Post by Misery Martinique on May 11, 2011 9:13:13 GMT -6
Misery Marie Martinique
I'm not the one who's so far away
When I feel the snake bite enter my veins.
Never did I wanna be here again,
And I don't remember why I came.
Voodoo, voodoo, voodoo, voodoo
Full Name: Misery Marie Martinique
Nicknames: Other than the 'B' word? none. some people shorten it to Miz or Mizzy, but she don't like this much
Physical Age: 25
Date of Birth: February 5 1986
Hometown: Bayou Bienvenue, New Orleans, La
Current Residence: Hollay-wood, bay-bay
Occupation: petty thief/cat burglar and when she's not breaking the law, she runs a touristy voodoo/magic shop which -actually- specializes in unique powerful artifacts
Relationship Status: Mated to a Wolf-- Erik Kincaid
Character Type: voodoo witch
Affiliations: Neutral. It's all about her. If'n someone bad can get her something good, then she's bad. and vice versa.
Gender: Female
Hair: dark brown/blackish
Eyes: dark brown/blackish
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 127 lbs
Body Type: Misery is tall and lithe. Most say she has the body of a dancer, with long agile legs, small chest and graceful features. She moves with a feline grace
Best Feature: her sultry lips, and her smile, when you can get her to oblige.
Worst Feature: her attitude-- she knows it and loves it!
Sexuality: hetro
Personal Style: Misery spent most of her childhood in the swamps of New Orleans, so she's become somewhat of a barefoot, dirt under the nails kinda girl. Most times you can find her in jeans and a tanktop and a pair of worn in jeans, sans make-up. When she does feel the need to get dressed up, she doesn't do much. A lacy tank top and a long linen skirt, maybe a pair of strappy sandals.
Face Claim: Jennifer Love Hewitt
Abilities: basic voodoo magic-- Rituals, Spells, Conjuring, and Potions...she makes voodoo dolls that haven't done much but irritate the person whom she styles it after; but this is something she is constantly practicing.
Also, she has delved into the 'black' magic of necromancy. As of yet, her attempts on dead humans have come at great cost. It basically drains her, and she has lost control of a few said zombies, whom she's had to kill off almost automatically. She reanimates mostly small dead animals and bugs for the helluvit.
Other: Misery has become quite competent in the art of breaking and entering. Most of the time she uses pure human stealth and cunning, though sometimes she does utilize her knowledge of magic; especially sleepy time potions for those aggravating security guards.
Personality: Misery is just that…a misery…a pain in the royal arse. She’s stubborn and snappy and would much rather be running barefoot through the swamps than talking to most of the more refined individuals she comes across
She hates any kind of structured environment, and authority, especially the law.
Misery verges on being a sociopath- lacking empathy for others and seeing nothing wrong with breaking the law if her survival depends on it.
She's cold inside from lack of human contact and could care less. She doesn't trust a soul and would rather have a equal rival than a friend.
Likes:
•thunderstorms
• cemeteries
• spiders
• snakes
• going barefoot
• solitude
• rum
• playing with dead things
• voodoo dolls
Dislikes:
• puppies
• cheerleaders
• wearing shoes or 'dress up' clothes
• when people mistake her accent for stupidity
• the 'fuzz' (aka the law!)
Strengths: (At least 4)
• Determination and Focus (to achieve the task at hand) In order to survive Miz will do anything that is necessary and wont stop until it is done. This might be scaling a vine covered wall despite injury to her skin, in order to get over the barrier separating her and the home she means to break into
• Honesty (leave it to Misery to tell it like it is) Misery has never been one to beat around the bush. If she thinks your are ugly and your breath stinks, she tell you, no bones about it, and not give a rats patootie if it means you wont like her for it.
• Bravery (she ain't skeered!) Misery feels she hasn’t got anything to lose, so she is fearless for the most part. She won’t go into a ‘job’ with fear of being arrested, nor does she shy away from dark street corners. If someone happens to jump her, then so be it. They better kill her or they’re in for a fight
• Resourcefulness (she is a female Mcgeyvor) Having lived all of her life with no means of fun besides entertaining herself, she has learned to put things together to create altogether unusual items to use in her endeavors and has grown accustomed to having to find ‘different’ ways around things.
• Pride (In herself and where she came from) She’s from the swamps of New Orleans, and doesn’t care if you think her accent is different or her fingernails have dirt under them. To her, the swamps are the most beautiful place in the world.
Weaknesses:
• Short-Temper/Impatience. Misery will get snappy in a heartbeat. She hates waiting on other people if it gets into the way of something she’s trying to do.
• Distrusting. No one has ever given her a reason to believe in anything but herself, and so she builds up a wall around her heart to keep from getting close to others.
• Disloyal. She might pretend to be an ally or a friend if it gets her closer to a goal she has in mind, but when it doesn’t suit her anymore, she’ll stab you in the back faster than you can say Expelliarmus!
• Impulsive. Misery usually doesn’t think before she acts. She’s a sort of dive in head first with her eyes closed kind of girl.
• Lack of empathy. She is in it for numero uno. If stealing the last piece of bread means the next guy will go hungry, well, at least she’s not starving anymore, right?
Mother: Claire Lemaitres[27]- daughter of a wealthy French plantation in New Orleans. (deceased)
Father: François Martinique[31]- a full blooded voodoo high priest who came from Mozambique to New Orleans with his family as a child. (presumed to be deceased)
Siblings: non
Others: she considers her pet snake Loa and her black cats Hex and Jinx to be her family.
Bio: Misery was borne into her name-- having caused the death of her mother during childbirth. Her father François, who was fiercely devoted to his wife, immediately loathed the child, swearing to the nurse midwife that her existence would be nothing but the pain and grief she had caused.
François owned a tourist voodoo shop in New Orleans proper and was a voodoo high priest that ran a church in the rank swamps of Bayou Bienvenue. He gave nothing of himself to his daughter; no love, no kindness, merely gave enough requirements to keep her living and breathing.
Growing up she was not allowed to go to school nor have friends. Her father forbade her any happiness, constantly telling her that she didn’t deserve as such. Eventually, the child grew to believe these hateful words. She passed her time at her fathers shop, trying to prove her worth to him by learning all that she could of his magic, or in the swamps, where snakes and alligator became her playthings. The only social interaction she had took place at her father’s untamed voodoo gatherings, where she would witness horrible things like necromancy and live sacrifices. These things became common place, and so Misery learned to turn off her emotions.
When Misery was 17 she became aware of a group of vampires who had been threatening her father for a number of years. The group intimidated the small community of shop owners for a cut of their earnings each month, including her father, but he refused.
In a fit of rage, the coven leader burned the shop down, agitating François, who in retaliation, hunted down and burned the lair where several of the vampire clan slept.
The leader and several of his followers came to the Misery’s home, where a battle of magic ensued.
Françoise had been planning for this day for years, and as the vampires arrived at his swamp home, so did the living corpses he’d had buried around the property as his sort of un-dead army.
Misery was caught in the middle of the chaos, and when her father left her helpless to the vampires as well as the mindless zombies, she finally understood just how deep his hatred for her ran.
Using her vast knowledge of the swamps, she escaped the brawl, wounded, but alive.
She fled as far away from New Orleans as she could, surviving the years by becoming a good liar and a good thief.
After all the years Misery’ returned to New Orleans to find her old home in ruins and her father long dead; killed the same night she ran away. She did what she had to in order to survive making money to travel by thieving and dealing in rare, powerful magical artifacts. Her travels eventually led to Hollywood, California...which was where the witch met her unlikely mate in a man named Erik Kincaid.
The road has not ended at Happily Ever After however...their path is lined with poisonous snakes and shards of glass beneath their feet.
RP Sample:
Misery was heart-broken, but determination was ablaze inside her. Though her lover seemed to have dropped off of the face of the earth, she’d been searching tirelessly for him; perfecting her magic any chance she got.
Low on money, as well as supplies, the voodoo witch had been breaking into houses for cash; in order to keep gas in the JEEP in addition to simple spell-making provisions. Good thing she’d stopped by J.I.N.X for her more potent magical materials.
Though there had been a fleeting desire to stay at home and wait for him to come to her, in the end, pure fury forced her to leave.
She was angry at the bitch goddess for showing that perfect, goddess face of hers and announcing her ownership of the Wolf, but more so, she was livid at her boyfriend for not taking her with him. For not trusting that she could help him and not be a hindrance; for leaving so coldly after both had declared their love.
Tears stung Misery’s eyes, and as they fell she wiped at them bitterly. How dare he turn her into a weeping widow before they’d even tied the knot? Not that she wanted to get married...the mere thought made the witch’s throat dry up and take up residence in her belly like a heavy dread. But still...that last night that they were together had her actually believing she deserved affection after all these years; and then he had snatched it back like an iron pen in a petite bebe’s hand.
Suddenly the white JEEP wrangler lurched forward; sputtering down the dark expanse of highway as if on its last leg. Cursing like a sailor, Misery weaved onto the shoulder just as the engine made some terrible whining sound and then came to a halt.
That was just her luck.
Laying her head back against the black leather seat, the voodoo woman tried to get her bearing. It was the witching hour; not a soul on the road and she was somewhere in the middle of Texas. If she hadn’t already believed it; she would have thought herself cursed.
Taking in a deep breath; Misery leaned forward again, her russet eyes narrowed as she peered into the darkness up ahead.
The witch could just barely make out the shape of a large stone angel underneath a rectangle shape. The shadow of a smile tickled her lips, and the witch grabbed her well worn backpack from the bag seat and trekked up ahead towards the cemetery.
Hiking up her long white linen dress, the barefoot woman tip-toed silently into the foggy graveyard, stopping when she was far back enough that her movements couldn’t easily be seen or heard.
Once satisfied that she was well hidden from public view, Misery perched herself atop an above ground crypt and began rifling through her bag, pulling out various potion bottles and spell bags.
Laying a well used brown leather book over her lap, the witch began to chant in a language that was deep-rooted in her genes; old voodoo...
Suddenly, there was a movement in the ground a few feet way; and Misery could barely make out the sound of a low moaning coming from underneath.
