Posted Apr 6, 2017 11:43:17 GMT -5
Post by LEXA FRAY on Apr 6, 2017 11:43:17 GMT -5
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[attr="class","app-title-l"]LEXA FRAY
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[attr="class","app-field-l"]Nickname: lex
[attr="class","app-field-l"]Age: 24
[attr="class","app-field-l"]Gender: female
[attr="class","app-field-l"]Sexuality: ghey
[attr="class","app-field-l"]Starter Pack: pkmn
[attr="class","app-bgbar-l"]
[attr="class","app-title-l"]Personality
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+ SOCIAL: charismatic, positive-thinking, exuberant.... conversation's always come easy to her. people like a person who can laugh at themselves. and people also like talking about themselves. so she asks questions, begs you for your life story. and she has no motivation, just wide open eyes and an open heart. maybe she genuinely cares, maybe she doesn't, but she's a surprisingly good listener when it gets down to it. because she's a person of extremes: extremely loud or extremely quiet, eccentric or dull, and so on and so forth. she's bursting at the seams with energy. she can't stay seated for more than a few seconds at a time, much as she can't stop her mind from racing, mouth blubbering out everything she's thinking at once. but people don't mind because more often than not, she has a positive, can-do attitude. she tends to stray away from negative energy (even though she claims she tends to attract it). [break][break]
+ GENEROUS: she is by no means a self-spender, but she's not a hoarder either. she has simple tastes, simple wants, and simple needs. she's never craved lavish households or fancied having lots of trinkets (if anything, she complains when she has too much shit and it won't fit in her bag). so she usually keeps enough on her to get by, saves some in times of need, and gives the rest. but more than that, she's generous with her time. she'll sit down and spend hours listening to someone if it means lifting them back off their feet. in a way, she kind of has an unhealthy fixation, a god complex of sorts, where she'll slave over inconsequential things, and inconsequential people, just for the chance to do something right. [break][break]
+ LOYAL: it's not hard to gain her trust. prove you're a good person when you don't think she's watching and she'll have your back for a lifetime. she's not judgmental, and more often than not has her unwavering trust gotten her hurt, but she likes to think she can see the good in people (despite certain personal biases, of course). but she'd sooner stab herself with the knife than stab anyone in the back. [break][break]
- PRIDEFUL: lawful good. that's inherently what she is. some call her a stickler, but she'll stick to her righteous sense of morality until her dying day. and when she thinks she's in the right with her black and white, inflexible ideals, it's hard to make her see anything else. she can be narrow-minded and infuriatingly stubborn, unyielding even when the reality is that morality and humanity is grayscale, and sometimes rules aren't always meant to be followed. [break][break]
- RASH: she can jeopardize entire operations with her hasty need to put away those who make others miserable. that self-righteous and inflated ego can oftentimes give her the idea that she's invincible (even though she's worked it through her head over and over again that life is a bitch and nothing ever goes the way you want it to). she makes snap judgments and it's hard to shoulder your way through her rigid ideals. [break][break]
- SELF-ABSORBED: she's on the side of the good guys and she's not one to let anyone forget it. she's a bragger, likes to talk about all the things she's accomplished--how she built herself up from dirt and changed herself for the better. more often than not she's talking to air, but usually she doesn't mind. most people just deal with it by nodding a few times and rolling their eyes when she's not looking.
[break][break]
+ SOCIAL: charismatic, positive-thinking, exuberant.... conversation's always come easy to her. people like a person who can laugh at themselves. and people also like talking about themselves. so she asks questions, begs you for your life story. and she has no motivation, just wide open eyes and an open heart. maybe she genuinely cares, maybe she doesn't, but she's a surprisingly good listener when it gets down to it. because she's a person of extremes: extremely loud or extremely quiet, eccentric or dull, and so on and so forth. she's bursting at the seams with energy. she can't stay seated for more than a few seconds at a time, much as she can't stop her mind from racing, mouth blubbering out everything she's thinking at once. but people don't mind because more often than not, she has a positive, can-do attitude. she tends to stray away from negative energy (even though she claims she tends to attract it). [break][break]
+ GENEROUS: she is by no means a self-spender, but she's not a hoarder either. she has simple tastes, simple wants, and simple needs. she's never craved lavish households or fancied having lots of trinkets (if anything, she complains when she has too much shit and it won't fit in her bag). so she usually keeps enough on her to get by, saves some in times of need, and gives the rest. but more than that, she's generous with her time. she'll sit down and spend hours listening to someone if it means lifting them back off their feet. in a way, she kind of has an unhealthy fixation, a god complex of sorts, where she'll slave over inconsequential things, and inconsequential people, just for the chance to do something right. [break][break]
+ LOYAL: it's not hard to gain her trust. prove you're a good person when you don't think she's watching and she'll have your back for a lifetime. she's not judgmental, and more often than not has her unwavering trust gotten her hurt, but she likes to think she can see the good in people (despite certain personal biases, of course). but she'd sooner stab herself with the knife than stab anyone in the back. [break][break]
- PRIDEFUL: lawful good. that's inherently what she is. some call her a stickler, but she'll stick to her righteous sense of morality until her dying day. and when she thinks she's in the right with her black and white, inflexible ideals, it's hard to make her see anything else. she can be narrow-minded and infuriatingly stubborn, unyielding even when the reality is that morality and humanity is grayscale, and sometimes rules aren't always meant to be followed. [break][break]
- RASH: she can jeopardize entire operations with her hasty need to put away those who make others miserable. that self-righteous and inflated ego can oftentimes give her the idea that she's invincible (even though she's worked it through her head over and over again that life is a bitch and nothing ever goes the way you want it to). she makes snap judgments and it's hard to shoulder your way through her rigid ideals. [break][break]
- SELF-ABSORBED: she's on the side of the good guys and she's not one to let anyone forget it. she's a bragger, likes to talk about all the things she's accomplished--how she built herself up from dirt and changed herself for the better. more often than not she's talking to air, but usually she doesn't mind. most people just deal with it by nodding a few times and rolling their eyes when she's not looking.
[break][break]
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[attr="class","app-title-l"]History
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it doesn't matter what you're given. sometimes you're handed shit in a bag and told it's gold. other times you're just handed the gold. that's the way life works, and it doesn't give a flying fuck who needs what at what time. or maybe it does give a fuck. maybe it likes to give handouts to the assholes who don't need it. because she sure as hell never got a boost up the latter for free. every rung she's climbed is one she's had to do herself, with those same assholes throwing their shit-filled bags down at her while she tries to rise up.[break][break]
well, that's the way she'll describe it to you anyway. but it's simple: life isn't fair, and for a majority of hers she's been getting the short end of the stick. she used to call herself the man of the house when she was six years old 'cause one day at school a bunch of kids were talking about their mommies and daddies and she told everyone she only had a mommy, that daddy was an amazing pokemon trainer and had to leave so he could help support their family. and all the kids looked at her sideways and she got laughed at, but it didn't matter, 'cause she laughed louder and harder and eventually everything went back to the way it was. but when she went home that day, she told her mom she'd be the man of the house, that momma didn't have to work two jobs anymore. or, she compromised, she could complain a little less and go to bed on time instead of running around the house as soon as the clock struck eight. [break][break]
life wasn't all that bad then, not really. but she clung so tightly to the image of her dad that her mom created. every night, she'd beg for more stories. can we just look at the letter one more time? momma, tell me about that time daddy beat the elite four! momma, tell me about the time that mean old mightyena was gonna get the rowlet and daddy scared him away! momma, tell me-- and then one day it just ended. 'cause he showed up at the door when she was ten years old and demanded he see his daughter. it was two o'clock in the morning and she'll say all she can remember now is seeing a shadow on the other side of the door, hear the low slur of his voice. but she remembers it plainly, remembers the newspaper that had fallen off the side table next to the door, remembers the way the door handle turned just a little bit 'cause mom's knuckles were white and all she wanted to do was slam the door right back in his face. [break][break]
her dad was a good for nothing deadbeat who saw his daughter as a golden ticket back into a life with some security, 'cause even though lexa and her mom were dirt poor, at least they had a roof over their heads. but her mom said no and lexa hurried back up the stairs. and her world changed that night, but she kept on playing along with her mother's stories, kept on shutting her mouth every time she wanted to ask why? why? why? why would you lie to me? [break][break]
she wasn't the easiest kid to deal with. all her report cards told her she was a loudmouth, that she had a bad attitude, that maybe a different learning approach or even a different school might have worked better for her. her classmates loved her only 'cause she was obnoxiously funny, 'cause most of them kind of envied her and the way she didn't give two shits about calling out mr. heckleberg whenever he tried to undress a girl with his eyes. or maybe they just liked her 'cause she made herself a martyr. she got it stuck in her head that she needed to give up everything for anyone to give her a second glance, and that never changed. [break][break]
they were out on the streets by the time she was fourteen. it was hard, watching the one person who'd always been her backbone suddenly crumble like that. and despite her pleas, weak as they were, lexa shrugged off her education in lieu of keeping her small, broken family afloat. there's things you don't really come back from after living like that for so long. habits she fell into she still can't talk about today, ways of staying alive she can't admit without her lip trembling, throat closing. all you'll get is that it wasn't fucking easy and that's that.[break][break]
but she dug through piles and piles of shit and none of it mattered. because the only thing at the bottom of the hole she'd dug herself into was fool's gold. a year and a half of scuttling around the more dilapidated parts of the city, bumming off of friends' couches with her mom, and they couldn't run anymore. child services found them, had been looking for them for months now (to her mother's knowledge), and dumped lexa in the nearest foster home after processing.[break][break]
she lost sight of herself for a while. lost all motivation, all ambition, all passion. and all it took for her to gain it back was watching some punk pick on one of the younger kids in the home. it didn't take her long to become top dog after that. she resumed her education in school, took the beatings by the schoolyard bullies at school with a grain of salt for a few days before lashing back. she learned fear and action were stronger than any form of diplomacy. kids didn't, don't give a shit about words. [break][break]
finding a new family made it hard, but she never tried to make it easy. she'd get handed off to the next family that wanted to give her a try and she'd make their lives a mess, twisting their worlds so much that they were shoving her back and running away. because she wasn't looking for a family. she was biding her time, making the best of the situation, of the roof over her head, the food in her belly, while she could.[break][break]
and then she turned eighteen and was thrown back into the streets. but this time she had a high school diploma under her belt. she wasn't stupid. she knew that to get by in this world you had to at least look smart. you had to be able to prove that you were smart; didn't really matter whether you were or not. [break][break]
she looked for her mother for a long time. two years, almost. she got a shitty job bussing tables at a shitty restaurant ('cause she wasn't personable enough to be a server) and lived in a dirty hole-in-the-wall in mauville for a while. things kept on getting bleaker and bleaker. but she was used to it. that's the way life works.[break][break]
then she met pecha. she'd never had time to train pokemon before. all it meant was another mouth to feed. but she watched a fletchinder get its ass handed to it one day by a pack of houndour. and afterwards she was there picking up the pieces. after suffering a few bites and nips to her knuckles, she managed to bandage the poor bird's wing and get it back on its feet. only it wouldn't leave. they needed one another. so lexa invited her in with open arms and things started looking up. she hadn't realized how lonely, how empty she'd been until she met the bird.[break][break]
she stayed in mauville for another two years. she saved up her money, but she never moved out of that hole-in-the-wall. it was home at that point. and no matter where she went, so long as she had pecha, things weren't so bad. but mauville had slowly started changing. it wasn't in her nature, but she knew when to turn a blind eye at certain dealings on the streets, knew that some battles were too big, even for her. so she kept her head down and walked real fast. but the restaurant she worked at (as a waitress now) ended up getting infiltrated by some low-life scrubs wearing red hoodies. and she'll joke about it now, joke about the makeshift horns hot-glued to their hoods that looked like they'd fall off at any moment during their rants about the Greater Good of Pokemonkind. but being held at gunpoint scared the shit out of her. [break][break]
wrong place at the wrong time. there was a misfire and she'd gotten a bullet in her leg. could've been worse, she'll tell you, but she moved out of mauville real fast after that. she grabbed her sock money, gathered what belongings she needed into one bag, and left. she bummed around for a while. even though she can be crass, people generally understood her situation. she became accustomed to the smell of a different couch each night. [break][break]
one day someone took her for a beggar and told her to fucking do something with her life. stop taking advantage of everyone else. if you ain't got nowhere else to go, the league's always looking these days. and that's all it took. she joined the fight against evil. she made a steady income, got herself a nice place to stay with a roof over her head, and did what she knew she was always meant to be doing. of course, in her free time, she tried to use her new connections to find her mother, but there was no trace of the woman anywhere. she's half-given up now (not that she'll admit it), but she has bigger things to worry about. like putting down magma and aqua once and for all.[break][break]
because the awakening came and that's the day she lost pecha. she'd been on the back of the talonflame. fallarbor had been a mess. ground units with gas masks were herding frightened civilians and ushering them to safety. magma grunts were wreaking havoc on the league, stopping the only people that were trying to help. one of them used a hyper beam and struck pecha down. the last thing she remembers is the dizzying sensation of falling, twirling around and around and around, throat ragged from screaming and the soot. [break][break]
as it turns out, pecha had taken the brunt of the fall. her neck had snapped on impact. she received the news after waking a few days later to some broken ribs and a minor fracture in her leg. they told her it's a miracle she survived from that high a fall. [break][break]
she's been on recovery leave for the past few months, but now she's back on the field. the rest of her team is still recovering, but they're on the mend as well.
it doesn't matter what you're given. sometimes you're handed shit in a bag and told it's gold. other times you're just handed the gold. that's the way life works, and it doesn't give a flying fuck who needs what at what time. or maybe it does give a fuck. maybe it likes to give handouts to the assholes who don't need it. because she sure as hell never got a boost up the latter for free. every rung she's climbed is one she's had to do herself, with those same assholes throwing their shit-filled bags down at her while she tries to rise up.[break][break]
well, that's the way she'll describe it to you anyway. but it's simple: life isn't fair, and for a majority of hers she's been getting the short end of the stick. she used to call herself the man of the house when she was six years old 'cause one day at school a bunch of kids were talking about their mommies and daddies and she told everyone she only had a mommy, that daddy was an amazing pokemon trainer and had to leave so he could help support their family. and all the kids looked at her sideways and she got laughed at, but it didn't matter, 'cause she laughed louder and harder and eventually everything went back to the way it was. but when she went home that day, she told her mom she'd be the man of the house, that momma didn't have to work two jobs anymore. or, she compromised, she could complain a little less and go to bed on time instead of running around the house as soon as the clock struck eight. [break][break]
life wasn't all that bad then, not really. but she clung so tightly to the image of her dad that her mom created. every night, she'd beg for more stories. can we just look at the letter one more time? momma, tell me about that time daddy beat the elite four! momma, tell me about the time that mean old mightyena was gonna get the rowlet and daddy scared him away! momma, tell me-- and then one day it just ended. 'cause he showed up at the door when she was ten years old and demanded he see his daughter. it was two o'clock in the morning and she'll say all she can remember now is seeing a shadow on the other side of the door, hear the low slur of his voice. but she remembers it plainly, remembers the newspaper that had fallen off the side table next to the door, remembers the way the door handle turned just a little bit 'cause mom's knuckles were white and all she wanted to do was slam the door right back in his face. [break][break]
her dad was a good for nothing deadbeat who saw his daughter as a golden ticket back into a life with some security, 'cause even though lexa and her mom were dirt poor, at least they had a roof over their heads. but her mom said no and lexa hurried back up the stairs. and her world changed that night, but she kept on playing along with her mother's stories, kept on shutting her mouth every time she wanted to ask why? why? why? why would you lie to me? [break][break]
she wasn't the easiest kid to deal with. all her report cards told her she was a loudmouth, that she had a bad attitude, that maybe a different learning approach or even a different school might have worked better for her. her classmates loved her only 'cause she was obnoxiously funny, 'cause most of them kind of envied her and the way she didn't give two shits about calling out mr. heckleberg whenever he tried to undress a girl with his eyes. or maybe they just liked her 'cause she made herself a martyr. she got it stuck in her head that she needed to give up everything for anyone to give her a second glance, and that never changed. [break][break]
they were out on the streets by the time she was fourteen. it was hard, watching the one person who'd always been her backbone suddenly crumble like that. and despite her pleas, weak as they were, lexa shrugged off her education in lieu of keeping her small, broken family afloat. there's things you don't really come back from after living like that for so long. habits she fell into she still can't talk about today, ways of staying alive she can't admit without her lip trembling, throat closing. all you'll get is that it wasn't fucking easy and that's that.[break][break]
but she dug through piles and piles of shit and none of it mattered. because the only thing at the bottom of the hole she'd dug herself into was fool's gold. a year and a half of scuttling around the more dilapidated parts of the city, bumming off of friends' couches with her mom, and they couldn't run anymore. child services found them, had been looking for them for months now (to her mother's knowledge), and dumped lexa in the nearest foster home after processing.[break][break]
she lost sight of herself for a while. lost all motivation, all ambition, all passion. and all it took for her to gain it back was watching some punk pick on one of the younger kids in the home. it didn't take her long to become top dog after that. she resumed her education in school, took the beatings by the schoolyard bullies at school with a grain of salt for a few days before lashing back. she learned fear and action were stronger than any form of diplomacy. kids didn't, don't give a shit about words. [break][break]
finding a new family made it hard, but she never tried to make it easy. she'd get handed off to the next family that wanted to give her a try and she'd make their lives a mess, twisting their worlds so much that they were shoving her back and running away. because she wasn't looking for a family. she was biding her time, making the best of the situation, of the roof over her head, the food in her belly, while she could.[break][break]
and then she turned eighteen and was thrown back into the streets. but this time she had a high school diploma under her belt. she wasn't stupid. she knew that to get by in this world you had to at least look smart. you had to be able to prove that you were smart; didn't really matter whether you were or not. [break][break]
she looked for her mother for a long time. two years, almost. she got a shitty job bussing tables at a shitty restaurant ('cause she wasn't personable enough to be a server) and lived in a dirty hole-in-the-wall in mauville for a while. things kept on getting bleaker and bleaker. but she was used to it. that's the way life works.[break][break]
then she met pecha. she'd never had time to train pokemon before. all it meant was another mouth to feed. but she watched a fletchinder get its ass handed to it one day by a pack of houndour. and afterwards she was there picking up the pieces. after suffering a few bites and nips to her knuckles, she managed to bandage the poor bird's wing and get it back on its feet. only it wouldn't leave. they needed one another. so lexa invited her in with open arms and things started looking up. she hadn't realized how lonely, how empty she'd been until she met the bird.[break][break]
she stayed in mauville for another two years. she saved up her money, but she never moved out of that hole-in-the-wall. it was home at that point. and no matter where she went, so long as she had pecha, things weren't so bad. but mauville had slowly started changing. it wasn't in her nature, but she knew when to turn a blind eye at certain dealings on the streets, knew that some battles were too big, even for her. so she kept her head down and walked real fast. but the restaurant she worked at (as a waitress now) ended up getting infiltrated by some low-life scrubs wearing red hoodies. and she'll joke about it now, joke about the makeshift horns hot-glued to their hoods that looked like they'd fall off at any moment during their rants about the Greater Good of Pokemonkind. but being held at gunpoint scared the shit out of her. [break][break]
wrong place at the wrong time. there was a misfire and she'd gotten a bullet in her leg. could've been worse, she'll tell you, but she moved out of mauville real fast after that. she grabbed her sock money, gathered what belongings she needed into one bag, and left. she bummed around for a while. even though she can be crass, people generally understood her situation. she became accustomed to the smell of a different couch each night. [break][break]
one day someone took her for a beggar and told her to fucking do something with her life. stop taking advantage of everyone else. if you ain't got nowhere else to go, the league's always looking these days. and that's all it took. she joined the fight against evil. she made a steady income, got herself a nice place to stay with a roof over her head, and did what she knew she was always meant to be doing. of course, in her free time, she tried to use her new connections to find her mother, but there was no trace of the woman anywhere. she's half-given up now (not that she'll admit it), but she has bigger things to worry about. like putting down magma and aqua once and for all.[break][break]
because the awakening came and that's the day she lost pecha. she'd been on the back of the talonflame. fallarbor had been a mess. ground units with gas masks were herding frightened civilians and ushering them to safety. magma grunts were wreaking havoc on the league, stopping the only people that were trying to help. one of them used a hyper beam and struck pecha down. the last thing she remembers is the dizzying sensation of falling, twirling around and around and around, throat ragged from screaming and the soot. [break][break]
as it turns out, pecha had taken the brunt of the fall. her neck had snapped on impact. she received the news after waking a few days later to some broken ribs and a minor fracture in her leg. they told her it's a miracle she survived from that high a fall. [break][break]
she's been on recovery leave for the past few months, but now she's back on the field. the rest of her team is still recovering, but they're on the mend as well.
[attr="class","app-bgbar-l]
[attr="class","app-title-l]Team
[attr="class","app-arrow-one-l]
[attr="class","app-arrow-two-l]
[attr="class","app-content1"]
[attr="class","app-pkmn-bg"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-backbar"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-name"]DRU [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowone"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowtwo"] [attr="class","app-gsabox"]Female - Quilava
| [attr="class","app-pkmn-bg"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-backbar"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-name"]Rán [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowone"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowtwo"] [attr="class","app-gsabox"]Female - Marshtomp
| ||||
[attr="class","app-pkmn-bg"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-backbar"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-name"]Hamra [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowone"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowtwo"] [attr="class","app-gsabox"]Male - Onix
| [attr="class","app-pkmn-bg"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-backbar"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-name"]Levi [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowone"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowtwo"] [attr="class","app-gsabox"]Male - Rockruff
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[attr="class","app-pkmn-bg"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-backbar"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-name"]Vulture [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowone"] [attr="class","app-l-pkmn-arrowtwo"] [attr="class","app-gsabox"]Female - Spearow
|
[attr="class","app-bgbar-l]
[attr="class","app-title-l]OOC
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[attr="class","app-field-l]OOC Name: Arrow
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[attr="class","app-field-l]Directory Information:
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<td><a href="link to your app">Lexa Fray</a></td>
<td>League Cadet</td>
<td>Ymir - Attack on Titan</td>
<td>Arrow (She/her)</td>