Post by SHEILA NOIR on Jul 1, 2015 22:07:37 GMT -6
SHEILA NOIR
123 ♦ FEMALE ♦ DEMISEXUAL ♦ DOG ♦ CIRCUS ACROBAT ♦ FINNÉ
PERSONALITY
"Whyyyy must I do thiiiiiiis...!" the greenhead sighs in agony. "Whyyy can't I just do this the normal and usual waaaaaaay. Why must you make me go through all this troublesome trouble in the whole troublesome troubled univeeeeerse!!!"
Her tone oscillates between extreme pain and laziness, combined to make the longest protest wave ever uttered by a girl for as long as the stars have existed. She places her elbows on the table, palms supporting her head by the jaw. Her pout is as clear as day - she doesn't hide her annoyance. She's never the type to hide her feelings; or to be more precise, she can't. And she sometimes curses this inability of hers which has often rendered her vulnerable to being teased by her peers.
Take a look at the way she has dressed herself up - with an elegant headpiece and a matching feminine dress decorated with pretty laces and ribbons. But quite to the contrary of her fashion sense, Sheila is a physically active girl. Before she develops her girly taste in clothing, she loves to run around, jump around, and climb trees. These are what have trained her to become one of the Paradise Circus performer.
She's pleasant to talk to when she's not whining, smiles often, and is generally friendly. Although seemingly meek, weak, and dependent, she still prefers to do what she can manage alone and avoid as many troubles as possible. She also doesn't tell much detail about herself unless she is specifically asked to, or feels that it is imperative that she does so.
"So, what do you want me to do for you?" Sheila proceeds to lean her back on the comfy chair she occupies at the moment and crosses her legs. "Tell you a little bit about myself? Fine. I actually have nothing to tell you, I'm boring. Surely you jest if you tell me you want to know more about me," she seemed entertained by the sheer amusement overdose served to her, and with her hand brought up to her lips, she covers her sweet smile that comes along with her lighthearted giggles. "Do you have too much free time on your hands? See, I'm not a kind person. I don't like being told to do things I don't want to do - and this happens to be one of those," she said, maintaining her composure and the fearful silence of the deep ocean's calmness in her tone.
She sighs once again. From the way she looks and usually behaves, not everyone can tell that she has 38.71% of selfishness included in her personality chart from her calm and gentle demeanor. Although trained in sheathing her sharp tongue, whenever she feels threatened by situations that disturb her daily plans, she defends herself by speaking up her thoughts just as they are, without grains of salt or sprinkles of sugar; despite the fact that she may hurt someone with her words.
"Say... The man standing outside the tent - what's his name?" she tilts her head, pointing at the tent's entrance. She can't help it; she is a sucker for men who look good in suits and smell of sexy perfumes or of any other smell in likelihood of perfumes; most likely includes mint, sandalwood and cinnamon.
In any case, this is a sensitive issue for her, in which it causes her to furiously blush, laugh nervously, fidget, stutter and speak in a higher pitch and volume, break in cold sweat and flail her arms around whenever the topic is brought up. And the best part is, if she has intimidated you or made you feel uncomfortable in the past - now is the good time to get your revenge on her. And she can't hide nothing.
Her tone oscillates between extreme pain and laziness, combined to make the longest protest wave ever uttered by a girl for as long as the stars have existed. She places her elbows on the table, palms supporting her head by the jaw. Her pout is as clear as day - she doesn't hide her annoyance. She's never the type to hide her feelings; or to be more precise, she can't. And she sometimes curses this inability of hers which has often rendered her vulnerable to being teased by her peers.
Take a look at the way she has dressed herself up - with an elegant headpiece and a matching feminine dress decorated with pretty laces and ribbons. But quite to the contrary of her fashion sense, Sheila is a physically active girl. Before she develops her girly taste in clothing, she loves to run around, jump around, and climb trees. These are what have trained her to become one of the Paradise Circus performer.
She's pleasant to talk to when she's not whining, smiles often, and is generally friendly. Although seemingly meek, weak, and dependent, she still prefers to do what she can manage alone and avoid as many troubles as possible. She also doesn't tell much detail about herself unless she is specifically asked to, or feels that it is imperative that she does so.
"So, what do you want me to do for you?" Sheila proceeds to lean her back on the comfy chair she occupies at the moment and crosses her legs. "Tell you a little bit about myself? Fine. I actually have nothing to tell you, I'm boring. Surely you jest if you tell me you want to know more about me," she seemed entertained by the sheer amusement overdose served to her, and with her hand brought up to her lips, she covers her sweet smile that comes along with her lighthearted giggles. "Do you have too much free time on your hands? See, I'm not a kind person. I don't like being told to do things I don't want to do - and this happens to be one of those," she said, maintaining her composure and the fearful silence of the deep ocean's calmness in her tone.
She sighs once again. From the way she looks and usually behaves, not everyone can tell that she has 38.71% of selfishness included in her personality chart from her calm and gentle demeanor. Although trained in sheathing her sharp tongue, whenever she feels threatened by situations that disturb her daily plans, she defends herself by speaking up her thoughts just as they are, without grains of salt or sprinkles of sugar; despite the fact that she may hurt someone with her words.
"Say... The man standing outside the tent - what's his name?" she tilts her head, pointing at the tent's entrance. She can't help it; she is a sucker for men who look good in suits and smell of sexy perfumes or of any other smell in likelihood of perfumes; most likely includes mint, sandalwood and cinnamon.
In any case, this is a sensitive issue for her, in which it causes her to furiously blush, laugh nervously, fidget, stutter and speak in a higher pitch and volume, break in cold sweat and flail her arms around whenever the topic is brought up. And the best part is, if she has intimidated you or made you feel uncomfortable in the past - now is the good time to get your revenge on her. And she can't hide nothing.
HISTORY
"Hmm. 'Nothing eventful' should summarize it," Sheila concisely told it all in one sentence. "No kidding."
It's true, though. She isn't lying. All she knows is that she has lived for quite a while, even for human standards. She hears Sidhe are ghosts, and since she is Sidhe, she must be a ghost. A series of innocent giggles is heard. "Are you surprised I'm a ghost? Are you scared?" She makes ghostly sounds in a futile attempt to instill fear in those who are present in the vicinity. "Everyone from Mag Mell's supposedly dead. But only a few of us know exactly why we are."
The greenhead looked up to the ceiling of the tent. "And then there are these shenanigans saying we don't like the sunlight. We're also weaker, we can get caught and put inside of bottles, and we are prey to the Unseelie. Don't you think we're lame?" She stands up and walks around the tent.
"It's okay, though, I mean, I'm still here. I'm fine on my own, and I've got the circus troupe as family now. I guess I should be thankful enough I can create some illusions and do acrobatics to contribute." She proceeds to summon some light sparkles that are gone just as quickly as the wind blows. "It's all I can do right now." She casts her glance down upon the ground, tears slowly forming a layer of sadness threatening to fall out of her eyes. "H-huh?"
She may say her existence is nothing eventful. And it is true. She can hardly recall anything she has had experienced in the past century or so. But what she says about being grateful she still exists? That's a lie. She doesn't want to exist anymore. She knows, she has reflected upon herself. She has no purpose here. She doesn't want to be a ghost. She wants to live, she wants to see the dawn that she cannot. Sheila Noir has lived her life quite happily and uneventfully, without nothing much to worry about as long as she abides by the rules her society has decided upon.
'Not everyone wants to live forever.'
Sheila does not want to live forever.
It's true, though. She isn't lying. All she knows is that she has lived for quite a while, even for human standards. She hears Sidhe are ghosts, and since she is Sidhe, she must be a ghost. A series of innocent giggles is heard. "Are you surprised I'm a ghost? Are you scared?" She makes ghostly sounds in a futile attempt to instill fear in those who are present in the vicinity. "Everyone from Mag Mell's supposedly dead. But only a few of us know exactly why we are."
The greenhead looked up to the ceiling of the tent. "And then there are these shenanigans saying we don't like the sunlight. We're also weaker, we can get caught and put inside of bottles, and we are prey to the Unseelie. Don't you think we're lame?" She stands up and walks around the tent.
"It's okay, though, I mean, I'm still here. I'm fine on my own, and I've got the circus troupe as family now. I guess I should be thankful enough I can create some illusions and do acrobatics to contribute." She proceeds to summon some light sparkles that are gone just as quickly as the wind blows. "It's all I can do right now." She casts her glance down upon the ground, tears slowly forming a layer of sadness threatening to fall out of her eyes. "H-huh?"
She may say her existence is nothing eventful. And it is true. She can hardly recall anything she has had experienced in the past century or so. But what she says about being grateful she still exists? That's a lie. She doesn't want to exist anymore. She knows, she has reflected upon herself. She has no purpose here. She doesn't want to be a ghost. She wants to live, she wants to see the dawn that she cannot. Sheila Noir has lived her life quite happily and uneventfully, without nothing much to worry about as long as she abides by the rules her society has decided upon.
'Not everyone wants to live forever.'
Sheila does not want to live forever.
OTHER
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PLAY BY. VOCALOID - GUMI - SHEILA NOIR
PLAY BY. VOCALOID - GUMI - SHEILA NOIR