Post by Adella Black on Jul 4, 2010 15:46:57 GMT -5
HELLO MY NAME IS ADELLA BLACK AND I AM THIRTEEN YEARS OLD. I'M A HUMAN AND I'M A DIRELECT AND I WAS BORN ON 05/04/1872 IN ENGLAND. MY NATIONALITY IS BRITISH. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE JOLIE VANIER. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM LOUD, BOLD, AND REBELLIOUS. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY JENN.
CODEWORD: -admin edit-
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:
Deep in thought, she mechanically moving plastic fork-to-mouth and back again. Repeat. Where did her life go? Her friends didn't have a problem not visiting her, or even sending letters. Her parents totally bailed on taking care of her, so she didn't reply to any of their letters. Not like they would care what she said in them, anyway. And what would she tell them? That she made a pretty picture in an art class? Or that she won her first ever chess game against a counselor here? He only let her win because it "was good for her self-esteem", whatever that meant. Oh yes, she knew the mind games they were playing with her. Harlow hated that they thought they could trick her. It was scary to think that they just might be able to, it worked on most of the other patients, anyway. Like the ones that actually got out of this place, and not just because they were transferred to another asylum.
Harlow looked up, startled. For whatever reason, a girl had come to sit across from her. She had pretty blond hair, and seemed to exude a sort of intimidating presence. She'd seen this scene before. It's where the big-bad-bully started picking on the helpless new kid. But whats different here is that Harlow deserved it. Anything that happened, she was to blame. For whatever she did-- or didn't do-- wrong. Who knows how long the girl had been in here? And for what? Her heart fluttered nervously. She could feel the tips of the butterflies wings brush lightly, yet frantically, against the inside of her stomach. She hated this feeling. It reminded her of when she used to get homesick or was missing someone or something. Nothing she could do but try to forget what she was missing. But that wouldn't help here. She never got homesick anymore. Harlow was past that, beginning to hate her old life and all who were in it. She was perfectly fine, mentally anyway, and yet still not good enough for her parents. Of course, typical of them. To abandon her when she was most confused and scared...
Then the blond girl spoke; she asked her if she was special. Harlow couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at that one. She thought that the girl was going to introduce herself, or banish her from the dining hall, like her bully theory would entail. Special? She didn't know how to comprehend that one. Usually when spoken to, she would just quickly mumble out the first reply that made sense that came to her mind. She didn't like talking to people, feeling that she was somehow unworthy of being there, not wanting to get in the way. That she disrupted people's lives when she was in public or around strangers. Special?, she thought again. How so? The fist meaning of it came to her as a superpower meaning. Wasn't Harry Potter considered special? She dismissed the idea as fast as it had come. Harlow fumbled for another meaning. Upon not finding one, she eyed the girl again. Maybe she was "unstable", as the shrinks referred to it. Maybe she actually meant something magical-like.
Then what risk was this girl? Harlow shifted her eyes to behind where the girl sat looking at her, and sure enough there was a warden there, watching them. Surely it wasn't because of her, so... that meant the other girl must be either medium or high risk. She moved her head slowly back to look at the other girl, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Sure, not all higher risk patients would kill somebody while having a conversation with them, or even start a conversation with their victim. But then again, this wasn't a conversation yet. She had yet to reply to the girl's question. Harlow said the first thing that bubbled to her tongue. "How do you mean?" A bit more formal than she usual was, but more intelligent than some of the replies flying around inside her head. She was glade she at least didn't stutter.
Movement in her peripheral vision caught Harlow's attention. She turned her head and saw another girl sitting a few feet away from the blond. Another blond, with yellow-green eyes. How many blonds were there in this place? Harlow thought dreamily, momentarily forgetting what was happening around her. The new girl was sitting there with her eyebrow arched, just looking at Harlow, as if she was waiting for something. The girls food sat in front of her. So they were having spaghetti today. Long, rubbery shapes were entangled around each other, and glistened in the crappy fluorescent lights overhead, with a glob of red pasta sauce sitting cleanly on top. With some kind of bread. Garlic, was it? Probably. She smiled, trying to not make it awkward. "Hi," she said, trying to sound friendly, if not sweet. She didn't want to get on anyone's bad side in this place, anybody could be as dangerous as an open pothole while looking as harmless as a fluffy white kitten with big blue eyes. It was an insane asylum, after all.
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