Post by ALICE GRIMM on Jun 28, 2015 0:54:06 GMT -6
ALICE GRIMM
213 ♦ FEMALE ♦ BISEXUAL ♦ RABBIT ♦ CHAUFFEUR, MECHANIC, INVENTOR ♦ FAE
APPEARANCE
Hair Color: Light Pink
Eye Color: Bright Red
Height: 4'10''
Fashion: While Alice has attempted to fit in with those in Nibiru and Shambala, she has an intense dislike for robes and silk. She gravitates towards the complicated layers of her homeland. Victorian fashion, ranging from outrageous to serviceable, can typically be found on her petite and rectangular frame. When at work she typically dons an outfit of simple colors and cheap fabrics.
Quirks and Distinguishing Features:
- Sidhe - Sunlight changes the physical being into something translucent and makes her body float above the ground. Color begins to vanish from her skin and saturation becomes simple black and white. The teeth in her mouth seem a bit sharper than necessary for the same reason. Some burn scars remain upon her side from the embrace of the green dawn all those years ago.
- The Pocket Watch - An old silver pocket watch, its front shattered and frozen at 11:02 am, is always hanging from whatever outfit donned by this Jill of all trades. The chain is high-end and speaks of the wealth once held by her family. A little metal rabbit, carved by her own hand, dangles above it in brilliant copper.
- The Mole Family - Her mother used to always chortle at her lovely little girl and tickle three little dots on her chest. The moles, while usually covered, are an easily identifiable feature for the forever youthful Sidhe.
- "Moon-Moon" - A tiny rabbit spirit, albino and representative of her sign, constantly flits about around the woman. Curious red gaze is partnered with constantly twitching whiskers. This little being clings to Alice like glue. It can pick up small objects ranging n side from house keys to bits of carrot.
- Child-like Features - Forever frozen in the moment after puberty, Alice will forever have the doll-like face of a child. The wisdom sometimes apparent in her gaze, though her hormones remain forever in flux, gives proof to her true age.
- "Little Black Book" - Tiny by any standards, this little novella is filled with the cramped writings of a confused little lady. Her mother always pushed the importance of writing down thoughts. Blue prints are relatively common. The front is engraved with her family's name. No idea will get past her!
- The Tool Kit - Slung from a hip, lending a boxy look, is a tiny lacquer box. Contained within is not only her gods gifted item, but, all the tools of the trade. Tiny hammers, wrenches, and beside those are nestled some wood-working tools.
PERSONALITY
Likes: Strawberries, rabbits, mice, mechanical work, politeness, being the epitome of fashion, cars, spirits, new tools, the feeling of stockings, dusk, star-gazing, the occasional shot of strong drink, driving, horses, getting dirty philosophy, comedy, manners, spring-time, the color pink, and those who entertain her
Dislikes: Citrus, bitter melon, dogs, sunlight, winter time, rain, the closed-minded, panda bears, the smell of leather, her father, her youthful face, Unseelie, the perverse, morons, Shambalan clothing, the dull, the rude, and the overly frantic
Summary:
- Distant and polite - While she may appear friendly and polite, Alice has gained the ability to force distance between herself and others. Words never come within easy throwing distance of the complete truth. Aside from laughter and smiles, she tries to keep her other emotions tightly locked away. A lady from Mag Mell without that ability is considered to be the utmost boor.
- Good-humored - Alice Grimm is known as a being willing to laugh and play pranks upon others. It takes quite a bit to truly draw her ire or bring anger down upon those around her. Sometimes, her pranks take things too far and can truly endanger others. Being immortal, and nearly invincible, can make danger seem such a far off thing.
- Passionate and Lively - When it comes to cars, gears, and certain subjects, Alice allows her passion to shine through like a simple lightning bolt. She is willing to prattle on for hours. Many also describe her as a busy body and watch as she flits about from place to place. Her movements, for being those of the undead, are full of vigor and occasionally vinegar.
- Open-Minded - Being a hellion herself, Alice is willing and eager to meet people of all races, creeds, and types. The Unseelie seem interesting as well! She sees value in those of all walks of life. The rudeness of others, and a lack of manners, is one thing she has difficulties being accepting of.
- Temperamental - When it comes to certain things, Alice Grimm can quickly become irritable and indignant. Some call this 'whining' and she prefers to refer to it as 'honest commentary'.
- Flirtatious and Mischievous - While she has the face of a child, this Sidhe is knowledgeable of bedrooms matters. Flirting with others, while fruitless, amuses her. Compliments and fluttering eyelashes are high on the top of her list. She also has a lot of fun playing pranks on others, frightening them, and is rarely unable to go by a long face without trying to make it laugh.
- Gambler - Whether it be in business or in life, Alice Grimm is not a woman to back away from bets. It garnered her father his wife and will lead to happiness beneath the eyes of the luck gods. She typically plays games of luck in the slums she is now delegated to. Her bets can sometimes drag others into dangerous situations.
- Hard-working and Prideful - Alice Grimm works hard at whatever she tries. She goes out of her way to ensure things operate in her preferred manner. Something turning out improper drives her to even more frantic levels of hard work.
- Determined - Nearly half-a-century spent without a thing to look forward to, lost in juvenile sadness,has rekindled the girl's desire to learn, grow, and succeed. Regardless of what it is, Alice will raise again and again.
HISTORY
”People call my father a genius. It is myself, his daughter, who knows the truth. My poppa was a colossal fool.” - Alice Grimm, Little Black Book
When my family began its research into motorized vehicles, most people believed them to be empty-headed morons. Project after project, leaving naught of use but shattered gears and frustration, prompted my mother's family to do something drastic. The woman who would later give birth to me, Victoria, volunteered her own beauty and body if someone could help make dreams a reality. A gifted engineer in her own right, though socially awkward, she did not believe anyone would take her up on it--it was foolishness, right?
----
A cackling voice pointed up towards the beautiful girl of golden hair. "I bet he is going to be hideous! A warty ogre for my sister!"
A higher pitched squeaky voice, somewhere in between, pointed down at the tiny little monster. "A man that smart could not be such a horrible thing! Quit the nonsense you little warthog! He will be handsome."
My poppa was somewhere in between.
---
My Poppa, a boy who had watched my mother from afar since child hood, set out to win her hand. This story was one given to me innumerable times as proof of the value of hard work. Thirty six months into his studies, the main issues with the engines were resolved and Victory Weston found herself forced to uphold her promise. While I wish I could say it was true love, the union of two great minds, the pair never qualified as more than slightly friendly acquaintances. A single week of drunken nights, and my mother's deep wish for a child, are the reasons behind my existence today.
My childhood was spent in half-built vehicles, laboratories, and libraries. My smocks were constantly splattered with oil and my shoes awash with mud from another failed model. Whilst mother instilled in me a love for mathematics and the simple sciences, my poppa worked with me to teach me the wonders of mechanics and hard work. While I was wealthy, spun from tutor to tutor like wool upon a skein, my life was far from easygoing.
It was something I loved. Something I was used to. A mother and father who waved at one another and spoke at no great length. Servants who fussed over my clothing with the chirping of annoyed birds. My father, seemingly bored with the monetary side of our business, began to research other things. The same thrill was not given by a simple gear and bit of steam. He wished for something else. Cursed things. Dark things. The gods. It was his driving force to understand and to become.
---
"What is the difference between us and the gods, Alice?" Light sparkles off silver-rimmed glasses as slightly crooked teeth grin. A seven year old bounces on the arm of the chair. Before she can answer, intelligent eyes looking for an answer that might satisfy, found herself unable to. "Secrets, little one. They just know the secrets." It was a dangerous idea. Something about how darkly his eyes gleamed gave her shivers.
---
Whilst I say it was my father who happened to be the fool, I must lay some fault at my own feet.Asked to accompany him to a strange site, told it would be the discovery of the century, I took to the idea like a koi to a wealthy Shambalan's pond. "I wish to go poppa! I wish to see! Take me with you, please?" A grin as we packed and my mother fretted. A business meeting kept her at home. A small lamp tucked into my sack as we set out for that place.
---
The cup was beautiful. Something in me wished to touch it, hold it, and understand it. While my desire was strong, my father's was unconsuming. For nearly two weeks, I lost sight of him. My 13th birthday, the day inscribed upon my warmly flickering lantern, arrived.
Click! The thing opened and with it emerged a beautiful item wrapped in silk and lace. It was something my father would love to see! Cursing my own impatience, as it was far from ladylike, I raced into the street and towards his work site. Dancing nimbly past some guards, mostly with a smile, I raced toward where my father and his men worked.
It was an exclamation that drew me short. A bullish man with a head seemingly carved from the mountains had shouted. "It is done! Look at how beautiful it is, Franklin!" My father's name uttered by another. The other man laughed and turned to stare at me with a grin.
Then it happened. A flash of green and a torrent of otherworldly heat. The beauty of the occurence was lost in pain. Thrown like a ragdoll, fingers clinging to my lantern, my doll-like body clattered against walls and lay in a pile. Darkness consumed me as other voices raised in shouts.
It was meant to be my end. Killed by the girlish excitement. Instead, like a babe from the womb, I was reborn.
---
A rasping voice came as someone brushed my shoulder. "Ali, baby, Alice, wake up.." A face, familiar, loomed over me. Something flashed in his jaws. Deep inside, senses made me shake. "Poppa...?" Warm gently fingers rose to caress my cheeks. "Baby, I am so hungry." Fingers tightened in my skin and I shrieked. My forgotten item slammed into his head and I raced away like a frightened rabbit. A single dropped sheet of paper, the next family blueprint, lay frozen in my palms. My life gone in an instant.
Alone. Lost. Afraid. With the collapse of the city came the loss of my mother. My trip home revealed that vultures, eager in their speed, had left my house little but ash. My father, staring at me with the eyes of a wolf, drove me away before long. It was not until many years later where I learned the name behind his existence: Unseelie. My own, Sidhe, was not something I recognized until I heard tales of it. Then, I found myself, beside a harmless little rabbit spirit, trapped in a lamp.
----
A man in search of spirits, gaze the shade of tropical waves, stumbled upon me dozing in a small forest one afternoon. Before I knew what had happened, my entire being was crushed into one teeny tiny bottle. For the longest while, trapped within a lamp, I rested upon the mantle piece of a Shambalan noble. Dejected, morose, and trapped in my youth, I watched as his own children aged, birthed children of their own, and withered into corpses. One of these girls deserves my utmost gratitude. Without her gratitude, I wished nothing but to die.
To forget.
To become.
"I heard what they did to you! I think you're pretty!" Tiny toddler hands wrapped around the lamp and shook me from a sleep that may have lasted one year or a thousand. Glass shattered against expensive tile as I blossomed into existence. All my entirety boiled down to one word: Run! Bewildered, confused, and out of sorts, I awoke in Shambala.
It was from this place, plans in mind, that I sought to make a name for myself. Passage home was expensive. Saving money is a bit difficult with all the lamps I must smash! My business is a bit rocky, it is hard to market cars in this place, but it is growing.
Sort of.
When my family began its research into motorized vehicles, most people believed them to be empty-headed morons. Project after project, leaving naught of use but shattered gears and frustration, prompted my mother's family to do something drastic. The woman who would later give birth to me, Victoria, volunteered her own beauty and body if someone could help make dreams a reality. A gifted engineer in her own right, though socially awkward, she did not believe anyone would take her up on it--it was foolishness, right?
----
A cackling voice pointed up towards the beautiful girl of golden hair. "I bet he is going to be hideous! A warty ogre for my sister!"
A higher pitched squeaky voice, somewhere in between, pointed down at the tiny little monster. "A man that smart could not be such a horrible thing! Quit the nonsense you little warthog! He will be handsome."
My poppa was somewhere in between.
---
My Poppa, a boy who had watched my mother from afar since child hood, set out to win her hand. This story was one given to me innumerable times as proof of the value of hard work. Thirty six months into his studies, the main issues with the engines were resolved and Victory Weston found herself forced to uphold her promise. While I wish I could say it was true love, the union of two great minds, the pair never qualified as more than slightly friendly acquaintances. A single week of drunken nights, and my mother's deep wish for a child, are the reasons behind my existence today.
My childhood was spent in half-built vehicles, laboratories, and libraries. My smocks were constantly splattered with oil and my shoes awash with mud from another failed model. Whilst mother instilled in me a love for mathematics and the simple sciences, my poppa worked with me to teach me the wonders of mechanics and hard work. While I was wealthy, spun from tutor to tutor like wool upon a skein, my life was far from easygoing.
It was something I loved. Something I was used to. A mother and father who waved at one another and spoke at no great length. Servants who fussed over my clothing with the chirping of annoyed birds. My father, seemingly bored with the monetary side of our business, began to research other things. The same thrill was not given by a simple gear and bit of steam. He wished for something else. Cursed things. Dark things. The gods. It was his driving force to understand and to become.
---
"What is the difference between us and the gods, Alice?" Light sparkles off silver-rimmed glasses as slightly crooked teeth grin. A seven year old bounces on the arm of the chair. Before she can answer, intelligent eyes looking for an answer that might satisfy, found herself unable to. "Secrets, little one. They just know the secrets." It was a dangerous idea. Something about how darkly his eyes gleamed gave her shivers.
---
Whilst I say it was my father who happened to be the fool, I must lay some fault at my own feet.Asked to accompany him to a strange site, told it would be the discovery of the century, I took to the idea like a koi to a wealthy Shambalan's pond. "I wish to go poppa! I wish to see! Take me with you, please?" A grin as we packed and my mother fretted. A business meeting kept her at home. A small lamp tucked into my sack as we set out for that place.
---
The cup was beautiful. Something in me wished to touch it, hold it, and understand it. While my desire was strong, my father's was unconsuming. For nearly two weeks, I lost sight of him. My 13th birthday, the day inscribed upon my warmly flickering lantern, arrived.
Click! The thing opened and with it emerged a beautiful item wrapped in silk and lace. It was something my father would love to see! Cursing my own impatience, as it was far from ladylike, I raced into the street and towards his work site. Dancing nimbly past some guards, mostly with a smile, I raced toward where my father and his men worked.
It was an exclamation that drew me short. A bullish man with a head seemingly carved from the mountains had shouted. "It is done! Look at how beautiful it is, Franklin!" My father's name uttered by another. The other man laughed and turned to stare at me with a grin.
Then it happened. A flash of green and a torrent of otherworldly heat. The beauty of the occurence was lost in pain. Thrown like a ragdoll, fingers clinging to my lantern, my doll-like body clattered against walls and lay in a pile. Darkness consumed me as other voices raised in shouts.
It was meant to be my end. Killed by the girlish excitement. Instead, like a babe from the womb, I was reborn.
---
A rasping voice came as someone brushed my shoulder. "Ali, baby, Alice, wake up.." A face, familiar, loomed over me. Something flashed in his jaws. Deep inside, senses made me shake. "Poppa...?" Warm gently fingers rose to caress my cheeks. "Baby, I am so hungry." Fingers tightened in my skin and I shrieked. My forgotten item slammed into his head and I raced away like a frightened rabbit. A single dropped sheet of paper, the next family blueprint, lay frozen in my palms. My life gone in an instant.
Alone. Lost. Afraid. With the collapse of the city came the loss of my mother. My trip home revealed that vultures, eager in their speed, had left my house little but ash. My father, staring at me with the eyes of a wolf, drove me away before long. It was not until many years later where I learned the name behind his existence: Unseelie. My own, Sidhe, was not something I recognized until I heard tales of it. Then, I found myself, beside a harmless little rabbit spirit, trapped in a lamp.
----
A man in search of spirits, gaze the shade of tropical waves, stumbled upon me dozing in a small forest one afternoon. Before I knew what had happened, my entire being was crushed into one teeny tiny bottle. For the longest while, trapped within a lamp, I rested upon the mantle piece of a Shambalan noble. Dejected, morose, and trapped in my youth, I watched as his own children aged, birthed children of their own, and withered into corpses. One of these girls deserves my utmost gratitude. Without her gratitude, I wished nothing but to die.
To forget.
To become.
"I heard what they did to you! I think you're pretty!" Tiny toddler hands wrapped around the lamp and shook me from a sleep that may have lasted one year or a thousand. Glass shattered against expensive tile as I blossomed into existence. All my entirety boiled down to one word: Run! Bewildered, confused, and out of sorts, I awoke in Shambala.
It was from this place, plans in mind, that I sought to make a name for myself. Passage home was expensive. Saving money is a bit difficult with all the lamps I must smash! My business is a bit rocky, it is hard to market cars in this place, but it is growing.
Sort of.
OTHER
PLAYER BACKGROUND. – See Enfai Siao -
PLAY BY. CODE GEASS– ANYA ALSTREIM – ALICE GRIMM
PLAY BY. CODE GEASS– ANYA ALSTREIM – ALICE GRIMM