went to the shed where Frankie and Vivian usually were and just... There was blood, everywhere and in the middle of it all... I'll never forgive myself for letting Frankie get shot. I suppose, I'm thankful he did just shoot her, instead of torturing her, but she was my little tiny girl, she didn't deserve to die like that.” Maddison stopped abruptly to suck in a breath, swiping angrily at a few stray tears before continuing. “I found Vivian a few blocks away, cuddled into a corner sobbing her heart out and, while she was alive, she... I can't imagine how awful that was for her. Morgan had just moved back to London so, I explained everything and left Vivian with him. That was when I went back for Justin. He'd gone too far and, that was it. It was the full moon, the pack was scattered and I cornered him. I tore him apart, gave him enough scars on his face so he wouldn't forget what he'd done. I should have killed him, but after the fight, it was enough to chase him off, to take charge of Lytran and get him to sign divorce papers. It took a few months, but eventually, I'd got everything together enough to get my daughter.” “We just lived, for a good eight years after that. Until Ortega showed up. We were unprepared and low on numbers, and, they tore us apart. Those who were alive were faced with the dramatic problem that they had to fight their old pack leader, Justin having moved to Ortega as it rose. I lost Vivian in the fight, only to find her moments from killing her father in the cloud of everything. Despite wanting the man dead, I couldn't let her curse herself like that. So, I dragged her off, away from Ortega and, to Krosa. I've never felt so sick in my life you know, asking for a place in Krosa of all places. It wasn't that Lytran was on bad terms with them, in fact we'd spent a lot of time hosting events and dealing with each other that I'd like to think I was on strong terms with the king's daughter. But admitting defeat was not easy. I suppose, we're just lucky the pig inside Krosa senior was able to accept us both, more for reputation than anything.” Leaning forward, she flashed her silent companion a toothy grin. “Any more questions, Garrett?”[/style] |
(c) OTE!