Post by Reala on Nov 14, 2009 20:49:23 GMT -8
Name Bard, NEALA
Position Stage hand
Gender Female
Age 20
Hair Red
Eyes Hazel
Height 5’9
History
Neala has always been surrounded by the arts. Her father could play both the fiddle and the piano with immense skill and her mother enjoyed the hobby of painting. With such said, Neala’s first lessons were not in latin or gaelic, but in fiddle and paint. By the time she was a young youth, she was able to hold a fairly decent version of ‘Irish Washerwoman’ and capture the colours of what she observed with a decent amount of skill.
However, even though she was encouraged to follow an ambition in the arts, Neala couldn’t care less. She was much more interested with scaling trees and dreaming of one day climbing the ropes of a ship. Her parents, however, refused the idea due to the worry that if any ship did accept her aboard- because, you know, women are bad luck on a ship- that she would perish at sea. Her dream, however, still prevailed even when her family moved to Paris so her father could get more opportunities to perform.
Now older and still unwed, Neala found herself feeling guilty for taking up her parent’s graceful hospitality, thus, at the age where her stubborn attitude was at it’s peak, she set out for employment. This is when she stumbled across the Opera House. Being hired as a stagehand, Neala truly loves being up in the rafters. She climbs ropes and runs across boards and nimbly and swiftly as if she had wings on her heels. It took no time for her to fall in love with the mysterious place and, slowly, she found herself dreaming less of being at sea and more so embracing the world of opera.
Personality
To keep things simple, Neala is a fun-loving, free-spirited soul that wears her heart on her sleeve. That constant smiles she wears hardly seems to fade and she is always one that always remembers everyone’s name. She has a hearty laugh and gives no shame at belting it out at it’s full potential. Although she seems so sweet and loving, she is also a strong soul. There is not a second thought if she has to defend someone from gossip or embarrassment. In fact, there are times when she sees herself as a loyal knight- being there when victims need her most, whether it be to defend or to lend her shoulder to be cried upon.
Yet, even though Neala seems like a lovely woman and a dear friend, there are quirks about her that makes her tally up her loss of friends. For one, Neala dresses in trousers paired with a blouse and jacket. She absolutely refuses a dress unless it’s absolutely necessary. Her quirky sense of curiousity is also another attribute that the others tend to avoid her for. If there were something that she does not understand, she would climb mountains and lasso the moon to find out her answer. Which, in other places is not such a bid deal. But, let’s remember, there is a terrible ghost haunting the Opera.
RP Example
Neala was nothing but a blur of red, white, and brown as she dashed from one board to the next. Her flowing red hair was left down and flipped, twisted, and whirled mercilessly behind her fleeting body. Neala’s eyes were wide as they were alert and she scanned the maze of ropes and boards that lay in her path. Occasionally, she would halt, pluck a string that was tied to the railing or pulley, then run off again, silently and swiftly as if she were the ghost itself.
Upon approaching the other corner of the stage, she stuck out a hand and, by nothing by memory and practice alone, grabbed hold of a side of a lonely and old rope ladder. Using her momentum, she swung herself over the railing in one smooth moment, her legs avoiding being scratched by only a few inches.
Heaving herself up the ladder with little difficulty, Neala hauled herself up on the platform that was waiting at the top. When she arrived, however, instead of running down the length of planks that were tied together, she instead started to scale up a stray length of rope, using her taped feet as the only thing keeping her from falling to her death (she had discovered that taped feet worked better then boots when climbing ropes).
The end of the rope was attached to a small ledge, and it was there that she had finished her journey. It was there where she kept her fiddle from thieving fingers. Curling herself up in the small space, Neala brought the instrument under chin and drew the bow across the strings. Her small break was then filled with the song of her homeland; the ‘Last of the Mohicans ’ then filled the upper confines of the Opera stage.
The only proof of the musician that played the Irish tunes would be her legs, which dangled over the ledge and swayed in time.
Codeword*Masquerade*
